Northern Lights

problem to find an opportunity for a private word with Charlene.
    He found Rose taking advantage of a mid-morning lull by sitting down in a booth refilling condiment dispensers.
    "Don't get up," he said when she started to slide out. "Where's my buddy today?"
    "We have cousins down from Nome, so Jesse has playmates for a few days. He's been showing off his uncle, the deputy," she said with a smile. "But he wants to bring them all into town to meet his good friend, Chief Nate."
    "Really?" He could feel his own grin spreading from ear to ear. "Tell him to bring them on, and we'll give them a tour of the station." And he'd radio Meg, see if she could find him a bunch of toy badges when she picked up supplies.
    "You wouldn't mind?"
    "I'd get a kick out of it."
    He leaned over to take a peek at Willow in her carrier. "She's awfully pretty."
    He could say it with truth now. Her cheeks had grown plump and sort of pinchable. And her eyes, so dark, seemed to latch on to his as if she knew things he didn't.
    He held out a finger. Willow wrapped hers around it, shook it.
    "Is Charlene in her office?"
    "No, in the storeroom off the kitchen. Doing inventory."
    "Okay if I go back?"
    "You'll want a flak jacket," Rose warned as she dumped ketchup into a bright red squeeze bottle. "She's been in a mood the last few days."
    "I'll risk it."
    "Nate. Peter told us about the commendation. He's so proud. We're so proud. Thank you."
    "I didn't do anything. He did."
    Since her eyes filled, he made his escape quickly.
    Big Mike was at the counter making what looked like enough salad to feed an army of rabbits. He had the radio on to local, and Yo-Yo Ma's deep and passionate cello streamed out.
    "Crab Florentine à la Mike's the lunch special," he called out. "Buffalo salad for the heartier appetites."
    "Yum."
    "You going in there?" Mike asked when Nate turned toward the storeroom. "Better take a sword and shield."
    "So I hear." But Nate opened the door, and since you could never tell with Charlene, left it open for safety's sake.
    It was a large, chilly room lined with metal shelves that were loaded with canned and dry goods. A couple of tall coolers held tubs of perishables, with a chest freezer squeezed in between them.
    Charlene stood among them, briskly scribbling on a clipboard.
    "Well, I know where to head in case of thermonuclear war."
    She flipped him a glance, one that held none of her usual steamy come-on. "I'm busy."
    "I can see that. I just want to ask you a question."
    "Nothing but questions out of you," she muttered, then raised her voice to a shout. "I'd like to know why we're down to two cans of kidney beans."
    Big Mike's answer was to turn the radio up.
    "Charlene, give me a couple of minutes and I'll be out of your way."
    "Fine, fine, fine! " She slapped the clipboard against a shelf, hard enough that Nate heard the wood crack. "I'm just trying to run a business here. Why should that matter to anybody?"
    "I'm sorry about whatever's bothering you, and I'll make this as quick as I can. Do you know anything about Galloway having substantial poker winnings between the time he left here and when he went up the mountain?"
    She made a sound of derision. "As if." Then her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, substantial ?"
    "A few thousand anyway. I've got a source that says he might've played a couple of nights and hit."
    "If there was a game, he probably played. He hardly ever won, though, and hardly ever won more than a couple hundred if he got lucky. There was that one time in Portland. He won about three thousand. And we blew it on a fancy hotel room, a big steak dinner, a couple bottles of champagne from room service. He bought me an outfit for it. A dress and shoes, and a pair of little sapphire earrings."
    Her eyes went shiny. But she shook her head and shoulders briskly and dried the tears up on her own. "Stupid. I had to sell the earrings in Prince William to pay for motorcycle repairs and supplies. Lot of good they did me."
    "If he had won money, what would he have done with it?"
    "Pissed it away. No." She laid her forehead on one of the shelf posts, and looked so tired, so lost, so sad that he risked rubbing her shoulder.
    "No, not right then. He knew I was on a tear about money. If he'd gotten his hands on some, he'd have played a little maybe, but he'd have held on to the bulk of it, so he could bring it home and shut me up."
    "Would he have banked it? In Anchorage?"
    "We didn't have a bank in Anchorage. He'd've stuffed