Well, if Dreyer was a handyman, he had to make appointments. Jim just hoped Dreyer’s memory was bad enough that he’d had to write them down, and that an appointment book was to be found in his cabin.

“Len Dreyer?” Kate said.

Johnny nodded. “Did you know him?”

To the educated eye Kate would appear to have drooped a little in her chair. “He was the guy.”

“Which guy?”

“The guy. The go-to guy. The guy everybody calls when they need help with a job.”

“What kind of job?”

“Any job. Construction, mechanics, fishing, farming, mining, guiding. He could turn his hand to anything.” She sighed heavily. “I was going to get him to help us build your cabin.”

Johnny’s voice was stern. “Somebody killed him, Kate.”

She pulled herself together. “Yes, of course. Horrible thing to have happen. Awful. Shot, you said?”

“With a shotgun,” Johnny said, not without relish. “In the chest. At point-blank range,” Jim said.

“Jim was there?”

Johnny nodded. “I wouldn’t let anyone else go into the ice cave until he came.”

“Good for you,” Kate said.

“That’s what Jim said. He said I must have picked up some stuff from Dad.”

She looked up to see a smile tucked in at the corners of his mouth, and felt an answering smile cross her face. “He’s right about that,” she said. If nothing else.

He opened a notebook. “I have to write in my journal now.”

“Okay,” she said. “Moose burgers for dinner?”

“Sounds good.”

“Good, because it’s your turn.”