Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (17 page)

This time Fae had arranged to meet Bailey at
the memorial near Park Point. The building itself was pure white
and designed like the prow of a ship. The windows were designed
like big portholes and visitors could look out onto Lake Superior.
The lake was a veritable shape changer and today it’s true nature
was hidden behind a calm expanse of blue.

She saw Bailey pull into a parking space and
joined him as he got out of his car. As they walked towards the
memorial, Fae filled him in on what she had learned so far.

“I’m pretty sure he’s up to something and it
probably involves one of the big resorts,” she said after giving
him all the details. “I think he stayed at the Bide-A-Wee so he
wouldn’t be recognized when he showed up wherever he’s going to be
doing whatever he has planned. Which also means he won’t be using
the name Ricky Bakken for the next stage.”

“Any idea which con he’s going to run?”

“Not yet,” she said as she pulled her sweater
closed. It was cooler this close to the lake and a breeze had
sprung up, sending a chill right through her. “I’m hoping that guy
in Minneapolis will come up with the name of that woman and she’ll
be able to shed some light on it. I don’t know if she’s a victim or
an acquaintance, but she may be our first really decent lead.
Outside of that, I’m going to talk to the people at the different
top resorts and see what I can turn up.”

“Anything you need me to do?” Bailey asked as
they reached the memorial. His hands were in his pockets so he’d
look casual, but his eyes were constantly moving, scanning everyone
who passed by.

“Not right now.” Fae gazed out at the water
stretching out beyond the horizon. “I just wish I knew what his
time table is or what he has planned. But I’m sure we’ll find out
sooner or later.”

“You’ll call me when you have something?”

“Of course.”

Viv opened the door and stared at the tiny
room in disbelief. She had driven all the way up from the Cities
for this? While it was clean and wasn’t falling down around her
ears, that was the best anyone could say about the room. It was bad
enough she was staying at a place called the Bide-A-Wee, but this
had to be the smallest room she had ever seen. She cocked her head
and grimaced as she changed her mind. It was worse than small. It
was tiny. Tiny with a capital T. It was a habitat designed for a
hobbit, not a human.

For a brief moment, even though she was
exhausted, Viv felt like turning right around and getting back in
her car. Right now she would happily drive another three hours if
it meant finding a decent room with more than a foot of space
around the bed. The only place to sit was on the bed and her
suitcase would probably have to go on the narrow dresser at the
foot of the bed unless she wanted to sleep with it.

She peered in the bathroom and discovered
that it, too, was equally small with barely enough room to turn
around. Suddenly tired and discouraged, she collapsed onto the bed
and seriously contemplated heading back home. If David hadn’t
promised her such a big fee for her part in his con, she might have
gotten right back in the car.

Viv grimaced. Her biggest problem right now
was that she was totally and completely broke. David’s call last
week had answered a lot of desperate prayers. Work had been scarce
and she had been hiding from bill collectors for months because she
simply had no way to pay for anything outside of her rent and food.
And even that had been stretching it. She’d been living on rice and
oatmeal for so long she felt like she was sprouting. As soon as her
income improved she intended to flush whatever was left down the
drain and never eat either of them again as long as she lived.

This room wouldn’t have been so bad except
that in the past, David had always provided first class hotels, so
she had been expecting something a lot nicer. Certainly not this
demo for a hobbit motel.

She weighed her options and realized she had
little choice right now. Viv barked out a short laugh. Little
choice would have been coming up in the world. The bitter truth
was, she had no choice. No choice at all.

She sighed and her thoughts went to her car
which is where she would be living if things didn't improve in the
very near future. Compared to that, what difference did it make how
tiny this room was? She could stand it as long as David came up
with the money he'd promised. At least her creditors didn't know
she was here, so the phone wouldn't be ringing all hours of the day
or night. She could look on it as a mini vacation. The idea didn't
exactly make her feel better, but it was the best she could do
right now.

She reminded herself it could be worse. She
could be stuck in Minneapolis with no opportunities in sight and
the prospect of living out of her car hanging over her head.
And
, she reminded herself as she stared at the mini
bathroom, David had given her a decent amount of cash to pick up a
few things, plus pay for this place and enough left over so she
could actually eat real food for a change.

She was just going to have to make the best
of it for now. But, she swore to herself, after this job, she was
moving some place where it didn't snow. If she ended up living out
of her car after all, at least she wouldn't freeze to death.

Viv picked up the phone and called David’s
cell before she remembered he had told her there was no coverage
here. She’d just have to leave a message for him at his hotel. She
didn’t have the number of the Storm Point Lodge, but there was a
convenient phone book in the room, which listed the number in large
red numbers in a big display ad. There was no answer in his room,
so she left a message with the front desk.

That done, she took a nice long hot shower
and washed away the grime of the drive. She planned on staying in
until the hot water ran out, but it was still going strong by the
time she finally turned the shower off. That was unexpected and
most welcome. As she toweled herself dry, thinking that unlimited
hot water almost made up for the size of the room.

When she tackled the issue of what to do with
her clothes, she discovered that the far wall was really a closet.
When she slid the door open (thrill of all thrills), it revealed a
huge closet with tons of hangers and a suitcase rack. Things were
looking up, she thought as she unpacked.

Now all she had to do was find a place to
eat. That, too, turned out to be easier than she expected. A list
of restaurants sat next to the phone with the one on top featuring
a big gold star. Viv wasn’t sure she wanted to eat at a place
called Ole and Lena’s Café. It sounded like a really bad Norwegian
joke, but at least it was right here in Ruby Cove. Given the size
of the town, it would probably take less than five minutes to walk
there. It probably wasn’t anything fancy, but the idea of driving
even a short distance right now wasn’t terribly appealing.
Although, considering what she’d been eating the past few months,
anything was an improvement.

She checked the time and decided to wait. It
was closing in on five and she’d be willing to bet it was packed
with vacationers and locals all homing in on dinner like hungry
cats. It would probably be less crowded in an hour, which would
give her time to prepare for the con. One of the first things she
needed to do was color her hair to match the sample David had given
her, so she might as well get that done now and then eat.

As they returned to the Lodge, Fowler thought
that if he had to hike one more step, he was going to curl up into
a ball and stay that way for the rest of his life. He barely tuned
in as Diana went on and on about Tettegouche. She was saying
something about that godawful climb that had just about killed him,
but all he could think about was getting to the bar as fast as he
could and downing a couple of extremely stiff drinks. Then he
thought, a couple? Hell, how about five or six or as many as it
took to make him feel human again instead of a giant sore in hiking
shoes.

“David?”

He came out of his haze, realizing she was
asking him something. “What?” He looked at her blearily, hoping he
hadn’t missed anything important.

“I asked you if you want to go to the room
and change first.” She was giving him a look that he was coming to
know a little too well. Without actually saying it, her face
expressed the idea that she was trying ever so hard to keep her
impatience and temper in check and that if he really loved her,
he'd be paying attention to every one of her insipid, never-ending
comments about everything inane under the sun.

What Fowler wanted to do was drag her out to
the lake and push her over the cliff and be damned to the
consequences. What he
really
wanted to do was see that ever
so snotty expression disintegrate into horror a moment before she
went out into space, arms and legs flailing about uselessly. What
he
really
wanted more than anything at this particular
moment was to see her smash on the rocks below and never have to
hear her voice again.

What Fowler did, however, was take a deep
breath and remind himself that he would be rid of her in a day or
two and that patience was a wonderful thing. Especially if he
wanted all that money. And
particularly
if he wanted all
that money with no extra headaches. So what he did do was give her
a very tired smile.

"Sorry, honey," he said, caressing the back
of her neck. "I'm so tired I can barely see. What I'd really like
to do is go straight to the bar. A good strong drink will put me
back together in no time. You can change first and meet me there if
you'd prefer, but I don't think I could make it up the stairs right
now."

Diana's eyes narrowed and, while she didn't
actually pull away from him, the effect was the same. "I thought
you said you were an experienced hiker," she said. The chill in her
voice made it clear he was on extremely thin ice. He knew she was
paranoid about being wanted only for her money and it didn't take
much for that fear to make an appearance.

He removed his hand from her neck and stuck
it in the pocket of his jacket so he wouldn't be tempted to smack
her.

"Diana, my dear," he said slowly and with
obvious effort. "I love you and really don't want to fight with you
right now. I'm exhausted and may say some things I don't mean, but
which wouldn't be very nice because I'm too tired to think. I'm
perfectly happy to admit that I'm a heck of a lot more out of shape
than I thought. And I'm sorry that's getting in the way of our
honeymoon. But at the moment, what I need more than anything is a
good stiff drink or two. So I'm going to go to the bar. If you'd
like to change first and then join me, that's fine. But I'm not
going to attempt those stairs until I no longer feel like I've been
run over by a tank."

With that, he brushed past her into the
Lodge, down the hall and into the bar. He had intended to order
whiskey, but then realized they'd be having wine with dinner and
the combination would probably wreck more havoc on his system than
he could afford this evening. So instead, he got two glasses, a
bottle of Chalk Hill Merlot and snagged a table by the window. If
he knew Diana, she'd go to the room to change and have a mini
tantrum before joining him. But once she got here, he'd have her
purring again by her second glass of wine.

In the meantime, he should have just enough
time to come up with a good story about why he was so out of shape.
When they first met, he'd told her how much he loved to hike and
that he did it all the time. She had made it obvious that the great
outdoors was one of her absolutely requirements, so he'd added that
skill to his personal resume. And he
had
done a certain
amount of extra walking to get in shape before the wedding.
However, today's performance clearly revealed that nothing he had
done had even come close to preparing him for the real thing. So
he'd have to find a plausible explanation.

If only she had wanted to start with the
Enchantment River as he had assumed. Then she'd be out of his hair
and he wouldn't have to come up with something to keep her happy
and unsuspicious. On the other hand, if he could think of a good
story, maybe he could get her to the Devil's Cauldron tomorrow. Now
that
was a thought worth drinking to. He poured more Merlot
into his glass and sipped it appreciatively, enjoying the way it
slid down his throat like liquid silk.

Fowler was so engrossed in his thoughts, he
didn't see Diana come into the bar or the way she stood just inside
the doorway staring at him, a slip of paper in one hand.

Fae took her time driving home. Highway 61,
which ran next to Lake Superior all the way to Canada, contained
numerous sharp and often blind curves. A number of people had been
killed or injured on that road because of impatience, including
noted photographer Nadine Blaylock. Fae herself had been hit when
someone going the opposite direction had gotten fed up with being
stuck behind an ore truck for miles and tried to pass without
enough room. Fae still counted herself lucky to be alive, let alone
walking. Nightmares still woke her up in the middle of the night
and even now she half expected to see an idiot who had decided to
tempt fate suddenly loom out of the fog with no headlights on.

While part of her mind was watching the road,
the rest was still on her discussion with Bailey. She had hoped to
stop at the Cove Point Inn on her way home, but when she called
from Duluth, she had discovered that the manager had already left,
so she was going to have to go back down tomorrow. While she wasn't
thrilled with the idea, it did give her this evening to consider
her strategy and how she was going to approach each of the resorts.
An added benefit was that she really wasn't up for much more than
dinner and stretching out on her couch with her cats.