Arctic Rebound: A Constable Maratse Stand Alone novella (Guerrilla Greenland Book 5) by Christoffer Petersen

Author:Christoffer Petersen [Petersen, Christoffer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aarluuk Press for Arctic Noir, Action Thrillers and Greenland Crime
Published: 2022-07-20T16:00:00+00:00

6

Mark parked the Explorer in a small lot outside a small square building with a gently sloping tiled roof. The slats of the wooden walls were white, with a dash of dark brown from the sides of the roof stained earlier in the fall. The string lights on the inside of the large windows looking past the parking lot onto a soft white beach reflected in Maratse’s eyes, and he smiled.

“This is nice,” he said, as Mark led them to the door.

“I recommend the pancakes, plenty of maple syrup – from Maine,” he said, giving Willow a curious look that might have been a challenge.

“I like Maine,” Willow said. “We used to come here when I was a kid.”

Mark relaxed, and opened the door wide, waving them in before calling out to Doris that she had customers.

“Just be careful,” Willow said, as Maratse slid onto a chair next to the window in the middle of the diner. She pointed at a booth in the corner, but Maratse shook his head.

“I like the view,” he said, smiling again as Mark returned with Doris.

Shorter, slightly younger and a lot rounder than Mark, Doris bubbled with an infectious enthusiasm, disarming Willow for a second with her accent and local colour. She wore thick brown glasses to match her thick brown hair, with rosy cheeks the colour of fallen leaves.

“This is Willow,” Mark said as he introduced them. “And David Maratse,” he said.

“From Greenland,” Maratse said, as he shook Doris’ hand.

“From Greenland?” Doris’ eyes widened as she glanced at Mark. “All the way from another land?”

“That’s right,” Mark said. “They sailed over the Atlantic, you know?”

“Sailed?”

“In a tiny boat,” he said.

“And what is it you do in Greenland?” Doris asked.

Maratse turned to show her the letters printed on the back of his jacket. “I’m a police officer.”

“Really?” Doris reached out to pluck a fish scale from Maratse’s jacket. “I thought you were a fisherman,” she said.

Maratse flashed a toothy grin and said, “I also fish.”

“Ooh, you’re a cunnin one,” Doris said. She tapped Mark on the arm, adding, “But you’re early. So you’re going to get the coffee ready while I rustle up some pancakes.”

“Coffee?” Maratse said.

“All you can drink,” Doris said. She gave Maratse another look, flashed him a cheeky smile, and then nudged Mark all the way to the kitchen. The sound of pots clattering drifted out of the kitchen and across the tables just half a minute later.

“David,” Willow said. “You can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Just tell people who you are, where you’re from, and,” she said with a nod at his jacket, “you were supposed to take that off before we reached land.”

“I like my jacket,” he said.

Willow bit her lip, and then, after a short pause, she said, “I can’t figure you out. Most of the time, you are the quiet, moody one. And then sometimes, like flipping a switch, you take on this simple persona…”

“Persona?”

“Stop,” she said. And then, “Yes, that. It’s what you do, as if you’re doing it deliberately.

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