Dead Madonna (16 page)

The look of relief on the boy’s face was palpable. He was out the door before they had started down the hallway.

Hugh Curry had traded his sport coat and slacks for grimy khaki shorts that sagged under his butt. A Hawaiian shirt, neon blue, dotted with lurid yellow ukeleles, hung loose over his belly. At the moment, he was kneeling in front of a wheeled trunk into which he was jamming sets of manila envelopes. Scattered around on a formica-topped table beside him was a stack of cords, a laptop computer, rolls of duct tape and a box of tools.

He wasn’t alone. Seated at a desk at the rear of the room was Gwen Curry, eyes intent on the screen of a laptop.

“Mr. and Mrs. Curry?” Lew spoke from the doorway. Hugh was so startled he jumped. Gwen looked up, her mouth open, and stared. Hugh was the first to recover.

“Sorry, didn’t know you were in the building,” he said, bracing one hand on the table as he hefted his weight from the floor. Pulling a used hanky from the pocket of his shorts, he wiped at his face then shoved the hanky back into his pocket. Hands on his hips, he exhaled loudly and said, “Boy, am I out of shape. Whew! Gotta do something about that. So, hey, Dr. Osborne—what’s up? And you must be Chief Ferris?”

Hugh attempted to shake Lew’s hand but she managed to sidestep the gesture by turning around to close the door to the office.

“Don’t know if you’ve met my wife, Gwen. I know the doc has,” said Hugh, voice hearty as he pointed to the woman at the desk. Eyes down, Gwen refused to acknowledge the introduction until she had finished saving or deleting whatever it was that she had on her computer screen. Only then did she close the cover on the laptop, shove her chair back and get to her feet—with an audible sigh of irritation.

“What’s up?” she said with a growl as she crossed her arms and stared at Lew and Osborne. There was no trace of a smile, only a distinct air of having been pulled away from something much more important than talking to them.

Osborne couldn’t help but notice that the sleeves of her fire-engine-red T-shirt were a little too short and too tight—short enough and tight enough to give her upper arms the bulk of a weight lifter. It didn’t help that the shirt ended just above the waistline, exposing an alarming expanse of black legging.

Still, he had to admit the woman’s face redeemed the odd proportions of her figure. Once again he was struck by the symmetry of her skull (perfectly round), by the flawless skin under the sleek cap of black hair, by the penetrating gaze of her tiny, black eyes—glinting now in the late day sun that streamed through the office windows.

“Have had some developments in our investigation of DeeDee Kurlander’s death that require a few minutes with your husband,” said Lew, genial but businesslike.

“What for?” said Gwen. “I thought we answered all Dr. Osborne’s questions yesterday afternoon.” Her brusqueness surprised Osborne. Most people found the presence of Chief Lewellyn Ferris—in full uniform with a badge and a gun—to be intimidating. Immediate accommodation was the usual response. Not Gwen Curry—a mosquito couldn’t have gotten a cooler welcome.

“Some issues have come up,” said Lew.

“Issues?”
huffed Gwen.
“Issues
are bothering you people? Couldn’t we deal with those tomorrow?” Pointing at the trunk her husband had been stuffing, she said, “We have at least another hour of work to do here—then finish packing so we can leave at the crack of dawn to make set-up in Arbor Vitae. We’re expecting three hundred people at tomorrow’s job fair and,” she shook one of the thick manila envelopes as she spoke, “each one has to get a packet like this—”

“I said a few minutes is all I need.”

“Damn! I can’t believe this can’t wait ‘til tomorrow.” Gwen slapped the envelope down on the desk.

“Mr. Curry—,” said Lew, ignoring Gwen’s display.

“Call me Hugh,” said Curry, “and, please, take your time. Gwen and I can finish up later.” He turned away from Gwen as if to avoid the sight of her meant avoiding her wrath. “I’m more than happy to cooperate.”

“Thank you—I promise not to take too much of your time, Hugh,” said Lew. “And, say, would you mind taking that chair behind the desk?” Gwen’s eyes sparked. In order for Hugh to sit at the desk, she had to move out of the way.

“And Mrs. Curry,” said Lew, “if you would sit over there, please.”

Lew motioned towards a folding, chair pushed it up against one wall. She could have said “would you shut up and get out of the way,” and it would have had the same effect. Gwen’s face clouded with anger as she squeezed her way out from behind the desk.

Finding himself in her way, Osborne stepped back—but not before noticing that the black leggings were still dusted with dog hair. He watched as Gwen plunked herself onto the chair. She crossed her legs, right foot pumping with impatience.

“Now, Doc …” said Lew, pulling out two folding chairs that rested against one wall. She placed each in front of the desk so they could sit facing Hugh. “Would you sit here, please.” As if anticipating an argument from Gwen, Lew gave her a pleasant look as she said, “Dr. Osborne is Loon Lake’s deputy coroner and assisting with the investigation. He’ll be taking notes while your husband and I talk.”

“Whatever,” said Gwen, foot pumping away.

“Now, Hugh,” said Lew, settling into her chair with her own notebook resting on one knee, “I’d like a little more information on these job fairs.”

“Sure. Ask away,” said Curry, leaning forward on his elbows with his hands clasped in front of him. Sweat glistened across his forehead and once again Osborne could see a slight tremor in the hands, even as they were clasped tight. Gwen might be irritated but her husband was wary. Wary and worried.

“A few basics,” said Lew with a smile. “How long have you been running Curry Job Fairs? How do you line up attendees? How do you determine which firms will participate? I mean, aren’t job fairs pretty common? Is there a reason why the Chamber contracted with you instead of another firm?”

“Oh, come on,” said Gwen, rolling her eyes, “he went over all that yesterday!”

“Not with me he didn’t,” said Lew, her eyes fixed on Hugh Curry’s face, “and Doc’s notes are missing a few details.”

“Yeah? What kind of details?” said Gwen, hoarse and abrasive.

“I’m talking to your husband,” said Lew. The foot pumped faster.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear,” said Hugh, “but ours are not run-of-the-mill job fairs. We operate off a business model designed to appeal to Gen-Xers—people in their late twenties and early thirties, people who are lifestyle conscious. This is the age group employers in this region are anxious to hire, but these people are less motivated by money—they make
lifestyle
choices.

“So what makes our Curry Recruitment Partners unique is software that I have designed to fit that model. We make it possible for potential employers to maximize contemporary behavior patterns—shortening the time frame for both sides of the employment paradigm.”

Osborne kept his eyes focused on his notepad. Listening to Curry spout jargon was almost as painful as sitting through the twenty-first repeat of one of Ray’s jokes.

“Fascinating,” said Lew.

“A visionary approach,” said Curry, unclasping his hands and settling back in his chair.

“No wonder you have such extraordinary turnouts. If I understand what you’re saying, Hugh, your firm is a leader in redefining recruitment practices—”

“Boy, are we ever,” said Curry, enthusiasm mounting in his voice. “We’ve introduced a totally new dynamic to the field and it’s my software that makes it possible for your Chamber and their members to design a database that will be operational for two years. That database is posted online and it contains all the information needed by people seeking employment as well as profiles of the firms looking to hire.”

He dropped his voice, “In fact, it allows potential employers to do full background checks and you don’t get that from
anyone
except us.”

“Well, I am very impressed,” said Lew. “I imagine it takes a great deal of time.”

“Not really,” said Curry, basking in her compliment. “The applications scan in a matter of minutes. Once the data is entered, the software does the rest. However,” now his tone turned ever so slightly pompous, “our software is proprietary and much too expensive for a small organization like the Loon Lake Chamber of Commerce to purchase, so the Curry Job Fair is the single most cost effective way to achieve personal interfacing as well as access to a sophisticated database.”

“Which comes with a-two year lease,” said Lew.

“Right.”

“Wow,” said Lew. “Now I fully understand why the

Chamber is so happy to have you. I imagine you’ll be back next year? I hear talks are underway.”

“No,” said Curry, his eyes suddenly fearful. He darted a swift glance at Gwen, then said, “Don’t know where you would have heard that. We’re planning to be in North Dakota next spring.”

“My error,” said Osborne, playing the game. “I thought I’d heard that you offered DeeDee Kurlander a full-time job to continue working in the region. Must have got that wrong.”

“You certainly did,” said Curry, wheezing. Again, the nervous glance at his wife, who stared straight at him, stone-faced.

“Our mistake, sorry,” said Lew. “Maybe what Dr. Osborne heard was that the Chamber would love to have you back when you have time in your schedule.” At the sound of her words, Curry appeared visibly relieved.

Her tone was admiring, her technique impeccable. It was a technique that Osborne had observed before. In the glow of Lew’s attentiveness, her prey could almost always be counted on to give up information they had not planned to share. Those were the moments Osborne enjoyed the most, just as he loved watching Lew in the trout stream, mending a dry fly across riffles—teasing the canniest brown trout … closer … closer.

She continued to ask questions—each generating an answer that underscored Hugh’s role as a master of the universe. Beaming, preening and devoted to answering each query in detail, his hands had stopped shaking and the perspiration had vanished. By Osborne’s reckoning, the man was now as puffed as a ruffed grouse drumming for females.

“Dr. Osborne mentioned that he asked you for copies of the applications that people had filled out …”

“Sure,” said Curry, reaching into the envelope on the desk, “here’s a blank one—it shows you all the data we’re able to gather and input.” He handed the sheet to Lew, who took time to study it.

“This is quite a bit of personal information,” she said. “Social Security numbers, bank references—you even have them giving marital status and other personal details that the Feds don’t allow the rest of us to ask for when we’re hiring.”

“Uh-huh. And they all fill it out,” said Curry with a smirk. “That’s what makes it possible to run those background checks that I mentioned. See, if you look closely at birth dates and such, sometimes you can even figure out their passwords. People tend to be lazy, and that works for us.”

“Well, I’m surprised people tell you all this,” said Lew. “I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t need a job,” grunted Gwen from behind them.

“Now those completed forms—,” said Lew, ignoring the comment, “I need those, Hugh. I’m interested in tracking all the people attending these last two weeks of job fairs—anyone and everyone who interacted with DeeDee.”

“Too late—they’ve been shredded,” said Gwen. “We promise confidentiality. But had I known you wanted them—”

“I specifically asked for those yesterday afternoon,” said Osborne, twisting in his chair to confront her.

“You did? I don’t recall that,” said Gwen.

“Now, wait, hold on,” said Hugh. “It shouldn’t be an issue—Gwen’s input all the data. You can work from our database and get everything you need. Here,” he opened the laptop that was on the desk, “I’ll pull it up for you right now.”

“Actually, hon,” said Gwen, “it’s still on the office computer back at the house, I haven’t uploaded to the server yet.”

“Okay, we’ll deal with that later,” said Lew. “But now I’m curious—who has access to the database once it’s on the server?”

“We do, of course, and the Chamber.”

“You mean people here at the Chamber can see all this
confidential
information? That doesn’t sound too confidential to me.”

Hugh glanced quickly at his wife. “Well, not all—”

“Oh, yes,” said Gwen, “our contract calls for that. We assume they will be responsible in how they handle it.”

“I see,” said Lew. “One last question … how do you plan to handle the lawsuit?”

Astonishment crossed Hugh’s face. “Lawsuit?” From the corner of his eye, Osborne saw Gwen’s foot pause midair and remain still.

“Yes, we’ve learned that DeeDee Kurlander was planning to file—or may have already filed—a lawsuit against you alleging sexual harassment.”

“I-I-I haven’t heard a word about any lawsuit.”

“Really,” said Lew, “perhaps I was misinformed.”

“Perhaps you were,” said Gwen. “Given the circumstances, there is nothing to discuss: no plaintiff, no lawsuit.” She paused, then said, “And for the record—if there was such a lawsuit, it would have been that little shit’s effort to blackmail my husband. I’m curious—did you ever meet that girl?”

“No,” said Lew, “I did not. But I know she was working hard on the job fairs and felt—”

“She was working hard to meet a man with money, is what she was working on. You couldn’t miss it. That girl was so hot she smoldered. When Hugh offered her a bonus, she turned it down—she wanted more, you see. So any lawsuit was just … just …
revenge.”

“Gwen—”

“Shut up, Hugh. These people need to know about little Miss Perfect. See,” Gwen shook a finger at Lew, “Hugh was blinded by that dumb little blonde but I could see exactly what she was up to. She was all over him like a cheap suit—just like you …”

“Gwennie—” Hugh’s voice hit a higher register.

“Just like me
what?”
said Lew.

“Don’t you start telling me what to think, Hugh—I know what I saw. And that girl, she’s the one who got into the database. She’s the one pulled the shenanigans with the banks. Thought she could take the money and run.”