Chilton’s killer was interested in her.
Anya’s palms were sweaty. She checked the room again, feeling more creeped out now than she had upon discovering the dead lawyer. She needed to get out. She needed to think.
She picked up the empty file folder with her name on it, reversed it so the blood spatter was on the inside, and stuck it into her bag.
Anya looked around the office one last time, flipped off the lights, and left—closing the door behind her.
Coming out of the narrow alleyway from Chilton’s office onto the main street, she kept her pace slow, stopping to look in a couple of shop windows as she made her way down the sidewalk on Lincoln Street toward Totem Square. She turned and walked down Katlian Street, then went into the fishing supply store and browsed the commercial fishing tackle.
Just a fisherman, picking up some gear.
Anya picked up a box of trolling snaps and a new lightweight gaff. She checked out and continued down the road to the boat harbor where Lady Melinda was moored.
Near the top of the ramp was a pay phone. Should she report Chilton’s murder? If she didn’t, and someone had seen her, it would look suspicious.
Anya took several rapid deep breaths and didn’t have to work too hard to sound alarmed. “Hello? I was just at my lawyer’s office and…The door was open so I went in and I think he might have shot himself. He was lying dead on his desk with blood everywhere.”
“We will send someone right away. Are you certain he is dead? Can you check for a pulse?”
“Yes, I’m sure he was dead. I’m not there anymore. I was scared and just closed the door and left when I saw it. I’ll be on my boat in the harbor if you need me.”
Anya gave her name, boat name, and slip number, as well as Chilton’s address. She took the empty folder from her bag, ripped it up, and tossed it into the harbor dumpster, then hurried down the ramp to her boat.
She craved the familiar comfort of her boat, and she realized that was odd. The boat had been a place of danger for her, a place where she battled nature and the elements and her husband—any of which could have erased her on a whim. Something had changed. It belonged to her now. More than anyplace else, Lady Melinda was her home.
Chapter 43
...- .. --- .-.. .- - .. --- -.
Juneau, AK
2017—Marconi Franco
Marco removed the fill cap, stuck his freshwater hose into the opening, and turned on the hydrant. It would take a good half hour or more to refill Radio Flyer’s 200-gallon freshwater tank from the city water on the dock. Rather than stand there staring at the hose, Marco figured he had time to settle up his harbor bill, grab some coffee, and chat with Gloria—the gal at the front desk—so he headed up the ramp to the office. Radio Flyer was moored across from Fresh Crab Guy—who had a boat that seemed to always be parked in the same slip, selling crab to whomever walked by. Marco wondered if Fresh Crab Guy ever actually went crabbing, or if other boats brought him the crab he sold. Marco couldn’t remember ever seeing the boat leave the harbor.
Bill had left the previous morning for the airport, and Marco missed him already. Usually, Marco preferred to be alone aboard Radio Flyer, but it had been great having the company and someone to show around. Experiencing Bill’s reaction to the grandeur of Alaska made the whole place feel fresh and exciting again, and Marco was ready to get underway and continue exploring. He had a notion to go back to Radioville to see what else he might dig up. His original plan was to stop by the Alaska State Museum and Library while he was in Juneau, but the Historical Collections department was closed through the weekend. He was itching to get back out on the water anyway.
The harbor office was busy, and he had to wait longer than he expected to pay his bill. Dave, the harbormaster, recognized him and poked his head out of his office. “Hey—Marco—I saw the article about you in the paper—so you’re a treasure hunter now, huh? We charge prospectors double for moorage, you know. Be sure to add that surcharge, Gloria.”
Gloria laughed as she finished up the previous customer’s bill. “I put the article right up there on the bulletin board. Everybody’s talking about it!”
Tourist Discovers Hidden Gold on Remote Alaska Island
By Jake Jacobs
Special to the Empire
A pleasure boater helping with the search for a lost woman discovered gold hidden inside an 80-year old radio on a remote island off the coast of Chichagof. Marconi Franco, aboard his boat Radio Flyer, found the ruins of a 1930s radio station that supposedly acted as a communications hub between the gold mining operations on Chichagof and the rest of the world. When he disassembled the old radio transmitter he found, he got more than he bargained for—a hidden bag of gold!
Mr. Franco, who has been a radio enthusiast all his life, was excited by the radio history of the remote station, which would have been one of the early examples of radio communication being used in the Alaska Territory. “I thought the missing woman might be on that island. Finding Radioville was tricky. It isn’t shown on any current charts, but I was able to locate it through a tip from a local, some old documents and a little bit of luck,” said Mr. Franco.
When asked what his plans were for the gold, Franco was vague. “It’s not like winning the lottery or anything. I think it’s just a few hundred bucks worth of gold. For me, the exciting thing is the history. What happened in Radioville? Why was this gold hidden inside this radio? It’s all very curious. I think I may do more research, maybe go back there, and possibly write a book about it.”
Marco regretted talking to the reporter even more. He didn’t like the attention, and the article made it sound like he was more interested in radios and gold than finding the missing woman.
He turned back to Gloria at the desk. “Gosh, now that I’m a hundred-aire, the sky’s the limit. Are you throwing in an extra cup of coffee with that moorage bill?”
Dave ducked back into his office and reemerged with some papers. “No sir. Coffee is full price for you rich folks.”