'Yes, certainly,” Minor cut in impatiently, “but didn't it ever occur to you to wonder why he'd drop everything and agree to come way up here for the summer, when he was right in the middle of some major problems with his business?'
Pratt looked at him thoughtfully. “Nope.'
'Well, why do you think he would?'
'Hard to say. Jimmy was sort of deep, you know? Even as a kid, he always liked to get away from things and think ‘em through. I remember, where we grew up, in Sitka, there was this old tree house—old packing crate in a tree is what it was, must have been a million years old...well, what the hell.” He reinserted the pipe.
'Did you know about his relationship with Jocelyn Yount?'
'Since I came up here, I heard about it. Don't know as I believe everything I hear.'
'Would you say he had a bad temper?'
'I wouldn't say diddley-squat,” Pratt said, not so much angrily as doggedly. “Now, look, mister, if you're trying to get me to say maybe my brother killed somebody way back then, you're gonna have a heck of a wait. Besides, he's the one who got killed, far as I can see.'
'What makes you say that?” Minor asked.
'Those are his sunglasses they found, aren't they, all busted up? That ought to prove something.” What it proved he didn't say. “Hell, sure, he could get mad like anybody else, but he was a good-natured kid; bighearted. Blow steam off at you, and then five minutes later buy you a beer. Jimmy didn't kill anyone. No such thing.'
He jammed his chin down on his chest, and his hands into the pockets of his brown jumpsuit. “Didn't sell anybody any bum stocks either,” he finished in a mutter, but without rancor.
'You loved him a lot, didn't you?” John asked.
'Well, sure I loved him.” He began to say more but stopped. He pinched his long, lumpy nose between thumb and forefinger.
Minor asked another question. “Do you think Dr. Henckel has a point when she says Professor Tremaine's to blame for taking your brother and the others out on the ice when there was danger of an avalanche?'
'Didn't know she said it.'
'She had a Park Service report on it,” John said. “She was showing it to you and Dr. Judd a few nights ago. “I understand she gave it to you to read.'
'She did?” Pratt's eyebrows drew together. “In the bar? Is that what that was?'
'You didn't read it?'
'I looked at it. Didn't see much point in reading it. That was all over and done with a long time ago.'
'Do you still have it?” Minor asked.
'No, I probably threw it away. Maybe it's in my room. Be glad to look for it, if you want.'
'Please do,” Minor said. “So you don't hold Tremaine responsible for the death of your brother?'
The pipe had gone out. Pratt leaned over, using a small folding knife to scrape the sour-smelling Bottle into an ashtray, taking his time. “Now look,” he said reasonably, deliberately, keeping his eyes on his work. “I didn't kill Tremaine, and my brother didn't kill this Fisk or anybody else. I don't hold with grudges, and neither did Jimmy. There's more important things in life.'
'I'm glad to hear you say it,” Minor said pleasantly.
Pratt nodded and gathered his long legs under him. “That it, then?'
'One more thing,” John said. “Any objection to letting us into your room?'
'Guess not,” Pratt said. Then a moment later: “What for?'
'I just want to test for myself the kind of sounds that come through from Tremaine's room.'
'Sure.” He dug in a zippered leg pouch for his key and handed it to John. “There you go. You can leave it at the desk.'
'You can come with us. It'd probably be better if you did.'
'No, thanks. You boys go ahead and do your job. I'll go and be first in the chow line.'
* * * *
John stood by Pratt's bed while Minor followed his instructions, working the shower next door in Tremaine's bathroom. As Pratt had told them, turning off the water produced a hollow double clank in the pipes, sufficient to awaken someone drowsing in Pratt's room. Neither the tap at the sink nor the toilet produced similar noises.
He got up, went into Pratt's bathroom, and knocked on the wall.
'Hello?” Minor said on the other side, his measured voice distinct.
'Fine!” John yelled. “Now try it from the bedroom.” He heard the floor creak as Minor left the bathroom, but nothing more.
A few seconds later the floor creaked again and Minor returned to Tremaine's bathroom. “Could you hear me?” he called through the wall.
'Not a thing,” John called back.
'Which seems to mean,” he told Minor a few moments later, as they clumped along the wooden walkway back to the main building, “that Tremaine'd just taken a shower when he heard a noise in his room—'
