Northern Lights

place, when he's got acres of hunting ground where he lives?"
    "Depends, wouldn't it?"
    "On what?"
    "What he was hunting, for one."
    "Yeah. I guess it would depend on that."
     
     
    THE CRACKS IN THE RIVER lengthened and widened as the temperatures held above freezing. From the banks, Nate saw his first sight of the cold, deep blue shimmer between the gleam of white. Fascinated, he watched it spread and heard what sounded like artillery fire. Or the crashing fist of God.
    Plates of ice heaved up, swamped and surrounded by that blue, then floated placidly, like a newborn island.
    "Something almost religious about your first breakup," Hopp commented as she walked up beside him.
    "My first breakup was with Pixie Newburry, and it was more traumatic than religious."
    Hopp stood in silence as ice crackled and boomed. "Pixie?"
    "Yeah. She had these big almond-shaped eyes, so everybody called her Pixie. She dumped me for this kid whose father had a boat. It was the first wave in a sea of broken hearts for me."
    "Sounds shallow to me. You were better off without her."
    "Didn't seem like it at twelve. I didn't think this would happen so fast."
    "Once nature decides to move, there's no stopping her. And you can bet she'll slap us back with a few more licks of winter before she's done. But breakup's a time for celebration around here. We're having an informal breakup party at The Lodge tonight. You'll want to put in an appearance."
    "Okay."
    "You've been spending more time at Meg's than The Lodge, sleeping arrangement–wise." She smiled when he merely looked at her. "It's been mentioned, here and there."
    "Is my choice of sleeping arrangements a problem—official-wise?"
    "No, indeed." She cupped her hand around a cigarette, used a thick silver zippo to light it. "And on a personal front, I'd estimate that Meg Galloway's no Pixie Newburry. It's been mentioned, too, here and there, that there are lights on at Meg's pretty late at night."
    "Maybe we have insomnia." She was the mayor, Nate reminded himself. And Galloway's journal hadn't referred to a woman on the mountain. "I'm spending some of my off time on the Galloway matter."
    "I see." She stared out at the river as the blue and the white battled. "Most people go fishing, read a juicy book or watch TV on their off time."
    "Cops aren't most people."
    "You do what pleases you, Ignatious. I know Charlene's planning to bring Pat back here, soon as she's able, and bury him. Wants a fullfledged funeral. The ground ought to be thawed enough soon to manage it by June, unless we get another long freeze."
    She drew in smoke, sighed it out again. "Part of me wishes that would be that.The dead are buried, and the living have to live. It's hard on Carrie, I know, but you keeping this going won't bring her husband back."
    "I don't believe he killed Galloway. And I don't believe he killed himself."
    Her face stayed perfectly still, her eyes stayed on the busy river. "That's not what I want to hear. God's pity on Carrie, but that's not what I want to hear."
    "Nobody wants to hear they may be living next door to someone who's killed twice."
    She shuddered now, once and violently, and drew on the cigarette. She puffed at it hard, expelling smoke in bursts. "I know the people who live next door to me and a mile away and three miles from that. I know them by face and name and habits. I don't know a murderer, Ignatious."
    "You knew Max."
    "Oh God."
    "You climbed with Galloway."
    Her eyes sharpened now and focused on his face. "Is this an interrogation?"
    "No. Just a comment."
    She breathed in and out while the ice cracked. "Yes, I did. My man and I did. I enjoyed it, too, the challenge of it, the thrill of it, in my younger days. Bo and I settled for hiking, a night of camping in good weather the last few years he was alive. That Bo was alive," she said.
    "Who'd he trust most when he was on the mountain? Who did Galloway trust up there?"
    "Himself. That'd be the first rule of climbing. You'd better trust yourself first and last."
    "Your husband was mayor back then."
    "It was more honorary than official in those days."
    "Even so, he knew the people around here. Paid attention. I bet you did, too."
    "And?"
    "If you put your mind to it, thought back to February of '88, you might remember who, besides Galloway, wasn't in Lunacy. Who was away for a week or more."
    She tossed the cigarette down where it sizzled against the snow. Then she kicked snow over it to bury it from view. "You're giving a lot