“He agrees there’s something bent about Victoria’s case, but he doesn’t think there’s any point in pursuing it. I haven’t unearthed any evidence about the actual case, now, have I?”
Jim was obviously torn between a reluctance to agree to anything said by a rival for Kate’s affections and his inclination that Brendan was right. After a brief inner struggle, he said, “Were you thinking there was something else you could do? Some line of inquiry you’ve missed?”
“Plus, although he’d never admit it, I think Brendan is a little intimidated by Erland Bannister being involved.”
“‘Involved’?” Jim said.
“Yeah, I was having coffee with Eugene Muravieff’s mistress and he saw us and came over to have a little chat.”
“A little chat”? You had a little chat with Erland Bannister?“
“What,” Kate said, amused, “big bad Erland scares you, too?”
“Kate,” Jim said, pushing the footrest of his chair down so he could address her from an upright position, “out of the blue Erland Bannister invites you to a party at his house, and then he just happens to run into you downtown, where the two of you have a little chat? Erland Bannister, also known as Alaska’s kingmaker and all around super-duper utility political angel slash fat cat. I’d say this time Brendan’s right on the money.”
Kate was grinning openly now. “You think I should get the hell out of Dodge, do you?”
But he wasn’t listening. “Did you say Eugene Muravieff’s mistress?”
But she heard a familiar name from the television and turned to look.
There was Bruce Abbott, the governor’s gopher, doing a stand-up behind a podium with the state of Alaska’s seal on it. On his right stood the attorney general of the state of Alaska, a large man overflowing his three-piece pinstripe, and on his left the state DA for Anchorage, a bleached blonde in a gray two-piece. Abbott wore a red tie, the attorney general a red handkerchief, and the DA a red scarf, indicating that they’d all graduated with honors from Television Spin 101.
“-due to the stellar work Ms. Muravieff has performed in achieving a level of quality education for the inmates at Hiland Mountain Correctional Facility, and because he feels she has contributed substantially to the lowest rate of recidivism for a corrections facility in the state and one of the lowest rates in the nation, because Victoria Bannister Muravieff has set a standard for community service under the most difficult of conditions, with a selfless disregard for her own situation and a commitment to the rehabilitation of people the rest of us have given up on long ago, the governor has decided to commute her sentence to time served. And now I will take just a few questions. Yes, Mike.”
“Bruce, is this action in response to the rumor that Victoria Muravieff has inoperable cancer?”
Bruce looked reproving. “I don’t know where you got that information, Mike, but certainly not. Jill?”
“Bruce, does the governor’s action have anything to do with the recent death of Charlotte’s daughter?”
Bruce looked grave. “The governor’s heart goes out to the Bannister family in their time of grief and mourning. Nothing can replace the life that was so randomly, so carelessly, and so criminally taken, but we want to reassure the Bannisters and the Muravieffs that the perpetrator of this most heinous act will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Yes, Andy?”
“Bruce, it’s well known that Erland Bannister, Victoria Muravieffs brother, was a big supporter of the governor’s candidacy and subsequent election. Did-”
Bruce look austere. “I know where you’re going with this, Andy, and I’m shocked that you would suggest for even a moment that this act was in the nature of a political debt paid. The governor made this decision on the merits of the case in question and on the character of the person named, nothing else. Yes, Sandy?”
The scene cut away to an interview with Erland Bannister, who answered the questions put to him with an appropriately somber (demonstrating his grief at the death of his niece) but quietly joyous (demonstrating his happiness at the release of his sister) face. He was delighted that the state finally had a governor who could show mercy where it was due. Victoria had done extraordinary work during her incarceration, and Erland thought that even the judge who had sentenced her to life without parole would have agreed with the governor’s action today. Victoria had already been released and was lodged with family members, exactly where, the reporter would understand, Erland was disinclined to say.
Next up was the chief of police, who was prepared to accede that some recognition must be given to those felons convicted of even the most heinous crimes for their attempts to redeem themselves, and that on the whole the APD was behind the governor’s decision.
“Back to you, John,” said the reporter, and the screen went to a commercial. Jim clicked off the remote and looked at Kate.
“The governor’s been in office for almost a year,” she said. “Why wait until now to commute her sentence?”
“Why indeed?” Jim said.
“Unless, of course,” Kate said, gathering steam, “it had something to do not with the merits of her case but with her daughter’s hiring a private investigator to take a new look at the case?”
“What are you thinking now?”
“I’m thinking,” Kate said grimly, “that Victoria didn’t set that fire. I’m thinking someone else did. I’m thinking they’re still around. I’m thinking if Erland didn’t do it himself, he knows who did, and I’m thinking he’s determined I won’t find out.”
“I’m thinking he’s wrong,” Jim said. “But then that’s just me.”
17
“There’s always a third possibility,” Max said.
He sounded grumpy, but that might have been because Kate had gotten him out of bed. They sat alone in the cafeteria at the Pioneer Home, both of them hunched over mugs of coffee.
“What third?” Kate said, sounding a little cranky herself. “I’ve got too much information going on here as it is.”
“What if Charlotte did it herself?”
Kate stared at him for so long, he began to get a little nervous. “You’re not going to cry or anything, are you?”
“Why,” Kate said finally, almost despairing, “why on earth would you think that Charlotte had set the fire that killed her brother? And why oh why would she ever have hired me to find her out?”
“Maybe she wanted to use you as her confessor,” Max said. “It happens.”
Kate knew that. It didn’t make her any happier to hear Max say it.
“Or maybe she really did want her mom out of the clink, and she figured it had been so long that even if you did find out enough to get her mom out, you’d never find out who really committed the crime.”
“My head hurts,” Kate said. “And I want to go home.” “Don’t blame you,” Max said. “So do I, and I don’t even have one.”
Gloom settled in over the table.
She could go home, she thought, sitting in the Subaru in the street outside. Victoria was out of jail, even if Charlotte was dead. Kurt had regained consciousness, and although he remembered little of the events leading up to the shooting and nothing at all about getting shot, the doctor, whom she’d spoken to earlier, had assured Kate that in traumas such as these, the memory often did return a little at a time. They would have to be patient.
Everyone wanted her to go home, Jim, Brendan, even Max had told her to pack it in. Mutt put her cold nose on Kate’s cheek and gave an imploring whine. Nobody wanted her to stay in Anchorage.
But she couldn’t let it go. She knew someone was running a scam on her, she knew she hadn’t come anywhere near the truth, and she knew that if they had their way, she never would. It was, she thought, resting her forehead on the steering wheel, a combination of things-a need to know the truth that would not be denied, and a fierce disinclination to lose.