Dead Hot Shot (Loon Lake Fishing Mysteries) (8 page)

“Gina, we better see what we can do to help,” said Osborne as he hurried from the kitchen.

“Wait! You can’t go there,” cried Lew as Frances pushed past the EMTs.

Too late. The girl threw herself onto her knees beside the body of the old woman and, fingers caressing the silver hair, she murmured in a voice so low that Osborne and Lew could barely make out her words: “I’ll take care of things. I’ll find Daisy for you. I’ll run the shop like you showed me. And whoever did this — they’ll pay. I’ll make them pay.”

Before she could say more, Lew grasped the girl by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go, Frances,” she said, her voice kind but firm. “You and Josie come with me into the house so we can get you an overnight bag. I expect Blue will be here any moment.”

It was nearly two
A.M.
before Osborne got to bed. The house was quiet, Mike lightly snoring and Osborne staring at the ceiling. He thought of everything left undone: Mildred’s death certificate and an extensive search of her house, the shop and the old barn. And that was only the beginning.

Nor was it his list. It belonged to Loon Lake Chief of Police Lewellyn Ferris. Standing near her cruiser with a rueful smile, she had first apologized for ruining his holiday. “I’ll make it up to you,” she’d said. “Ralph Steadman called yesterday and invited me to go fly fishing in Jackson Hole next June — it’s an invitation for two. He’s owed a freebie from an outfitter there. All we have to pay is transportation there and back.”

“Whoa,” said Osborne, “that sounds too good to be true.” Lew gave a happy shrug. “Give it a thought, Doc.”

• • •

It was Ralph’s Sporting Goods that had connected Osborne with Lew two years earlier when Osborne had asked Ralph to recommend a fly fishing instructor. Ralph, the instrument of good fortune at that time, had turned out to be of questionable value since. Though married, he was often seen with ladies other than his spouse in expensive restaurants in Boulder Junction and Eagle River. Not likely venues for selling lures, minnows or trout flies. And Osborne was well aware that Lew got more than a passing glance and a bonus trout fly from the guy. But while she might laugh off Ralph’s flirtatious ways, guys know guys. Osborne would not miss that fishing trip.

• • •

“I’ll have to check the calendar,” he’d said in a lame voice, knowing full well every day for the rest of his life was available.

“Yeah, you do that, Doc,” said Lew with that funny smile of hers. She knew she had him hooked. Her eyes turned serious then and she urged him to head home for some sleep in spite of what was left undone. “I’m planning on you helping out tomorrow, too, if that’s okay. Either that or I’ll have to have a panic attack,” she said with a laugh before kissing him goodnight.

“With that list of yours, we should be in the office by four, five
A.M.
at the latest, don’t you think?”

“Oh, not that early,” she punched him in the arm. “See you at seven.” Her laughter and the unexpected invitation got him all the way home with a light heart.

• • •

He scrunched the pillow under his right ear, then under his left, then back again. He lay on his back, staring up. He told himself that if he didn’t sleep, rest alone would be good. He decided to let his mind drift to where he had hoped to be: in Lewellyn Ferris’s double bed, the old brass bedstead with the quilt her grandmother had made and the crisp sheets under which she loved to sleep naked. Even when he was there. A nice thought. but it didn’t lead to sleep.

He gave up. He put on a pot of coffee, let Mike out onto the frost-covered grass in the backyard and pulled his winter parka on over his thermal long underwear. Pouring a mug of coffee before the pot had finished filling, he made a mess on the hot plate and dabbed at it with paper towels.

The stone stairs that led down to his dock were glazed with ice, forcing him to hold onto the banister with one hand. A mist had fallen and November seemed ready at last to let winter in. Though it was hours before dawn, the sky was suffused with a glow from the moon wherever it was hidden. Standing on the dock and gazing around, he felt he was looking into heaven — the lake brimming with a dove grey cumulus bordered in blue. The surface was still: iridescent, deep and serene. The water had seduced the sky.

He heard a swish and looked down. He saw a face and hands. A person swimming up from beneath the opaque surface but unable to push through. Water sprayed and a huge northern pike leapt at him, shivered in the icy air and fell back. Dead.

• • •

He woke to a soft snore from the dog. It took a full minute to convince himself that he was under his own blankets, in his own home, safe.

Osborne arrived at McDonald’s shortly after six
A.M.
Only two of his regular coffee buddies were waiting in the usual booth. “These November mornings are too darn chilly, way too easy to sleep in,” said Herb Anderson, retired mill manager and Osborne’s former duck hunting partner. Always a long, lanky man, Herb struck Osborne as growing thinner and longer with age. Every time he saw the skinny guy he would remember sitting in freezing duck blinds, fingers clutching a thermos for warmth. That was one sport he sure as hell didn’t miss.

“Yep,” said buddy number two, Jim Craigemeier, “we’re the diehards. We’re the crazy ones, doncha know.” Jim, more rotund than he should be, completely bald and widowed like Osborne, had recently retired from the accounting firm, now run by his sons, that he had started right around the time Osborne opened his dental practice. With offices across the street from one another — and Jim’s located above Marty’s Bar — the two men had shared way too many end-of-work-day brewskis.

“Morning, Jim,” said Osborne, sliding into the booth with a large coffee in hand. “Say, didn’t you used to do tax returns for Mildred Taggert?”

“Still do. She’s one of thirty clients I’ve held on to. Been doin’ their taxes for years and Milly’s one of ‘em. Why?”

Osborne shared the details of the night before and when he was finished the two men stared at him, mouths open. “Mildred Taggert?” Herb blinked. “That woman kept a shotgun under her cash register. No way she got robbed — unless someone jumped her. Mildred didn’t trust anyone, you know that. How the hell — ”

“Well it happened,” said Osborne. “What mystifies me is the fact she was shot and no one heard gunfire,” said Osborne. “One neighbor thought he heard a backfire is all. How does that happen? In city limits, no less.”

“You know what, Doc,” said Jim, pausing to rip the edge off a packet of sugar and dump it into his coffee, “I’ll tell ya exactly how it happens.” He shook his right index finger at Osborne, “I would bet you every weekend I hear what sound like gunshots — but they’re these damn kids shootin’ off fireworks.

“You know my place up on the river there. We have city streets, city water. I’m not out in the country. And we’ve got all that noise. Take a look around — see all the fireworks stands we got now? They’re everywhere! Year ‘round. Used to be you only saw ‘em Fourth of July. Most of what they sell is illegal — I think. But that doesn’t stop anyone. Hell, some kids in my neighborhood were shooting ‘em off last night. Thanksgiving, for crissake.”

Herb, shaking his head, said, “Now who would pick on poor old Mildred? An old woman for heaven’s sake.”

“And they shot her pet raccoon,” said Osborne. “It wasn’t until I mentioned that to Chief Ferris that it occurred to me that killing her pet might have been a warning to Mildred. Who knows? Maybe that was just a coincidence and not the same person. Likely not, now that I think about it. Not the same gun anyway. Looked to me like a .22-caliber pistol was used on the animal. Ray found a couple bullets dropped, we think, by the person pulling the robbery — .233-caliber.”

“Oh, jeez,” said Herb. “One of those black rifles. My son-in-law has one of those.”

“I doubt your son-in-law was lurking in Mildred’s parking lot last night.”

“Of course not, but a lotta the guys he hunts with got those guns.”

The three men sat silent over their tall paper cups of hot coffee, mulling the bad news.

“So, Jim,” said Osborne after a few sips, “would you happen to know if Mildred kept much cash in the store?”

Jim took a swig of his coffee. “Always looked to me like she kept a cash drawer with no more than what she needed. Years in the business taught her that. She made deposits twice a week. I know because when it came time to do her taxes, the books she kept were meticulous. You don’t know what a pleasure it is to do that woman’s taxes.”

“Spoken as a true accountant,” said Herb with a chortle. “Who the hell else does taxes for fun?” Jim gave him the dim eye.

“Any idea who her lawyer might be?” said Osborne, anxious to cross one item off Lew’s list.

“No lawyer that I know of, why?”

“Well, I need more information for the death certificate than the Dark Sky sisters have been able to tell me so far.”

“Why didn’t you say so right away, Doc? I’ve got everything you need.”

Osborne gave Jim a startled look. “You do? How’s that?”

“Guess I’ve been the closest thing she’s ever had to a business manager. Between the two of us, we kept all her deeds and tax records in a safety deposit box and I have one of the two keys. She wanted me to have it. Just in case, y’know.”

“Do you know if there’s information in there on relatives we need to contact?”

“That old lady was married once many years ago. No children. Divorced the guy. Don’t know his name — she mentioned him only once as ‘that sonofabitch.’ You know Mildred turned ninety-three this year.”

“Jim, I know nothing. Is there any legal reason I shouldn’t get this documentation from you? Those poor girls — ”

“Whoa, hold on, my friend. Those ‘poor’ girls are not so poor. At least one isn’t.”

Osborne studied his friend’s face. He thought of Daisy and of Mildred’s collection of stuffed raccoons, of Josie and her tiny little hands. “Let me guess, she left her estate to the young one — Josie.”

“Now what makes you think that?”

“Because she’s a charmer.”

“That may be true, but Mildred told me she was lazy. She had me witness a new will for her last spring. Divided her estate in two: half goes to Frances Dark Sky, the other half to an animal rescue shelter. Not a penny for Miss Josie.”

“How much money are we talking about?” said Herb. “I recall Mildred buying some land from the mill years back. Likely that’s worth a pretty penny.”

“She owned land here and in Rhinelander that she did real well with,” said Jim. “You could learn a lot from old Mildred if you just paid attention. She sold a couple parcels to Wal-Mart, some to Home Depot. Doc, that land was tag alder swamp when you and I first moved here. But Mildred was canny — had a real eye for spotting traffic patterns. Always thinking ahead. Yep. One smart lady.” Jim nodded his head in approval, then sipped from his coffee.

“Jim,” said Osborne, “just answer Herb’s question — how much?”

“I’d say Miss Frances Dark Sky woke up this morning worth something close to a million maybe.”

“Holy cow,” said Herb.

Osborne was stunned. “Do you think those girls had any idea how much their foster mother was worth?” said Osborne.

“I doubt it,” said Jim. “Far as I’m aware, Mildred and myself are the only parties who knew her net worth. She never used a banker, even when she bought property. Paid cash. She made me sign an agreement I would never discuss her finances unless she died or gave me permission.

“You know, Doc, there is something funny about all this. Mildred called me last week. She asked if I had my key for the safety deposit box and would I mind putting a letter in the box for her. Her arthritis had gotten so bad she didn’t like leaving the shop. So I took care of that for her.”

“Did you read the letter?”

“No, I did not. Never did anything she didn’t ask me to. But she did say she was keeping a copy in the shop somewhere as well.”

Lew was on the phone when Osborne walked into her office. Even though it was early — only seven thirty — the papers strewn across her desk made it obvious she had been in for at least an hour already.

“Very good, Miriam,” Lew was saying as she glanced up at Osborne, “I appreciate your cooperation. Tomorrow then. Ten
A.M.
at your home.” She hung up, rolled her chair back and slapped both hands on top of the papers in front of her. “Doc, making headway here. That was Miriam Murphy, mother of Blue’s fiancé. The family is catching a flight this evening and will be ready to meet with us in the morning. Do you mind joining me for that last round of questioning the party guests?”

“Not in the least. I know the Murphys but not well. On a few occasions when they had a dental emergency they would call and I’d patch ‘em up until they could get back to their regular dentist. If I recall correctly, the husband is quite a bit older than his wife.”

“Like you and me,” grinned Lew.

“No-o-o,” said Osborne, going along with the tease. “Like I would guess a twenty to twenty-five year age difference. George was in his sixties when that boy was born.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Mary Lee and her friends. They were always intrigued with the rich folk from down south, including Nolan’s parents and certainly Nolan herself. Up until she was in her late teens, she would stay at her grandfather’s for a month or so every summer. He let her join the water-ski club one year and rumors flew that she might marry a local boy. I always got that gossip as romance among the wealthy summer people was the favorite topic for discussion among the regulars at Mary Lee’s bridge table. That and conniving to have their daughters meet the young men who were heirs to all that Chicago money.”

“Ah,” said Lew.

“Speaking of age differences, that reminds me, Lewellyn — if my old roommate and his wife who’ve been parked in my house for six excruciating weeks hadn’t decided to move out yesterday, I was planning to call on you for help.”

“What — hand them an eviction notice?” Lew asked the question even as she was already sorting through the pages of her notepad and had her hand on the phone ready to make the next call.

“Not exactly. I was planning to tell them they had to move out because you were moving in.”

Lew took her hand off the phone. “Oh, I was — was I?”

“Yes, for at least twenty years — which would preclude their being able to park their stuff in my garage. We would need the storage.”

Lew gave him a long look with laughter in her eyes. “But they moved out.”

“Yes, they did. But that doesn’t mean they won’t be back. Furnace might not work in the cabin they’re renting, doncha know.”

“Good try, Doc. I appreciate the thought.”

“I know — but now I can tell my daughters I tried. Right?”

“You can tell them that and you can tell them I’m treating you to for fish fry tonight because you are working one long Friday — don’t take that jacket off.”

• • •

Bud Olentowski, Nolan’s stockbroker who, with his wife, had been at the Reeces’ party, had offices just three blocks from the Loon Lake Police Department headquarters. A brisk walk on the cold November day. “Brrr!” said Lew as they hurried along. “The lakes have to freeze over with weather like this. It’s so late not to have ice yet.”

“Loon Lake is still open,” said Osborne. “First Thanksgiving I remember with open water.” As he opened the door to the brokerage firm, he said, “So we’re seeing Bud — ”

“Bud and his wife, Linda. She agreed to meet with us here as well.”

The couple was waiting for them in Bud’s office. Bud, a heavy-set, genial man with florid features thanks to an appetite for red meat and neat scotch, had inherited a business built by his father and grandfather. His wife, Linda, who was in her early sixties, had been in Mary Lee’s garden club. As gracious as her husband was genial, she was alarmingly thin. Osborne remembered as he walked into the room that she had had a recent brush with cancer.

“We were stunned to get your call yesterday,” said Linda, getting to her feet to shake hands. She was dressed in a simple black pants suit and an ivory shirt, her short hair tucked behind her ears and no make-up that Osborne could see. “I can’t imagine this happening to Nolan.”

“An absolute shock,” said Bud as they all sat down. The Olentowskis had listened intently as Lew sketched in what was known and what she hoped to hear from them. It was Bud who answered first. “We were there for dinner from a little after six and stayed until around ten fifteen or so. Is that right, Linda?”

“Yes. And Nolan had planned a lovely evening to celebrate Blue’s engagement. Just family and close friends — you’ve mentioned everyone who was there: both families, including those darling Indian girls that Nolan dotes on. Then us and the Pokorny’s.” “And the catering staff,” added Osborne. “Yes,” said Linda. “No one else?” said Lew.

The husband and wife stared at each other, thinking. “Someone must have dropped the girls off. It wasn’t Blue because she was late for some reason. I remember Nolan getting irritated over that — But whoever their ride was didn’t stay,” said Linda.

And so the conversation went with Lew asking questions about the evening and Osborne taking notes. Both Linda and Bud agreed that Nolan and her husband seemed relaxed as the evening progressed with no noticeable incidents beyond the spilling of a glass of wine.

“And Frances and Josie were there the entire evening?” said Lew.

“Yes, though Nolan had arranged for them to watch a movie after dinner — down in the family room — so they didn’t have to be bored by us grown ups.

“They’re Nolan’s pets, you see,” said Linda. “She discovered the girls last year and made a big deal about how she wanted to include them in the family and see that they had opportunities — like, you know, education, nice clothes — have a better sense of what they might achieve in life. I thought it rather an odd arrangement myself that they would live at that teeny little shop during the week but spend the weekend at the Reeces’ mansion. Quite an economic disparity if you know what I mean.”

“Now, Linda,” her husband cautioned, “the difference was not that extreme. The girls are getting a good education in the Loon Lake school system and it made no sense to change their routines until the adoptions went through.”

“Oh?” said Lew. “I haven’t heard that they were going to be adopted.”

“Bud — ” It was Linda’s turn to caution. “My husband doesn’t know all the details. Initially Nolan had planned to adopt both girls but just recently she’d begun to question if she could handle both. Little Josie is a cutie and gets along with everyone, but that Frances — well, Nolan and I had discussed that she might need counseling.”

“She needs counseling?!” Bud exploded. “I’d say Nolan Reece is the one needing counseling.”

“Now, Bud,” said Linda, in a chastising tone. “Ignore him. Nolan could be frustrating. Back to Frances — it was just that no matter what Nolan did for her, she couldn’t get the girl to open up. Very introverted young woman. We thought something in her childhood maybe.”

Lew turned to Bud and said, “Off the subject of the guests that evening and moving on here — am I to understand that Nolan Reece was worth over a billion dollars?”

“Oh, gosh, no,” said Bud, “who the heck said that? For a time she was a very wealthy woman but no, not that much. After the family firm was sold, I’d say sixty million at the most.”

“A very successful businesswoman from the sound of it,” said Lew. “Sixty million dollars is a lot of money.”

“Was a lot of money,” said Bud sitting up and pulling his chair forward. “This requires some explaining. Nolan’s grandfather was one of the lumber barons of the early 1900s. When he died, his son, her father, took over and sold off most of the forestland, diversifying the family fortune. He got into drugstores — built a huge chain of drugstores. And he ran that company until the day he died of a heart attack at his desk. So Nolan’s family has owned the lake property up here since her grandfather’s day. It was after her father died that Nolan tore down the original estate to build that beautiful home you see today. Quite a place, isn’t it?”

“Her mother had died years earlier,” added Linda, “so Nolan inherited everything.”

“This was about eight years ago,” said Bud. “Nolan thought she could take over and run this financial conglomerate that her father had managed so well even though she had no training, no experience and, trust me, no people skills.”

“Careful, Bud, you don’t want to imply she was a bad person.”

“She was a bad manager,” said Bud, ignoring his wife. “She was awful. Her father had hired very bright guys over the years, lieutenants he could trust to run their divisions without his micromanaging. But Nolan never understood the value of listening to those people, of trusting them to make good decisions. I don’t know whose advice she took but it was bad. Within a year, good people were fleeing that organization in droves.

“All that saved her was that the old man had never taken it public, so when the revenues tanked she didn’t have shareholders to battle. At least she was smart enough to know things were going downhill, so when an offer, a good offer, came out of the blue — she took it. Sold the company lock, stock and barrel.”

“She had no people skills, you say.” Lew tapped her pen thoughtfully on her notepad.

“She could be a lovely person, but volatile,” said Bud. “Your best friend one minute and outraged over some small thing the next. And bullheaded. Once she made her mind up, she never backed down. It was her way or the highway.”

“But once you know her, you understand that — and she’s been known to apologize,” said Linda.

“You two appear to have gotten along with her,” said Lew.

“She was, for a while, my biggest account,” said Bud. “I’m not going to lie to you. I have had to work for every penny. Linda knows that.” He shot his wife a quick glance. “I had stressful days with Nolan but I sure as hell didn’t have reason to hurt the woman. She hurt herself plenty already.” “What do you mean by that?” said Lew.

“I mean she took bad advice. Two years ago, right after sinking a ton of money into that house, she invested every remaining penny she had in a hedge fund run by some numbnut in Lake Forest. It tanked big time nine months ago.”

“Are you saying she lost sixty million dollars?”

“Yep. The woman went broke. Well, maybe not broke by our standards — she had a couple hundred thousand in bonds still, which she had me to thank for. The property is mortgaged to the hilt, too. But the sixty million? Vaporized.” There was silence in the office.

Linda’s voice was soft as she asked, “Is there any possibility this was a suicide?”

“Afraid not,” said Lew. She turned towards Osborne. “Doc, anything you want to ask here?”

“Just one thing,” said Osborne. “Were either of you aware of anyone leaving the party early? Aside from the girls watching a movie in the family room?”

“You know, it was one of those evenings where you all go along having a pleasant time,” said Linda, “then someone looks at their watch and it’s later than you think. So, with the exception of Blue and Barry who were standing with Andy waving goodnight to all of us, I think we all left together.”

“Did you think it was odd that Nolan wasn’t there?” said Osborne.

“Not really,” said Linda, “she’d had quite a bit to drink. She was starting to slur her words. We thought she went up to her bedroom and passed out.”

“This is very helpful,” said Lew. “I want to thank you both for your time. And I’m very likely to have to call you again with more questions.”

“Please,” said Bud as he and Linda got to their feet, “don’t hesitate. Even though Nolan could be difficult, we considered her a dear friend. Like family, y’know, they’re kinda wacky and some days you love ‘em to death — while other days you could kill the suckers.”

At the stricken look on his wife’s face, he shut up.