Tag Archives: Jane Marcus

Henry Aurman

Last week, I posted about cannibalism and mentioned Henry Aurman, a character in my upcoming novel. The following excerpt from Karluk Bones describes how my protagonist, Jane Marcus, learns about Henry Aurman.

In my novel, Jane and her friends discover bones in the woods near Karluk Lake on Kodiak Island. Two weeks ago, I posted an excerpt from the novel where an anthropology student explains to Jane, she believes the bones are those of an individual who died between thirty and fifty years ago. Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Dan Patterson puts Jane in touch with a trooper who worked on Kodiak during the 1970s and 80s. The following is the conversation Jane has with retired Sergeant Sid Beatty from the Alaska State Troopers. Jane and Sid have just met, and the conversation takes place on Sid’s sailboat where he lives.


Karluk Bones

“Tell me about the bones,” Sid said.

Now I was on firmer ground, and I felt myself relax. I began with the fire at Karluk Lake, and our discovery of the bones on the charred ground. I then moved on to describe what Ying had learned from studying the bones.

“Let me make sure I understand,” Sid said. “The anthropologist thinks the individual was between 25 and 30-years old when he died and estimates the bones have been at Karluk Lake between thirty and fifty years.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know it’s a wide time range, but does anything come to mind? Do you remember any unsolved cases from the 70s or 80s?”

Sid sat back and stared at the ceiling. “I worked three unsolved missing-persons cases during my tenure. They were all young women, and two of them were friends who disappeared on the same night.” He shook his head. “We never found a trace, and to this day, I have no idea what happened to them.” He stared off into space for a while. “But, I don’t remember any unsolved cases involving young men.”

I smiled. “Thanks for trying,” I said. “Do you think it would do me any good to go through old case files?”

“Wait a minute,” Beatty said. “How could I forget Henry? I did have an unsolved missing male.”

“And his name was Henry?”

“No, no,” Sid said. ‘This is a wild story. It’s possible Henry could be tied to your bones, but you’d never prove it.” Sid took a sip of his coffee. “From the late 60s through maybe 1981 or 1982, a crazy old guy lived and trapped near Karluk Lake. He’d spend the entire winter out there by himself. Back in the 70s, the deer population hadn’t yet spread to the south end of the island, so I don’t know what he ate.” Sid chuckled and shook his head. “I do know some of what he ate, but I’ll get to that part of the story in a minute. Henry trapped beavers, foxes, and rabbits, so I assume he ate those. Anyway, he was a tough old guy.”

I had no idea where Sid was headed with this story, so I said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“The guy’s name was Henry Aurman,” Sid said.

“The Aurman from Aurman Plumbing and Heating?” The store was a town landmark, and I’d been told it had survived the “64 earthquake.”

“That’s right,” Sid said. “One of Henry’s relatives started the store, but Henry had nothing to do with the business. I think the store is still owned by an Aurman, probably Henry’s great niece or nephew.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“As far as I know, Henry never married, and he was crazy, or at the very least, eccentric. He claimed the entire region around Karluk Lake belonged to him.”

“That’s a big area,” I said.

Sid laughed. “Yes, it is. The troopers spent a great deal of time dealing with Henry because anytime a hunter, fisherman, or camper set up a tent near the lake, Henry threatened the visitors and told them they did not have his permission to camp on his land. He’d tell them he’d kill them if they didn’t leave. We threw him in jail numerous times for harassment, but he’d return to Karluk and threaten the next person who dared walk near ‘his’ lake.”

My spine tingled. Did Henry Aurman kill the man whose bones we found? “Did he ever kill any campers?” I asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Sid said, “but I always expected one of his confrontations to end in violence with either him or a camper dead. I am certain, though, that Henry murdered at least three men, but they weren’t campers; they were his trapping partners.”

“What do you mean?”

“Around 1977 or 1978, you’d have to check the file for the exact date, Henry was getting older and wanted help with his winter trapping, so he ‘hired,’ to use the term loosely, a young man to accompany him during the winter. I believe the deal was that the young guy would help him trap, and Henry would give him a few hides to sell in payment for his services. The young man was a drifter, looking to turn his life around, and he wanted to learn how to trap, so he eagerly followed Henry to Karluk Lake.”

“Did Henry have a house at the lake?”

“He had a shack. It’s long gone now, but it had heat. I think most nights he camped near his trapline, but he’d return to the shack to resupply and work on his hides.”

“What happened?”

“In May, we received a call from the young guy’s brother, and if his brother hadn’t called us, I never would have known about the guy.” Sid paused, for another sip of coffee. “I don’t remember the caller’s name, but he said his brother had phoned him in November to tell him he’d quit drinking and was planning to spend the winter in the Kodiak wilderness learning to trap from an old man named Henry. He hadn’t heard from his brother since. I didn’t know Aurman had hired a partner for the winter, but he was the only Henry I knew who trapped, so I flew out to Karluk and found Henry at his cabin.”

I sat back in my chair. “Was the young man there?”

Sid shook his head. “Henry admitted he’d hired the guy but said he’d left in mid-December, telling Henry he couldn’t stand the cold and isolation any longer. Henry called him a wimp and said he thought the guy missed his alcohol. Henry said he was happy to see him leave.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. They were camped on a frozen lake in the middle of the winter. “How did the guy leave?”

“Henry claimed the young man planned to hike to the village of Karluk and catch their mail plane back to Kodiak, but he never made it to Karluk, or at least, he never flew from Karluk to Kodiak on the mail plane. They keep lists of their passengers, and he wasn’t on any of the lists.”

“What did Henry say when you told him his helper never arrived in Karluk?” I asked.

“He said he didn’t know what happened to his trapping buddy, and we didn’t have enough evidence to charge Henry with a crime. I suspected, though, either that Henry killed the guy, or the guy got lost in the woods and froze to death.”

“Wouldn’t he just need to follow the river from the lake to the village?”

“Yes, so I didn’t believe he got lost.”

“You thought Henry murdered him.” A chill ran through me. “Maybe these are his bones I found,” I said.

“It’s possible, but this guy wasn’t the only partner Henry lost.”

“Meaning?”

“Rumors floated hinting Henry lost another partner the following year, but no one ever reported the man missing, so the troopers were not involved,” Sid said. “Guys who sign on to spend the winter in the wilderness with a crazy trapper aren’t social beings, and they don’t usually have many resources. They’re loners.”

“So you never talked to Henry about this guy?”

“No, but two years later, around 1980 or 1981, Henry picked the wrong trapping buddy. When this man didn’t return from his winter’s expedition, the phone at trooper headquarters rang for two months. We heard from his mother, his two sisters, friends, an aunt or two, and even an employer who expected him to return to his job in Salt Lake City after the end of his winter adventure.”

“What did Henry say when you questioned him.”

“This is where the story gets interesting,” Sid said. “I flew to Karluk Lake with two other troopers, and we went to Henry’s little shack. He wasn’t there, so after we knocked on the door, we entered the building.”

Sid sat back and regarded me. He looked as if he’d just smelled something bad, or maybe he was trying to decide if he should continue his story.

 “What did you find?” I finally asked.

Sid sighed. “We found bones and scraps of meat as if an animal recently had been butchered. We saw jars of canned meat lining the shelves of a makeshift cupboard in the corner of the shack. At first, I thought the bones were bear bones, but then I realized they were human.”

Sid waited while I processed his words. “He killed and ate his trapping partners?” I stood as if trying to distance myself from Sid and his horrible tale. I reigned in my urge to flee and returned to my seat.

Sid nodded. “I’m sorry; I know this is a terrible story. Imagine how we felt standing in that little shack, realizing what we had found and then knowing Henry could return at any minute and shoot us all. I immediately sent one of the troopers outside to stand guard so we wouldn’t be ambushed.”

This time, Sid drank a big gulp of his cooling coffee. “Yes, the bones were human, and the nicely stacked jars contained cooked and canned human meat.”

“Wow,” was the only thing I could think to say. Visions of stacked canning jars bearing human flesh flooded my head. I wondered if Henry had labeled the jars with his dead partners’ names, but I wisely pushed the question from my mind before I asked it.


Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Sign Up for my free, monthly Mystery Newsletter about true crime in Alaska.

Happy Holidays

Wherever you are and whatever holiday you celebrate this time of year, I wish you peace and happiness. I celebrate Christmas, and I thought this year it would be fun to follow my friend, Author Mary Ann Poll’s lead. For my Thanksgiving post, Mary Ann sent a note from her protagonist, Kat, describing how Kat celebrates Thanksgiving in Ravens Cove, Alaska. So, for my Christmas post, I decided to look in on my main character, Jane Marcus, and see how she celebrates the holiday.

For those of you who don’t know Jane, she is a fisheries biologist at the Kodiak Marine Center. She is unmarried but has a long-distance relationship with an FBI agent who lives in Virginia. Let’s see how she’s doing this holiday season.

I disconnected with my father and wiped the trickle of tears from my face only to open the dam for a full flood. I knew now I should have flown back to Kansas for the holidays. Nothing happens at the Marine Center during the Christmas break, and I could have taken leave for a week or two to fly home to see my father. He sounded lonely on the phone, and although he told me he’d spent a nice afternoon with my brother and his family, I could tell he missed me, and I missed him. I hadn’t seen him in a year.

I’d made the trip to Kansas the previous year for Christmas, but I hated flying during the holidays, and the family obligations overwhelmed me. This year, I wanted peace and quiet, so I stayed in Kodiak, and now I wanted my family. I laughed at myself. I needed to adopt a cat or maybe a goldfish.

I didn’t plan to spend the entire day at home alone. My friend, Dana, invited me to a Christmas party. I think Dana and her current boyfriend, Jack, invited half the town of Kodiak to their Christmas buffet. Jack volunteered to host the event at his place since Dana’s tiny house wouldn’t hold a crowd larger than three.

As I walked down the hall to my bedroom to change my clothes, I heard my phone chirp in the living room. I hurried back, grabbed the phone from the coffee table, and felt a smile play across my mouth when I read the phone’s display.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Morgan,” I said.

“Merry Christmas to you, Jane. Where are you?”

“I’m at home in Kodiak, and you?”

“I’m in my apartment in Virginia right now, but I’m flying to Miami tomorrow on a big case. I’ll  be there for a few weeks,” Morgan said

“I thought you were working on a string of murders in Indiana.”

“I was,” he said. “My involvement in the case ended yesterday.”

“Did you catch the killer?”

“We did, but not until after he’d murdered six women.”

“At least you got him,” I said.

Morgan didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “I’m sorry Jane. I have another call, and I need to take it.”

“Maybe I’ll see you one day again.” I hoped I hid the bitterness I felt.

“You will,” he said. “Take care.”

I sank into the couch and began to cry again. Once the tears stopped, I realized I was in no mood for a party. I called Dana. She must have been busy because she didn’t answer until the sixth ring.

“Where are you?” She asked.

“I’m sorry Dana, but I don’t feel well. I won’t be able to make it to your party.”

“What? Nonsense. I’ll send Jack to pick you up. He has agreed not to consume alcohol tonight, so he is our designated driver for the evening.”

I thanked Dana but told her I was in no mood for a party. I headed to my kitchen, grabbed a bag of potato chips, poured myself a glass of wine, and turned on the television, quickly flipping past a parade of holiday shows until I found an old episode of Dateline. I settled on the couch and tried to concentrate on the show.

Fifteen minutes later, my doorbell rang. I opened the door a crack, and saw Jack’s smiling face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I told Dana I wouldn’t be able to make it to the party.”

Jack smiled and shrugged. He looked even more handsome than usual. His black parka matched his eyes, and even in the fading light, I could see the dimple on his right cheek.

“You know Dana,” Jack said. “She gets what she wants, and I do as she says. She told me to collect you using any means necessary and bring you to our party.”

I laughed. “Do you plan to kidnap me?”

He shrugged again. “Speaking of kidnapping, Dana said to tell you we are discussing the recent abduction in Anchorage.”

“What abduction?” I asked

“You didn’t hear about it?”

I shook my head.

“A big oil executive. I can’t remember which company, but anyway, three masked men entered his house while he and his wife and kids were celebrating Christmas Eve. One of the guys pulled a gun and told him to come with them, or they’d start shooting his family.”

“Whoa,” I said. Then I took a step back and narrowed my eyes at Jack. “Are you making this up just to get me to go to your party?”

Jack held his hands in the air. “It’s true. You can check the Internet. Dana says with your detective skills, we need your input on the crime.”

“You’re playing dirty, jack,” I said. “You know I can’t resist discussing a crime.” I pushed the door open and let Jack into my house. “Have a seat,” I said. “I need to change my clothes.”

Have a wonderful holiday, and I will be back here next week to discuss my New Year’s resolutions. Meanwhile, leave a comment and tell me about your resolutions.


Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Sign Up for my free, monthly Mystery Newsletter about true crime in Alaska.

Karluk Bones

Karluk Bones is the title of my fourth Alaska wilderness mystery. The book has taken me longer to write than I had planned, but I think it will be worth the wait. This week, I want to share a portion of the opening scene with you.

Those of you who have read my other novels know Dr. Jane Marcus is a biologist at the Kodiak Fisheries Tech Center. In this scene, Jane and three of her friends camp near Karluk Lake on Kodiak. The next morning, they plan to float the Karluk River, but a fire in the middle of the night derails their expedition.

___________________________________________________________________________

Karluk Bones

Saturday, May 24th

“Fire! Wake up! Fire!”

The cry yanked me from a pleasant dream where my camping companions and I sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows. Now, I realized the smoky inspiration for my dream emanated not from a campfire but a forest fire.

I struggled to sit in my sleeping bag while my fingers fumbled with the zipper. Did we leave our campfire burning? No, I remember Geoff throwing water on it, and then we all watched until the last curls of smoke evaporated.

I’d worn my clothes to bed, and as soon as I struggled out of my bag, I crawled through the fly of the small tent. Smoke filled the air, and my friend and colleague, Geoff Baker, my friend, Dana Baynes, and her new beau, Jack Parker, all stood, staring to the north. I followed their gazes and saw the flames, but the fire had not yet spread far.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“It looks like a campfire got out of hand,” Geoff said.

“It’s so dry,” Dana said. “It’s bound to spread before they can put it out.”

“And the wind is blowing this way,” Geoff added.

“We’d better help them,” Jack said.

“You’re right,” I said, “but I fear only Mother Nature will be able to extinguish a blaze in the midst of all this dead, dry vegetation.”

“I’ll dump out our food buckets,” Geoff offered. “We can use those to scoop up lake water to throw on the fire.”

“Sure,” Dana said, “We’ll do a bucket brigade.”

I doubted anything we did would help, but if we stayed where we were, we’d be burned alive. “I suggest sticking anything you can’t live without in your pocket,” I said.

“Good point, Doc. I’ll grab my phone,” Geoff said.

“I’m grabbing my raincoat just in case,” Dana added.

I nodded. “I hope we need our raincoats. Rain is the one thing that will extinguish this fire.”
Geoff, Jack, and I carried our bear-proof food buckets now empty of their contents, and Dana shouldered a pack full of first-aid gear. She also carried a small camp shovel.

We hiked along the shore of Karluk Lake. It was a dark, chilly night. Correction, it was a dark, chilly morning. Darkness is an infrequent visitor in late May on Kodiak Island, but I can testify it is dark at 3:00 am. We wore headlamps to light the beach along the lakeshore, and I glued my eyes to the ground so that I wouldn’t stumble over a large rock or a tree branch. The smell of smoke grew stronger with each step.

As we neared the fire, I could see the flames growing in intensity and slowly but steadily spreading toward the south and our camp.

“We should have packed our stuff and moved it out of the line of fire,” I said.

“I don’t think we could move our stuff far enough to get it out of the fire line unless we brought it with us and stashed it upwind from the flames,” Geoff said.

We clung to the lakeshore and skirted around the edge of the fire. As we neared the tent camp where the blaze had started, we saw four young men frantically packing their tents and gear and moving everything down the beach. Miraculously, it looked as if the flames had not touched their camp.

Dana ran toward the men. “Is everyone okay?” She called.

One of the young men stopped in his tracks and looked toward her, obviously surprised by her presence. “Our campfire got out of control,” he said. “I thought we put it out but guess we didn’t.”

The man slurred his speech and seemed confused. At first, I thought he had a natural physical or mental impairment, but then, I realized he was drunk, or to be more accurate, he hadn’t completely sobered up from being drunk. I took in the entire scene and watched his camping companions stumble to move their gear, their actions clumsy and awkward. They were all in the no man’s land between drunk and sober, the period of the night when you wake up and curse yourself for drinking too much alcohol. I admit I’d been there a time or two, and now I tried to muster some forgiveness for them stupidly getting drunk and letting their campfire burn out of control.

Forgiveness was not on Dana’s mind, and she immediately understood the situation. She dropped her pack on the ground and stood, hands on hips, glaring at the young man who had spoken to her. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe,” he said. “I’m not quite sober.”

“You are camping on an island with 3500 bears.” Dana walked toward him, her voice as loud as I’d ever heard it. “Many of those bears live near this lake.”

The young man looked at the ground and said nothing.

“If you want to camp on this Refuge, you need to be responsible.” Dana gestured to the spreading fire. “You started a fire by not putting out your campfire.”

“We tried to put it out,” the young man said.

“You tried?” Dana was now only about four feet away from the poor guy, all five feet nothing of her intimidating the young man as she screamed up at him.

Although the situation was dire, I nearly laughed as I watched the much larger man cower while petite Dana approached him. He flinched at each of her words as if she were slapping him in the face, and I thought she might slap him in the face when she got a few steps closer.

“I saw a video the other day,” Dana said. “An observant camper watched and videotaped a bunch of yahoos like you and your friends. They ate breakfast around their campfire, threw a little water on the fire, packed their gear, jumped in their raft, and headed down river. A few minutes after they’d left, a curious bear began sniffing their campfire. He put his paw on the hot embers, burned his paw and limped away, holding his burned paw in the air.” She took another step toward the young man who was now backing away from her. “I thought their lack of regard for the environment was disgusting until I see what you idiots managed to do here.”

I stood, caught up in the drama of Dana and the young camper when Geoff thumped me on the shoulder.

“Here, Doc,” he said, handing me a full bucket of lake water. “Let’s get this bucket brigade going.” He looked at Dana and the cowering campers. “Yo!” he yelled. “We need some help here; we have a fire to put out.”

The campers seemed happy for any excuse to escape Dana’s withering gaze and sharp reprimand. They found two more food buckets in their gear, emptied the contents, and hurried to stand in line between the lake and the burning fire.

I knew I couldn’t be the only one in this group who saw the futility of fighting a spreading wildfire with buckets of water, but buckets were all we had, and we needed to do something. There was no firefighting agency to call in the middle of the night to help put out a fire on the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge. If the fire hadn’t been extinguished by morning, we would notify the National Wildlife Refuge office in Kodiak, and perhaps they could ask for assistance from the Department of Natural Resources. Dana was a biologist for the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge, so she would know what to do. At present, Dana stood in the bucket brigade between the four campers, still lecturing them. If they weren’t sober by now, they would be soon, and between excessive alcohol, smoke, and Dana’s piercing voice, I didn’t envy any one of them the headache he would have for the next several hours.

We continued the steady progression of bucket passing as the sky slowly lightened. At 5:00 am, my arms were numb, my shoulders screamed with pain, and I had one of the worst headaches of my life. My comrades and I silently passed buckets, refusing to admit defeat. At 6:00 am, Mother Nature decided to lend us a helping hand. It started as a drizzle, but soon the rain pelted us in sheets.

I stepped out of the bucket line and said, “I think we can stop now.”

_________________________________________________________________________

While hiking back to their campsite, Jane and her friends stumble across human bones exposed by the burned vegetation. Are the bones ancient or modern, and how did this individual die? These are the first of many questions Jane asks Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Dan Patterson, and Jane won’t rest until she uncovers the answers and learns not only the identity of the man whose bones she found but also what or who caused his death.

I will share other outtakes of my novel at intervals over the next few months. Please let me know what you think. The above scene is the beginning of the book. Did it grab you and make you want to read more?

_________________________________________________________________________

Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Sign Up for my free, monthly Mystery Newsletter about true crime in Alaska.