Death Takes a Gander (10 page)

Tauer suddenly pushed past them and stepped through the door of the fishing hut.

“Hey,” Crandall blustered, going in after the man. “This area is off limits.”

“I want to know what that guy was doing inside my fishing hut.”

“So do I,” said Crandall, jostling Tauer out of the hut. “Now, move back, or I’ll bust your heinie for hindering an investigation. All of you. You too, Angela.”

Crandall started to shoo them up the hill when Angela thought of the one-sided lock on the door. “Hold on a second! Mr. Tauer, do you have a key for the hut?”

“Sure.”

“May I see it?”

He pulled off a glove and produced a key on a blue coil.

Crandall showed a sudden interest in Angela’s line of questioning. “Were you in the hut this morning?”

Tauer shook his head. “I never ventured past the parking lot.”

“Do you keep the hut locked?” asked the chief.

“Most of the time. I keep some expensive equipment in there. I don’t want anything stolen.”

“Right. Except Angela here kicked the door down.”

“Well, you know what they say about locks,” ventured Nate. All eyes turned toward where he stood shivering in the dawn, hands tucked into his armpits.

“No,” said Crandall. “What?”

“Their only purpose is to keep honest people honest.”

Crandall’s eyes narrowed. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tauer said. “This is Nate Sobul, U.S. Department of Agriculture.” Tauer gestured towards the chief. “Bernie Crandall, Elk Park Chief of Police, and this is Angela Dimato, U.S. Fish and Wildlife.”

Nate shook hands with Crandall, then stuck out his hand to Angela. She refused it, tucking a stray curl into her cap instead.

“Who else has a key?” she asked.

“Any number of my associates, and the town has a copy.”

“Do you keep a spare key inside?” asked Crandall.

“Yes. Why?”

“Someone had to unlock the door to get inside.”

Tauer gestured toward the hut. “I keep an extra key on a screw to the left of the door.”

Crandall stepped back to the door of the hut and poked his head inside. Angela heard him tap on the metal, then he emerged empty-handed. “It’s not there now.”

“Are you positive?” Tauer asked. “It should be on a red string.”

“It’s gone. Any idea when it went missing?”

Tauer shook his head. “I was in and out of the hut all day yesterday. I didn’t bother to lock it; there were so many people around I figured nobody would try and take anything in broad daylight.”

Wrong
, thought Angela.

Crandall rubbed his chin. “It looks like somebody took the key planning to come back here and burglarize the hut. Eric must have caught them in the act.”

“That doesn’t explain the phone call,” Angela said, unable to shake the feeling it should have been her floating under the ice.

Silence shrouded the ice until Crandall broke the veneer. “Maybe Velof can shed some light on the subject, but first I need to tell Lark about Eric.”

Telling Lark about Eric wasn’t going to be easy. No doubt she would take it hard. She was going to need a lot of support. Thank heavens she had some close friends like Dorothy, Cecilia, and Harry to help her get through it.

Angela smiled sympathetically, then said, “Unless there’s something I can do… ”

“There is,” said Crandall. “I need you to make sure the Raptor House volunteers put someone else in charge up there.”

“Sure, I can do that.” In fact, she would relish the chance to get away from the crime scene.

“Great. I’ll notify the National Park Service.”

Angela figured NPS already knew. Elk Park was a small town, and the fire department and ambulance service were primarily volunteer. She would be surprised if half of the town—and maybe even Lark—didn’t know by now.

Frakus pushed forward. “Hold on a cotton-picking minute, Bernie. Dimato’s been assigned to oversee the fishing.”

“She’s a sworn peace officer. Do you have a problem with that?”

Getting no support from the others, Frakus backed down. “When are you going to take down this yellow ribbon?”

The combination of Eric’s situation, Nate Sobul’s presence, and Frakus’s attitude proved too much to bear. Anger flashed inside of Angela and burned hot.

“Is that all you care about?” she asked, unleashing her temper. “Opening the ice?”

Frakus looked startled and took a step backward.

Angela advanced. “What’s the problem? We’re not being hush-hush enough for you? Are you afraid that someone’s near-fatal accident might ruin your little party?”

Crandall pressed a hand to his mouth, and Nathan laughed out loud. “Oooh boy, watch out!”

Frakus looked dumbstruck. At first he stared at her, his mouth agape, then he started sputtering. “You better… how dare you… I don’t think you… ”

“Yoo hoo!” called out a female voice.

Angela’s back was to the woman, but she noticed a shift in Frakus’s attitude. He dropped his shoulders and plastered a smile on his face.

Turning to see what had caused the transformation, Angela spotted a reporter with bleached hair and makeup visible from a distance making her way toward them. She had a cameraman in tow, and a television station logo was embroidered on the right shoulder of her parka. Balanced on high-heeled boots, she spread her arms to the side like a tightrope walker and picked her way down the slippery path.

“May I have a word with you?” she asked, with a pointed look at Angela.

“Smile, Dimato,” Frakus ordered. “This may be the only thing that saves you.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“William Kramner is a friend of mine.”

Fraternization, the buzzword of the day
.

“How could I forget?” Angela asked. She figured she’d pay for the outburst, but didn’t care.

“Watch what you say to this woman,” he warned. “That is, if you value your job.”

The flames of anger fizzled. Frakus was right. She was already skating on thin ice with Kramner. One more incident, and she might easily find herself out of a job.

“Linda Verbiscar, KEPC-TV,” announced the reporter once she’d slid her way onto the ice. “This is Charlie.” She flicked her finger in the air, and the cameraman began rolling tape. “I understand you’re the one who found the body,” she said, jamming a microphone in Angela’s face.

Angela nodded, turning away from the lights.

Verbiscar signaled for Charlie to change angles. “We’re live in ten.”

Crandall stepped forward, looking official in his uniform. “Give the kid a break, Linda. I’ll give you an interview. Or better yet, talk to John. After all, this is his Jamboree.”

Frakus plastered a PR grin across his pudgy face.

“I’m going for the human interest angle,” said Verbiscar, dismissing the men. “We’re live in three… ” Reaching around Crandall, she grabbed Angela’s arm and drew her forward. “Two… one… Hello, Dan. We’re at the site of Elk Park’s First Annual Ice Fishing Jamboree where a body has just been pulled out from under the ice.”

Verbiscar mugged for the camera while Angela tried wiggling free.

“The victim is a thirty-five-year-old National Park Service employee whose name is being withheld pending notification of his family. All we know at the moment is the man fell through the ice sometime early this morning and now clings tenuously to life at a local hospital. We are joined this morning by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Special Agent Angela Dimato, the woman who found him.”

Linda shoved the microphone in Angela’s face. “Special Agent Dimato, in your own words, tell us what happened.”

Angela stared at the woman. Dressed in a tight white Bogner ski suit, she appeared to Angela to be the anti-Christ. “I’m not at liberty to discuss this case. Suffice it to say, Eric fell through the ice.”

Verbiscar’s face drained of color behind her makeup. “Folks, we have just learned that the victim’s first name is Eric.”

Angela kicked herself for letting his name slip. Kramner would have a field day.

“Special Agent Dimato, is it true that you are investigating the alleged poisoning of a flock of migratory geese?”

“Yes.”

“Is it also true that the National Park Service rehabilitation center has been helping with the geese?”

“Yes.” Where was Verbiscar headed with this line of questioning?

“I’m just trying to help our viewers understand the situation,” said Verbiscar, as though answering Angela’s question. “Isn’t the poisoning of migratory geese against the law?”

“Yes it is.”

Verbiscar made a mean face, indicating Angela should expound.

“Migratory birds are protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act,” added Angela. “Harming them is a federal offense.”

Verbiscar cracked a smile, then gazed at Angela intently. “Then you’re saying it’s possible this wasn’t an accident?” She gestured toward the fishing huts behind them. “That the ranger might have been the victim of foul play?”

Angela swallowed. “I never said that.”

Verbiscar switched tacks. “According to my sources, a man left word for you to meet him here early this morning. Was that person ‘Eric’?” Her voice caught on his name.

Where had Verbiscar gotten her information? wondered Angela. Velof? “No comment.”

Verbiscar pressed. “Perhaps he wanted to meet you to disclose the identity of the person, or persons, responsible for poisoning the geese?”

Angela’s mouth went dry. Was Verbiscar trying to create a story, or did she know something Angela didn’t? “I said, no comment.”

The reporter looked grim. “My source also informs me that those poor individuals sick from eating the paté served last night at the Drummond banquet may, in fact, have been eating paté made from the livers of the poisoned geese.”

Angela frowned. What had she missed? Rather than attend the banquet, she had treated herself to a pay-per-view movie. Had something happened downstairs?

In her zeal to move in for the kill, Verbiscar released Angela’s arm.

“I know nothing about that,” Angela said, stepping away.

Signaling her cameraman to keep the film rolling, Verbiscar tried to block Angela’s retreat. “Agent Dimato—”

Frakus, of all people, came to her rescue, stepping in and blocking the reporter. “Linda, you must know Special Agent Dimato can’t discuss an active case. Tell your viewers not to worry. They can rest assured. This was just an accident, and the Jamboree is on as planned. We’ll be here until noon today.”

Verbiscar smiled sweetly. “That’s all from the scene. Back to you in the studio, Dan.”

Once the red light flipped off on the camera, Verbiscar scowled and teetered after Angela. “Was it Eric Linenger?”

Angela didn’t answer.

“Off the record. He’s a friend of mine. He helped me once.”

Angela didn’t stand to lose anything more by telling her. “Yes, it was.”

Verbiscar’s gloved hand fluttered up to her throat. “Is he going to make it?”

“I hope so.”

Angela waited for the woman to collect herself, then added, “Now you answer a question for me. What’s this about the Drummond guests being sick?”

Verbiscar’s eyes widened. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“You really don’t know.”

“Know what?”

Angela listened as Verbiscar recounted the highlights. The details were vague, but the picture was clear. Angela’s thoughts flashed on the man collecting geese off the lake.

It had to be a coincidence
.

Her stomach churned.

“What?” asked Verbiscar, studying Angela’s face.

Angela shook her head and tried worming her way around the woman. Verbiscar planted herself in Angela’s way. “You have to admit it seems fishy.”

Her mind pictured the man again.
There’s no way
.

The man culling geese from the ice on Saturday morning wouldn’t have had time to make enough paté for two hundred people that night, she reasoned.

“Maybe it was the water,” she suggested.

“You don’t believe that anymore than I do.” Verbiscar planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t stand there and tell me that, given this latest turn of events, you don’t plan on increasing the scope of your investigation.”

In spite of all her doubts and the sick feeling in her stomach, Angela was forced to toe the party line. “I don’t have the authority to make that decision, Ms. Verbiscar. My assignment, outside of watching for illegal catch, is to figure out what happened to the geese. Nothing more.”

This time, Crandall came to her rescue. “I think she made herself clear.”

“Crystal,” said Verbiscar.

Angela averted her eyes.

“Then you’re done here,” said Crandall, waving off the woman and cupping a hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Why don’t you head out, Verbiscar?”

“Thanks,” Angela said.

“I still don’t see why you can’t send one of your own men up to the Raptor House.” sniveled Frakus.

“Because,” said Crandall, pushing his nose up close to the director’s face, “this is how it’s going down. When Angela’s done up at the Raptor House, she’ll come back. Meanwhile, I want to see Mr. Tauer, in
your
office, now.”

Angela considered pointing out that Nate had skated under the radar, but struck out for the parking lot instead. That was Crandall’s problem.

Frakus stayed behind pulling down yellow tape, but Nate fell in step beside Angela. “It’s not what you think,” he said.

“How do you know what I think?”

Heck
, she didn’t know what she thought, other than that his fraternizing with Donald Tauer seemed like a conflict of interest. It was Nathan’s job to inspect Tauer’s crops, for god’s sake.

Nate offered up a smile. She was pleased to find herself resistant to his charms.

“Peeps, you have to believe me. I’m sorry I couldn’t help out. Trust me, there are things you don’t know.”

“Trust? That’s a mighty big word.”
For such a small man
. How depressing! Her life boiled down to a country western lyric.

Nathan reached out and touched her sleeve. She felt a fissure open in her heart.

“I know we have a history,” he said. “A difficult history. But can’t we work our way past it? What happened between us happened a long time ago.”