Victoria Houston - Loon Lake 14 - Dead Lil' Hustler (12 page)

When he woke three hours later, he was surprised that he had fallen back asleep. Yet even as he slept he knew his heart was telling him something. He hoped he was wrong, but he doubted it.

He arrived at the hospital just as the breakfast trays were being delivered. Erin was on the cot in Cody’s room and sitting up with a disposable gown over her robe reading a newspaper when Osborne tapped on the door.

“How’s our boy?” whispered Osborne. He had pulled on his gown and mask before entering.

“Still sleeping, Dad. Why are you here so early? No need to whisper. The nurse will be in to wake Cody any minute so he’s alert, we hope, when the medical team does its rounds this morning.” She adjusted herself on the cot and patted a spot for Osborne to sit.

He walked over, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and sat down. “Where’s Mark?”

“He slept at home with the girls. He’ll make them some breakfast then come on over.”

Osborne took a deep breath, then said, “I think we need to prepare ourselves for the worst, sweetheart.” He pressed fingers against his eyelids and hoped he could continue. “I, well, I don’t have a good feeling about how Cody can pull through is all.”

Erin reached to take his hand. “Dad, of course you don’t. You lost your mother just this way. I’m surprised that you hadn’t told me this before.”

“Really? Erin, you are a stronger person than I am.”

“No, Dad, but Mark and I have had each other to hold onto these past days. You didn’t have anyone. You were so young when Grandma died.” Erin gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m not saying this is easier for us, I’m just saying we know the danger up front. Maybe that helps, maybe we’ll find that it doesn’t. But, Dad, you are not telling me something I don’t already know.”

Osborne paused. He had just caught sight of a basket in the corner holding Cody’s favorite toys. The hat from Ray sat on top of the white head of the owl hand puppet. The owl’s eyes were a light, pleasant yellow this morning.

“All right then,” said Osborne, getting to his feet. He bent over to give his daughter a hug. Cody stirred under his blankets. “Is that a good sign?”

“Don’t know, Dad. Let’s hope.”

Seeing Erin lifted his spirits and he walked out of the hospital feeling a little more settled. Maybe it was the benign expression in the puppet owl’s eyes. Maybe it was his daughter’s strength in the face of the unknown. He reminded himself that every day of his life and the lives of the people around him was an unknown.

Shortly before eight the next morning, Jake and Osborne slipped sideways into Osborne’s usual pew and knelt to pray. The church was nearly empty, not unusual for a sunny Saturday morning; most parishioners would attend one of the Sunday Masses.

After Mass had ended, Jake said, “Doc, do you mind waiting for me to talk to the priest? I’d like to arrange to have Liam’s ashes blessed before I leave town.”

“Not at all,” said Osborne, “take your time.” While Jake spoke to the priest in the vestibule of the church, Osborne occupied himself reading the parish notices pinned to the church bulletin board.

“All set?” asked Osborne when Jake had shaken hands with the priest. “I’ll show you one of Loon Lake’s best breakfast spots if you’d like—”

Before he could say more, a female voice called to them from the street in front of the church. Nancy Jarvison was half out of her car and waving madly in their direction. She ran toward them, both hands out.

“Oh, Mr. Barber, I saw you interviewed on the news last evening and I am so sorry to hear what happened to your son.” She reached to pump his hand with enthusiasm. “I’m Nancy Jarvison and so pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you,” said Jake, sounding overwhelmed. “Do you know Dr. Osborne?” he asked turning toward Osborne.

“Of course, his late wife Mary Lee was one of my closest friends. I still miss her, Paul. And how is that little grandson of yours doing?” Before Osborne could open his mouth, she said, “Paul will tell you we lost our only child, our son, in a terrible accident not long ago. Right, Paul?”

Mystified as to what she was up to, Osborne nodded in agreement. He was tempted to mention that the accident was at least fifteen years ago but thought better of it. At the same time, he couldn’t help but notice how well put together Nancy was for so early in the morning. She was wearing white pants and a navy blue pullover that highlighted her blond hair and deep summer tan. Even the sling holding her injured shoulder was in a colorful pattern.

Looking up at Jake, she said, “So, Mr. Barber—”

“Jake, just call me Jake.”

“Certainly. Jake, you must be wondering how I knew to find you here.”

“Well, now that you mention it—”

“The clerk at the inn said you would be attending Mass. The reason I’ve tracked you down is my husband and I—knowing you must have to stay in town for a few days—we would like you to join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy—just ourselves and you… and Dr. Osborne.”

Osborne could tell he was an afterthought. He also could not think of a place he would like less to be.

“I’m really not up for anything social,” said Jake, his voice kind. “But I appreciate the thought.”

“Of course you aren’t, and we understand.” Nancy leaned in and in a low voice said, “I know you run All Tech, Jake. We have been major stockholders for years—only one percent of course. I’m surprised you don’t recognize me from the last stockholders meeting.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Mrs. Jarvison, there were 5,000 people there.”

“But we were in the second row.”

“Oh? Well…”

“So you’ll come. Seven this evening. Don’t bring a thing except our friend Paul here. And he knows the way.” She flashed a bright smile and was back in her car before the two men could close their mouths.

“How the hell did that happen?” asked Jake as the car sped away.

“I learned a long time ago not to get in that woman’s way,” said Osborne. “Hey, we have the rest of the morning to figure out an excuse not to go.”

“Not sure if I shouldn’t go. One percent is $10 million. That is a significant investment in our company. Let me think it over.” He smiled at Osborne as he said, “I have become intimate with the menu at the Loon Lake Inn. Be nice to have a change. Anyway, she seems a gracious woman.”

When she wants to be
, thought Osborne, a thought he kept to himself.

After breakfast, Osborne dropped Jake back at the inn and sped to the hospital. Cody’s room was sunny and the little guy was propped up on pillows, his eyes open as he listened to his mother reading from a book.

“Dad,” Erin jumped to her feet as he walked into the room. “Great news. They found Cody does have a strep in his bloodstream and the antibiotics are working.” She brushed strands of hair back from Cody’s forehead and leaned down to give him a kiss. “He’s drowsy but feeling better. If this continues, he may be able to come home soon.”

“Grandpa,” said Cody in a small voice. “Will you read me that
Lunker
book again?”

“You bet. Erin, would you like me to take over this afternoon?” asked Osborne.

His daughter nodded happily and they agreed Osborne would take the one to four shift. “I can stay later,” he said, hoping for an excuse to avoid the Jarvisons.

“No, but thanks, Dad. We’re going to have the girls come up and finally get some family time this evening.”

As he drove by the police department on his way home, Osborne was surprised to see Lew’s cruiser in the parking lot. That was unusual, as she usually took Saturdays off. He pulled in to tell her about Cody.

The light in Lew’s eyes when she caught sight of him made his day even sunnier.

“Whew, isn’t that a relief,” she said when he had finished sharing the good news about Cody. “Sit down and pour yourself a cup of coffee. I’m just hanging in here hoping to catch up with reports and e-mails that I’ve let slide the previous two days. Did you take Jake to Mass this morning? How’s he doing? I need to let him know that the autopsy is scheduled for Monday. Sorry to make him wait so long.”

When she heard about Nancy’s invitation, she sat back in her chair, a serious thought clouding her face. “Very interesting.
Very
interesting, Doc. Had a long talk with Alan Strickland, the FBI agent, at the end of the day yesterday. If you have a few minutes, it’s time I give you more details on his fraud investigation. You know the Jarvisons and may be able to give him some background that may help.

“Turns out they were tipped months ago by Peter Corbin that he was concerned that the Jarvison Bank Corporation was being compromised by deposits of cash—as much as $40,000 a week—that were being made by Bud Jarvison without documenting the source of the funds. Corbin was concerned that the corporation could be accused of money laundering. Because Corbin, as a bank executive, was responsible for answering to the federal regulators he was trying to protect himself as well as the bank.

“The FBI didn’t follow up at the time, Alan said, because they had Homeland Security issues to deal with. It wasn’t until he saw the news that Corbin had been found dead that he went back to check on that tip.

“So he’s here to investigate Bud Jarvison. He met with Chuck Carlson, president of the local Jarvison bank, yesterday and was told that Bud treats the bank like it’s his personal wallet and anyone who questions his decisions gets fired.

“The question Alan has and what he hopes to answer before he confronts Bud is where is the money coming from?” Lew paused and, tipping her head as she asked with a smug smile, “What do you think, Doc?”

“I would assume he’s selling some of their millions of dollars’ worth of assets and thinks he’s above paperwork. The guy is richer than God and used to running the whole show.”

“That’s exactly what I said to Alan,” said Lew. “And that is when he said that he met with Herb Strong, who is Chuck’s hunting buddy and was a broker for Jarvison up until last year. Bud lost millions in the stock market. Against Herb’s advice, he made bad bets with hedge funds and hi-tech start-ups, crap investments recommended by some old college buddies. Herb estimated Bud’s losses had to be in the $30 to $40 million range.”

“That could be his entire fortune,” said Osborne.

“Makes for an interesting dinner party, don’t you think? I’d like you to go, Doc. See if you pick up on anything. Alan would appreciate that, I’m sure. On the other hand, Doc, the Jarvisons are friends of yours. I don’t want to put you in a compromising position.”

“Oh, I would not say they’re friends. My late wife would but I have never wanted to spend time with those people. Jake is likely to go. Nancy made it clear they own a ton of stock in his company but I was hoping to wrangle my way out of the evening.”

Lew leaned forward, a wide grin on her face. “What if I asked you to be really rude and invite me along? I would love to go. Frankly, I’m still peeved that Mr. FBI thought he could step in and take over my office. That might change the dynamic around here.”

“I’ll call ahead and let them know we’ll be three.”

“I have a better idea. Let’s pull a Ray Pradt,” she said, referring to Ray’s habit of showing up for dinner or a picnic at Osborne’s with any number of unexpected guests—generally bearded, scruffy, and pleasant enough but lacking any evidence of good dental hygiene.

“That might catch Nancy off guard,” said Osborne, not unhappy at the thought. “Lately Bud has been asking about you so often, I think he’ll be tickled to see you.”

“Are you serious? I find that strange.”

“That he’s interested in you? I’m interested in you. Maybe his taste is improving.”

Lew blushed.

Osborne reached for his cell phone. “I’m calling Jake to let him know I’ll pick him up at 6:45—after I get you. My place tonight?”

“Sure.”

Osborne knew he looked the happiest he had all week.

As he guided Lew and Jake into the foyer of the mansion, Osborne glanced through the French doors that opened to the formal dining room. Crystal wineglasses sparkled in the sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows. White linen napkins were artfully arranged on ornate china plates and silver pitchers held colorful bouquets. This was no outdoor barbecue: Nancy was putting on her best show.

Osborne was glad he had decided to reach into his closet for dress pants he had not worn in months. Now that he didn’t have to be in an office every day he lived in jeans and khakis better suited for the boat than a dinner party.

He was doubly pleased when Lew arrived at his place looking elegant in a silky black sleeveless top with matching pants. The outfit emphasized her sturdy, well-toned figure, which reminded Osborne how lucky he was that she had promised to spend the night at his place.

That thought was interrupted by a throaty voice from behind. “Jake and Paul, so good to
see
you.” Wearing a short turquoise strapless dress that showed more than a hint of cleavage, Nancy swept into the living room. In her right hand she held high an old-fashioned glass filled with amber liquid and a few ice cubes. “Scotch anyone?” She waved for them to follow her into the den at the far end of the room.

At the sight of Lew, she stopped short. “Oh…”

“Mrs. Jarvison,” said Lew, extending her hand. “So sorry to barge in on you like this. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” said Nancy, her tone blunt. She ignored Lew’s hand.

“Yes, well, Dr. Osborne was hoping you wouldn’t mind my coming along,” said Lew with an ingratiating smile. “Mr. Barber and I are expecting to hear from the Wausau Crime Lab this evening—the results of the autopsy on his son. In the event they need input from one or the other of us I thought this the easiest way to coordinate sharing the information.”

“Fine,” said Nancy, turning away. “I’ll have Cynthia set an extra place. You can get yourself a drink in the den. Jake, a glass of wine or a cocktail?” Nancy was onto Jake Barber as if there was no one else in the room.

Lew gave Osborne a slight nod and without a word, they mutually decided to leave Jake to fend for himself.

Walking into the den, Osborne saw a familiar face behind the bar. “Cynthia,” he said, “what are you doing here?” Before the petite, dark-haired woman could answer, he pulled Lew forward to introduce her. “Cynthia was one of my patients. Cynthia and her husband and two children for—what—twelve years?”