An informal sort of receiving line formed as the applause died and as it did Liam could see the object of all the attention. He recognized him immediately as the old fart with the walker he’d seen on the street on Monday, trying to kill the protesters with laser beams from his eyes. He’d also been at Backdraft. Liam watched as he shook everyone’s hand and called them by their first names and asked after their children and grandchildren and brushed off any attempt to compliment him on his generosity. “Aw hell, come on now. It ain’t much but it’s what I can do.”

The room began to empty out and Liam saw another man standing next to Jefferson, and he recognized him, too. It was the old man who had accompanied Domenica Garland to Jeff’s pub. Hilary Houten, that was it. Houten looked a lot like Blue Jay Jefferson but that might have been because both men were in a similar state of decay. Old people always stood out in Alaska because there were so few of them. Alaskan winters weren’t kind to old bones and retirement turned a lot of them into snowbirds. They’d come back just long enough to not lie on their Permanent Fund Dividend applications and head Outside again, for Oceanside or Sun City or Tampa, where it never snowed and sunrise and sunset stayed the same damn time year round, or near enough as not to keep you up all the damn night. Those who had managed not to blow everything they’d earned during the years of big oil spent their winters in Kona, which along about January seemed like a good idea to Liam, too.

All three men had been present at McGuire’s party on Monday night.

The door closed behind the last person who wasn’t Liam and he walked forward. “I’m guessing you are Aiden Donohoe,” he said. “Sergeant Liam Campbell, Alaska State Troopers. I’m in charge of the new post.”

“Of course, of course,” Donohoe said heartily, grabbing Liam’s hand. His was damp and a little slippery and Liam was able to slide right out of it. He looked at the old man on Donohoe’s left. “Mr. Jefferson.”

“Sergeant. We howdied at Jeff’s but we ain’t shook. Call me Blue Jay. Everyone does.” The bony hand was covered in papery skin and had a surprisingly strong grip, and his voice was surprisingly deep. “This here’s a buddy of mine, Hilary Houten. He’s got some fancy dan degree in old bones. For forty years I been telling him to get a real job but he’s even better at ignoring me than he is looking at bones.”

“Everybody’s good at ignoring you, Blue Jay, and a good thing, too.”

Hilary Houten’s hand felt papery and fragile. Liam kept his grip gentle and released Houten’s hand as soon as he could. “Nice to meet you again, gentlemen. I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time?”

“What can we do you for, Liam?” Donohoe said, but his eyes were wary.