Chapter 9
The next morning, Rebecca was waiting for him when he got to the first floor. Grabbing his arm, she said, “You look kind of rough, slugger. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I'm okay, I think. My hands and knees hurt like crazy, from the road rash. Okay, parking lot rash, but you know what I mean.”
“You must have really said something to someone, to get that kind of response.”
He flexed his hands gingerly, and winced. “Yeah, I'm obviously stirring the pot, and someone doesn’t like it.” He told her what he’d learned from Wheaton and Blevins. “Wheaton was holding out on me, but I didn’t realize it until Blevins filled in the blanks.”
She took his hand carefully, and said, “You have to promise you’ll be more careful. I’ve taken a liking to you, and … well, just be more careful. Please?”
Rick grinned at her. “Since you put it that way, how can I refuse?”
She smiled back and said, “I have some news. Guess who filed an application to develop a strip mall, east of Wasilla? Our friend Mr. Ng is apparently closing on some land in the flats, and has big plans for it.”
“That’s interesting. You know, that’s exactly the ‘hypothetical’ scenario that Blevins used, yesterday. Obviously he knew something was going on, but never let on.”
Rebecca glanced out the window, then looked back at him with a serious expression. “The application is for the design of a strip mall, and it says it’ll involve a block grant. Since it’s on unincorporated land, the app came to the Borough for review, but we have limited funds. I spoke to the block grant administrator but he hadn’t heard about this project, so it seems the Representative knows quite a bit. And that makes me wonder what else he knows.”
“That’s a very good question. So where’s Ravenstoke? Is it close to the development site? Otherwise, why would Blevins be in a position to know about this before you did?”
“It’s just a little village southeast of Wasilla, off KGB Road.”
“KGB? Like the Russian KGB?”
“No, silly. Knik-Goose Bay Road is a collector that runs south from Wasilla, but dead ends out in the boonies. There are lots of clustered settlements down that way, and Ravenstoke is off the east side, on a gravel road. A strip mall development over there could really help their finances, and might even give them the momentum to get their road paved. You’d think, given all that, that Blevins would be in favor of it.”
“Maybe he’s just a man with a conscience, and doesn’t like the Ngs’ involvement … or the conflict of interest that it would pose.”
“Maybe. I don’t know him well enough, but you could be right.” They realized the café was getting more crowded, so turned to breakfast. Afterward, he asked Rebecca if she’d like to tag along for the day, and she accepted.
His first stop was back in his room; she watched as he opened a zippered compartment in his suitcase and pulled out a pistol.
“Rick, after yesterday’s events, I understand why you’d want to carry. Just tell me you have a permit for that.”
“Yeah, I have a CCW … sorry. A ‘Concealed Carry Weapon’ permit from Missouri. I usually carry, back home, but hadn’t thought I’d need it up here.”
“I take it yesterday changed your mind.”
“Pretty much. So what do you have, there?”
Rick looked a bit surprised, but ejected the magazine, racked the slide to eject the chambered round and locked the slide back, before handing it butt-first to her.
“Oh, a 1911. Nice. I’ve got a couple of those, myself.”
He looked more surprised. “A couple? I didn’t realize I’d been hanging with Annie Oakley.”
Rebecca laughed out loud. “Oh, please. Guns in Alaska are like drugs in California: everybody’s got some, and most of us carry all the time.” She grew serious and said, “Folks here in Anchorage have kinda gotten away from constant carry, but the rest of the Alaska hasn’t. Let’s face it: we’re not at the top of the food chain here, except by the grace of John Moses Browning.”
“Food chain? Oh right – you have bears.”
“Yes, we have bears: black, brown, griz … and moose. And lately, we have wolves, too.”
Rick looked thoughtful and said, “I hadn’t realized it was like that, at least not in town. So maybe we could schedule a visit to a local range? It would be fun to go shooting with you.”
She handed the pistol back, and said, “Now you’re talking. I knew there was a reason I liked you.” They agreed to meet downstairs, and she left the room.
When Rick reached the lobby a few minutes later, Rebecca wasn’t there.
He checked the café, the small souvenir shop, and the parking lot outside. Going back in, he asked the concierge if he’d noticed Rebecca.
“Yessir, if you’re talking about that brunette lady who got out of the elevator a few minutes ago. She visited the ladies’ room, then two guys in suits came in, and they all left together. You just missed her.”
Rick had a sick feeling in his gut. She’d agreed to wait for him, and never said anything about another meeting. He was trying to decide whether to call her office or go to the police when his cell phone rang.
The caller, male but with a muffled voice, said, “Maxwell, you’re asking too many questions. Drop it. Forget about it, and your lady friend will be just fine.” The call ended abruptly.
That decided it. Rick asked the concierge to call 911, and agreed to stay in the lobby until the detective arrived.
* * * * *
It turned out to be two detectives, male and female. After he identified himself as a concealed weapon carrier and gotten permission to leave the pistol in its holster under his jacket (“Just keep your hands away from it,” they cautioned) he recounted the events of the past hour. They asked him about his business, so he told them that he and Bob Corbett worked for the same employer, and then detailed his adventure in Juneau.
Police Detective Sgt. Jameson Stellar whistled soundlessly. “You’ve been a busy fellow, haven’t you? We don’t get many kidnappings, if that’s what this is, but we don’t get many sniping incidents, either. You seem to be attracting trouble.”
Rick shook his head and told Sgt. Stellar that he’d spoken with Lt. Christakos about Corbett’s death, but hadn’t talked to him for a couple of days. He didn’t mention the early-morning call.
While Stellar’s partner was busy interviewing the concierge and looking for other witnesses, he told Rick was frustrated with some of what he dealt with in Anchorage. "Some of it's still frontier mentality, I guess," he said, exasperated. "I mean, we're not a frontier anymore. Well, okay, some places still are, I guess, but not here in the city.”
Rick was surprised to hear the word “frontier” used in that context. “I guess I just never really thought about it. The frontier days seem so long ago, you know?”
Stellar shook his head. “We’ve only been a state for 52 years. There are plenty of folks here who still remember the old territorial days, and things were pretty ‘wild and wooly’ still, not long ago.”
He had been born in Alaska, began his law enforcement career as a state trooper in Idaho, but came back to Anchorage several years ago. “I've been in the Idaho backcountry, and I've been in the Alaska bush. Both can reward ‘stupid’ with ‘dead’ plenty quick, but there's simply no comparison on the ‘wilderness’ scale. There are plenty of frontier places here, and you don’t have to go very far to find them. Sometimes I think Anchorage has come too far toward ‘big city’ and is forgetting its roots, but that’s another story.”
Rick said thoughtfully, “I'm learning a lot about this place that I didn’t even know enough to ask, before, and I like it … a lot. But I'm worried about Rebecca.”
Stellar asked, “Have you considered doing what the caller said? Just dropping your investigation? Let us do our jobs, and see what comes up.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t seem I’ve got any choice.”
To be continued ...
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