Death at the Door

by K. C. Greenlief

  “This is going to take forever. A shower would be quicker.”

  “You think you can stay upright in the shower?”

  “Yep.” Lacey swung her feet over the side of the bed. A wave of nausea hit her. And her head began to swim. She leaned back against the headboard, wrapped her arms around her abdomen, and closed her eyes.

  “Just sit there for a minute. I’ll be right back.” Ann slipped out of the bedroom and shut the door. John and Lark got up from the sofa when she walked in.

  “What do you need?” John asked.

  “Run up to Fish Creek and get Lacey a change of clothes.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ann. That’s nothing but a waste of time. Let’s get her to the hospital,” Lark said.

  “She wants to get in the shower and clean up. I’ll stay in there with her. When she gets out, she’ll want to put on clean clothes.” Ann handed John the hotel room key she had found in Lacey’s pants pocket. “If you guys hurry up, you can be there and back by the time we’re done. Then you can drive us to Door County Memorial. I think Lacey’s got a concussion, not a fractured skull, but a head CT scan will tell us that for sure. She also needs a CT scan of her abdomen to make sure that kick didn’t fracture anything. She has a cut on her hand that needs stitches. I’ll call Gene to make sure he’s there to take care of her.”

  Lark started to protest, but Ann stopped him.

  “Do you want to stand here and have an argument you aren’t going to win or do you want to get going so you can get back here sooner?”

  “Can’t she just wear some of your clothes?”

  “I swear to God,” Ann said, her voice dripping with exasperation, “I’m in a battle of wits with an unarmed man. If I didn’t know you were a nice guy, I’d really let you have it. My clothes are not going to fit her. She’s six inches taller than I am and half my size. I’m a size twelve and she’s a size six.” Ann threw up her arms. “Wow, that feels good. She’s younger, taller, smaller, and prettier. I think I should go drown her rather than help her take a shower.”

  Lark glared down at Ann, so angry he couldn’t speak.

  “Lark, you know as well as I do that you wouldn’t take a shower and put filthy clothes back on.” When Lark didn’t budge, Ann pointed her finger up at him. “I’ve had just about enough of this. I suggest you get going before I really get pissed.” She looked over at John. “While you’re on the road, you can call Joel and fill him in.” She headed back to the bedroom, not giving either of them the opportunity to comment.

  “Is she always this damn bossy?” Lark asked as they went out the door.

  “No, but when she is, you’d better just get the hell out of her way.” John grinned. “The really bad part is that when she gets like this, she’s usually right.”

  They called Joel as soon as they got in the car. He was just south of Ephraim and relieved to hear from them. He agreed to meet them at the White Gull Inn.

  By the time they got back from Fish Creek, Joel in tow, Lacey was out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, napping on the bed. Ann pulled the bedroom door shut as the men walked in the front door.

  She put her index finger to her lips. “Lacey’s very nauseated. It’s a typical reaction to a concussion. Noise, light, motion, they’re all bothering her. Gene’s going to meet us at the ER. He’s got the radiology call crew coming in to do her CT scans. We’ll go as soon as she’s dressed.”

  While they waited for Lacey to get ready, Joel and Lark discussed their plan to investigate Lacey’s assault. Gene had called the sheriff, and he had pulled Fred Johnson in for questioning. Two other Door County officers were canvassing the parking lot and the woods behind the antique shop in hopes of turning up some evidence. Joel had already assigned an officer in Wausau to make sure the locks on her house were changed immediately. He’d also reported her badge, driver’s license, and state police ID as stolen. Molly had volunteered to take care of reporting Lacey’s credit cards as soon as they had the list of numbers.

  Joel left to assist Skewski with the investigation once Lacey was ready to go to the ER. She was still dizzy whenever she stood up, so Lark carried her to the car. Skewski notified all the police in Door County about what was going on, and no one stopped them as they sped through the countryside down to Sturgeon Bay. They made the thirty-mile trip to Door County Memorial in just over a half hour.

  True to his word, Gene was waiting for them in the ER. Ann took care of getting Lacey admitted while Gene started her IV and whisked her off to x-ray. When Lacey came back from her CT scans, Gene gave her IV medication for her headache and something for her nausea. He told Lacey there was no evidence of a fracture or a bleed in her head or her abdomen. From her signs and symptoms he was pretty sure she had a nasty concussion. She also had the beginnings of a large bruise over her kidney. He sutured the cut in her left palm and the one on the left side of her head. He suggested that she be admitted for the night for observation. Lacey refused.

  Ann offered to do hourly neuro checks, so Gene released Lacey, giving Ann some additional meds for nausea and pain to tide Lacey over until she could get her prescriptions filled the next day. Despite Lacey’s protests, he promised to stop and check on her on his way to the clinic the next morning.

  The medications Lacey had received, combined with the downer effect of her adrenaline rush’s wearing off, finally hit her. She insisted on walking to the car but exhaustion overtook her once she was inside. She was asleep with her head in Lark’s lap before they got out of Sturgeon Bay. They debated on how to watch her through the night as they drove back up the peninsula. They stopped in Fish Creek so Ann could gather up some more clothing and necessities for Lacey, then drove back to Ephraim.

  They decided that Lacey would sleep on the sofa bed in John and Ann’s suite. They each agreed to take a two-hour block to sit with Lacey and do her hourly neuro checks. Ann showed the others how to do the checks and promised to create a checklist for them while she took the first watch.

  Saturday Morning

  June 2—Edgewater Resort, Ephraim, Wisconsin

  The night passed uneventfully. Lacey slept soundly except when she was awakened for her neuro checks. She had gotten used to everything about them but the flashlight in her eyes. She became nauseated with every check but was so tired that she was able to relax herself out of it and quickly get back to sleep.

  She awoke at 5:45 A.M. to the rich smell of fresh coffee. She opened her eyes to see Lark staring at her face. He broke into a smile when he saw her eyelids flutter.

  He put his coffee mug down on the side table and leaned down toward her. “I worried that the smell of coffee might bother you, but I couldn’t stay awake unless I had some. You okay?”

  She stretched her legs and moaned when pain shot though her side.

  “What’s wrong?” Lark moved over to sit on the edge of the sofa bed beside her.

  “When we catch that bastard who did this to me, I’m going to hit him in the head with a tire iron the way he kicked me in the gut.” Her hands pressed her side. She pulled her left hand back and stared at the palm. She saw the two-inch cut Gene had sutured up the night before and grimaced. “We’ll see how he feels with a big knot on his head. With any luck he’ll spend a lifetime wishing he’d never met me.”

  Lark took her left hand and studied her palm. He enfolded it in his two hands.

  “Careful, Swenson. I don’t need any cooties in that wound.”

  He laughed and she pulled her hand away. He smoothed her tangled hair away from her face, noting the bruise and the stitches near her hairline. “How’s your head this morning?”

  “Help me up and we’ll see.”

  He helped her sit up and put his arm around her as she teetered on the edge of the sofa. She groaned and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m very dizzy. I do believe a freight train has made a detour through my head.”

  Lark put his hand up to steady her head against his shoulder as he put his other arm around her. He thought about how
he could kill the son of a bitch who had done this to her.

  Ann found them sitting together like that when she came out of her bedroom dressed for her 6 A.M. shift. Lark was so focused on Lacey that he didn’t notice Ann was there until she whispered his name. She was standing right beside them.

  “How’s she doing?” Ann whispered.

  “I’ve been better.” Lacey’s voice was muffled against Lark’s arm.

  “Let’s have a look at you.” Ann sat down on the coffee table in front of them.

  “If you shine that damn flashlight in my eyes one more time, I’m going to hit you with it,” Lacey said as she disengaged herself from Lark’s arms.

  Ann laughed. “I think we’re through with the flashlight and the rest of the neuro checks.”

  John came out of the bedroom, fully dressed. “This is a first.” He made a beeline for the coffeepot. “My wife up and dressed before I am. I can’t remember the last time that happened.”

  Ann grinned and gave him the finger. “You’re a funny, funny guy. You’ll pay for that later.” She turned her attention back to Lacey. “John has his coffee so he is now going to go out on the porch and smoke one of his cancer sticks. Lark is going with him so we can have a little privacy when you walk to the bathroom.”

  “What if she passes out and you need help?” Lark asked, putting his arm back around Lacey.

  “I’d roll my eyes if my head didn’t hurt so bad,” Lacey said.

  “If we need help, we’ll yell.” Ann shooed Lark out of the way. “You’ll be right outside, glued to the door. You’ll hear us and ride to the rescue.”

  “Come on, Lark.” John held up two mugs of coffee.

  Lark followed him out on the porch. “I still think someone ought to stay in there with them. What if she falls or passes out?” Ann had pulled the door shut behind them. Lark turned around and stared at the door as if he had X-ray vision.

  “Ann won’t take any chances with her.” John took a big puff on his cigarette and watched Lark’s face. “She’ll yell if she needs anything.”

  Lark ignored him and stared at the door.

  “How long was your wife sick before she died?” John asked.

  Lark whirled around. “What did you say?”

  “Sorry if I’m prying.” John waved his hand in dismissal.

  “Nearly three years.” Lark stared down at the ducks paddling along the little stream in the garden. “She was pretty cavalier about mammograms; she thought she was too young to get breast cancer so she certainly wasn’t going to have one unless there was a reason. I was the one who found the lump and she waited a month to get it checked because of her flight schedule. We had a big fight over it so she finally went in.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  “The radiologist didn’t like what he saw on the mammogram so he did a needle biopsy and it came back cancerous. They did bone and brain scans and they were clear. She had the lump removed and her lymph nodes biopsied to find out if the cancer had spread. They were negative. We were overjoyed. At my urging she decided to have radiation therapy and chemotherapy. She had a terrible time with both.” He paused and John saw his jaw working.

  “She was nauseated and exhausted for the entire first year but there was no sign of cancer.” Lark laughed but it was without mirth. “She was ecstatic that she didn’t lose her hair. The second year was wonderful. She felt good. Her scans were all clear.” He glanced over at John and back down at the ducks. “Things were wonderful between us. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. The third year went downhill with a bullet. Her cancer marker test skyrocketed and her bone and brain scans showed metastasis.

  “She took another medical leave from United and went through chemo and radiation therapy again. During her last three months we had hospice with us to help control her nausea and her pain. She lost a lot of weight and, to her never-ending anger, she lost her hair. She died eleven months after her bone mets was diagnosed.” Lark put his coffee cup down on the railing and brushed his hand under his eyes.

  They were saved from further comment by Joel’s arrival. “How’s the patient?” he asked, noting Lark’s flushed face.

  “Ann’s helping Lacey to the bathroom. She must be doing well since we haven’t gotten any distress calls.” John waved his coffee mug at the door.

  “Skewski called me this morning. They found Lacey’s purse two hundred yards into the woods from where she was attacked. It was about a hundred yards away from a gravel road on the other side of the woods. The road had indentations that looked like a vehicle had been parked there, but, of course, we won’t be able to get any impressions since it’s gravel. Her wallet was in her purse but all her cash is gone. There are several credit cards and her driver’s license in the wallet so we’re assuming none were taken. Her house keys were there but her badge and state police ID were gone. We need to have Lacey go through it to see if anything other than her cash is missing.”

  “That’ll give her something to do today,” John said.

  “Fred Johnson’s in the clear,” Joel said, studying Lark’s face and trying to figure out what was going on with him. “He closed the shop as soon as she left and was on the telephone for an hour after that. He didn’t know anything had happened until we pulled him in last night. The telephone company did a stat review of his records. He was talking to a number in Florida for fifty-six minutes during the time Lacey was assaulted. It wasn’t him.”

  “Do you think this could be connected to the robberies or Paul Larsen’s murder?” John asked.

  “Anything’s possible,” Joel said. He patted Lark on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Lark said, not meeting his eyes.

  Ann opened the door and waved them inside. Lacey was sitting on a barstool at the counter dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. She was sipping a cup of tea. A half-eaten piece of dry toast lay on a plate in front of her. They heard someone come up the steps and turned around to see Gene.

  “How ya doing, Red?” he asked Lacey as he came through the door. “Is there someplace we can go so I can do an exam on you?” Ann took them into the bedroom and stayed in the room at Lacey’s request. Ten minutes later they were back.

  “Lacey is going to need to be off her feet for at least two days,” Gene told the group. “I want to see her before she goes back to work.” He kissed Lacey on the cheek and told her to call him if she had any problems. He left so he could get to the clinic on time for his first appointment.

  Joel sat down beside Lacey. “Let’s get you back down to your cottage so you can begin your two days of R and R. Organizing your purse to see what’s missing ought to take you at least half a day.”

  “It might if I had a purse to organize.”

  “The sheriff’s department found it in the woods. If you’ll agree to follow Gene’s orders, I’ll go get it for you. We need to know what’s missing besides your cash.”

  “That’s extortion, but I was planning on following his advice anyway, so you can go get my purse.”

  Joel left after John and Ann offered to drive Lacey to the White Gull Inn. Ann got a call from work just before they left and got stuck on the phone dealing with an employee issue. John and Lark took Lacey to the White Gull without her.

  Saturday Morning

  June 2—Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin

  The dispatcher pointed the way to Skewski’s office and told Joel to make himself at home. Joel marveled at how well organized the office was. Papers were stacked into neat piles, and file folders not stored in the old brown filing cabinet were in a file holder on the side of Skewski’s desk.

  Pictures of his wife and his children hung all over the walls. As Joel scanned the pictures, he felt as if he were watching Skewski’s kids grow up in fast-forward. Photos of two chubby-cheeked infants sat in a frame on Skewski’s desk. They looked recent and Joel assumed they were his grandchildren. He was jolted out his study of the Skewski family when the sheriff entered the office and sat down behind his de
sk.

  “Lacey is champing at the bit to get her purse back. She’s on bed rest for two days so I thought getting it organized would give her something to do.”

  “My wife would probably have sprouted wings and flown down here to get her purse. She and the queen of England are exactly alike. They’re both surgically attached to their damn pocketbooks. I’d reach blind into a coon hole in a tree faster than I’d get in my wife’s purse.” Skewski called his dispatcher and asked her to have someone bring in Lacey’s bag. “I’ll give you an update while we’re waiting.”

  Joel relaxed back in his chair.

  “We finally found one of Larsen’s safety-deposit boxes at First State Bank of Wisconsin in Sturgeon Bay. It was rented by his grandmother five years ago and he’s continued to make the payments.” He opened the evidence bag he had on his desk and pulled out two stacks of letters. The large stack was tied with a red ribbon. The edges of the envelopes were foxed a brownish gold color and smudged from multiple readings. The other set of envelopes was much smaller. They looked crisper and newer and were tied with a blue ribbon.

  “I’ve read some of these.” He lifted up the stack tied with red ribbons. “I know why Mr. Williams gave the cottage to Paul Larsen’s grandmother. They were having an affair. Her son was his kid.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Joel said.

  “Old Josh Williams was getting a little on the side,” Skewski said after an officer dropped off Lacey’s black leather shoulder bag.

  “No shit,” Joel said.

  “It looks that way from the letters. After Minevra’s husband died, Joshua offered to divorce Hyacinth and marry her. Minevra, Paul’s grandmother, must have declined, because that never happened. There are also references in his letters to some glass. He tells her to keep the glass because Iris and Hyacinth have more than enough.” Skewski began sorting through the envelopes. “Glass comes up in another letter where he again tells Minevra to not worry about keeping it because he hates the cheap stuff and Iris and Hyacinth already have way too much of it on display in the house.”