Trickster's Point

CHAPTER 19

The night grew cold, and the fire died to embers, and Winona Crane had not returned. Cork finally went back to the cabin, where he found Willie drinking hot spiced tea from a white ceramic mug.

Willie asked, “Did you talk to her?” Diyoutatoher?

“She didn’t show.”

“She’s there. Watching. She’ll come back when you’re gone. You said you had a message from Jubal. I can give it to her.”

“In a minute. There are some things I want to ask first, Willie. I’d have asked Winona if she’d shown herself.”

“All right. Ask.”

“Did Jubal talk to you or Winona about threats on his life?”

“Winona said he got threats all the time.”

“Did he talk to her about any specific threat?”

“If he did, she didn’t say.”

“Did he take the threats seriously?”

“He wasn’t afraid for himself. He was more concerned about his wife.”

“What about Winona? Was he afraid for Winona?”

A sad smile warped Willie’s lips. “No one knew about him and Winona.”

“Not true,” Cork said. “I knew. And Camilla knew. And, I suspect, her brothers knew as well.”

“Her brothers?” Willie spoke as if the mention of them had brought something forgotten to his mind. “Jubal was concerned about something, but not a threat necessarily, or at least the kind of threat you’re thinking of. He was concerned about his brother-in-law.”

“Which one?”

“Nicholas. I guess he’s always been a little on the unpredictable side. There was some trouble that Jubal was afraid might reflect badly on the family and, as a result, on his own candidacy.”

“Did he tell Winona what the trouble was?”

“Yes, but she was vague about it when she talked to me. From the things she did say, I think it had to do with a hunt he and Jubal had done together in the Arctic wilderness in northern Canada last year. I had a sense that, whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad. Maybe even as bad as someone getting killed. One of the Native people, maybe. All covered up, of course. She did tell me Jubal thought that in the future it might prove to be a way to rein in the worst of Nicholas’s excesses. Sounded to me like blackmail.”

Cork gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Jubal told me once that in politics it’s not called blackmail. It’s called ‘leverage.’ Did Camilla and Alex Jaeger know about this… whatever it was?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, Winona was vague.”

Something came to Cork now, the sudden realization of a possible connection. “Willie, this incident in Canada, did Winona mention the name Rhiannon in connection with it?”

“Rhiannon?” Willie frowned and thought hard. “She never said that name to me. Are you going to tell me Jubal’s message now?”

“Just a couple more questions. When we were kids, Sam Winter Moon taught Jubal and me how to hunt in the old way.”

“I know.”

“Sam also taught Winona.”

Willie seemed surprised that Cork knew. “What of it?”

“Does she still hunt in the old way?”

“Not in years.”

“Why did Sam teach her?”

“She asked. It was something she wanted to learn. I think because Jubal knew how, she wanted to know how, too.”

“Where was Winona on Saturday, Willie?”

His dark eyes, which had held a kind of soft mournfulness, grew hard, and he stared at Cork, wordless for a very long time. “You think Winona killed Jubal?”

“I just want to know where she was.”

“You want to know because you’re wondering if she put an arrow in Jubal’s heart.”

Cork said, “It’s a very small wonder, but it’s there.”

“She won’t talk to you because she’s afraid. And she ought to be afraid. Of everyone.” Willie spit it out with such anger that Cork could barely understand the words. “We’re done here.”

“Don’t you want to know the message Jubal left for your sister?”

A different kind of spark came into Willie’s eyes, a deep, burning interest.

“He said that if only Kitchimanidoo had allowed it, he would have spent his life with Winona, and he would have been happy.”

Willie’s look changed again, this time to bitter disbelief. Cork wasn’t sure if Willie didn’t believe what Jubal had said or didn’t believe what Cork had told him. He stepped into the kitchen, set his mug of tea on the counter, and said, “It’s time I took you home.”

“There’s one more thing, Willie. Camilla asked me to pass along some information to Winona.”

“What?”

“She’s planning to bury Jubal in Saint Paul.”

That wasn’t exactly the message; it didn’t carry the venom.

Willie considered it, then said, “Good,” and headed out the cabin door.

They were nearing Aurora when Cork’s cell phone rang. He checked the number. Out of Area. He answered, “O’Connor.”

“Rhiannon.”

“Who is this?”

“Drop it.”

“Why?”

“She’s got nothing to do with Little’s death.”

“Who is she?”

“Let it go, O’Connor.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Understand this: If the name Rhiannon comes out of your mouth again, it’ll be the last thing that ever does. And something else to keep in mind. You mention this conversation to anyone, especially the sheriff or her people, someone near and dear to you will pay the price. That’s a promise.”

“Listen-” Cork began, but the caller was gone.

Willie glanced across at him. “You look like you just talked to the Devil himself.”

Cork thought about the warning he’d just received. It was a stupid call, of course, because now there was no way in hell he wouldn’t pursue the mystery of Rhiannon. But it was effective in one respect. He would not mention the name again, not until he’d found the answer.

“It was no one, Willie,” he said. “No one important.”