Chapters (64)
- Other Books by This Author
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- A Hero’s Death
- Chapter 2
- Love’s Labors Lost
- Chapter 3
- Reflections
- Chapter 4
- On the Waterfront
- Chapter 5
- A Glass in the Hand
- Chapter 6
- A Capital Ship
- Chapter 7
- Watchman, Tell Us of the Night
- Chapter 8
- Learning the Business
- Chapter 9
- Just Another Dead Black
- Chapter 10
- Down the Hatches
- Chapter 11
- Grounded
- Chapter 12
- Bedside Stories
- Chapter 13
- Sherry at Valhalla
- Chapter 14
- Potluck
- Chapter 15
- The Frozen North
- Chapter 16
- Stowaway
- Chapter 17
- Deadlock
- Chapter 18
- The Long Journey Home
- Chapter 19
- Pavane for a Dead Hockey Player
- Chapter 20
- Unloading
- Chapter 21
- Fishing Trip
- Chapter 22
- Nighttime Chiseler
- Chapter 23
- A House of Mourning
- Chapter 24
- A Question of Policy
- Chapter 25
- The Old Girl Network
- Chapter 26
- On the Tiles
- Chapter 27
- On Board the Dragon Ship
- Chapter 28
- The Fire Ship of Wodin
- Chapter 29
- The Long Good-bye
- Cover
By now she had ascertained my disheveled state. She hustled me into the bathroom and sat me in a steaming bath in her old-fashioned porcelain tub. She blew her nose briskly and went off to put a chicken on to simmer, then came back with two tumblers of my scotch. Lotty rarely drank—she was clearly deeply upset.
She perched on a three-legged stool while I soaked my sore shoulder and related the highlights of my adventures.
“I can’t believe Bledsoe hired Mattingly,” I concluded. “I just don’t believe my judgment of character can be so wrong. Bledsoe and his captain roused my hackles. But I liked them.” I went on to tell her the same thoughts that had tormented my four-hour ride in from the Soo. “I guess I’ll have to put my prejudices aside and look into Pole Star’s insurance arrangements and their general financial health.”
“Sleep on it,” Lotty advised. “You have a lot of different avenues to explore. In the morning one of them will look the most promising. Maybe Phillips. He has the most definite tie to Boom Boom, after all.”
Wrapped in a large terry-cloth robe, I sat with her in the kitchen eating the chicken and feeling comfort seep into the worn spots of my mind. After dinner Lotty rubbed Myoflex into my back and arms. She gave me a muscle relaxant and I fell into a deep, peppermint-scented sleep.
The phone dragged me out of the depths some ten hours later. Lotty came in and gently touched my arm. I opened bleary eyes.
“Phone’s for you, my dear. Janet somebody—used to be Boom Boom’s secretary.”
I shook my head groggily and sat up to take the phone by the guest bed.
Janet’s homey, middle-aged voice woke me up more thoroughly. She was upset. “Miss Warshawski, I’ve been fired. Mr. Phillips told me it was because they didn’t have enough for me to do, with Mr. Warshawski gone and all. But I think it’s because I was going through those files for you. I don’t think they would have fired me if I hadn’t done that. I mean, there was always enough work before—”
I cut into the repetitive flow. “When did this happen?”