“I wish. I’m driving, so two beers are my limit, but at least that way we get to escape earlier. There’s a method to my madness.” He winked and took a large gulp of beer. “There’s a pair of earrings in the auction room I saw Katrina eyeing earlier, and I want to put a bid on them. When she comes back, can you tell her I’ve gone to the men’s room?”
“Sure.”
I glanced over at Katrina. She had a fake smile plastered on her face and was shaking hands with a small man. He had a thin face, a large nose, and prominent ears. She nodded dutifully as the man’s face pinched together, his mouth flapped like a fish out of water, and his hands flew out. Katrina caught my eye and then sent hers to the heavens. I chuckled.
“That man drives mefuckingnuts,” she said as she rejoined me a few minutes later. “Too many bears apparently, and he thinks we need to cull. Last month it was too many deer. Next month it’ll probably be too many people.”
“Do you have a problem with bears near town?”
She shook her head. “No.” She paused while the barmaid handed us another champagne each and waited for her to leave before she spoke. “Well, sometimes. We’ve had a few deaths in the mountains, and a few years back a young one wandered a bit close. But mostly they stay higher up. Bears rarely come near humans, and the locals know to take bear spray when they hike. It’s the idiots from out of town that have no idea, even though we put signs up everywhere warning them.”
I was one of those idiots, but I took bear spray at least.
She ran a finger up her glass and looked around. “Where’s Robert?”
“Boy’s room,” I lied.
“I see you’re doing your obligatory mayor duties?” a not entirely pleasant voice said from behind.
Katrina pinched her lips together in what could be mistaken for a smile, but wasn’t.
I twisted in my seat. The man wasn’t tall, but he had broad shoulders and brown hair, which was starting to gray around the sides and was greased back behind his ears. His face was stubbled. His suit hung a little big across the shoulders, a little long in the sleeves.
“Mike, what brings you here?”
“Oh, you know me—I’m always on the hunt for a story.” He took a sip of whiskey. Arrogance seeped from his pores, but not as much as the stench of aftershave.
“I hardly think an annual fundraiser is something you need to drive here for. Just do what you did last year for your little story, press copy and paste from the year before.”
“How’s the investigation going into Lucy’s murder?” he asked coldly.
The champagne had fuzzed my head, and it took a moment before I registered who Lucy is. Was. The one Karson spoke to who disappeared the next day. For a split second, the incomprehensible rattled through my brain. Did he kill her? Everyone had light and dark inside them; my mother had told me that. She was a detective like my father, and she’d said you couldn’t tell from a glance what people were capable of.
“Accidental death,” Katrina corrected smoothly. “The coroner, as you well know, did an inquest into her disappearance. You really should take a moment to read it before you go off on your tangents. There’s no need to continue an investigation into something that’s already been settled.”
He snorted. “I have read it, and we both know it’s bullshit, Katrina.”
“She went hiking in the mountains in the middle of winter, in the snow, without the right clothing, let alone equipment,” Katrina responded, exasperated.
Mike thumped his glass on the bar. Whiskey spilled over the side, slinking into the wood grain. “Which is why her body should have been found. Guess it’s hard to find, though, when it’s been buried.”
Katrina’s fingers trembled around the stem of her glass. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”
Mike’s lip curled up. “Nothing—except covering up the truth.”
She threw out a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You spoke to her.” He leaned forward, glaring at her, the smell of whiskey rolling off his breath. “You know she was onto something, or someone.”
Katrina sat her drink on the bar and rubbed her temple with her fingers, her eyes half closed like a sudden headache plagued her. “We talked about the missing people, and she threw a few thoughts around, nothing of substance. I have better things to do than listen to ludicrous conspiracy theories.”
Mike straightened. “And yet those ludicrous theories got her killed.”
Katrina sighed. I felt sorry for her; his attack was as absurd as me thinking, for a brief moment, that Karson had murdered her. Mike finished his drink and waited for her to respond.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, “but perhaps there might be a better time to talk about your concerns.”
He shifted his gaze to me. “And who might you be?” It sounded like an attack.
