Dead Hot Shot (Loon Lake Fishing Mysteries) (3 page)

BOOK: Dead Hot Shot (Loon Lake Fishing Mysteries)
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CHAPTER 5

Good morning, Lewellyn. Happy Thanksgiving,” said Osborne, eager to hear the voice of the woman who made his day every time she turned her sparkling dark eyes his way.

“Doc, where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling all over for you. Don’t you answer your cell phone?”

Ouch, maybe the eyes weren’t sparkling. Snapping, perhaps? “Sorry, Lew. I was out for birds this morning so I didn’t think to take the phone.”

• • •

That wasn’t exactly the truth. Given that it had been less than a year since Osborne had been able to have his own landline — a standard home phone that didn’t have two elderly ladies listening in as he took his calls on their shared party line — the cell phone remained a novelty. And a novelty less than reliable: not only does Loon Lake exist in the peripheral vision of cell tower developers, but trees, hills and wooded shorelines conspire to block the few cell signals available.

Just last month he and Lew had been heading west towards a trout stream only to pass a woman standing on the roof of her Toyota sedan. No need to stop and ask if she needed help — it was obvious she was trying to get a cell phone signal.

But this was no time to make excuses.

• • •

“What’s up?” said Osborne, hoping the eagerness in his voice would atone for the frustration he’d caused.

“I’m at the Reece place over on Lily Pond Road — ” “The estate?”

“Right. We had an ambulance call that didn’t get to me until shortly after eight this morning — apparent drowning. Should have gotten the call by six-thirty but it went to the goddamn Vilas County Sheriff’s Department where they’ve got a new hire on their switchboard who dicked around assigning it to all the wrong people. Then I lost an hour trying to locate goddamn Pecore, who neglected to mention to anyone that he and his wife would be spending the holiday in Minneapolis with their daughter.”

Lew’s voice had been rising as she spoke. Unflappable under most circumstances, right now she sounded as if every human being in the world on whom she depended had done their best to let her down. Later Osborne would learn that wasn’t the only problem. The glitches and delays had made it impossible for Lew — who had awakened under the impression that she had the day off — to get her turkey in the oven.

“So you need a deputy coroner at the Reeces’?”

“Yes, Doc. That is what I need.” And she didn’t have to say how fast.

• • •

In spite of the frustration in Lew’s voice, Osborne’s heart lifted. He loved it when she needed him. Of course that usually meant some poor soul had passed, so he had to temper the enthusiasm he felt whenever he got the call — a call that never failed to remind him that settled as your life may seem, things can always change.

It certainly never occurred to him during a stint in the military thirty-five years ago when he was assigned to assist a forensic dental detail, that such grim work might someday enhance his love life. (Nor did he ever anticipate having a love life at the age of sixty-three!)

But those six months of training were all the credentials he needed for Loon Lake Chief of Police Lewelleyn Ferris to deputize him. At first appointed deputy coroner in Pecore’s absence, Lew later found it handy — given his thirty years of dentistry in tiny Loon Lake meant he knew many residents from the inside out — to enlist him as a full deputy when she was shorthanded. And at the height of the hunting season in Loon Lake, a three-person law enforcement team was bound to be short-handed.

That early training added zest to his daily life as well. He might be retired from the rigors of Loon Lake’s largest dental practice but he took care to maintain his membership in the Wisconsin Dental Society and attend their semi-annual workshop on forensic dentistry — a subject now formally recognized as the science of odontology.

Staying abreast of advances in the field continued to pay off as not even the Wausau Crime Lab was able to afford the full-time services of an odontologist. That budget issue guaranteed him access to Chief Ferris whenever their region yielded the remains of a hapless fisherman who suffered a heart attack while landing a 47-inch muskie, a hunter felled by a self-inflicted gunshot wound as he tumbled from a deer stand, or a snowmobiler too drunk to see a break in the lake ice.

It pleased Osborne, too, that over time Lew had made it clear she preferred to work with him — the guy she met in a trout stream the night he thought he had hired a fishing guide named “Lou” — rather than Pecore. And having decided to teach him that fly fishing was about more than just fishing — she refused to let him pay for instruction on how to cast a weightless trout fly.

Pecore managed to aid and abet their relationship with his own aberrant behavior — a pattern that combined a talent for disappearing without notice with so many DUIs that he was likely to be transportation-challenged when most needed. But no matter how hard he might work to compromise his duties as Loon Lake’s appointed coroner — Pecore was in for life, the mayor was his brother-in-law.

• • •

“Doc, the victim’s family has been patient,” said Lew as if she suspected he might be intending to finish a cup of coffee.

“I’m on my way. I’ll stop by the house for my medical bag and be there within fifteen minutes. I know a shortcut off County C so it won’t take long. Routine death certificate?”

“Umm — circumstances uncertain.” The tone in her voice changed, implying she didn’t want to say too much given people standing nearby. “Todd is on his way and I’ve got a call in to the Wausau boys who are, of course, off for the holiday so who knows when they’ll connect, but I’ve alerted St. Mary’s we may using their morgue.”

Her tone was crisp and the signal clear: something was out of the ordinary. Had to be if she was pulling Todd Martin, her junior officer, away from his Thanksgiving table. And enlisting the Wausau Crime Lab on a national holiday? The Loon Lake municipal budget would be charged double for that. Osborne was intrigued. He forgot all about Kathleen and Fred.

CHAPTER 6

Jeez, Dad, what’s all the excitement about?” said Erin, glancing up from where she was slathering a pale yellow sauce over steamed broccoli as Osborne walked back into the kitchen.

“Not sure exactly.” He reached for the hunting jacket that he had hung over a kitchen chair. “Lew needs me out at the Reece place. There’s been an accident — a drowning she said — and Pecore is AWOL, of course.”

“Who drowned?” said Erin, wooden spoon midair and her face serious. “Anyone we know?”

“No idea. Lew didn’t say. Doubt it though. Your mother used to talk about Nolan Reece. Sort of like Loon Lake royalty.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been hearing a lot about the Reece place lately. They say the house is amazing.” Opening the refrigerator, Erin bent to pull foil-covered dishes from inside as she said, “Better brace yourself — that Mrs. Reece is a piece of work.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Observation. She’s been in the Loon Lake Market a few times when I was there with the kids. And, Dad, I know I sound mean-spirited but to my eye that woman is big, she’s loud, and you’d think she owns Loon Lake the way she bosses people around. Just ask the poor guys behind the meat counter — according to her they can’t do anything right.”

“Oh? Maybe that’s the problem,” said Osborne. “Lew’s asked the Wausau boys to help out, and you know how she hates to do that.”

“The crime lab, huh. Must mean an autopsy. Well, isn’t that interesting.”

“Now don’t jump to conclusions, kiddo,” said Osborne, aware he may have said too much. Given his son-in-law was the assistant DA, he didn’t need to have Mark’s office on high alert unless there was good reason. “Drowning is not considered death by natural causes so an autopsy is required regardless. From your description of Mrs. Reece, chances are she’s demanding the experts — and that’s fine.”

Much as he loved his daughter, he knew not to say too much. News travels fast in Loon Lake and gossip always trumps facts.

Erin cocked an eyebrow. “I get the message, Dad. But be sure to look around while you’re out there — I want a-a-l-l the details.”

Bubbling on, she followed him through the living room as he headed for the front door. “Y’know a friend of Mark’s did the stonework out there — he swears they put at least fifteen million into that property. Of course, that’s easy to do when you sell the family business for a billion — give or take a few bucks. So, Dad,” she called after him as he ran down the porch steps, “remember — you have got to tell me what that place looks like.”

“I doubt I’ll be looking at architecture,” said Osborne. He paused as he reached the sidewalk. “Erin, honey, I’m sorry but I just realized there is no way I can make it back here in an hour.”

“That’s okay, Dad. We’ll have plenty of leftovers. “Just stop by when you’re done.”

“Thanks, sweetheart, but that won’t be necessary,” he said, opening the car door. “Lew’s invited me to her place for dinner at five. I’ll get plenty to eat.”

“D-a-a-d, you didn’t tell me. You were going to eat two Thanksgiving dinners?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Get outta here — love you!” She waved as he drove off.

• • •

To Osborne’s relief there was no white Lexus in his driveway. Kathleen and Fred must have left early. After letting Mike into the backyard and making sure the dog had water, he hurried through the kitchen to the den where he had to move a rack of fly rods that Fred had set in front of the cabinet where he kept his medical bag. Reaching for the bag, he heard a sound behind him.

Kathleen was in the doorway, her pug face pickled in cheeriness. “Paul,” she said in a soft, eager voice, “we have to talk.” Her conspiratorial tone prompted a flash of dread — was the house delayed another month?

“Not now, Kathleen, Chief Ferris just called me in on an emergency and.” Osborne started towards the doorway but Kathleen refused to move. “Excuse me,” he said, angling one shoulder to slip past her. But the woman didn’t budge. Instead she reached up to grasp his shoulders.

“This will only take a moment, Paul. Fred and I are leaving.”

That was such good news, Osborne decided he could spare a moment to be gracious. “Oh, is the house ready? Isn’t that a nice surprise.” He waited for her to let go but instead she tightened her grip.

“No, Paul,” she said, “the house isn’t ready but Fred has a problem.”

“He does?” Osborne turned back towards the den as if he might find Fred’s problem in the piles of tools and materials still scattered around the room. As he turned, he pulled away, forcing Kathleen to drop her hands.

“He thinks we’re having an affair.”

“What?!” Osborne was stunned. “That’s awful — how could he possibly think that? Oh, Kathleen — I am so sorry. You want me to talk to him?”

She shook her head no, eyes half closed, then said, “I have a problem, too — Paul.” Her hesitation, her caress of his name. Osborne waited, disbelief and worry over what might happen next commingling in his gut. “I know you’re attracted to me and. Paul, dear heart, I feel the same for you.”

Kathleen’s blue eyes, their lashes starched black with mascara, searched his. She took a step towards him. Osborne took two back, thinking hard. The woman was hallucinating. How could he save face for both of them?

“Paul, when you talk to me, when you look at me — your emotions just pour through your eyes — ” She held her hands out, palms open in surrender.

For one frantic moment, he hoped this was all a joke. “Oh, golly, Kathleen,” he said as he backed into the rack of fly rods, all of which slid sideways and tumbled to the floor, “I am very flattered but I should have told you — I am very, very involved with another woman. Very involved.” He shook his head up and down to emphasize how incredibly involved he was.

“Oh, her.” Kathleen waved a dismissive hand. “You mean that Lewellyn Ferris? She’s not right for you, Paul. She’s so. so rugged, so northwoods — and — and she doesn’t have a graduate degree. I’m a social historian — you and I have so much in common: we’re professionals. You’re probably attracted to her because maybe she looks like your mother.”

“What’s wrong with ‘northwoods’? I’m ‘northwoods,’ Kathleen. As far as my mother goes — she died when I was six. I barely remember her. How could Lewellyn Ferris possibly look like my mother?”

“I just said ‘maybe,’ Paul. But even her name is wrong — Lewellyn? That’s a man’s name. Now, Paul, it’ll take time for us to work this out, I know. But I’m willing to wait, I feel so deeply for you.” The pug face swung back and forth.

“I’ve asked Lewellyn to marry me,” said Osborne in a blurt of desperation. What he didn’t say was that he had asked in jest and Lew had refused on the grounds that he had yet to set the hook in a twenty-two-inch brown. But the statement did the trick.

Kathleen stepped back. Her eyes narrowed. Obviously this was his mistake, not hers. “I wish you had told me.”

“I know, I know, I should have,” said Osborne, eyes sad and head shaking up and down as he did his best to take full responsibility for this horrible error. “But our plans are confidential — not even my daughters know. And I am so sorry if I have misled you.”

“Well, you did. The way you listened to me with that deep, dark look in your eyes.”

“You’re an educated, interesting woman, Kathleen. Perhaps at another time in our lives we might have — ” He struggled for a kind way to say “no, no and NO.”

The back door banged shut just then. “Have you told Fred?” whispered Osborne.

Kathleen shook her head. “I was hoping we would do that together.” She moved sideways to let him pass.

Osborne, medical bag in hand, ran through the kitchen past Fred, who gave him a quizzical smile as he said, “Paul, did Kathleen tell you we’ve rented a cabin? Heard it advertised on ‘Help Your Neighbor’ and it comes with a heated workshop where I can build my rods — ”

“She did — that’s terrific, Fred.” Osborne was out the back door. “I gotta rush — got an emergency down the road. Leave the dog in the yard — he’s fine. Bye!” The door slammed shut behind Osborne. Never had he been so glad to have somewhere to go.

Minutes later, driving, he mulled over those painful moments with Kathleen. but Fred was so friendly — hardly the attitude of a man suspecting Osborne of having an affair with his wife. Kathleen must have made that up.

BOOK: Dead Hot Shot (Loon Lake Fishing Mysteries)
4.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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