Northern Lights

from the tangle of metal as if watching the show.
    Since it was the first time Nate had seen an actual moose—bigger and uglier than he'd imagined—he was more interested in it than the two men currently bitching at each other and passing blame.
    It was eight-twenty A.M. and black as pitch out on the road the locals called Lake Drive.
    He had the deputy mayor and a mountain guide named Hawley go ing nose to nose, a Ford Explorer tipped into a ditch with its wheelbase buried in the snow, its hood crinkled like an accordion, and a Chevy pickup lying on its side as if it had decided to take a nap.
    Both men had blood on their faces and mayhem in their eyes.
    "Settle down." Deliberately, Nate shined his flashlight into the eyes of each man in turn. Both, he noted, were going to need stitches. "I said settle down! We'll sort this out in a minute. Otto? Anybody got a tow truck?"
    "Bing's got one. He's the one handles this sort of thing."
    "Well, give him a call. Get him out here to haul these vehicles into town. I want them off the road ASAP. They're a hazard. Now . . ."
    He turned back to the men. "Which one of you can tell me what happened in a calm, coherent manner?"
    They both started to rant at once, but since he smelled the whiskey fumes on Hawley, he held up a hand, then pointed at Ed Woolcott. "You start."
    "I was driving into work, in a reasonable and safe manner—"
    "Load of bullshit," Hawley commented.
    "You'll get your turn. Mr. Woolcott?"
    "I saw the headlights coming toward me, entirely too fast for safety."
    Even as Hawley opened his mouth, Nate stabbed a finger at him.
    "Then the moose came out of nowhere. I slowed and swerved to avoid collision, and the next thing I know, this, this heap is barreling down on me. I tried to cut over to the side of the road, but he, he aimed at me. Next thing I know, he ran me off the road, crashed my car. That car's only six months old! He was driving recklessly, and he's been drinking."
    With a sharp nod, Ed folded his arms and glowered.
    "Okay."
    "Bing's heading out," Otto announced.
    "Good. Mr. Woolcott, why don't you step over there, give your state
    ment to Otto. Hawley?" Nate jerked his head, wandered over to the pickup. And stood there a moment exchanging baleful glances with the moose. "You been drinking?"
    Hawley stood about five-eight and sported a golden brown beard. The blood that had trickled down from the gash on his jaw had frozen.
    "Well, sure, I had a couple of belts."
    "It's shy of nine A.M."
    "Shit. Been ice fishing. I don't pay attention to what the hell the time of day is. I got some good fish in the cooler in my truck. I was heading home to store them, get something to eat and turn in. Then bankerman sees a damn moose in the road and goes into a tailspin. He's all over the damn road, doing doughnuts, and the moose is standing there—they're brainless animals, you ask me—and I have to swerve. Went into a little skid, and Woolcott spun right into me. We smashed, and this is where we ended up."
    It had been a long time since he'd been on Traffic, and he'd never had to do an accident reconstruction in the dark, in the snow, at somewhere under zero degrees. But when he played his light over the road, studied the tracks, Hawley's version hit closer to home.
    "Fact is, you've been drinking. We're going to have to do a sobriety test. You insured?"
    "Yeah, but—"
    "We'll sort it out," Nate repeated. "Let's get out of the cold."
    Nate drove back to town with Hawley and Ed sitting, stonily silent, in the back. He pulled off at the clinic, left Otto with them while they got patched up and went back to the station for a Breathalyzer.
    While he was there, he called up the driving records of both parties. Working out the solution in his head, he carted the Breathalyzer back to the clinic.
    There were a couple people in the waiting room. A young woman with a sleeping baby, an old man wearing dirt brown coveralls and gnawing on a pipe.
    There was a woman sitting at a chair behind a low counter. She was reading a paperback novel with a mostly naked couple in passionate embrace on the cover. But she looked up when he entered.
    "Chief Burke?"
    "Yes."
    "I'm Joanna. Doc said you could come on back when you got here, if you want. He's in exam room one doing Hawley. Nita's in two, stitching Ed."
    "Otto?"
    "He's using the office. Checking on Bing and the tow."
    "I'll take Hawley. Which way's that?"
    "I'll show you." She marked her book with a shiny foil tab, then got up