Murder at Fire Bay Read Online Free PDF Page B

forever, but finally Crouch sat, followed slowly by Martha, as if she was afraid he was going to pull something weird. When it came to a man like John Crouch, well, you had to be on guard. He had a mean reputation in Alaska.
    I kept on with my platitudes, hoping they would stop glaring at one another. Eventually, they settled back in their chairs and their faces relaxed . . . a little.
    “Now, about the thefts,” I said.
    Abby now looked at me with nothing short of adoration. I felt sorry for her. She was in way over her head in this matter. She had just had the job of temporary supervisor for a week and she probably didn’t really want the job to begin with. I suspected the Boss had appointed her solely because she had more seniority than most of the station’s employees. If only life were that simple when determining who was qualified to be a boss.
    “Tell me, Abby,” I asked gently, “how did you happen to notice the articles were missing?”
    “I was doing paperwork when some totals didn’t add up. You know, incoming and outgoing.” She was relaxed now; her hands had stopped their wringing.
    “Good going,” I said, and gave her a smile.  
    Crouch rolled his eyes, while Martha kept hers steely, ready to pounce.
    I continued quietly with the questioning. I made it plain that Abby was not responsible and indeed deserved praise for coming forward with the problem. Her face radiated even more adoration, which embarrassed me no end. I ended the session with some thoughts on how we were going to catch the thief, if there truly was one. This left Crouch somewhat unhappy, as he wanted a scapegoat. Now he would have to go back to Anchorage empty-handed. Well, too . . . bad.  
    He left immediately, with an admonition to get the situation in hand, or fur would fly, meaning, I suspected, that everyone in the station would get the third degree, overhead lamp and all. I gave him my best cheesy grin as I walked him out the door and told him that, of course, we would give it the highest priority. Which was a lie on my part and he probably knew it. But it would go into his report and his rear would be covered.
    As I walked back across the main floor thinking about my next move, Martha sidled up to me with her hand held out. “Well, Mr. Postmaster, you just made points with the Union,” she said with a smile.  
    I assured her it was nothing, just doing my job.  
    She nodded and released my hand. “Uh huh, you don’t like Crouch either, do you?”
    She had me there. I didn’t, but I decided not to say as much. Such things can come back to haunt you, so I hemmed and hawed, much to her amusement. She left me standing there in the middle of the floor watching as she made her way back to her case. I sighed. Her Levi’s were really tight.  
    My next action was to ask Abby to turn the place upside down, if necessary, to find a certain Mr. Grosse’s package. She assured me she would, and I headed back to the office thinking I couldn’t wait to get back to Western Alaska and sweet Jeanette.
    The rest of the day went fairly well, thank God. We were even able to give Mr. Grosse his package that he so desperately needed. Abby had found it behind a storage locker on the main floor, along with another package that had been missing. How they got there was anybody’s guess. My gut said there was some foul play involved. Why anybody would want Grosse’s part for a motor was beyond me. It was in an old cardboard box that had been mailed many times. It was impossible to tell whether it had been tampered with.
    It was a mistake on my part, though, to think that once George Grosse had his part, everything would be peaches and cream. After Abby called him and had the part delivered to his door, he still was not satisfied. He came bursting into my office that afternoon still mad.
    “I’m telling yuh, Mr. Postmaster, or whatever you are, this kind of crap keeps on, there’s gonna be an investigation, cause I’m calling the senator,