“Come on, boy,” Jefferson said. He looked older than Houten and sounded younger, his voice deeper and steadier. “There was almost no one at the party that didn’t have a beef with Erik. Boy might not have known his bones but he did know how to make enemies. Including the host.” His stare was challenging.

“You mean about vacating the right of way that led to the beach and Mr. Berglund’s dig? Yes, Mr. McGuire told me about that.”

“Hah! I’ll just bet he did. Those Outside slickers got every base covered and all the money in the world to pay for ’em.”

“You don’t think I should believe him?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, boy. Where’d you say you were from, anyway?”

“I didn’t, sir, but Newenham, most recently.”

“Hah! You born in Alaska?”

It was a question an Alaskan old fart always asked, always at the beginning of any acquaintance. Alaska old farts could and would bury you with time served. Even if you had been born in Alaska, they could always trump you by having been born in the Territory, with chapter and verse on statehood and how they didn’t vote for it, although let the record show that in 1958 Alaskans did vote for statehood six to one. “No, sir, I was born in Germany. We didn’t move here until I was two years old.”

“Army brat?”

“Air Force.”

“Hah.” It was beginning to sound more like a verbal tic than a judgment and Liam relaxed a little. “You never served?”

“No. Law enforcement was more my style.”

“You one a them flying troopers?”

“No.” God forbid. “But I can handle an ATV pretty well.”

He was going for the joke but Jefferson didn’t take it that way. “How about a boat?”

“Never owned one.”

“Hah.”

Liam judged the job interview over, and said, “Gentlemen, as I said, I’m investigating the death of Erik Berglund. He was, in fact, murdered.”

“How?”

“His body is with the medical examiner in Anchorage. It may be that the guests of Mr. McGuire’s party were the last to see him alive. Did anything unusual happen that evening? Did he argue with anyone there? Did he leave with someone?”

“He was still there when I left,” Donohoe said, and the two old men nodded agreement. “Look, Liam, here’s the thing. Yes, he pissed off, well, pretty much everyone in the Bay, including a bunch of husbands, but murder?” He shook his head. “Besides, killing fights don’t generally show up around here until February, along with cabin fever.”

“And sure as hell nobody at that party would do something so goddamn foolish,” Jefferson said. “All of ’em got way too much to lose.”

Hilary Houten thumped his cane in agreement.

He asked them when they’d left the party and checked their departure times against Gabe and Len’s recollections. He didn’t find any glaring discrepancies. Donohoe said he and his wife had driven straight home, and their two teenagers were still up when they got there. Jefferson said he and Houten had spent the night on Jefferson’s boat, docked in the harbor, and the next morning gone across to Jefferson’s home in Jefferson Cove. Liam repressed a sigh. “One more thing. Do any of you know where Berglund lived?”