Dead Frenzy (16 page)

Osborne stepped back to return the wave. He checked the side window. That was Catherine’s van, all right.

Lew pushed the bike into the rear of the loading area, where it would be locked up for the next two days. She locked it and handed Osborne the key.

“Can you give me a ride back over to my office? I rode the bike over so no one would see it in our parking lot. Gary dropped it off about an hour after you met with him today. He’s desperate for us to close down the chop shop.

This went very well tonight, Doc. Better than I had hoped.”

As they climbed into his car, Osborne reached for the accordion file, which he had grabbed as he ran out of the house.

“Lew, I want to show you something. I had a chance to page through the Schultz file late this afternoon, and Pecore’s final report is very confusing.” He handed her the sheet of paper, then put his key into the ignition.

“Doc, please, this is the last thing I want to deal with. In two weeks, okay?”

Osborne checked over his shoulder as he backed out. “Okay. It’s just that Jack Schultz’s oldest daughter, the one who was the same age as the victim, is back in town for a few weeks. I saw her today at the airport.” He pulled the car onto the street.

Lew had tipped her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She was clearly exhausted.

“Oh?” she said. “What’s her name?”

“Edith. She’s working for Parker Steadman and his wife as a producer. I just thought that while she’s in town, it might be a good time to have some questions answered.”

Lew opened one eye and looked at him. “Okay … what’s the deal? What’s so confusing in Pecore’s report?”

“Why did he list the cause of death as ‘Undetermined’? I was always under the impression the baby-sitter had been bludgeoned and died of head injuries. Is there another file or report somewhere?”

“Wha-a-t?” Lew picked up the piece of paper she had dropped in her lap and scanned it quickly. “What time is it?”

“Eight-fifteen.”

“Turn left at the next corner.”

“Lew, this can wait.”

“Pecore lives on this street, third house on the right. We’re stopping in.”

Pecore was home all right. Home and drunk. So was Mrs. Pecore. She was sitting in a housedress and rocking in a rocking chair. Four empty beer cans had been tossed onto the rug beside her. They appeared to have been enjoying their evening cocktails in the dim light of a large-screen television, which anchored one end of the long living room. It was a nice living room in a traditional kind of way, just dark and gloomy and reeking of dog.

After letting Lew and Osborne in, Pecore, glass of bourbon in hand, had dropped his own heavy frame back onto a sofa already occupied by two golden retrievers. Mrs. Pecore acknowledged their entrance with a slight nod then turned her attention back to the TV. Osborne took a chair while Lew walked over to drop the report in Pecore’s lap. Then she crossed the room and sat down.

“What’s this?” Pecore squinted at the page.

“Put your glasses on,” said Lew.

“Why are you showing me this now?”

“Jack Schultz’s daughter is in town. She wants some answers,” Lew lied easily.

“This is years old! What the hell?”

“Statute of limitations never runs out on murder, Irv. Remember making out that report?”

“Well … yes. After Jack shot himself, we closed the case.”

“Without determining the cause of death? A capital murder case?”

“We had the killer, what else do you need?”

“Am I to assume you never analyzed any of the evidence?”

“Now that’s not true, I got the evidence.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Do you know, Ferris”—Pecore waved his drink at her—”do you know how much it would have cost this little town to investigate that case any further? Those tests cost money, y’know. Thousands of dollars we would have had to spend. I had a budget to watch.”

“Oh, this was a budget decision, was it?”

“Yes.”

“Irv, the head of the police department makes the budget decisions, not the coroner.”

“Well, that sure as hell wasn’t you, was it.”

Lew dropped her head. Osborne was not going to be surprised if she slugged the lazy bum.

“I know the law,” Pecore slurred. “That goddam evidence is right where I put it back then. Nice and tidy.” He might be drunk but he still had the instinct to cover his butt.

“You didn’t destroy it?”

“No, I did not.”

If that was true, Osborne knew that the only reason the evidence might still be in existence was simply because Pecore hadn’t cleaned either his office or his storerooms in years.

“Whatever you got, I want it sent to Wausau tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll check on it.”

“You didn’t hear what I said.” Lew stood up. “I said I want it in Wausau
tomorrow.
I will take care of sending it down. You have it on my desk by eight
a.m
. or my next budget will be minus one coroner.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can give it a damn good try.” And she could, too.

Mrs. Pecore, during this exchange, never took her eyes off the TV, never stopped rocking.

“Thank you, Lew,” said Osborne back at the car. “Jack’s suicide has always bothered me and I’ve always worried about his girls, especially Edith. She was such a sad little kid after all that happened.”

“It’s easy, Doc, as long as I can keep it off my desk—and those Wausau boys owe me. I’ll just say I have a new witness and see if they can’t work this up on an urgent basis.”

“What about the budget issue? Is Pecore right?”

“He’s correct that the lab work costs money, but he was wrong not to have followed through. As far as I’m concerned, this is still an open murder case and that means the budget is there. That’s why I was happy for you to look into it in the first place.”

She looked over at Osborne. “As far as questioning the daughter, do you think she’s up for it?”

“I’m not sure. Guess I’ll find out soon enough. But with everything else you’ve got me doing, I doubt I’ll see her before Saturday.”

“Saturday?”

“I haven’t had a chance to tell you. Parker Steadman invited us to a dinner party he and his wife are giving Saturday night.” He did his best to sound light, happy, and hopeful.

A long pause. “The thing is, Doc,” said Lew, her voice smaller than usual, “you need to know something about me. Especially after the other night.”

Osborne’s heart fell to the floor of the car.

“I’m a ‘sometime’ person and I don’t know if that can work for you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I like doing things with you—fishing, getting together like the other night—but not on a regular basis. I’m not couple material, Doc. I’ve learned that the hard way. And I just … I don’t want you to expect too much.”

That wasn’t quite as bad as he was expecting. “Does that mean you’ll go to dinner with me … sometimes?”

“Yeah, kinda…. The thing is, Doc …” She turned her head to look out the window as she spoke, “we have very different histories here in Loon Lake. Different lives. My little farm? I need that solitude. You have a lifestyle very different from mine, and a social life … I can’t fit into that. Frankly, I don’t want to fit into it.”

Osborne thought of the chicken potpie in his refrigerator—he didn’t want to fit into it either.

“Are you saying you don’t like my friends?”

“Maybe it’s a bit of the reverse. But that’s not the point. I do want to see you … sometimes.”

“So you will go fishing with me again.”

“Of course. So long as you understand I like to fish with other people, too.”

“And you’ll be my date Saturday night?”

“I would like to, but that depends entirely on what happens over the next couple days. I’ll let you know Friday if that’s okay. What time does your motorcycle class start in the morning?”

“Nine.”

“How about stopping by the office for coffee around eight? We’ll take a look at what Pecore’s got before I have it sent down to Wausau.”

Osborne pulled up at the back door to the jail and her office. She leaned over to leave a swift kiss on his cheek. “I’m tense, I’m tired, but I feel good about us. ‘Night, Doc.”

“Good night, Lew.” He drove home slowly. Like a wild trout, Lew belonged free. Catch and release worked for fish. Could it work for humans?

“Pa-r-r-d-e-e,”
Ray’s voice boomed through the phone.

“What?” Osborne should never have answered. He was so tired, he hadn’t even called Erin to see how the evening with Mark had gone.

“Saturday night, Doc. And you are talking to the Chief Cook and Bottle Washer! I have … persuaded—no, I take that back. I have
demonstrated
my talents … to the extreme—”

“I think you mean ‘extent,’“ said Osborne. He knew he was being a little too curt but he was so damn tired.

“Right. To the
extent
that those good people … are willing to let yours truly … orchestrate … the great Loon Lake fish fry … right smack in the middle of their million-dollar kitchen. Walleye, American fries, and cole slaw from the Colonel. Doc, this could turn into something, something big.”

Osborne could see it now: an evening of Ray’s cooking seasoned with raconteurship and sprinkled with birdcalls.

Some things about the guy never changed, but the ladies would love it. Tired as he was, he couldn’t resist. “Sounds to me like you’re auditioning for a show on that network of theirs—’First You Fish, Then You Fry.’“

Silence for a beat, then Ray said, “Doc, that is not bad. Not bad at all. I need an angle, you know.”

“Ray, I’m kidding. A title like that makes it sound like first you fish, then you burn in hell.”

“True … I’ll work on it. Say, need you to help me out in the morning.”

Switching subjects, Ray dropped the happy-talk cadence. “I’m not kidding about the fish fry. I’m cooking for the party. Parker said he had invited you. I figure if we’re on the lake early tomorrow and Friday, we ought to catch enough to feed twenty—”

“Sorry, Ray, no can do. Lew’s got me in town for a crack-of-dawn meeting, then I start that motorcycle class.” He yawned.

“Yo-o-okay—I’ll think of something.”

Osborne knew he would. Worst case, Ray was intimate with a couple private lakes where he could poach plenty walleye in an hour or two. Trophy fish, ones the owners would have stocked, coddled, then wondered, “Where the hell did those go?”

In spite of the fatigue pushing at the back of his eyes, Osborne made the effort to be pleasant. “How’s it going with Barbara Walters?”

“Very nicely, thank you. Had a little something interesting happen today, though.”

Osborne checked the clock on his chest of drawers. He’d give Ray five. Times like this, he had to remind himself he owed his neighbor. Owed him in ways he could never pay back: for his drive through the blizzard to save Mary Lee’s life; and later, for being patient and strong and willing to remind Osborne that the bottle held all the wrong answers. Five minutes of listening was the least he could do.

“You know how our leading lady has been getting these threatening phone calls for the last three weeks—”

“Only three weeks? I was under the impression this had been going on for some time.”

“Nope. Started with this tour and always when she’s setting up to shoot B-roll: four tournaments, four threatening phone calls.” Ray had the lingo down. Rather than interrupt, Osborne assumed “B-roll” had something to do with background material. He could ask later.

“At any rate …” Ray paused for effect. “The calls come
only
when she’s outdoors, which is why she was able to convince the old man she’s being stalked.”

“Ah hah,” said Osborne. “Do I detect a hint of doubt in your voice?”

“However … it so happens that Mr. Steadman didn’t make his millions being stupid. He didn’t hire just me, he’s also lined up this high-tech operation that does contract work for the government to track those calls.”

“He mentioned something about that as we were leaving the airport. How’s that working?”

“That’s what’s so interesting. They have a system that works like an electric vacuum cleaner. Locks in on incoming phone signals, selected by monitoring key words, then they can trace those signals. I don’t know the details but suffice it to say I think I’m being paid less to protect than to pick up. I offered to wear a fish locator, told Parker it could do the job for a lot less money.”

“I’m sure he appreciated that.”

“Same principle, though. Parker’s had my belt rigged with a device like a pager that makes it possible for the tech guys to get the clearest possible signal. And he made it very clear I was not to say a word about this to his wife.”

“She didn’t ask why you were wearing—”

“Never noticed. The woman doesn’t notice much about other people, Doc. So I’m with her in that sardine can of a car, driving to all these locations where she thinks she wants to shoot this B-roll stuff when, boom, she gets one of these calls.”

“While you’re in the car?”

“Actually, no. We were standing in a crowd down at the boat landing where they’re setting up the tournament headquarters. A couple semis were unloading these big bass boats that are going to be used in the tournament. Man, those are nice boats. Forty thousand bucks for one of those damn things.”

“Ray, it’s after eleven. Can we talk boats another time?”

“Sorry. So everyone’s standing around watching the boats, watching them get outfitted with these Mercury outboards that you wouldn’t believe—probably another twenty thousand smackaroos. And they got the music blasting, brats cooking, people talking. All that’s happening when Hayden decides to walk over to one of the boats. Now she’s standing a good hundred feet from me, talking to one of the mechanics … and the call comes in.

“I see her give me this terrified look and she’s waving like mad, so I run right over. And I’m looking around like crazy because, according to what I’ve been told by her, the caller always says he’s in the vicinity—that he can see her and blow her head off at any given moment.”

“A little unsettling,” said Osborne.

“But as I’m running over, I look down at that pager thing. It has an LED light that changes color when it locks in on incoming signals. And …”

“And?” Osborne urged.

“Doc, I stood five feet from that woman and nothing happened to that light.”

“What do you mean?”

“No … call.”

“So the phone never even rang?”

“Hell, it was so noisy around there, I could never have heard it if it had. I don’t think she could have.”

“Ah, she’s making it up.”

“Parker wants me to keep checking on this, but, yeah. We think she’s lying.”

“Why on earth?”

“Get attention from the old man is what I think,” said Ray. “Trouble in Paradise.”

“Good reason for you to keep your nose clean,” said Osborne. “That explains why she was all over you at the airport.”

“Yep. But I got it under control, Doc.”

“I’m sure you do, Ray.”