Northern Deceit

By Cori Lynn Arnold

Angry over being kicked off a case in Rochester, New York, Detective Louis Baker makes a rash decision to fly to Alaska when her partner, Detective Bert Hicks, calls from North Pole, Alaska. Not only is his mother missing, but he needs to be bailed out of jail. When his mother’s charred body is found down a desolate road, her secret life begins to unfold, and the harsh Alaskan wilderness becomes as formidable as finding the killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cori Lynn Arnold
• Release date: Jun 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311081452

Cori Lynn Arnold

Cori Lynn Arnold has worked as a hotel housekeeper, handy woman, laundry attendant, radio disc jockey, library clerk, historical photographic archivist, mathematics tutor, teaching assistant, art work framer, photo lab junky, portrait and wedding photographer, high school algebra teacher, internet security researcher, security analyst, computer programmer and ethical hacker. She currently resides in Connecticut and can be found roaming from coffee shops to book stores wearing the same cheap brown 'good luck' sweater ripping apart at the seams.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Northern Deceit

Copyright © 2015 by Cori Lynn Arnold

All rights reserved.

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for my father

the hearty sourdough

miss you

Chapter 1

Detective Louis Baker took a deep breath before walking into West High School. She hadn’t been to a high school since her tenth reunion many years ago. That day she made an ass out of herself and decided to skip the rest of the reunions.

The coroner said it’s gruesome.

Louis turned to look at the freckle-faced, redheaded, and temporary-only-this-week partner of hers. Quinn, they are always gruesome. If you were looking for tidy crime scenes, you’re in the wrong business. Try Hollywood. She turned her head before smirking. After just a year and a half, a little bit of her partner, Detective Robert Hicks III, had started to rub off. Bert would be back in a week, and driving her crazy with stories of his Bahamas vacation.

At least the suspicious death wasn’t in a mall. She knew better than to step into a shopping mall between mid-November and December. While the crowds were a pain in the ass, the incessant Christmas music was overwhelming. Just one bar of Jingle Bells could start a headache for the rest of the day. In midsummer, Hicks would start to hum Silver Bells, and Louis would blow the air out of his lungs with an elbow to his rib cage. Not to say she was a bah-humbug about the season. It was just the indelible songs that stuck in her head and circled around like water in an indoor water fountain.

The door’s hard metal latch refused to budge. She looked around to see a camera pointed at her and a sign: All visitors must report to the office. Please press the button to speak to the secretary. She pushed on the round rubber button.

A crackling woman’s voice came over the speaker. I’m sorry, we are currently on lockdown.

Yes, ma’am. I’m Detective Louis Baker from the Rochester Police Department. She held her badge up to the camera. There was a buzzing sound. Louis pushed the door, and it cooperated this time. She walked through the silent halls. Scraps of paper and a few lone gloves littered the floors. A poster announcing the holiday dance was lit in a metal box with Christmas lights wrapped with tinsel.

What had high school come to? Barricaded doors, security cameras, and lockdowns. She’d be less surprised when going into school required pat downs. The most exciting thing to happen in her high school was a staged protest by the senior class when a best-loved teacher was wrongly put on administrative leave. The sit-in lasted all day, and everyone got a rather pleasant Saturday detention.

She located the office from a little handmade wooden sign, but the woman outside the door wringing her hands was an even better indication she had the right place. Detective Baker? The woman hesitated.

Yes ma’am, that’s me and this is … She nearly tripped up and introduced Quinn as Detective Hicks, but stopped herself. Officer Quinn.

Melanie Klossner, the vice principal. The secretary told me you were here. I’d like this business to be over as soon as possible. If we don’t end in time for the buses to leave, we’ll need to set up the auto-dialer to alert parents. I’ve already got a few calls. Even though we don’t allow cell phones to be used in the school, I believe some of our students have been secretly texting.

That’s understandable at a time like this. We’ll be as quick as we possibly can, but I understand the coroner has reported a suspicious death.

Yes, Melanie said. She produced a little tissue and wiped her eyes with it.

Louis patted her on the shoulder. Would you mind directing me toward the body?

Melanie nodded her head and pointed the way.

Louis walked down the hallway following the sound of the squelching of police radios to a girl’s bathroom.

Her years of experience taught her to expect anything, but the bloody horror in the bathroom was more than anyone should have to expect. Steve, the coroner’s assistant, stood over the toilet in a pool of blood. A trail of thick blood led from the stall to a sink.

Steve? Louis asked. She pulled her straight blonde hair into a messy bun behind her head. She slipped on booties over her shoes. She pulled out purple gloves from a supply in her pocket. These were the tools she used to walk her mind through the detachment required to work the scene.

Detective Baker, I… Steve said. I…just can’t believe someone would do such a terrible thing.

Louis looked down into the toilet. A tiny baby lay curled up in the bowl.

Oh man, that is gruesome, Quinn said.

Louis’s balled fists were held back by the tiniest of emotional threads. Quinn, I want to know who found the— she hesitated before saying body—the baby. Have her brought to the vice principal’s office right away.

How do you know it’s a ‘her’? he asked.

Well, we are in the girls’ bathroom.

Oh, right.

Everyone in the bathroom stared at Quinn as if the moronic things he said might distract them from the nightmare they were confronting.

And have the uniforms out front start searching outside for a girl in distress or any blood trails.

Right. I’ll go now. He backed out of the bathroom.

Louis blinked a few times. What can you tell me about what happened here, Steve?

Baby girl. I can’t tell you about the timeline. I can’t…tell you much more right now. We got the call at 1:34 p.m. and called you at 1:50 p.m. I can’t give you an exact time of death, but I’m fairly certain it was only minutes after her birth. Who would do this? There are so many other alternatives.

She had to have been hiding it.

How is that even possible? Steve said, Have you given birth?

No. Have you?

No. But I had to watch a few during my residency. Without painkillers, women scream. They say the pain is unlike anything a man could ever experience.

I find it hard to believe no one heard anything. Louis’s phone buzzed as she made her way toward the hallway. The caller ID showed her partner’s name scrolling across the screen. He was likely already calling to brag about the string bikinis, the hot weather, the umbrella drinks, and the fancy food. She didn’t have time for his boasting today, and she wouldn’t want to ruin his vacation with tales of this tragedy.

One more thing, Detective, Steve said.

She turned back. What is it?

We found some vomitus in the stall next to the…baby.

Oh. Now she was sure Hicks wouldn’t want to hear about the case. Puke was his kryptonite. The mere mention of the stuff turned him green.

Chapter 2

Detective Hicks looked out the frosted hospital windows to the rental car in the parking lot. He silently calculated the dollars guzzled by the running car. It had to run for at least fifteen minutes before driving it to cut down on the air pollution, but it wouldn’t be warm since the thermometer was bottomed out at minus 42 degrees Fahrenheit. Technically the four-cylinder rental car wouldn’t be warm until April.

His foot throbbed with pain so great the painkillers barely touched it. He’d been on the force for fifteen years and never broke a bone. On his first day of vacation in a year, he broke his ankle. He had no one to blame but himself, or possibly his mother.

Hicks should be on the beach, sipping random alcoholic drinks with little paper umbrellas out of coconuts. Instead he was in Fairbanks, Alaska, on his way to the most dreaded of places, his hometown with the kitschy name: North Pole. Not the North Pole, but a town created in the 1950s in hopes of generating revenue from the manufacture of toys Made in the North Pole. But cheap toys were made in China, not Alaska. The founding fathers hadn’t taken into account the cost of shipping raw materials to Alaska and shipping toys back down to the lower forty-eight. The only revenue generated in North Pole was from the biggest gift shop in Alaska, Santa Claus House. Even then, most of the money came from being a good bathroom stop for busses on their way to Fairbanks.

He patted his parka, searching for his cell phone. He’d call Baker again before getting into the car. She wouldn’t mind running a quick credit card activity report on his mother’s card. She wasn’t a stickler for rules. He left a vague message when she didn’t answer.

Stupidly, he’d left his address book back at his house. He didn’t know any of his mother’s friends’ numbers, so he called the one number he knew by heart—the family lawyer, Chance Foley.

The phone picked up on the first ring. This is Chance. His voice was deeper and older than Hicks remembered from his childhood. Everyone got older.

Hey, Chance. It’s Bert.

Bert, haven’t heard from you in a while.

I’ve been calling.

It’s busy around here. How are you?

Not so good, actually. I broke my ankle on the way up.

On the way up?

Yeah, I’m just leaving the hospital in Fairbanks now. You haven’t heard from my mother, have you?

No, I’m sorry, I haven’t. I’m sure she’s fine. I don’t know why you came all the way up here.

I’m not sure, either, but the last time I talked to her…she said she needed to discuss some family issues with me. And then she didn’t return my calls for three days. I got worried.

Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come get you?

No. I’m fine. I’m headed over to Mom’s house. I just was hoping you heard from her.

No. Sorry. I haven’t.

Hicks hung up the phone. He braced himself for the pain of the cold. The crutches slipped and nearly fell out from underneath him on the way to the car. It was going to be a very cold, dark, miserable vacation.

Chapter 3

Louis knocked and then opened the door to the vice principal’s office. Ms. Klossner?

Detective Baker. This is the principal, Dr. Jing. She pointed to a short Asian man. His hair was a mess, but his suit was freshly pressed.

Dr. Jing. Louis shook hands with the principal. I just spoke to Chelsea. She said she didn’t hear anything or see anyone. No one reported hearing anything from that bathroom before Chelsea?

No one reported anything to us, Dr. Jing said.

You have unusually soundproof walls in this school, Dr. Jing.

It is more likely that the undisciplined children in several of the classes made more noise than the ones that came from that bathroom.

Ms. Klossner looked down at her hands. Louis recognized the guilt. As the vice principal, it was her job to keep the unruly children in line. Louis had met with her high school’s vice principal on a regular basis. He referred to it at one point as their weekly meeting.

I see. Is there anyone you might suspect was hiding a pregnancy? A girl gaining a lot of weight?

Ms. Klossner shrugged. This is a high school. Most of our girls are either gaining or losing weight. Hormones can wreak havoc on the teenage body.

Yeah, but is there anyone you noticed having a tough time? Someone trying to hide the weight gain?

Ms. Klossner sucked in a deep breath. I guess maybe Monique.

Monique?

Monique Lewis. She’s been gaining a lot of weight, but I doubt she’s pregnant. I think she’s just had a hard time since her father left.

Where can I find Monique?

Let me look. Ms. Klossner typed into her ancient-looking computer. Hmm. She should be in precalculus, Mr. Ward’s classroom—fifty-six. Would you like me to take you?

Thank you.

Dr. Jing cleared his throat and looked at his watch. We’re going to need to release the students in another forty-five minutes.

I understand. I’m going to have that area of the school blocked off, she said. Let’s go talk to Monique.

Ms. Klossner opened the door to room 56 while Louis waited in the hallway. She came back with a very heavy black girl. This girl didn’t give birth today. Even as heavy-set as she was, her makeup was perfectly done. Her clothes were neat and tidy. Hello, Monique. This won’t take but a minute. I’m Detective Louis Baker. You can call me Louis.

That’s a weird name. Her mouth moved to one side.

Yeah, my dad wanted boys, but he ended up with three girls, instead. Me, my sisters Jo and Bobbi.

The girl smiled sarcastically, but then her smile broke into a forced frown. What do you want?

I’m looking for someone who might know something about what happened in the bathroom during fifth period, maybe fourth.

I don’t know anything about that. It’s way on the other side of the school. So she knew where it happened. That was something.

I understand. I was just hoping you might know. Maybe another girl having weight issues?

What are you saying? Us fat girls have to stick together? She rolled her eyes.

Ms. Klossner butted in. You don’t have to be defensive, Monique. Whoever this is, she’s in danger, and she probably needs our help.

Monique scoffed. I don’t know anyone who’s pregnant. But Frankie gained weight over the summer, and she has a note from the doctor excusing her from gym. I’ve been bugging her about how she got the note, but like, she won’t tell me. She doesn’t talk to anyone.

Do you know what class she has fifth period?

Monique’s head jumped back. No. She’s not my friend.

This last statement momentarily stunned Louis. High school, where you have to distance yourself from pariahs, even if you were one of them. Thank you, Monique.

No problem, she said. "Louis. I guess it’s a better name than Frankie. Maybe her dad only wanted boys, too."

Louis cringed. She was hoping that story would break the ice with this girl, but it had only supplied her with more ammo to tease some other poor girl.

As Monique walked back to her class, Louis overheard a loud ruckus and a teacher shouting, Be quiet! Mrs. Klossner cringed.

I need to speak to Frankie, Louis said.

You can’t just go around talking to every overweight girl in the school.

No, but I need to talk to this girl. What class is she in?

I’d need to look it up on the computer.

A few minutes later Louis read off Ms. Klossner’s handwritten note. Quinn, can you get Francis Larsen in here from room seventeen?

Sure, Detective Baker. I’ll go get him.

Her, Louis said.

Ma’am? Quinn looked at her quizzically.

"You need to go get her. Francis goes by ‘Frankie’ and she’s a girl."

Oh, yes ma’am. He rushed out of the office.

Louis turned to see another young girl, dressed in what her Long Island friends called the private school special—knee high socks, wool plaid skirt, and a blazer. She was sitting on one of the waiting chairs. Are you Kayla?

That’s me.

You’re the hall monitor for fifth period?

Yes, until the lockdown started. Then I went to room twenty-three.

Why is that?

In case there’s an armed guy roaming the school. I’m not supposed to be hanging around for that.

Sounds like a good idea. I was just wondering what you might have heard before the lockdown.

I heard there was a dead baby in the bathroom.

No, not about what you heard from other people, but what you, yourself heard.

Oh, well, nothing.

Where were you at the end of period four? Walk me through your time from then to now.

I just got out of theater. I went to my locker. I put all my stuff away. Then I helped Jacob get to his English class.

Who’s Jacob?

He’s in a wheelchair, so sometimes he needs help getting his projects and stuff to class. I just started helping him a few months ago, and now I walk him to English class every day.

That’s nice.

Umm, then I just started walking the halls. I like to use the time to think about poetry.

Poetry?

"Yeah. Mr. Flemming is reading from Robert Frost’s A Boy’s Will, and you really have to listen and reread the passages a few times to get all of the meanings. Poets are so great for that."

Yes, they are. In your musings did you happen to pass by the girls bathroom between rooms thirty and thirty-three?

Ah, maybe?

You don’t remember if you were down that hallway?

Not exactly. I just wander. Kayla twirled her long hair with a finger until it pinched up to her head. She let go, and it whirled around, dropping back to her shoulder.

So you didn’t see anyone or hear anything by that bathroom or down that hallway?

No. She shook her head.

Another dead end.

Are you sure the baby is from a student? Kayla said. I mean, what if some vagrant came and had that baby in the bathroom?

Excellent theory. Louis used her acting skills to choke down the exasperation. I’ll look into that. You can go back to class now, Kayla.

Um. Okay. She jumped out of the chair and waltzed out of the office.

Louis checked her watch. Just five more minutes until the bell rang, and the kids could go home. She’d either have to interview them at home tonight or come back and ask questions tomorrow.

I can tell you where Kayla was during her hall monitoring, a voice called from behind a tall, upholstered partitioning wall.

And who might you be?

Ms. Englestein. I’m the administrative assistant.

And where do you think Kayla was during fifth period?

She was spying on Mr. Flemming. She never leaves that hallway. Mr. Flemming is a little nervous about her attention. I told him he’s bound to have those girls crushing on him until he grows warts on his face.

I see.

Quinn walked through the door. He had a sour expression, as though he had farted and tried to hide both the smell and the sound.

What is it? Louis asked.

Nobody can find Frankie. She’s not in her math class. She never made it to her biology class.

Louis called over behind the partition, Ms. Englestein?

Yes?

Did Frankie Larsen make it to her fourth-period class?

Let me see. Ah, yes. The bell rang, interrupting her. She did. Hold on. Ms. Englestein tapped a few keys on her keyboard. She cleared her throat and then her voice boomed over the communication system. The lockdown has been lifted. All afternoon activities have been suspended for the day. Please proceed to your bus directly. Please avoid the bathrooms between rooms thirty and thirty-three. Thank you. Her echo stopped. She was in fourth period with Mr. Galloway, one of our art teachers.

"Are there any other girls not accounted for between fourth