Chasing a Blond Moon(9)

Service sampled his coffee. “Paranoia I can handle. It’s help from Lansing that creeps me out.”

Nantz shook her head. “The great Grady Service, afraid?”

Gus and Shark laughed as he turned red and changed the subject, relating what he had seen during the night and what promises he had made in Gus’s behalf.

“Macofome show up?” Gus asked. “He’s always around Pyykkonen.”

Shark grinned and held up a forearm. “Boom-boom,” he said. “It’s all over town.”

“She seems to know her job,” Service said, noticing that Walter was listening carefully, taking it all in.

“No question, but you know how things can be up here, eh. The local cop house don’t see a lot of serious shit, so gossip falls like January snow.”

Just before Service, Walter, and Nantz got ready to leave, Gus got a phone call. He nodded at the phone and handed it to Service.

“Bearclaw.” Betty “Bearclaw” Very was the CO stationed in Ontonagon.

“Hey,” Sevice said.

“Think you could make a run down this way?”

“I really need to make a stop at Tech and get back to Marquette tonight.”

“I think you’ll want to see this,” Very said. “Last night I was out by the West Branch of the Firesteel River and I found an old guy wandering around. He’s blind, got only one leg, and insists he knows you. He calls himself Trapper Jet.”

“He smell like fermented skunk?”

“That would be him.”

“I know him,” Service said. “How the hell did the old coot get way up there? His place is a hundred and twenty miles away.”

“Not much of a talker,” Very said. “Announced he wants to see you, end of conversation. I’ve got him at my place.”

“What the hell was he doing?”

“He acted lost. I was out checking bear movement, fruit crops, old baiting sites, and such, and there he was. He seemed pissed that I showed up. I brought him to my place, but he clammed up on me.”

“Nantz and I are rolling. It’ll take us about ninety minutes, give or take.” Trapper Jet might be blind, but it was not possible he was lost. The old bastard was in his late seventies, and had lived alone in a shack in northern Iron County since the mid-1950s. He looked and smelled like he was at death’s door, but the old trapper could be the poster boy for self-reliance.

When they got to McInnes Arena, Walter announced that Coach Blanck wanted to see Service.

“Blanck?”

“He’s one of the assistants.”

The name jarred Service.

Following his son, they made their way to the coaching offices and there he saw the man who had been the reason for his decision to not pursue professional hockey. Toby Blanck was older, but looked fit. The last time he had seen Blanck he was being carried off the ice bleeding profusely, his skull fractured. Blanck had been critical for a week before pulling through.

When Blanck looked, up a huge smile spread across his face as he stood up and extended his hand. “Geez, Banger himself.”

Service had no idea what to say. He had once nearly killed the man.

Blanck’s voice was warm and inviting. “Hey, that stuff way back when? No hard feelings, Grady. It was just hockey, eh?”

Service nodded dumbly.

“So you’re Walter’s dad?”

Another dumb nod.

“You and Walter have a chance to talk?”

“I was out on a call all night,” Service said.

“Yeah, woods cop; good for you, but I wouldn’t want your job. You were a cop on the ice and you’re still one, eh? I admire that. Listen, Walter and I had a candid talk about his future here.”

Grady Service had no idea where this was going.

“You want me to leave?” the boy asked the coach.

“No, I’m not gonna say anything to your dad I haven’t already said to you.”

Service felt trapped and not sure why he was feeling so.

“Have a seat,” Blanck said.

Service sat, staring across the desk at the man he had nearly killed in his final collegiate hockey game.

“We had Walter on skates,” Blanck said. “Our doc cleared him. We’re impressed as hell, eh? But his age is a concern. He’s just sixteen. College players are older than juniors and there’re academics to consider. This is a tough school and jocks don’t get cut a lot of slack. We think it would be in Walter’s best interests to redshirt him this year. He can skate with the team, but no games to preserve his eligibility and he won’t be traveling with the club, so he can use that time to pound the books. We’ll give him a full ride next year, so no money worries. This year we’ll let him get settled in. He got his GED, and he scored out of sight on the ACT, but he hasn’t been in a classroom for two years. We think it will be good for him to get that part of his college life well under control. Truth is, as soon as the scouts see him, he’s gonna get drafted, and if he performs like we think he will, the offers and pressures will start coming. It’s not like when we were playing, Banger. The NHL’s expanded so much that they are desperately looking for talent and pushing hard to get players into the fold as early as possible. There’s one other thing. Coach Forrester is going to retire at the end of this season and I’ve been offered his job. If Walter redshirts, we can start out together.”