Steve Hamilton - Misery Bay

“You made that trip to Houghton on Raz’s behalf. He’s obviously not here to pay you, so I will.”

“I don’t want any money.”

He didn’t answer that. The room was silent again. He kept staring at the door. After another minute passed, he leaned forward, put both hands on the table, and pushed himself to his feet, as slowly as a ninety-year-old man.

“Chief,” I said, as I got to my feet. “I’m sorry.”

He took two steps and stopped. He didn’t look at me.

“It’s time for you to go home,” he said. “I have work to do.”

“What are you planning on doing now?”

He turned and looked me in the eye for the first time since we’d come back to the station. Hell, for the first time since I’d found Raz on his kitchen floor.

“Do you have to ask?”

“You heard what they said, Chief. This isn’t your case.”

“You’re probably right. But let me ask you a question. If it was your old friend, would you let anybody stop you?”

“Chief, come on.”

“Answer the question.”

I looked at him for a long time. I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say no. I didn’t have to say anything at all, because we both knew the answer.

And we’re rolling…

… Here’s my neighbor, Mrs. P. Hello, Mrs. P. How are your roses growing?

… Close-up on her face. She’s looking at the camera, looking at the camera, that’s it.

… And then boom, she looks at something behind me.

… Her face changes. Yes, that’s it. Nice job. You’re selling this. It’s all in the face.

… Meanwhile. Uh-oh. This can’t be good, right?

… Easy there, don’t overdo it, Mrs. P. Your eyes are as big as saucers.

… The Monster is standing behind us. Let’s not even look. We’re too scared to even turn around!

And cut.

I drove home in the dark. The wind kicked up and covered the road with white sheets of snow for yards at a time, rocking my truck back and forth. When I finally got back to Paradise, the yellow light was flashing in the middle of town and the Glasgow Inn was still glowing in the darkness. Beyond that the whole town seemed deserted. Usually there’d be snowmobiles zipping all over the place, but when people downstate get the idea in their heads that we’re not getting enough snow, they just don’t come. A cruel irony as I put the plow down and pushed six inches of new snow off Jackie’s empty parking lot.

When I was done, I sat there with the truck idling and asked myself if I really needed to go inside. I didn’t feel like talking about what had happened, but I felt even less like going back to any empty cabin. So I turned off the ignition. Jackie was cleaning up the place and barely looked up when I came in.

“Where have you been?” he said. He poked at the fire with a long iron stick.

“To hell and back,” I said. “Although I’m not sure about the ‘back’ part.” I went behind the bar and grabbed a Molson from the bottom row in the cooler. Then I sat down in my usual chair by the fire.

There was a roar inside my head, louder than a jet engine. Louder than the wind howling away outside in the cold night. I closed my eyes and tried to quiet it but it only got louder until I couldn’t even imagine hearing anything else.

Three days went by. I could still see the blood on the floor every night when I closed my eyes, but the colors were fading and the scene was shifting and turning into something else entirely. A different floor, with different blood. Then another, until they all blended together. If there was anything like true justice in the universe, I’d be exempt from bloody floors for the rest of my life.

I called Agent Long on the second day and she said they were still chasing leads, which might have meant they were getting absolutely nowhere. There was no way to tell. I called her back the next day and this time she asked me point blank to explain why Chief Maven was such a psychotic jackass. Her exact words for him. I was an unlikely person to defend him, but I asked her to remember what had happened to a man who had once been his partner.

“I hear what you’re saying,” she said, “but he’s driving us absolutely crazy over here.”

“How so?” As if I had to ask.

“I thought he understood this was our case, but he’s been up and down the street, personally talking to every neighbor. Plus he’s got his men rounding up every surveillance camera in town.”

“Didn’t you guys think of that?”

There was a silence then, as she processed my little dig.

“We’ve done this a few times before,” she finally said. “I think we’ve got it all covered, thank you very much.”

“Do you have anything new since the last time I talked to you?”

“It’s still ongoing,” she said. Making me wonder, once again, if they had anything at all.

I thanked her all the same, and wished her the best of luck with Chief Maven. Then I called the Soo police station. I asked for the chief and the woman at the desk told me she’d leave a message for him. He didn’t call back.

I shrugged it off for the time being and went back to working on the last cabin with Vinnie. It had finally started snowing hard again, like Beboong, the Ojibwa winter spirit, was making up for lost time. I plowed my road. In the evenings I’d buy Vinnie dinner down at the Glasgow. Jackie was still in a bad mood, chasing away customers. Three days since the day I found Raz on Maven’s kitchen floor, and now everything was almost back to normal.

So why couldn’t I shake the feeling that I was missing something important?

It was a Friday morning. As soon as I woke up, I knew there was only one way to get to the bottom of this thing. Only one person who could help me see things in a different way. I took a hot shower and got dressed and headed out. The wind had died down and the sun was trying to come out. It was almost a nice day, but I knew not to fall for it. You think spring is on the way up here and end up with a broken heart. I grabbed some breakfast at the Glasgow, got back in the truck, and then headed east.

When I hit the Soo I drove over to the Custom Motor Shop on Three Mile Road. It was the last place Leon Prudell had worked and I was hoping he’d still be there. But the man at the desk told me Leon was no longer an employee. Judging by the empty parking lot, I could see why. It’s hard to keep a full staff in the winter when you’re not moving snowmobiles.

I drove down to his house by the airport in Rosedale. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to, but I didn’t see much choice. The house looked quiet when I got there. The kids were off at school, no doubt, and maybe his wife was out shopping or something. That was my hope. I parked my truck and went to the front door. The old tire swing was still hanging from the tree in the front yard. Now it was covered with as much snow as could balance on its rounded surface. I looked at the rope tied to the thick branch above the tire swing and I couldn’t help picturing a young man hanging there. Something that would probably always come to me now, whenever I saw a rope and a tree.

Eleanor answered the door. She was roughly the size of an NFL linebacker, and was probably just as strong. I had seen her lift Leon completely off the ground when he had two broken ankles, and Leon wasn’t exactly a ballerina himself.

“Alex,” she said, and then I saw the cloud pass over her face. It was the same as ever and this is exactly why I didn’t want to be here. The woman loved me, I was sure of that. But she hated to see my face at her door.

The lead story on Leon Prudell is that he grew up wanting to be a private eye. It’s the only thing he’s ever really wanted to do. We got tangled up, once upon a time, and then we sort of worked together and for a while there he even referred to me as his partner. He even had business cards made up. After that, when I made it clear that I wanted no part in the private investigator business, he opened up his own office in Sault Ste. Marie. That office is closed now, and Leon has held a number of jobs since then. Still, he’s never given up on that original dream.