Steve Hamilton - Ice Run

“I’ve got snow up to my ass,” he said. “Half the town I can’t even get to. I got a poor old man found frozen stiff in a snowbank. Now you show up.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

“Just knock it off, McKnight. What do you want from me?”

“It’s about Simon Grant.”

He looked at me. “What about him?”

“I saw him last night,” I said. “At the Ojibway Hotel.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You see this hat?” I said, holding it up.

“What about it?”

“It belonged to Mr. Grant.”

“What, is he a friend of yours?”

“As far as I know, I never met him before last night.”

“So how come you have his hat?”

“He left it for me,” I said. “Right before he went out and froze to death.”

Maven thought about that one. “Okay, start at the beginning,” he said. “What were you doing at the hotel? Having dinner?”

“Yes,” I said. “Then staying the night.”

“Staying the night? With who?”

“That’s none of your business, Chief.”

“Now I understand the dye job,” he said. “McKnight, could you get any more ridiculous?”

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

“Go ahead.”

I ran through the rest of it for him. It was the third time I had told it that day, but it still didn’t make any sense to me.

“So let me get this straight,” he said when I was done. “You’ve never seen this man before, ever?”

“No.”

“You’re sure about that.”

“Yes.”

“And when you see this hat lying there on the floor outside the room, you go downstairs and chase this eighty-two-year-old man into the snow?”

“I didn’t chase him into the snow. I was just looking for him.”

“So you could… what?”

“So I could ask him what the hell he was talking about. Why he thought he knew who I was.”

Maven closed his eyes. “You were involved in, let me think, the last three homicides in this city? No, four. Now we’ve got this poor old man who freezes to death in the snow. Even with that, you’ve got to show up holding the man’s hat.”

“Chief, I don’t know why he did this. Okay? I’ve got no idea.”

“Maybe my wife is right,” he said. “Maybe it’s time to retire. Move to Florida.”

“I hear it’s nice this time of year.”

“Just give me the hat.”

I looked down at it. For some strange reason, I didn’t want to give it up. It felt like the hat itself was a message I still hadn’t figured out yet. But hell, at least Leon had taken those pictures.

“You’ll give this to his family?” I said.

“Of course.”

“Can you have them give me a call? I’d like to talk to them.”

“Why do you want to talk to them?”

“I just want to figure out why he thought he knew me.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he said. “McKnight, if I find out you’re bothering these people, I swear to God… Don’t you think they’re going through enough?”

“I’m not going to bother anybody.”

“You’re damned right you’re not gonna. If I find out you’re harassing this family while they’re burying this poor man-”

“Chief, please. Give me some credit.”

“I’ll give you my boot up your ass,” he said. “I’ve seen you do this before, remember? I know you. Please, McKnight, just go home and forget all about this, will you? Go dye your hair some more. I can still see some gray.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” I said, getting to my feet. “As always.”

“Promise me, McKnight.” He stayed behind his desk. “Promise me for once in your life you’ll leave something alone.”

I raised my hands. “There’s nothing to talk about, Chief. An old man is confused, he thinks he recognizes someone, he goes out in the cold, and he dies. It’s just an unfortunate accident.”

“So you’re going right back to Paradise?”

“I’m on my way.”

I caught one final glimpse of his face as I shut the door behind me. He didn’t look like a man who believed me.

There were snowflakes in the air when I got back outside. For once it felt good to breathe in the cold air. I started up my truck and headed straight for home.

There was just one little stop to make on the way.

I had already avoided eating lunch there. The last thing I wanted to do was sit in that dining room and remember the night before. But now as I headed back across town, I couldn’t pass the Ojibway Hotel without stopping for one quick visit.

There was a different woman behind the desk. I asked her if I could see the manager. She told me I was looking at her. I introduced myself, and asked her if she had been around the previous night.

“I just got back into town today,” she said. “I picked a great time to leave, eh?”

“Did you know Mr. Grant?”

“Not very well, no. But I know he’s lived in this town forever. He used to come in here a few years ago and have dinner.”

“A few years ago, you say?”

“Yes. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t even sure if he was around anymore. I hadn’t seen him in so long. When I found out he was here last night…”

“I was here, too,” I said. “I’m wondering if I can talk to somebody about what happened. The woman who was on the desk, is she going to be around today?”

“No, not until tomorrow.”

“What about the doorman? The kid who was out there shoveling the snow?”

“No,” she said. I could tell she was starting to wonder why I was asking all these questions. “He’s not here.”

“Do you know when he’ll be working again?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Were you here with Mr. Grant last night?”

“No,” I said. “But I talked to him. Sort of. The doorman, he was here all day, and I know he saw Mr. Grant sitting in the lobby. I bet you he talked to him a lot more than I did. What was that kid’s name again?”

She didn’t bite. “Look, I really can’t…”

“I understand,” I said, taking out my wallet. What the hell, I thought. I still had some of these old business cards, the ones Leon had made up. God knows I wasn’t actually in the game anymore, but she didn’t have to know that. “But I’d really like to ask him a few questions.”

She took the card from me and looked at it. Prudell-McKnight Investigations, with the two guns pointed at each other. “You’re a private investigator?”

“I’m just trying to help out.”

Help out what? I didn’t know what I was talking about now. But somehow it seemed to be working.

“His name is Chris Woolsey,” she said. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little worried about him. He’s supposed to be here today.”

“Chris Woolsey,” I said. At that moment I wished I always carried a pad of paper like Leon. “He never showed up for work today?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“You know, when I came back down here last night, I didn’t see him anywhere. I assumed he was out looking for Mr. Grant.”

“The poor kid is probably traumatized.”

“I’d like to check up on him,” I said. “Would you happen to have an address and phone number?”

“Oh, now, I don’t know…”

“I just want to ask him a few questions, ma’am. It’s important.”

She looked at my card again, then let out a long breath and did a quick run through a Rolodex. “He goes to Lake State,” she said. “He’s a senior, I think. This is the address and phone number I have for him. I think it’s still current, but you know how it is when you’re in college.”

“Yes,” I said. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She wrote down the number and gave it to me. I thanked her again and left.