Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (2 page)

When she first found out where they were
going, Starr figured out how far it was and how long it would take
and then devised things to do. She thought she had come up with a
pretty good plan. However, not only was it nearly too hot to
breathe, the trip felt as if it was taking what seemed like
forever. Starr had long since finished counting license plates and
checking off all the places they passed on the map. Once they left
Duluth behind, pretty much the only thing left to do was look at
the scenery. She didn't mind the pine trees and glimpses of Lake
Superior flashing past. But she was hot and sticky and ready to get
on solid ground again.

Before they left Minneapolis she had read
about the North Shore and figured it would be a lot better than
where they'd been living, but she hadn't expected what greeted her
when they finally arrived at Storm Point.

It wasn't so much the cool fresh air, or the
smell of real pine trees, or the damp smell of the earth as if it
had just rained. It wasn't even completely the fir trees towering
overhead like silent feathery giants or the silence punctuated by
occasional chirps and scuttlings in the brush. It
was
all
those things, but what put it over the top was the glimpse through
the trees of the glittering expanse of Lake Superior.

She kicked the car door open as they pulled
up. It had a tendency to stick and needed an encouraging boost.
"Can I go look?"

When her mother hesitated, Starr added
quickly, "Just a quick look. I'll be right back."

Her mother sighed. Starr figured the only
reason her mother agreed at that point was because she was still
too hot and sticky to refuse. "No more than five minutes," she
said. "We have a lot to do."

With that, Starr was gone. Finding the way
through the woods to the lake was easy. Paths were everywhere and
she charged down the first one that went in the right direction and
soon was standing on the edge of what felt like forever.

The land ended abruptly in a cliff high above
the surface of the water. Starr ignored the signs warning her to
stay back and got as close as she could. Peering down, she saw
columns of jagged rock with jumbled piles of huge boulders at the
bottom, as if giants had been playing with blocks and had tossed
them casually aside when they were done. Waves pounded over the
boulders, sending up huge plumes that fell with a splat to be
obliterated seconds later by the next incoming wave. Cliffs
stretched along the lake on both sides of her and the roaring waves
sounded like thousands of caged lions. Beyond, Lake Superior
glistened in the afternoon sun all the way to the horizon and
beyond. From here, Starr couldn't see the other side and it looked
as if it went on forever.

The wind whipped her long red hair every
which way and she kept pushing it back from her face so she could
see. In all her imaginings, she had never guessed it would be like
this. She had never conceived of anything so wild or vast. It made
her feel as if anything was possible in this place.

Starr's grin nearly split her face as she
took it all in. And then she was laughing and dancing in circles.
She would have continued for hours except the glorious moment was
quickly shattered.

"Starr!"

Her mother's voice carried over the sound of
the waves, bringing Starr to a standstill. She wasn't ready to go
back. Not yet. "Just a minute," she yelled back and closed her
eyes, trying to memorize the sound and the feel of the wind. Just a
little longer. A few more minutes so she could take it all in.

"Starr!"

She sighed. It was too soon. She never wanted
this moment to end. It was more than perfect and she knew she would
never forget this moment as long as she lived.

"Right now, Stella!"

Her mother's voice was stronger now and Starr
looked back over her shoulder. Her mother was standing halfway
between the woods and the lake, her hands on her hips with that
you're-in-big-trouble look that Starr was much too familiar with.
Starr groaned, gave the lake one last look and then headed back.
We're here to stay
, she reminded herself as she trudged
reluctantly through the trees.
There will be time to look
later
.
There will be days and days and days
. With that
thought, she hugged herself and danced in a quick little circle one
more time before emerging from the trees and returning to the
car.

At the Bide-A-Wee motel, Harry Peterson
stared at the copy he'd made of the registration slip for probably
the twentieth time that day. He still wasn't sure what to do. He
knew the guy was a phony, but Harry had been brought up to mind his
own business. On the other hand, he had also been brought up to do
the right thing. On top of that, he'd gone to school with Ollie
Bakken and had liked him. So if someone was going to do something
and blame it on the Bakken family, that bothered Harry. A lot.

He scratched the back of his head and looked
at the phone. He'd written the number of the Bureau of Criminal
Apprehension next to it, but hadn't been able to make the call. He
didn't want to cause trouble for someone if he wasn't really doing
anything. Maybe the guy's name really was Ricky Bakken and he was
just making up a relationship with Ollie to make himself seem more
important by pretending he was related to the great hockey
goalie.

But what if it was more than that? Harry
could see a several huge pine trees just outside his window and he
stared at them now, as if he would see the answer to his dilemma in
the branches still dripping from last night's downpour. The needles
were starting to glisten, which meant the sky was finally clearing.
It also meant the humidity was going to make an appearance,
followed by hordes of blood-sucking, hungry mosquitoes. Harry
sighed. There were a lot of things he liked about Minnesota.
Humidity and mosquitoes weren't on that list.

After the guy who said his name was Ricky
Bakken had left, Harry had made a copy of the registration slip and
put it on the wall over the phone where he could see it. He
couldn't put his finger on exactly what the problem was, which is
why he'd held off making the call. If he could figure out what the
guy was up to, then he'd know what to do. But it had now been
nearly three weeks and winter was a heck of a lot closer than the
solution.

He made a face and looked back at the phone
number. Part of his brain heard his wife come in, but he was still
mesmerized by the sight of the registration slip and didn't look
up.

"Is that damn thing still hanging there?" she
asked.

As if she couldn't see it taped to the wall
just about as obvious as the chair under his butt.

"No honey," he said, still not looking at
her. "You're seeing things now. Guess that's what comes from
spending time in California. Next time you come back maybe you'll
see the flying saucer hovering off Storm Point looking for sunken
treasure."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his
eye. Sometimes he had to be careful when he made cracks like that.
Most of the time it was fine and she took it the way it was meant.
But on occasion, like those once a month occasions, her temper
skated a bit closer to the edge and she'd get all pissy on him. And
one thing Harry didn't enjoy experiencing even a little bit was
Molly going all icy like a Minnesota winter storm.

He was in luck, thought. She merely swatted
him with her towel.

"More likely, you've been seeing that UFO
while I've been gone," she retorted. "Likely along with
one
of those few beers you keep having up
to the Lodge."

"Could be," he said, returning his attention
to the slip. "So what do
you
think? Should I or shouldn't
I?"

She looked at the slip and then back at him.
"Well, hon," she said finally. "You already know what I think. Piss
or get off the pot."

He nodded. He'd known that was coming.
Couldn't be married to her for all this time without knowing
that.

"Yeah," he said, but still looking at the
slip. Knowing darn well what was coming next.

"For pete's sake," she added, her voice
exasperated now. "Don't just sit there like a turd on a log. Make
the call or I'm going to toss the damn thing." She stopped in the
doorway. "Once you make that call, you could go look for flying
saucers out at the Point. Beats looking at that damn thing all
day."

With that, she was gone and Harry smiled
slightly, one side of his mouth lifting at the jibe. One thing he
could count on from his wife was a nice pail of cold water when he
needed it. In any event, he figured she was right. It was long
since time for him to do something. Either make the call or toss
the slip.

He sighed again, wishing someone would drive
up. At least then he'd have an excuse for putting off the decision
until later. But, of course, no one did. The only time a customer
seemed to show up was when he was either on the pot or in the
middle of a Twin's game. It never happened when it was
convenient.

Harry sighed one last time. A big long one
designed to let the powers that be know how put-upon he felt about
right now. Then he picked up the phone and dialed the Bureau of
Criminal Apprehension.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing
here," he said when he finally got to a real person. "But a guy
came to my motel recently and I think he used a phony name. I only
know 'cause he claimed to be the brother of a friend of mine and I
know for a fact that the guy doesn't have a brother. Now I don't
know that he's up to something, but figured I'd better make the
call just in case he is, ya know?"

He held while he was transferred, gave the
particulars and hung up.

After staring at the phone for another long
minute, Harry decided he felt a bit better. At least he didn't have
to think about it any more. He put the copy of the registration
slip in the desk drawer just in case the BCA was interested.

That done, he checked the time. Maybe he
would
just pop on down to the bar at the Lodge. They'd have
the Twins game on and he was pretty sure they were up against
Oakland tonight. Now
that
might be a good one. One of the
few times he'd gone to a live game at the Humpty Dome, he'd seen
the two go head to head in a nail biter that went fourteen innings.
Best game he'd ever seen. Probably not going to happen again
tonight, he thought morosely, but then you never know.

He ambled back to the living room that was
just behind the registration desk, told Molly where he was going
and headed out the door before a customer drove in. He supposed he
should be grateful for the business, but there were some things
that just weren't easy to give up.

The climb from the parking area to the stop
of the Enger Tower was steep.

Having grown wise in the way of things since
her accident, Fae O'Neill started slow and stopped frequently.
Halfway up she remembered why she had stopped coming here. And that
had been years before she had broken her back. She could feel the
dull ache starting to grind into the lower part of her back and
begin attacking her hips. Soon it would begin its climb up her
spine and make her wish for a long soak in a hot tub with a bottle
of something stronger than orange juice. Instead, she reached into
her bag for the ever-present pain medication and water bottle. It
wouldn't take hold for awhile yet, but with any luck it would do
its magic before she felt like screaming.

She checked her watch and resumed her climb.
Her obsession with being on time meant she was usually ungodly
early. It was a habit she didn't think about much any more - hadn't
in so long she would've had to think about it had anyone asked.
Over time it had become one of those ingrained habits from years of
practice. Sort of like brushing her teeth or putting on clothes
before leaving the house. For some reason, it irritated the people
who knew her, but it kept her stress down and gave her a chance to
think or, even better, sneak a chapter or two of the latest Stephen
King novel before life reared its head with demands, obligations
and the unexpected.

Now that it took her four times longer to do
everything, the habit ensured that she still managed to be on time.
She stopped once again and looked at the last step. They were wide
enough and railroad ties made them strong and sturdy. But whoever
had designed the stairway had apparently assumed people foolish
enough to climb up to the Enger Tower were in good condition. At
least bodily. They were higher than regular stairs and it took
strong legs to get the lift needed for each one.

Maybe it was time to be a little easier on
herself and pick meeting places on the same level as her car.
Still, it was worth the effort, assuming she could make it the
whole way. Especially these days.

The climb reminded Fae of her senior class
trip in high school when they had gone to the Washington monument
and she and two others had dared each other to climb all the way to
the top. They had finally made it, but missed the bus back to the
hotel and had had to find a cab. Heady stuff for three kids from
Minnesota who had never been anywhere before. They had been stiff
and sore for the rest of the trip and Fae had sworn to take an
elevator for anything more than three floors after that.

Not that the climb up this hill was anything
like the Washington Monument. But since the accident that had
cracked her spine in several places and left her unable to walk for
months, anything over five steps felt as if it was the Washington
Monument all over again. On the other hand, the view at the top of
the monument had been worth the climb. Not to mention the bragging
rights. Now, although she could only brag to her cats when she
returned home, Fae was determined to get back to normal life as
soon as possible. And climbing this hill again was not only part of
that, it was a minor victory considering she had been unable to
walk just six months ago.