“Don’t you want to know who killed your niece?” Kate said.

His smile faded and his eyes widened. “Didn’t you hear? The police have the driver in custody.”

Kate had been working on keeping her face impassive, but she couldn’t help reacting to this.

Erland was watching her like a hawk, and he said, “Oh yes, a short while ago.” He shook his head admiringly. “It’s amazing what these new police technologies can do, how swiftly miscreants can be brought to justice. We can only hope that the man who so wantonly and carelessly killed my niece will come before Judge Berlin. Randy knows what to do with people like him, although I still think it’s a pity that the constitutional convention chose to omit capital punishment.” He checked his watch. “Well, will you look at the time. Best I be getting on home.” He took Kate’s hand and she let it lie limp in his. “I probably won’t be seeing you again, Kate, but let me tell you just what a pleasure it’s been.” He let his eyes run appreciatively over her body and back up to her face. “I hope we see each other again sometime soon, under better circumstances.”

“Erland,” Kate said. She knew it wasn’t smart, knew it was provocative and dangerous and very probably productive of threat to life and limb, but she couldn’t leave things like this, and she certainly couldn’t let him have the last word.

He turned, the smile still on his face, his eyes alert, attentive, even caressing.

“Your niece, Charlotte?”

“Yes?” he said.

“She paid me in full in advance,” Kate said. She didn’t wait to see his expression change, she just turned and walked away.

She didn’t look back to see if he admired her walk. She only hoped the tremor in her knees didn’t show.

Or that it looked like she’d rather be running.

16

It was an anonymous tip,“ Brendan told her, hanging up the phone. ”A man called nine-one-one and told the dispatcher he’d heard the driver bragging in a bar about getting away with a hit-and-run. And will you please for sweet Christ’s sake sit down?“

Kate was pacing back and forth with a scowl on her face. Mutt had backed herself into a corner, tucking her paws as much beneath her as she could, but it was a very small office and at every half turn, Kate’s left stride would come perilously close to Mutt’s toes. Mutt and Brendan wore identical wary expressions. They’d both seen Kate in this mood before, and both were experienced in the fallout.

“Who’s the driver?” Kate said. “What do we know about him?” “Kate,” Brendan said heavily, “do you really think Erland Bannister hired some guy to kill his niece and then take the fall for it? Erland Bannister, scion of a family that has roots in Alaska going back to before the gold rush, a family who married into the Native community”-he held up a hand, palm out-“doesn’t matter how it ended or why, because those ties are there, and you better believe both families realize it. Erland Bannister, CEO and majority stockholder of a corporation whose GNP is bigger than the state of Alaska’s and whose payroll is second only to RPetCo’s, with a seat on the board of the Alaska Red Cross, the Humanities Forum, and the Alaska Council on the Arts-hell, I could go on, but you’re a bright girl. You’ve got the picture. Do you really believe that Erland Bannister hired someone to take out his niece? And for crissake, why? For hiring you to look into getting her mother, and, may I point out, his sister, out of the clink?”

“Why would he threaten me if there wasn’t something he didn’t want me to find out?”

Brendan gave this the judicial consideration it deserved. “The way I heard it, it sounded more like a bribe,” he said.

She tossed him a look of such scorn that it was only with a strong exercise of his backbone that he managed not to wilt. “That was two nights ago. This afternoon was a threat.”

Again, Brendan considered. “No, I’d have to say none of what you’ve repeated to me could come under the heading of a threat.” Kate turned on him and he shook his head. “He didn’t say anything that could be followed by an ‘or else,” now, did he? No. He didn’t even tell you to butt out. Near as I can figure, adjusting for the decibel level, of course, all Erland Bannister told you was good-bye.“

“He sure wasn’t upset over Charlotte’s death,” Kate said fiercely. “Fucker was erring more on the side of overjoyed.”

“I’d have to check the statutes to be sure, but I don’t think that’s a crime, Kate.” Brendan reflected. “Of course, I haven’t seen the latest bulletin from John Ashcroft, either.”

Kate came to a halt, clenching the back of the chair across from Brendan’s desk in both hands, as if she’d like to tear it apart. “This situation is bent, Brendan.”

“What situation?” Brendan said. “Look, Kate, I’m sorry, but it seems to me you’re out of a job. It’s closing time.” He looked at the clock. “For both of us. Go home.”

Instead, Kate tracked down Axenia.

Axenia was her cousin, who had moved to Anchorage, married a lobbyist, and had recently had a child. Relations were cool between them for many reasons, but mostly because Kate had been born first and smarter and prettier. The expression on Axenia’s face when she opened the door to her house told Kate that she would just as soon be closing it again immediately. “Kate,” she said evenly, and shifted the drooling toddler on one hip.

“Axenia,” Kate said. “I need a favor.”

Inside, the house boasted tastefully chosen and perfectly matched furniture ensembles, a hardwood floor polished to a painful shine, and paint that was never allowed to become smudged. Plastic toys in primary colors were carefully corralled in a toy box in one corner, a pile of glossy magazines was neatly stacked on a teak coffee table, and there were no books to be seen, but that was okay, because there were no reading lamps, either, only wrought-iron torcheres in all four corners, whose job appeared to be to light the ceiling above them. While waiting for the water to boil for coffee, Axenia and the toddler took Kate on a tour of the College Gate split-level house, which included four bedrooms, three baths, a wooden deck that took up most of the backyard, and a room converted into a theater that seated twenty. “A lot of Lew’s clients are pretty labor-intensive,” Axenia said. “We entertain a great deal, cocktail parties, dinners.”

Kate managed to restrain a shudder. “Where is Lew?”

“In D.C., doing some lobbying for UCo.”

Axenia put the baby down for a nap and served Kate coffee and Oreos on the beveled-glass table in the kitchen. “You look good, Axenia,” Kate said.

Axenia, less defensive and more self-assured than Kate had ever seen her, inclined her head in acknowledgment. Her hair was styled in the latest do and her clothes were the latest in casual chic, no doubt fresh off the rack at Nordstrom, and this would be Nordstrom in Seattle, where Axenia would fly to do her shopping, probably half a dozen times a year. “You look well, too,” she said. “Have you been in town for long?”

“A few days. I’m working on a case.”

“Really? What kind?”

“A murder,” Kate said, “thirty-one years ago.”

Axenia raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t they catch him?”

“Her,” Kate said, “they caught her, and she’s in jail, but there seem to be some unanswered questions. I was wondering if you knew anybody in the Muravieff family. They’re sort of connected to this case.”

“Of course,” Axenia said, “Nadine and I are good friends.”

“Nadine.” Kate passed in review a mental flip chart of what she knew of the Muravieff family tree. “Would that be Celia’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

Celia was Eugene’s sister. Nadine was Eugene’s niece. “Could you ask Nadine to introduce me to her mother?”

Axenia didn’t ask why; she just reached for the phone and dialed a number from memory. The call took less than two minutes. She hung up and said to Kate, “Celia lives with Nadine. You can go over there right now.”