Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (38 page)

Fae turned into her driveway and parked the
car. While she was disappointed to have missed Devious Dave, the
fact that he had actually been seen had energized her. Now she felt
as if she had something to work with instead of the amorphous
uncertainty that had surrounded the case so far.

She got out of the car and came around the
house to the porch, thinking she'd drop her notebooks on the table
and work out here after she got changed. Normally it was much
cooler this close to the lake, but not today. The heat and humidity
had gotten so oppressive that she would be sticking to herself
before she had a chance to sit down.

As she climbed the steps, she noticed how
quiet it had gotten. The lake was like glass and even the birds had
been silenced by the weather. The cats were stretched out on the
porch as if trying to cover as much floor as they could. Usually
they stretched out on the kitchen floor when it was this hot, so it
must be unbearable inside. Although it looked as if they had also
been rolling in the cool dirt under the lilac bushes as well.

"Come on, guys," she said as she opened the
door. They lifted their heads lethargically, then followed her
inside. Fae closed the door and turned up the air conditioning. It
was almost never needed, but on days like this it was sheer
necessity.

She showered quickly, then pulled on an
ancient cotton sundress that was too big and practically falling
apart. But it was loose and comfortable and perfect for this
weather. She'd have to change quickly if someone came by, but as
long as it was just her and the cats, it was fine.

She found the phone number for the man in St.
Paul and dialed, hoping he was around. Fortunately, he answered on
the second ring.

"Hi, Mr. Anderson, this is Fae O'Neill. I'm
the investigator with the BCA. We talked earlier this week?"

"Oh yes. Hi. Hold on a sec, will ya."

The sounds from the other end of the phone
were muted and Fae used the opportunity to pour some ice-cold
lemonade and retrieve the pen her cats had batted onto the
floor.

Then he was back. "Sorry about that. I had to
get my notes."

"Then you were able to get her name?"

"Sort of," he said. "Well, that is, I think
so. At least I'm pretty sure."

"Okay."

"Well, see, I had to make a few phone calls,
but I'm pretty sure this is the right person. I tried to call her,
but just got her voice mail and she hasn't gotten back to me. A
friend of hers said she had gotten married and is on her honeymoon.
So I haven't been able to double-check."

Fae's intuition started flashing in neon.
"Did her friend say where she was going?"

"I didn't ask. Do you want me to find
out?"

"I'll tell you what. Give me her information
and the name and number of the friend and I'll call. She may not
want to give that kind of information to you."

"Oh. Yeah. Good. Umm. OK."

Fae wondered if he was flustered or if he
simply wanted to do everything he could to help in order to feel
better about being conned and so that he wouldn't feel so
victimized.

"Her name is Diana Marshall. Phone number is
651-555-9823. Her voice mail just says she's not available and
please leave a message. No cell or anything. The friend is Vicky
Cannefax at 651-555-3355."

"That's great, Mr. Anderson. I really
appreciate your help with this."

"No problem," he said. "Happy to help. If you
need me to do anything else, just let me know. Honestly. Anything
at all. I really want to see that bastard locked up."

"I know what you mean," Fae said. "There
probably isn't anything more you can do, but you never know. And if
you think of something else, you have my number."

"You betcha," he said emphatically.

Fae hung up and immediately called Diana
Marshall's number. It went to voice mail and the message, as Larry
Anderson had said, was sparse and to the point. Fae left a message
just in case and then dialed Vicky Cannefax and got her voice mail,
as well. She left another message and then hung up.

She debated calling Bailey and then decided
to wait until she had talked to the Cannefax woman before bringing
him up to date.

In the back parking lot of the Lodge, Fowler
pulled smoothly into the spot he had picked out earlier. Only two
other cars were parked here as it was so out of the way. Most of
the guests wanted to be near the front entrance especially at
night. But it was ideal for going in the back way as long as you
had a flashlight and a key. It was also perfect for those special
moments when you didn't want the entire place knowing where you
were and what you were doing. Even now, although it was still late
afternoon and bright, the place was deserted.

The other benefit of this area was that it
was poorly lit and Fowler intended to take full advantage of that
tonight.

Viv pulled in next to him a moment later.

Fowler tucked Viv's arm in his so they would
look nonchalant to anyone who might notice them, but they made it
to the back door of the Lodge without encountering anyone. Even
better, the corridor to the room was empty and soon they were
inside.

Fowler pulled out his suitcases and began
packing. He wished now he had taken care of this earlier. But that
had been before the problem at Naniboujou.

Even though he wanted to get this job done
quickly, Fowler hated opening his suitcase and discovering that
everything had creases that simply would not come out. So he had
come up with a way to pack that minimized wrinkles and now took the
extra time to put everything in properly. If things didn't go
according to plan, he didn't want to spend critical time dealing
with making his clothes presentable again.

He had learned a long time ago that
appearances were everything. If his clothes looked the part, it
went a long way to getting the sucker to believe everything else.
So it was worth it to Fowler to take the extra time now.

Having worked with him too many times to
count, Viv knew better than to lend a hand. She split her attention
between watching him pack and looking out the window.

"Nice view," she commented.

"If you like trees," he said sourly.

"It sounds like your score will more than
make up for the inconvenience," she laughed.

"Barely," he said. Then grinned. "Well, maybe
a little more than barely. But not much. If I never get back to the
North Shore again in my lifetime, it will be much too soon."

"Oh, poor baby," she mocked.

"Ha." He closed the last suitcase and checked
to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "You take that one." He
pointed at the medium suitcase. "And can you manage the little one,
as well?"

"Sure." She slung the small bag over her
shoulder with her purse and picked up the suitcase. "Your car,
right?"

"Right." He picked up the other two bags and
then listened at the door. Then looked through the peephole. When
he didn't see or hear anything, he poked his head out of the room
and made sure the corridor was empty. Viv walked out and down the
hallway to the back door while Fowler locked up. A few minutes
later they were back at the cars and stowing the luggage in the
trunk of the Lexus.

Then they got in the SUV and Fowler drove it
to the main parking lot, managing to find a spot just two places up
from the entrance to the Lodge. He looked around, but the sheriff
wasn't here. Perfect. That would give them time to get in place
before dealing with him.

"Now how's that for good luck?" Fowler
believed in omens and luck certainly seemed to be in his favor
today.

"As long as it continues," Viv said.

She took his arm once again as they entered
the Lodge. Fowler stopped at the front desk for his messages.

"Oh, Mr. Fowler," the clerk said. "Darn, you
just missed him."

"Who?" he asked, not bothering to look at the
slip she had just handed him.

"The sheriff was looking for you. He waited
awhile, but then had to go."

"The sheriff? Did he say what for?"

She shook her head. "Just that he needed to
check something and could you call him."

Now he looked at the message slip in his
hand.

"Is there a phone in the bar?" he asked. "We
were just about to have a drink"

"Yes. I'd be happy to call him for you, if
you'd like."

"That won't be necessary," Fowler said
pleasantly. "It'll be easier if I call him. Hopefully I can answer
his question right away and that'll be that."

"All right," she said. "Let me know if
there's anything else I can do for you."

"Will do." He turned to Viv. "Come on, honey,
I'm absolutely parched." He led her down the hall to the bar where
they took a table by the window and got the first round of whiskey
sours. Then Fowler went to the phone and dialed.

A few minutes later he was connected to the
sheriff.

"Sorry I missed you earlier," Fowler said.
"My wife and I were up at the park talking to the ranger."

"She's back from Duluth, then," the sheriff
said.

"Yes. Just a little while ago."

"Where are you now?"

"We're in the bar at the Lodge," Fowler said.
"We've both had a long day and needed a drink. I wish I had known
you wanted to talk to me or we would've driven up there after we
talked to the park ranger."

"Could you come by now?" the sheriff
asked.

"I'd rather not drive now that I've had a
drink," Fowler said. "But we'll be here for a while if you'd like
to stop by. I'd be happy to buy you a drink."

"That's real nice of you," the sheriff said.
"I'll stop by in a bit. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't go
anywhere for awhile."

"Did you have a question I could answer while
we're on the phone?"

"Nope. I'll stop by shortly and we'll go over
everything then."

"We'll be right here." Fowler hung up slowly,
looking at the phone speculatively before returning to the
table.

The worry line between Viv's eyes deepened as
she took in his expression. "Problem?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "Probably not. But
something happened earlier and now I'm a little concerned. It's one
of the reasons I want to get the hell out of here sooner rather
than later."

"Maybe we should go. Right now."

He thought about it, then shook his head.
"No. I think we're OK. But as soon as we're done with the sheriff,
we're getting the hell out of this place."

"Do you think they're onto you?"

"I think someone might've recognized me.
Maybe made some phone calls. That's not what the sheriff wants to
talk about. At least I don't think so. But someone tried to catch
up with me earlier and I don't want to give them a chance to do it
again."

"So let's just head back to the Cities."

"There's something I have to do first,"
Fowler said. "And it's critical. Otherwise I'd already be in St.
Paul. With any luck I can finish it tonight and if I do, then we're
out of here. If not…" He shrugged.

"So what do you want me to do?" Viv
asked.

"After we talk to the sheriff, I want you to
drive my car to the motel. Leave the bags in the trunk. I'll join
you there later."

"And then?"

"Depends on what happens and if I can get my
hands on something or not. Don't worry about it."

Viv rolled her eyes. "You know, I might be
able to help a lot more if you'd let me know what the hell you're
up to."

"All you need to know is that you're Diana
Marshall and we're on our honeymoon. And as long as you know the
important details, then everything is just fine."

"I take it
she's
not going to show
up?"

"You got that right," Fowler said. "So just
play the part and we'll all be peachy." The less she knew, the
better for him, but Viv never seemed to understand that basic
concept. Fortunately, though, he could always count on her to
deliver. He just wished she'd shut up and do what she was told
without always bugging him.

Fowler went back to the bar to get a couple
more drinks. He was on his way back to the table when the sheriff
appeared in the doorway.

He put the drinks on the table and went over
to greet the sheriff. "Hi. I'm David Fowler."

"Mr. Fowler. You said your wife was
here?"

"You bet." Fowler led the way to the table
and stood behind Viv. "My wife, Diana."

"Ma'am," the sheriff said. He looked back at
Fowler. "Could I see some ID please?"

"Sure." Fowler pulled out his wallet and
handed him the driver's license for David Fowler. He had taken the
precaution of putting his other IDs in the car safe.

The sheriff had been holding his hat and now
set it down on a neighboring table before taking the ID. Fowler
noticed that he didn't just look at the ID. He examined it, as if
expecting it to suddenly turn into a snake or something equally
unpleasant. He stared at Fowler, then back down at the ID, turning
it in the light. Finally he handed it back.

"Could I see yours, ma'am."

Viv handed him Diana's ID, managing to look
irritated and aloof. This time she didn't say anything.

Fowler had to stop himself from smiling. She
was so
good
. She always knew exactly the right touch.

The sheriff kept looking back and forth
between the picture and Viv, but finally returned the ID. He looked
at Fowler sharply. "How long you folks going to be here?"

"A few more days," Viv said. "We're on our
honeymoon, you know."

"So I've heard." He nodded at Viv. "Nice
meeting you. Enjoy your stay." He picked up his hat and headed out
of the bar.

Fowler followed him into the hallway.

The sheriff stopped, his hat still in his
hand. "Can I help you with something?"