Dead Creek (17 page)

He was beginning to look a little flustered, and Osborne restrained a chuckle. The demonstration had gone further than good Father Vodicka had planned.

“What
time
is
it?” said Lew to no one in particular as she glanced down at her watch. Osborne looked at the wall clock in the small Rhinelander airport. The morning sky was lightening with sun and it looked like a lovely day was on its way.

“Seven-thirty—that Northwest flight’ll be landing any moment now,” said an elderly man, leaning on his cane beside them at the windows. Lew, Osborne, and Ray were clustered together before the expanse of glass overlooking the landing strip.

Osborne noticed all three of them were inhaling strong black coffee from the hospitality pot. He set his down on the sill, aware his hand was beginning to shake. He’d started the day with a pot of his own that he’d drunk with relish, sitting on his porch, catching up with the Sunday paper as Mike curled up beside him. Constantly nosing his master, the trusty black Lab made it clear he felt neglected.

But that was two hours ago. Right now, the three of them were still digesting the news that Osborne had delivered over more coffee at McDonald’s an hour earlier. The meeting was the result of Lew refusing to let him continue when he’d called her at home late the night before.

“We’re not discussing this on your damn party line,” she’d said before Osborne had had an opportunity to pass along his discovery at the church. Following that, both of them heard two light clicks signaling guilty listeners. “Why on earth do you have a party line anyway?” Lew demanded. “That’s like having every one of your phone calls taped. Don’t tell me those old biddies down the road from you don’t eavesdrop all day long!”

Osborne sighed resignedly and repeated what he said to his daughters at least once a month: “The phone company won’t spend the money to rewire our end of the lake until every single household approves it. Right now, we have three of the thirty-five homes holding out because it’ll increase their phone bills by twenty bucks a month. Lew, that’s a lot of money for some folks, especially the retirees in the mobile home park over on Moens Lake.”

So instead, they’d arranged to meet early for coffee, and Osborne had walked next door to alert Ray.

McDonald’s was bustling, even at six
A.M
., but they were able to get a table apart from the crowd. Osborne delivered his news. It was quickly agreed that Lew would drop in on Judith Benjamin later that day not only to question her about Ted Bronk but see if she knew anything about Ruth Minor’s other adopted child.

“Not that she’ll enjoy chatting about Ruth,” Lew had chuckled. “There’s a few of us in town still think it was Judith who did the old lady in, even if she was only nine years old.”

“Judith Benjamin is the only woman who ever beat me up,” said Ray between bites of an Egg McMuffin. “Boy, was she a vicious bully when we were kids. She jumped me on the way home from kindergarten one day and kicked the bejesus outta me.” Ray sat up straight, his eyes wide over his beard that held crumbs from the muffin. “I was only five years old. I think she was eleven or twelve. Boy, she was big even then. Was my mother mad! Whew!”

“Now, Ray. Tell us the truth. You had a reputation even at age five. I’m sure you gave her good reason, didn’t you?” Lew’s eyes crinkled with the tease.

Ray thought about it, pulling gently at his beard, finally tipping his trout hat back on his head as he thought her question over quite seriously. “I really don’t know. I think she did it for sport.”

“This
is
the flight she said to expect her on,” said Osborne, repeating himself for about the tenth time. They were all three very anxious to meet the lawyer, get over to Wausau, and get an official ID on the body.

Just then, from behind, an authoritative but feminine voice called out, “Dr. Osborne? Dr. Paul Osborne?”

The three spun around to see a young woman with a cap of naturally curly darkish blond hair, held back from her face by a dark green scarf. She wore no makeup. Loudly she repeated Osborne’s name. “Dr. Paul Osborne?” She had wide cheekbones in a squarish face, the cheekbones all the more noticeable because of the dark, serious eyes they emphasized. She was wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a forest green cotton duck jacket that featured more leather and brass knobs than Osborne had seen at the taxidermist’s.

“I’m Dr. Osborne.” Osborne stepped forward quickly, more than a little anxious. The woman spoke as if she might be a physician, some kind of professional. Had something happened to Erin or one of his grandchildren?

“Gee, that was easy.” The young woman relaxed and smiled broadly, reaching out a hand to pump his with firm enthusiasm. “I’m Julie Rehnquist—Robert Bowers’s lawyer. I’m so pleased to meet you. The people at the
Kansas City Star
couldn’t say enough good things about you.”

“But … Miss Rehnquist … I thought you were due in on this flight?” Osborne took in her appearance again, the jeans, a T-shirt, and the heavy hunter’s jacket. This young woman a lawyer? He guessed her to be in her thirties, though she had a brightness to her eyes and manner that made her look even younger.

“I flew to Mosinee and drove up late yesterday afternoon,” said Julie, extending her hand to Ray and Lew in turn.

“Pleased,” said Ray, ducking his head to ceremoniously remove his stuffed trout, bow slightly, return the hat to his head, and then, with a bashful grin on his face that Osborne had never seen before, say absolutely nothing. Ray without a quip and a bad joke on meeting a new person? Osborne raised an eyebrow.

Lew was not so restrained. “Quite a surprise, Miss Rehnquist—or is it Mrs.?” She fired her words off in what Osborne now recognized was her getting-down-to-business style. “But it’s good you’re here and we’ll get the worst over quickly. But how did you get a flight so soon? Charter one? Those flights into Mosinee are always oversold.”

If Julie was taken aback by Lew’s directness, she didn’t show it. She chuckled instead, a disarming chuckle that made her seem instantly likable.

“I’m sorry, I’m one of those terrible type A’s that rise at the crack of dawn,” said Julie. “I like to get an early start. After I heard from Dr. Osborne, I thought I’d like to get this investigation underway ASAP. And since the weather was so lovely yesterday, why not just get going? I said to myself, ‘If they’ve got the nerve to call it God’s country up there, then get your rear in gear and see it in all its glory! So I corralled my trusty travel agent at home on Sunday and demanded she book me or lose the firm’s business.” Osborne assumed she was kidding, but he wasn’t sure.

As Julie talked, Lew marshaled the group out of the airport and down the road toward her car. The air outside was cool but continuing to turn into a sunny, crisply clear Monday morning.

“Oh, one other factor,” said Julie, “I really wanted to get the lay of the land up here, and I thought you all might be pretty busy, so I just figured I’d do it on my own. I found the neatest little bed-and-breakfast place as I drove in yesterday—”

“We only have one close to Loon Lake,” said Lew, still clipping her words, “you must be checked in at Cranberry Hill in Rhinelander?”

“No,” said Julie, “I’m out on a lake at a place called Marjorie’s Bed and Breakfast. It’s rather … rustic … but cozy. I saw a sign on Highway 8 after I missed a turn coming into town and blew by Loon Lake. I was doubling back when I saw the sign. Maybe genteelly shabby would be a kinder description of the place, but I like it. I’m quite comfortable there.”

“That’s interesting,” said Ray as he folded his lanky frame into the backseat of Lew’s sedan alongside Osborne. “That place and the area around it always reminds me of something out of
Deliverance.”
He looked at Osborne and Lew. “I know I’m repeating myself, but there is no better description of that lovely neighborhood. You know, Miss Rehnquist, we do have backwoods types that eat their own around here. Not rednecks, human mutants.”

Before Julie could say anything, Ray went on in a kinder tone, “You wanted to get the lay of the land? Or you wanted to check things out without all of us leaning over your shoulder?” His point was unmistakable: He didn’t believe her. And he wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

“Is something wrong?” Julie looked from face to face. “Who knows? Certainly something’s very wrong when you have four murder victims,” said Lew with a shrug and a very businesslike tone in her voice. Her eyes were as hard as the twist she gave the key in the ignition.

Lew looked over at Julie in the seat beside her, “But you’re the one who said one thing and did another—so you tell me.” Without waiting for an answer, Lew said, “We’re heading over to the State Crime Lab in Wausau, and we’ve got an hour’s drive ahead of us. We’ll leave your car here and be back to pick it up later. That is,” she said with exaggerated politeness, “if that’s all right with you? On the other hand, maybe you’d prefer to drive down alone.”

To Osborne’s ear, Lew’s message was unmistakable: if you think you’re going to take the lead on this investigation, then go it alone, babe. Osborne felt like the odd man out; his gut instinct was to like the young woman. Right now, he felt a little sorry for her.

“Oh, no, I’m with you,” said Julie, again with a smile. Only this time Osborne noticed that her eyes stayed serious over the gently smiling lips. “So …” She turned around from where she sat in the front seat to face Ray sitting immediately behind her. “You’re a detective with the police department?”

“Not exactly,” Lew interrupted as she swerved the car onto Highway 17 and tromped her foot on the accelerator. “Both Dr. Osborne and Ray are filling in as deputies on this case. I’m the Loon Lake chief of police. We had a big designer drug bust outside Wausau two weeks ago that pulled two of my regular team off for duty on that, then a senior deputy has been hospitalized with pneumonia for a few days. Dr. Osborne’s forensic skills have been
very
appreciated, and no one knows this region like Ray. Ray’s a jack-of-all-trades and probably the best hunting and fishing guide you can find—when he’s sober. Right, Ray?”

“Lew?” Ray made no effort to conceal his annoyance, “I thought we had a deal….”

Julie kept her eyes on the road straight ahead. Osborne wondered if she felt like she was in the middle of an argument in a highly dysfunctional family.

“We do, Ray.” It was Lew’s turn to look back at him. “We do. Ray knows everybody who’s anybody and everyone who’s not. Do you want to let Julie in on your secret?”

There was a silence in the car. Finally, Ray leaned forward in the seat and lowered his voice behind Julie’s head, “I dig graves on the side.”

“You’re kidding!” Julie spun around with a laugh.

“No, he’s not,” said Lew with a slight smile. “Between the three of us, we got ‘em covered—the living and the dead.” Then she chuckled. Later, Osborne thought that was the play that won the game: Lew’s chuckle broke the tension and, for the first time, signaled that Lew might consider cooperation.

“What do you do in the winter when the ground is frozen?” asked Julie with genuine curiosity.

“Besides getting busted for smoking dope while ice fishing—” interjected Lew.

“Jeez, Lew, ease up! Now that’s a go-o-od question,” said Ray to Julie. “Very few people think ahead to ask me questions like that. Actually, I do quite a bit. I shovel snow for some of the commercial establishments in town—the bank, the pub. Other odd jobs—the outdoor stuff. Up here you can make a modest living shoveling snow off rooftops for three to four months.”

“I see.” Julie was thoughtful. “What did your father do?”

Now it was Ray’s turn to look taken aback. “He was a surgeon.”

She turned around to look at him again, her eyes shifted to Osborne and then to Lew. This time, the eyes stayed dark and the mouth didn’t smile. “What we are really discussing here is that things are not always as they seem. Right? That Ray can track in the world of humans as easy as in the wilderness?”

Again there was silence in the car, and Osborne marveled at the communication that was taking place between the law officer, the undercover agent, and the lawyer who was making it clear she was no dummy. She knew that no one was being totally honest, including herself, but what little Lew and Ray were saying was, at least, true.

“I’m real curious,” said Ray. “Why are you so convinced your client was murdered?”

Now Julie stared straight ahead, eyes glued to the highway. “Because I know exactly who did it. Don’t underestimate me. I have a lot at stake in this case, and I am not bullshitting around. You’re right, of course. I came up early to do some of my own checks. I’m staying at that weird little place because Robert Bowers stayed there once, and I want to know why. Why would a multimillionaire stay in such shabby little resort?

“I know it’s close to property he inherited from the Cantrell side of his family. I like that proximity because I have a hunch that I have a better chance of running into someone who might know something.” She was quiet for a moment, still watching the road ahead. “You know, it’s too bad those other people had to die, because Robert was the real target.”

“Really?” said Ray. “You’re sure of that?”

“Oh quite. I’ll tell you who did it, too. I was introduced to him as Brad Kirsch, an antique silver dealer,” said Julie. “He also goes by the name Fred Shepard. Fred Shepard is a known silver thief who operates out of Las Vegas. He’s very canny, and he always works with a woman. But …” Julie paused as if trying to remember something she’d forgotten, then she gave a shrug and smile. “I guess I’d rather talk about Robert, if you don’t mind?”

“Shoot,” said Lew. “Doc, since I’m driving, would you please take notes for me?” She handed him a long, narrow notebook, spiral-bound at the top. Osborne flipped it open, past pages filled with a neat, slightly slanted script. Random phrases or entire lines were sometimes highlighted in yellow. He could see that Lew was meticulously well-organized. A little unnerved by her careful attention to detail, he tried to write as quickly as Julie talked so as not to miss anything. Fortunately, Julie seemed more relaxed, and her story unfolded at an easy pace as the police car sped toward Wausau.