Dead Hot Mama (12 page)

“As long as I’m home by five,” said Osborne. “And, don’t forget. Lewelleyn—you’re expected for Christmas Eve dinner. You, too, Gina. Ray knows. He’s bringing his famous pickled northern.”

Lew hung up and walked around her desk. “Forget it. With this cloud cover, by the time Roger gets those snowmobiles out there, it’ll be pitch black. How about first thing in the morning?”

“Christmas?!” said Osborne. “Lew, aren’t you taking
any
time off?”

“Well … what are
you
doing?”

“Opening presents with Mallory and Erin’s family at Erin’s. She’s planning Christmas brunch. I guess I’m free after that.”

“Great, Doc. You have breakfast with your family, then meet me here. We’ll be on the trails by noon when the sun is high.”

“On one condition, Lewellyn—you have to show up tonight.”

“I will, I will—I promise.”

“I used to be Snow White but I drifted,” said a deep voice from the doorway.

“Ray Pradt, you old thief you!” Gina spun on her stool, nearly knocking Osborne over. “That’s a Mae West line.”

“No-o-o … how do you know that?” asked Ray, a hurt look on his face as he lumbered into the room.

“Everybody knows that, you jerk,” said Gina.

“It may be a Mae West line, but when it comes to Ray, it’s accurate,” said Lew. “He has indeed drifted. Care to see the file?”

“You
look amazingly civilized this morning,” said Lew as Ray pulled one of the armchairs away from the wall, unzipped his jacket, and, like an accordion closing, folded his way down into the chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Not an iota,” said Ray, sliding back in the chair, extending his legs and crossing his ankles. “Life is lovely.”

Ray was lovely. Osborne hadn’t seen his neighbor look so spiffy in months. Was it the anticipation of meeting Lauren’s father or Gina’s arrival that booted him out of the smelly parka and into the trim charcoal gray Gore-Tex jacket?

“Lew’s right—you look downright sartorial today,” said Osborne. Under the jacket, Ray wore gray tweed Filson pants and a matching wool sweater. The rolled collar of a cream turtleneck completed the effect. “New boots, beard trimmed, hair tamed—jeez, Ray, if I didn’t know better, I could mistake you for somebody with a full-time job.”

“Or a funeral director,” snorted Lew.

“Stop the torture, you guys. He’s just trying to impress me,” said Gina, beaming at Ray from her perch on the stool. “Hey, so I get to stay at your place, right?”

“You are more welcome than the flowers.”

“Ray, when you finish with the charm, we need to talk,” said Lew, walking over to close the door to her office. She jerked her head towards the chair in front of her desk, next to the one where Osborne was sitting. “Have you been out to Thunder Bay?”

“Just now, Chief. That’s why I came in.”

Ray finished smiling at Gina, then pulled all six feet five inches up and over to the chair near Lew. “I was able to talk to two of the women who work there, Laura Donaghue and Michelle Roderick. Laura tends bar, Michelle dances. Neither one knew much. Apparently Eileen was pleasant enough but kept to herself. She lived up in Iron- wood and would drive down Wednesdays with this young Japanese-American fellow who runs their karaoke night.

“The two would stay overnight at the Comfort Inn, and the next morning Eileen would collect the week’s receipts, take care of some ordering, then leave.”

“So she was around only those two days,” said Lew.

“Correct. But Laura told me something interesting. She said that over the last six months, she’s had about four different patrons complain that their credit card numbers had been stolen—and they accused her of having something to do with it.

“She said it was pretty upsetting and she thought she was going to be arrested—so she confronted Eileen.”

“Wait, wait, Thunder Bay—that’s the strip joint, isn’t it?” said Gina from the other end of the room. “Why on earth would you use a credit card out there?”

“They serve pizza and burgers,” said Ray. “A group of guys come in after hunting or fishing and, with beers, they can run up a good-sized bill. I’ve had clients in there a number of occasions and a lot of those guys don’t carry cash, everything they do is on a card. Something to do with frequent flier miles.”

“So she brought this up with Eileen and—” Lew urged him along.

“Eileen was surprised. She told Laura not to worry—that she would check it out.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Last time she was down—two weeks ago. Oh, and I asked Laura if Eileen had ever danced there. She kind of laughed when I asked that. She said Eileen was furious with the owners and made no bones she was looking for another job. She thought she had a handshake deal to dance for fifteen hundred a week plus tips, only to have Karin renege and tell her five hundred with tips going to the house.”

“That’s nasty,” said Lew. “What about Karin—I take it she wasn’t there?”

“She’s never there. Neither Laura nor Michelle has ever even seen her.”

“What did Michelle have to say?”

“She’s new, only been dancing there a month, and she was hired by phone, so she’s never met Karin. All she could add was that she had noticed Eileen but never talked to her.”

“And the manager?”

“The manager quit right after Karin took over, and no one has been hired to replace him. Whoever tends bar has been keeping time sheets and getting marching orders from Eileen. Up until last week, Eileen would call every night to see who hadn’t shown up. This is not a ritzy operation—two bartenders and one dancer weekdays, two dancers on the weekends.”

“What about skimming?” asked Lew. “How does our absentee owner deal with that problem?”

“Excellent point,” said Ray, raising an index finger. “I wondered the same thing. A little difficult to believe they would pick the receipts up just once a week like that. Turns out there’s a bouncer who keeps a very close eye on the cash drawer and the bartenders—”

A sudden knock on the door interrupted Ray mid-sentence. Osborne turned to a chubby face wearing lavender glasses.

“Chief, finally found that résumé. Here ‘tis,” said Bud, striding across the room with a jovial look on his face. He held a sheet of paper in one hand. Osborne thought of Phil’s extensive curriculum vitae. What a travesty this was. He shook his head.

“Did you ask Marlene to let me know you were here?” asked Lew, her voice sharp.

“Hell, no, she had a call on the switchboard—I just came on back.”

“Well …
Bud
,” Lew stressed his name as she stood up to take the piece of paper from his hand, “when that door is closed, it means I’m in a meeting. Next time, please ask Marlene to page me and see if I can be interrupted.”

“Oh? Gee, sorry if I threw you for a curve. Say, ah, Gramps asked me to pick up the reports on those two dead guys.” Bud nudged his lavender glasses up the bridge of his nose, waiting.

Lew stared at him. “Arne wants those reports?”

“Yeah … that’s what he said.” Bud sounded a little uncertain.

“We won’t have those for weeks, Bud,” said Lew. “The toxicology tests will take two weeks at the very least.”

“But we thought that—”

“Tell your grandfather that since you are not a pathologist, the official autopsy is being handled by Wausau. Quite a few of those folks are on holiday break, so the reports may be a little late.

“Just to flush it out for you, Bud,” Lew’s voice stayed even, “a licensed medical examiner has to sign off on the autopsy results—it’s the law. By the way, I’m expecting you can be reached if we have any accidents over the holiday. You’re responsible for any photos I may need. And I’m assuming you plan to be here the day after Christmas so we can go over a few things—get you set up in Pecore’s old office.”

“Sure thing. Gramps suggested I volunteer to help out with some of your police work, too. Maybe help cut down on the money you spend on deputies, he said.”

“I hear you,” said Lew. “We’ll talk about that. Okay, all set?” She folded her arms and gave him a tight smile. Bud backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Lew hurried over to be sure it was closed.

Turning around, she leaned against the door, her arms behind her, and said, “In the two years that he’s been mayor, Arne has never asked to see a report of any kind … never.”

As Lew walked back to her desk, Gina piped up, “What’s all this
flushing
business?”

“It’s a long story,” said Lew, rubbing her forehead as if she were trying to erase a migraine. “Hardly worth getting into. I really don’t expect that kid to last a month. When Arne gets the bill from the Wausau boys …”

“Can I see that résumé of his?” It was a rhetorical question—Gina was already at the desk, grabbing Bud’s résumé. She gave it a quick scan as she walked back to her perch at the table. “I’m a whiz at background checks. Let’s see if I can’t put another nail in the old coffin.”

“Be my guest,” said Lew. She turned to Ray and Osborne. “Now where were we?”

“Let’s show Ray that e-mail with the directions,” said Osborne. “See if he knows the trails they’re talking about.”

Ray studied the printout. “Yeah, I know this area. This is right close to Clyde’s place, Doc. Isn’t that where you said you got your tree yesterday?”

“Yes, and I’ve been bird hunting in there, too. But I’ve never gotten far enough in to hit one of the trails.”

“I know the area somewhat,” said Lew. “There’s a spring pond back in there where I used to fish brookies. Haven’t fished it in years though.”

“Here’s what puzzles me, Ray,” said Osborne. “Most of that land is swamp. I can’t imagine two young guys going to a party back in there. No cabins. And see where they mention a fork in the trail with a boulder as a landmark? Why turn there, why not at a trail sign?”

“Well, there’s a trail marker farther down from the turn, according to this.” Ray looked up. “These directions don’t give you distance. Since I haven’t been back in there on a snowmobile in a couple years, I can’t tell you what’s where without eyeballing it. You know, Doc, the clubs mark the trails, not the county or the forestry service. Some areas are just poorly marked.”

“I checked the plat book in the county clerk’s office this morning—no new fire numbers,” said Lew.

“Yeah, well, think about it,” said Ray. “Clyde’s been living back in there for how many years, and he’s never had a fire number.”

“That’s a fact,” said Lew. “Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Well, that takes care of that. I have to check this out from the trail. Doc and I are going in tomorrow.”

“Well—” Ray looked over at Gina, “let’s do it together. I’ll bring Gina on the back of my machine. Maybe stop over at Clyde’s. If anyone knows that land back there, it’s the old man.”

“Suits me,” said Lew. “By the way,” she added as she held a photo out towards Ray, “this is the snowmobiler who’s reported missing by my Tomahawk colleagues. Since he was last seen at Thunder Bay—stayed to have one more after his buddies left—I’m supposed to find him.

“Roger said he covered all the trails under our jurisdiction yesterday and found nothing. No stalled-out machines, no signs of bad ice, nothing. Ray, does that face look familiar to you?”

“Nope. He can’t be a local, or I think I’d know him.”

“From Milwaukee—has a cottage on Lake Nokomis.”

“So no connection to the other two victims?”

“None whatsoever. This man’s friends have never heard of the victims.”

“Chief,” said Gina, from where she was sitting on her stool studying the page from Bud. “Interesting little item here—your new coroner did his internship at a funeral home in Rice Lake where they had a double murder last spring. The owner and his son were shot and killed by an intruder.”

“How do you know that?” asked Lew.

“I saw it on the Associated Press newswire down in Chicago,” said Gina. “While you were talking, I went online to be sure my memory serves me right. It’s the same place.

“Our paper was doing an investigative series on the funeral industry. My special projects team worked on some of the stories. We covered Illinois and Wisconsin because there was a spike in consumer complaints on both sides of the state line. The reason I remember this name and location is because the murders occurred just before one of our reporters was due to interview the owner.

“I can pull the series sometime in the next day or two—should be able to find that particular story. Oh, and I see he lists his uncle as a reference … and the
uncle
runs a funeral home?”

“In Armstrong Creek,” said Lew.

“May as well check that out, too,” said Gina. “You won’t believe the abuses we found when we did the series. Too much money to be made and very little oversight, especially when it comes to harvesting allograft tissue. And you have some major players here in Wisconsin.”

Lew sat back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “That’s exactly what Bud talked about in the meeting yesterday—allograft tissue.”

“It’s the hottest thing going in the funeral business,” said Gina. “Wait until you see our series. You’ll know more than you ever wanted to know about commercial cadavers and stripping body parts.

“In fact—” Gina hopped off the stool and headed for the door, “I’m going to call down to the paper right now before they’re all gone on holiday. See if someone can’t email that story to me here. At the very least, you’ll have a better idea of what your Bud guy is talking about.”

“So, Ray,” said Lew while they waited for Gina to return, “what’s your opinion of Bud?”

“Don’t know him. Never saw him before today. Who is he, and where’s he from, anyway?”

“Arne’s grandson. Originally from Milwaukee.”

“That fits,” said Ray. “with that spiky hair and those purple glasses. Another jabone from the city—just what we need.”

“Speaking of city boys, how was Lauren’s father?” asked Osborne.

Ray’s face fell. “Never met the guy. Nobody was home. Big place though. Bi-i-i-g place. Brand new. Six … car … garage. Lauren said her old man just bought a Hummer. Man, I can’t wait to see that! And back behind the house he’s built a huge new warehouse for his business. Whole place had to cost a damn fortune. Sorta hated to leave that poor kid there all by herself …”

“Ray, you hated to leave without meeting a guy with that kind of dough.”

“That, too—but I felt bad leaving Lauren there all by herself. I didn’t know until after we dropped her off—Nick told me that she lost her mother right about this time last year. Suicide.”

“Ohhh,” said Osborne, remembering the lost, shy look in Lauren’s eyes. “That’s hard.”

Just then Gina bounded back into the room. “Okay, okay, Marlene is going to watch for the e-mail and print it out for you, Chief. Time for my reward.”

“What’s that?” asked Lew.

“I get to go home—I mean, go to Ray’s. Take a bit of a nap and get a good hot shower in time for dinner.”

“Which is at my place,” said Osborne, standing up.

“Everyone here is expected at six. And, Lewellyn, that includes you, y’know. I’ll pick you up around five- thirty.” “Doc, no. I’ll get there on my own.” “Promise? You won’t back out?” “Promise,” she laughed. “I need a break.” “And I will arrive with pickled northern and Ms. Palmer in tow,” said Ray.