Victoria Houston - Loon Lake 14 - Dead Lil' Hustler (13 page)

“At least,” said the woman. “You were so kind when Joe died.” She looked at Lew and dropping her voice she said, “We owed Dr. Osborne a lot of money. It was right when my husband became ill that I had to have two crowns and you know how much those cost. You know, Dr. Osborne, you never sent me an invoice. One of these days, maybe? I am getting back on my feet financially.”

Osborne waved his hand. “Do not worry about that.”

He had known at the time of Joe’s diagnosis that the family had no health insurance. Joe’s illness bankrupted them. It was one of those things that had driven Mary Lee crazy: Osborne’s generosity when he knew people could not pay. It was a habit he had picked up from his own father who would take venison, blueberries, and rhubarb preserves in trade from patients short on cash.

But it was a characteristic that had divided Osborne’s household. “Paul,” his late wife would say through gritted teeth, “that’s not your worry—those people owe you. And we have the new kitchen to pay for.”

“So, Cynthia, what are you doing here?” asked Osborne.

“Housekeeping for Mr. and Mrs. Jarvison so I can afford to go back to school,” said Cynthia as she poured Osborne a ginger ale. “I plan to get an associate degree in business so I can work as an executive assistant. Both my kids have jobs in the cities these days and I’m only forty-two, so I have time.” She smiled.

“Good for you,” said Osborne.

“Cynthia? Get in here. I need an extra place setting and stop letting that ice drip on the floor, would you?”

“Be right there, Mrs. Jarvison.” Cynthia handed Lew a glass of white wine then bent to dab at a few drips on the hardwood floor beneath the bar. She reached for a bar towel and, kneeling, set it over the wet spot as it was obvious the ice bucket was leaking.

“Is she always so pleasant?” asked Lew, bending over to whisper.

Looking up, Cynthia rolled her eyes and whispered back, “Two more weeks and I’ll have saved enough to be out of here. It’s okay.”

Before Cynthia hurried off toward the dining room, Osborne gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. When she had gone, he looked at Lew. “In case you ever think you’re having a bad day—”

Before he could finish, Bud appeared in the doorway, a highball glass in one hand. Weaving, he crossed the room to the bar, reached for a bottle of Bushmills whiskey, and topped off his glass. Only then did he notice Lew standing beside Osborne.

Startled, his jaw slackened as his eyes darted from side to side. At first Osborne thought the man was looking for an escape route but Bud caught himself, cleared his throat, and said, “Well, well, so Doc here took my advice after all.”

“Not sure what you mean by that,” said Osborne, “but I don’t believe you’ve met Lewellyn Ferris, Bud. I was hoping you and Nancy wouldn’t mind as Jake and Chief Ferris learned a short time ago that they might have to take care of some—”

“No, I have not yet had the pleasure,” said Bud, his tongue thick as he interrupted Osborne.

Lew threw Osborne a quick glance: someone was over-served. A little too over-served in Osborne’s opinion. He decided to do his best to find a polite way to exit the dinner party as soon as possible. He had been around Bud drunk one too many times. It was never a pleasant experience.

But rushing through dinner did not prove to be easy. Nancy continued to schmooze Jake through the dinner while downing glass after glass of red wine. The more she drank, the louder her insistence that she understood his loss and the farther away Jake moved his chair.

After one too many maudlin remarks about their late sons, Jake said in a calm, authoritative tone, “Nancy, I prefer we not mention Liam again this evening.”

The table went silent. Fortunately it was only a minute or two before Cynthia walked in from the kitchen to remove their plates and serve dessert. Shortly after the chocolate mousse had arrived, Lew got a text message on her cell phone.

“Oh, dear,” she said getting up from the table. “I apologize but I’m afraid that Mr. Barber and I better head back to the station. Looks like there is a fax from the crime lab that needs a response this evening if they’re to release the body on Monday. I’m so sorry that we have to run off.”

“Oh, for chrissake, why don’t you just call in?” asked Nancy, her words slurring. “You can’t leave yet—right, Bud? We’re having nightcaps down on the dock.”

“Nancy, I would love to stay,” said Jake, “but Chief Ferris is right. There may be legal issues regarding the release of my son’s body and I do not want that delayed any longer. I appreciate your gracious hospitality this evening but—”

“And I have to be at the hospital to check on my grandson,” said Osborne.

“That’s okay, all of you go,” said Bud, lurching out of his chair. “How’sss that grandson of yours doing?” He was so sloshed it took Osborne a moment to figure out what he’d said.

“Much better,” said Osborne. “Cody is still in isolation but he’s awake and his color is improving. He may be released in the next day or two.”

As the three of them walked down the long, winding drive past the four-car garage to where Osborne had parked his car, Jake checked back over his shoulder to be sure he wouldn’t be heard before saying, “Please, God, save me from that woman.”

Lew chuckled. “She sure has you in her sights.”

Jake shook his head. “This was one long night—felt like a rainy day in Cleveland.”

“Hold up, you two,” said Osborne as they neared the car. “Lew, before we leave, let’s take that side path down toward the water and show Jake the view from the bluff.”

“Bud Jarvison’s grandfather built his manor on the highest point of this bluff overlooking Lake Tomahawk,” said Osborne as Lew and Jake followed him along a well-worn path running along a fence behind the Jarvison’s garage. “That was back in the late 1800s.

“Years later , he donated a section of his lake frontage for use as a public boat landing, which earned him a tax break that was significant in those days. So this path, which runs along Bud and Nancy’s property for a hundred yards or so, takes us to a scenic outlook. Great spot for a picnic.”

“What a magnificent view,” said Jake as they reached the crest of the bluff and looked out over the lake. The three of them stood in awed silence as a full moon sent daggers of light across the black water. A zillion stars scattered jewels on the waves. On the landing down below, a pickup was backing a boat trailer into the water. The night air was so clear that they could hear the fishermen planning where to stop for beers after securing their boat on the trailer.

“This path and all the land five miles to the north of us belongs to the town,” said Osborne, gazing at the serene setting before them as he put an arm around Lew’s shoulders. “In the summertime thousands of people use the public access here—fishermen, pleasure boats, kayakers, you name it.”

“By the way, Chief Ferris, you didn’t really have a text saying there’s a fax from the crime lab back at the station, did you?” asked Jake.

“I fibbed,” said Lew, “but I thought it wise to leave the party under any pretenses.”

“Thank you,” said Jake. “Thank you very much.”

A new set of voices drifted toward them in the night air. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to be around a
smart
man for a change? I sure as hell don’t think Jake Barber is a million bucks in debt. Do you?” Nancy’s words slurred one into the other as she hammered on her husband.

A low grunt could be heard: Bud’s response.

Eyes wide, Lew, Jake, and Osborne looked at one another. They stood frozen in place, hoping they were out of sight of the happy couple.

“They must be on their dock having that nightcap,” said Osborne in a whisper.

“You mean
nightcaps
,” said Jake.

“Guess we better head back to the car before they notice we haven’t left yet,” said Lew softly.

“I doubt they can see straight,” said Jake as the three of them tiptoed along the path.

“Will you shut the hell up? I’m working on it.” That was Bud.

“Work? You don’t work. You’ve never worked. You just sit around in that stupid office of yours and pretend you’re your old man.” Nancy was quiet for a moment then she said, “I take that back. You did work. You worked really hard on taking a $30 million fortune and blowing it all in the stock market. I know you had to work goddamn hard to accomplish
that
.”

A slurping sound—or was it spitting? Osborne wasn’t sure. They were nearly to the car now.

“Yes, you brilliant man. A $30 million fortune and now, you dumb ass, we’re $1 million in debt. Hell, we can’t even sell this house—how the hell many mortgages do you have on it? Stop, where are you going?”

“My boat,” slurred Bud, “only place where I can get away from you.” A loud thump followed.

“Sounds like he fell in the boat,” whispered Jake.

“Hey, hold up for a second, you two,” said Lew in a soft voice. “Let’s be sure he doesn’t take the boat out. He’s in no condition—I’ll have to call in if he does.”

They waited but there was only the sound of a clinking glass. Then someone vomited.

Osborne helped Lew in on the passenger side while Jake slid onto the backseat and tried to close the car door quietly. No one breathed until they were on the highway.

“Think marriage counseling would help?” asked Jake from the backseat, and they all burst into laughter.

“Stop it now,” said Lew, “we’re being mean.” And she laughed again.

Before getting out of the car at the entrance to the inn, Jake said, “Tomorrow is Sunday. Chief, if you have the day off, would you like that lesson on tenkara fly-fishing?”

“You know, that is a great idea. Let me text our friend, Bruce. He won’t want to miss that. If he doesn’t mind driving up tomorrow, that will make it easy for us to get an early start on Monday. He’ll never forgive me if he doesn’t get the lesson too.”

“And me? What about me?” Osborne did his best to sound hurt.

“The more the merrier,” said Jake, holding the car door open. “By all means, Doc, I know you need to help with your grandson but we’ll just be a couple hours or so. Once you know when you need to be at the hospital, give me a call. We’ll work around your schedule.”

He stepped out of the car, paused, then got back in. He shut the door. “Something is bothering me. Something I saw at the Jarvison’s tonight.” He was quiet for moment then said, “Chief Ferris, what I saw is hardly proof of anything but I have to mention it.”

“Go right ahead, Jake,” said Lew.

“You two were talking to that woman behind the bar when Nancy gave me a grand tour of their place. When we were in Bud’s study, I saw a small wooden box on the mantel over the fireplace. A box almost identical to the one my son used to carry his trout flies. Jarvison’s got wood carvings all around the room but that box stands out.”

Lew turned around to stare at Jake. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, of course it doesn’t. I asked her about it and she had no idea where it came from. She did comment that she hadn’t noticed it before.”

“They have a lot of art that Bud inherited from his father and grandfather. The family’s been known for their collections of antique duck decoys and fishing lures,” said Osborne.

“Well… could be there are a lot of small boxes like that around.”

“Would there be an identifying mark of some kind on your son’s box?” asked Lew.

“I think so. I believe there is a red seal on the bottom.”

“And did you check to see if—”

“No. I didn’t think to do that until later. I should have—it would have made me feel better.” Sadness filled Jake’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry for everything.” Lew’s voice trembled.

Jake reached across the car seat to grasp her hand and squeeze. “I know. And I thank you both. Just a break like this evening helps. Tomorrow in the river—that will be good.” He whispered, “Good night.”

• • •

Lew’s last thought that night as she lay next to Osborne in the dark, listening to the hoot of a marauding owl, was to wonder—along with the FBI—where Bud was getting all that cash. Selling family heirlooms on eBay?

“I called one of the kayakers who found Peter Corbin to find out where they put in their kayaks,” said Lew as she drove her pickup along a forest road that wound through the national forest. “I want to avoid the area where we found Liam because Ray is still searching that location. He thought he could put in another four or five hours today but he said it’s been rough going through the swamps along there.”

“So no traces of the shooter yet?” asked Jake.

Jake, Bruce, Osborne, and Lew had squeezed themselves into the little truck that Lew used for fishing.

“It’s designed to fit four,” she had said hopefully.

“Yeah? Four munchkins,” said Bruce, tucking his knees up under his chin. “I think Mr. Barber here is going to have me arrested for molesting him.”

“Hey, to answer Jake’s question a minute ago,” said Lew, “Ray’s found nothing significant. But given that it’s been months since hunting season and we haven’t had rain for ten days, he’s confident that when and if he comes across signs of a person or people having been back in there, they may well be just who we’re looking for. No other reason for them to be there.”

“Ah ha!” she said, squealing her tires as she yanked the truck into a small clearing to the left of the road. “Look at
that
.” Lew pointed over a cluster of sumac to a glimmer of blue. “The river is right here. Everybody out.”

Before they pushed through the brush to head down a slope to the river’s edge, Lew lowered the tailgate. She handed out the waders they had stuffed in there along with Jake’s tenkara rods. While they were pulling on their waders, Lew set four brown paper bags on the open tailgate.

“If anyone gets hungry,” she said as she struggled into her own waders, “those lunch bags are filled with treats. You get a peanut butter sandwich, a little cheese and crackers, and the first raspberries of the summer. But no eating until after class—right, teach?” She grinned at Jake.

“Right you are,” he said with a smile. He was the happiest Osborne had seen him since they first met. Though his face was lined with the vestiges of grief, he appeared to be at peace for the moment.