kettle whistled. He filled a glass coffee press and placed it on the table with two mismatched mugs.
“The RCMP came to see me this morning.” Jo watched the steam rising from the Bodum, writhing in the air.
“Johnny Cariboo?”
“Yes,” she said. “He told me about the woman they found in the river. He wanted to know if I was with you last night.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth, of course.”
“Which is?”
“That I don’t remember how I got home.”
Byrne furrowed his brow. “You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “I remember you picking me up in the parking lot.”
“I see,” he said. “I’d hoped you’d remember more.” He pushed the handle of the Bodum down, pressing the grinds to the bottom of the pot.
“Why? What happened last night?”
“Well …” He poured her a coffee, filling her head with the uplifting scent. “Sugar?”
“No thanks,” she said.
“I gave you a ride home. And … well …”
“And? Did we …? Did anything …?” He raised an eyebrow, making her feel foolish. She rushed to finish what she had to say. “Only Sally told me that you were in my room …”
“No! No … Plenty of time for that.” He hid his smile behind his coffee cup, and Jo felt a rush of heat. She looked away, but found herself looking at the bed, the thick fur throws there, and felt herself blush. She looked at the husky instead, who was beating his tail rhythmically on the wood floor. She took another sip of coffee, warming her hands on the mug.
“That’s Nugget,” he said, following her look.
“Cute.”
“Thank you,” he said, as if accepting the compliment for himself. There was laughter in his eyes.
Jo felt herself losing patience. She glanced at her watch. She was running out of time before she had to meet Doug. “Look, Sergeant Cariboo came straight to my place after finding the body because he thought you were with me. Why would he do that?”
Byrne shook his head, his expression harder now. “No idea. You’ll have to ask him, I’m afraid.”
“Did he interview you?”
“Yes. I spoke with him when I was in town this morning.”
“Did you use me as an alibi?”
“Not exactly, because I don’t think it’s a murder investigation,” Byrne said. “But yes, I said that we were together.” The weight of his gaze was unnerving. No wonder I let you take me home last night.
“ Together , together?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
Byrne opened his mouth a little, then closed it tightly. “You don’t remember anything at all.” It was a statement, not a question. “Really, Ms. Silver. I am wounded.” He didn’t look wounded. He looked amused. “Perhaps we could do something to jog your memory.” He leaned forward, and she wondered whether he was going to try to kiss her, and whether she wanted him to or not.
“Look, I have to be back at the office soon.”
“At the Daily .”
“Yeah. Could I use your phone? I need to let Doug know that I’ll be back late. He’s the editor.”
“Yes, I know Doug. And I’d be happy to let you use my phone, only I haven’t got one.”
“Oh, right.”
“And there’s no cellular service in Dawson.”
“But I heard Sally call you this morning.”
He grinned. “She called me at the pub.”
“Why? Why would she think you’d be there?”
“Because I often go there during the day. Have a coffee in the morning. Play Scrabble or cards with the guys. You know. Until my shift at Gertie’s begins.”
“You work at Gertie’s?”
“Card dealer on the poker tables. Only in the tourist season, though. I try to save winter for art.”
Jo looked around the room again. “Are all of these yours?” She raised her mug toward the twin shelves framing the bed, where elaborate carvings perched on or next to stacks of books.
“Uh-huh. I studied in the South for a bit. I mean, at the University of Northern BC.”
“Still in the North.”
“Not compared to Dawson. There’s
“The RCMP came to see me this morning.” Jo watched the steam rising from the Bodum, writhing in the air.
“Johnny Cariboo?”
“Yes,” she said. “He told me about the woman they found in the river. He wanted to know if I was with you last night.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth, of course.”
“Which is?”
“That I don’t remember how I got home.”
Byrne furrowed his brow. “You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “I remember you picking me up in the parking lot.”
“I see,” he said. “I’d hoped you’d remember more.” He pushed the handle of the Bodum down, pressing the grinds to the bottom of the pot.
“Why? What happened last night?”
“Well …” He poured her a coffee, filling her head with the uplifting scent. “Sugar?”
“No thanks,” she said.
“I gave you a ride home. And … well …”
“And? Did we …? Did anything …?” He raised an eyebrow, making her feel foolish. She rushed to finish what she had to say. “Only Sally told me that you were in my room …”
“No! No … Plenty of time for that.” He hid his smile behind his coffee cup, and Jo felt a rush of heat. She looked away, but found herself looking at the bed, the thick fur throws there, and felt herself blush. She looked at the husky instead, who was beating his tail rhythmically on the wood floor. She took another sip of coffee, warming her hands on the mug.
“That’s Nugget,” he said, following her look.
“Cute.”
“Thank you,” he said, as if accepting the compliment for himself. There was laughter in his eyes.
Jo felt herself losing patience. She glanced at her watch. She was running out of time before she had to meet Doug. “Look, Sergeant Cariboo came straight to my place after finding the body because he thought you were with me. Why would he do that?”
Byrne shook his head, his expression harder now. “No idea. You’ll have to ask him, I’m afraid.”
“Did he interview you?”
“Yes. I spoke with him when I was in town this morning.”
“Did you use me as an alibi?”
“Not exactly, because I don’t think it’s a murder investigation,” Byrne said. “But yes, I said that we were together.” The weight of his gaze was unnerving. No wonder I let you take me home last night.
“ Together , together?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
Byrne opened his mouth a little, then closed it tightly. “You don’t remember anything at all.” It was a statement, not a question. “Really, Ms. Silver. I am wounded.” He didn’t look wounded. He looked amused. “Perhaps we could do something to jog your memory.” He leaned forward, and she wondered whether he was going to try to kiss her, and whether she wanted him to or not.
“Look, I have to be back at the office soon.”
“At the Daily .”
“Yeah. Could I use your phone? I need to let Doug know that I’ll be back late. He’s the editor.”
“Yes, I know Doug. And I’d be happy to let you use my phone, only I haven’t got one.”
“Oh, right.”
“And there’s no cellular service in Dawson.”
“But I heard Sally call you this morning.”
He grinned. “She called me at the pub.”
“Why? Why would she think you’d be there?”
“Because I often go there during the day. Have a coffee in the morning. Play Scrabble or cards with the guys. You know. Until my shift at Gertie’s begins.”
“You work at Gertie’s?”
“Card dealer on the poker tables. Only in the tourist season, though. I try to save winter for art.”
Jo looked around the room again. “Are all of these yours?” She raised her mug toward the twin shelves framing the bed, where elaborate carvings perched on or next to stacks of books.
“Uh-huh. I studied in the South for a bit. I mean, at the University of Northern BC.”
“Still in the North.”
“Not compared to Dawson. There’s
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