“You must be Chief Inspector Gamache.”
A burly man with black hair and skin the color of cedar was walking across the dock, his hand out. They shook.
“I’m Sergeant Minshall, of the RCMP. We’ve been corresponding.”
His voice was deep and had a slight sing-song quality. He was Haida.
“Ah, oui, merci. Thank you for meeting the plane.”
The Mountie took the overnight bag from the pilot and slung it over his shoulder. Thanking the pilot, who ignored them, the two men walked to the end of the dock, up a ramp and along the road. There was a bite to the air and Gamache had to remember they were closer to Alaska than Vancouver.
“I see you’re not staying long.”
Gamache looked out into the ocean and knew the mainland had disappeared. No, it was not that it had vanished, but that it didn’t exist at all here. This was the mainland.
“I wish I could stay longer, it’s beautiful. But I have to get back.”
“Right. I’ve arranged a room for you at the lodge. I think you’ll enjoy it. There aren’t many people on the Queen Charlottes, as you probably know. Maybe five thousand, with half being Haida and half,” he hesitated slightly, “not. We get quite a few tourists, but the season’s ending.”
The two men had slowed and now they stopped. They’d walked by a hardware store, a coffee shop, a little building with a mermaid out front. But it was the harbor that drew Gamache’s attention. He’d never seen such scenery in all his life, and he’d seen some spectacularly beautiful places in Quebec. But none, he had to admit, came close to this.
It was wilderness. As far as he could see there were mountains rising from the water, covered in dark forest. He could see an island and fishing boats. Overhead, eagles soared. The men walked onto the beach, which was covered in pebbles and shells, and stood silent for a few minutes, listening to the birds and the lapping water and smelling the air with that combination of seaweed and fish and forest.
“There’re more eagle nests here than anywhere else in Canada, you know. It’s a sign of good luck.”
It wasn’t often an RCMP officer spoke of signs, unless it was traffic signs. Gamache didn’t turn to look at the man, he was too taken by the view, but he listened.
“The Haida have two clans. The Eagle and the Raven. I’ve arranged for you to meet with elders from both clans. They’ve invited you for dinner.”