"You wanted to go with them?"
"Certainly. In the strongest imaginable way, but Audley was adamant."
"The airplane had already gone back? Is that why you had to stay on the beach?"
"That's right. It was a seaplane. It was coming back for us later."
"So you were on the beach when the avalanche hit?"
"Yes, wallowing in bitterness and self-pity.” He pursed his lips. “Of course, as it turned out, I suppose you could say I was lucky."
"I suppose you could. What did you do when it happened?"
Judd seemed startled. “Do? What was there to do?” For the first time he treated a question as something other than a rich, juicy joke.
"You heard it, didn't you?"
"I saw it. In a general sense, I mean,” he added hurriedly. “I saw it sliding down the mountain. It was terrifying, unbelievable.” He sobered still more. “I didn't actually see it strike them, of course."
"Did you go up and try to help them? Find them?"
It seemed to take a few seconds for the question to get through. Judd sat like a plaster Buddha, his smile frozen, his hands clasped motionless over his belly. Even his wheeze was suspended. The only sound was a soft thud from the stone fireplace. Someone had lit a fire hours before, but it had been allowed to go out. A few blackened remnants of logs still smoldered.
"Find them?” Judd said at last. He gave an incredulous snort. “I don't believe you have any idea of the colossal-of the-It was unbelievable, stupendous. And I was desperately ill. I-"
"Ill? I thought you wanted to go with them."
"Well, I did, yes. But that had been hours before. They'd already done their reconnaissance and were on their way back when it happened. By that time I was feverish, weak…"
"So it turned out Tremaine was right about the bite."
"Well, yes,” Judd said grudgingly, “you could say that. Anyway, the first search plane arrived in less than an hour. What was there for me to do besides stay where I was and wait?"
John could think of a few things, but kept his thoughts to himself. “Afterwards,” he said, “did you get medical care for those bites?"
"I can't remember,” Judd said. He seemed offended at the question. “Wait a minute, yes I do. I was treated at the hospital in Juneau. I was put on antibiotics for ten days. I'm sure there's a record. And now I think I have a right to know why you're asking these questions. If there's any relevance to Audley's death I fail to see it."
"I'm not just looking into Tremaine's death, Dr. Judd. As I think you know, there's reason to think there was another murder-"
"Another…"
"-almost thirty years ago. We-"
Judd whistled softly. “Of course, of course. What with poor Audley, I'd almost forgotten. You're investigating James Pratt's death too, aren't you?"
John looked at him, his interest quickening. All he knew was that there was a piece of a male skull that had had an ice ax put through it. Gideon had said it could be Pratt's or it could be Steven Fisk's. Two possibilities, take your choice.
"What makes you think that was Pratt's skull?” he asked. “Well, whose else would it be?"
"What about Steve Fisk?"
"Steve Fisk?” Judd seemed honestly surprised at the idea. “I suppose it's possible, but…"
John waited.
"I don't like to pass on gossip,” Judd said with an unconvincing show of reluctance, “and I hesitate to speak ill of the dead…” Aside from M. Audley Tremaine, John thought. “Go ahead, Dr. Judd."
"Very well. Were you aware that Steve was engaged to Jocelyn Yount, the female graduate student who was with us?"
John nodded.
"Well, Jocelyn was-how shall I put it?-a rather odd young lady. She was bright but extremely passive, compliant, almost childlike. No self-discipline, no judgment-and not constitutionally inclined toward, er, celibacy, if you get my drift."
Judd reached down to tug his ankle onto his knee and wedge it forcibly into place. He leaned forward conspiratorially and leered, male to male. “What it added up to,” he said, lowering his voice, “was that Jocelyn Yount was hardly the world's most difficult lay, if you'll pardon my Latin.” He made a snuffling noise. His small eyes twinkled. “I do not speak from personal experience, I hasten to add."
"You were telling me why you think that's Pratt's skull,” John said.
Judd chewed his lower lip for a moment. “I think it was the weekend before the avalanche. Steve flew back to Juneau for the day for something or other-supplies, I suppose. The rest of us took most of the day off and James talked Jocelyn into going off on a picnic, which didn't take much talking. Anyway, Steve got back to Gustavus before they did, and when they finally got in, you'd have had to be blind not to see what they'd been up to. Well, Steve had had this sort of trouble with Jocelyn before, and he just blew up, literally flung himself on James like a panther. Chairs flying, Jocelyn screaming-oh, it was quite a show. You can ask Audley-oops.” He rolled back his head and chuckled warmly. “Well, that might be a little difficult, but you can ask Anna. She was there too."
"Who got the best of it?” John asked.
"Oh, Steve, quite definitely. They were both powerful men, you understand, but James was in the wrong and knew it. Besides, he was caught by surprise. This wild animal just leaped on him. He wound up on his back with Steve straddling his chest, pummeling away like a madman-"
"Were there any injuries?” John asked, remembering what Gideon had told him about the mandible. “To Pratt's jaw? Or Fisk's jaw, for that matter?"
"Injuries?” Judd made chewing motions, presumably to help him remember. “Well, there was a little blood, I think. James had a split lip, a few scrapes, no more than that. Why do you ask?"
"Go ahead,” John said. “What happened then?"
"Somehow Audley cooled things down before anyone got killed, but Steve took himself pretty seriously, you see, and this was a real blow to his ego, his manhood, whatever. And the fact that Jocelyn truly couldn't see what all the fuss was about didn't make him any happier. Audley insisted on a truce, and Jocelyn got a fatherly lecture, too, but it was all very touchy, very uncomfortable, from then on."
He went back to snapping his suspender strap gently, thoughtfully. “Well, when I heard yesterday that someone had apparently been murdered, I assumed…well, obviously."
"Assumed what, Dr. Judd?"
"Well, I can't say that I reasoned it through very carefully. I suppose I assumed there must have been another confrontation out there on the ice before the avalanche struck, and that Steve-well-killed James."
"Why not the other way around? Pratt must have had it in for Fisk too."
"Oh, well, I suppose so, but James was a quiet, sober sort. He knew he had that licking coming and he took it like a man. Steve was more of a brawler by nature; thin-skinned, belligerent, quarrelsome…"
Judd's fingers drummed thoughtfully on either side of his abdomen while he searched for more adjectives. For a man who hesitated to speak ill of the dead he was pretty good at it, once he got going.
"It doesn't sound as if you liked him too much yourself,” John said.
The fingers stopped their tapping. “Ah, liked him myself?"
I hit some kind of nerve there, John thought. He's thinking hard. “Did you and Fisk have a problem?"
Judd tipped back his head and chortled. “Why should there have been a problem? He was Audley's student, not mine, and Audley was welcome to him."
John waited for him to go on. Judd was hiding something, waffling, embroidering the facts. Something.