“She convinced her father that Blue was in need of strict parental discipline and that implying that Nolan could change the trust would help her guide her daughter through adolescence. Since Nolan had been a nightmare of a teenager herself, he agreed to that. Given that she’s now dead, I have the legal right to tell that young woman the truth.”
“So Nolan Reece lied to her daughter in hopes of forcing this marriage?” said Lew.
“It appears that way.”
“Vern, you can’t be telling us that you let this happen?” said Marge, foot pumping even faster.
“I had to. If I had opened my mouth, trust me, Nolan would have sued the bejesus out of us, Marge. Frankly, that family is so screwed up I’m not sure what good telling Blue the truth would have done. Given her behavior these past last few years, I think her mother was wise to keep that from her. It appears it was the only measure of control she had over the kid.”
“May I add a few comments of my own?” said Marge. Osborne and Lew shifted their chairs to face her. “I realize my husband, the lawyer, is an expert on these issues, but as a guidance counselor with a Masters in psych, I’m not stupid when it comes to people.”
“I doubt you are,” said Lew, encouraging her to continue. “I’m quite interested in your observations, Marge.”
“On the numerous occasions that Vern and I have been guests in the Reece home, I have always been struck by how angry Nolan is—was, I mean. An anger simmering just below the surface. You never knew what might set her off. The most innocent remark could do it. And she was always watching, always.”
“C’mon, Marge, she wasn’t always angry,” said Vern. “She seemed quite happy and gracious the other night—”
Marge threw her hands up in the air. “Go right ahead and disagree with me, Vern, but I sensed it every time I was around her. Maybe women are better at picking up on that. I don’t know. Let me put it this way: she wasn’t someone I would want to be around if I didn’t have to—she made me damn nervous.”
“A lot of people make you nervous, Marge honey,” said Vern, rocking back in his chair.
“Don’t ‘Marge honey’ me, Vern. I’m a professional, I know what I’m saying.”
“Okay, okay,” said Vern, tossing the pen he’d been toying with into the air.
“If you disliked her so much, why did you spend time with her?” said Lew.
“She’s Vern’s client.”
“I did work for her father and I’m cheaper than the Chicago guys,” said Vern.
“Even though she had lost so much money, she had legal obligations that had to be met. We were in the process of rescinding a major donation that she had promised—and there are a few other promises she couldn’t keep.”
“Such as?” said Lew.
“Oh, the tough one is she promised so much to the Dark Sky sisters. She said she would pay for their education and I know she told Josie that she would be an heiress some day. She adored that girl. Someone is going to be very disappointed, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe Blue will step in, since she’s certainly going to be in a position to do so,” said Osborne. Blue had struck him as a serious, thoughtful young woman. If she was bright and caring, why would she not at least cover the girls’ college costs?
“I don’t know about that,” said Vern. “Certainly something to be discussed. Nolan had a bad habit of criticizing Blue in front of the sisters. Blue could have some mixed feelings about those girls. We’ll have to see.”
“Told you,” said Marge. “She was not a happy person and she did her best to pollute the people around her. Now I know my husband thinks I’m overstating the case here but.,” she gave
Lew and Osborne a beseeching look, “you know what I mean? A person like that can have a lot of enemies”
Outside the office, Osborne turned to Lew as they headed back towards the old courthouse and Lew’s office. “Aren’t the Pokornys a fun couple?”
Lew laughed. “I’m interested in that remark of Vern’s—when he said Nolan had been a nightmare as a teenager. You know, it’s not inconceivable that someone out of her past—”
“How about someone in her recent past,” said Osborne. “Say a carpenter, a plumber or one of the subcontractors working on that house. Someone she refused to pay or verbally abused. Remember, Erin said she was very rude to the butcher at the Loon Lake Market. Who knows? Given what we’re hearing, could be a long list.”
CHAPTER 19
As Lew’s cruiser wound its way up the drive to the Reece home, Osborne spotted a forest green Dodge Ram pick-up parked behind one of the Reeces’ grey Range Rovers. “Isn’t that the same truck that dropped off Frances and Josie yesterday?” he said, craning his head to look back as Lew pulled into an empty space between two familiar black vans parked in the spaces near the side door: the Wausau boys at work.
“Doug?” said Lew in surprise as she got out of the car and looked up to see a man, dressed in business clothes, standing in the doorway to the Reeces’ kitchen. “I thought you retired.” She ducked back into the car on the pretense of picking up files from the front seat but whispered to Osborne, “Don’t you dare leave me alone with that man. He always stand too close and insists on telling dirty jokes.”
“Who is he?” Osborne whispered back.
“Doug Jesperson.”
“A good Scandinavian name.”
“Yeah, well he’s a creep. He was director of the Wausau Crime Lab. I thought he retired. He did retire. Wonder why the hell he’s back now.”
“Chief Lewellyn Ferris,” said Jesperson, walking towards Lew with his arms open and a goofy smile on his face. A slight man
with wispy dun-colored hair and pale skin, he was wearing a button-down shirt that did nothing to restrain the paunch drooping over the belt of his dark grey slacks. The lapels of his suit jacket held dustings of dandruff. Lew ducked the open arms and backed away. “I thought you retired, Doug. What’s the deal?”
“Holiday, kiddo. I fill in for the regulars on occasion. Good to see you. Had a word about an hour ago with your compatriot in the funny hat. Haven’t seen him since.”
“You mean Ray Pradt?”
“Yeah, boy, did he have a funny joke this morning. Did you hear the one about the milkman and the lady who ordered twenty-five gallons of milk for her bath?”
“Doug, I’ve got work to do. This is Dr. Paul Osborne—a deputy of mine. We need to sit down with the Reeces’ ASAP. Switchboard said they’ve been allowed into the house. Do I assume you approved that?”
“So the milkman says, ‘Twenty-five gallons! Don’t you mean 2.5 gallons?’
“‘No, she says, ‘I need it for my bath.’
“‘Oh,’ says the milkman, ‘you need that pasteurized?’ “
“Doug, put a lid on it,” said Lew, brushing past him towards the door. “You know I don’t like off-color jokes.”
“It’s a Ray joke.”
“I don’t listen to dirty jokes from him either.” Lew yanked open the door and disappeared into the house.
“So the lady says,” Doug called after her, “‘No, just up to my shoulders.’ Get it? past—”
Osborne stopped in front of the guy and reached to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Doug. You’re right. That is a Ray joke. I’ve heard it a few times. Good effort on the delivery.”
A disheartened look on his face, Doug followed them into the Reeces’ kitchen. “I asked the family to wait in the den,” he said with a dismissive wave of one hand. “We needed some information from them as we processed the house, which, for the record, has yielded nothing of interest at this point. No evidence of forced entry, nothing missing. Three of us have been here since six this morning. I’ve got the team down in the boathouse right now. We may find more there. I’ll let you know.”
He gestured towards the closed door to the den and lowered his voice. “That guy in there—the victim’s husband—a total freak. Got crap on that computer you wouldn’t believe—”
“P
orn?” asked Lew.
“Hell, no. Fantasy fishing. Guy’s nuts about the stuff. And the daughter’s not Miss Congeniality is she? You got your hands full with those two.”
“You will take the computer and the cell phones with you—give me an analysis of the contents?”
“Of course, Lewellyn,” he said in a tone so patronizing Osborne had the urge to remind him he was addressing a person carrying a gun. “I’ll have techs work with them later today and once we got the data, we’ll get back to you.”
“Thank you,” said Lew, ignoring his attitude. “One more thing, Doug—I called down to the lab after you had left this morning so I’m not sure if you got the message that Loon Lake had another homicide late last night—”
“The old lady who got robbed? Yeah, I got the message. Can’t you handle that on your own? Get a detective over from the sheriff’s department. Those guys need something to do.” Doug picked up his coat and turned towards the door.
“But the shop,” said Lew, “if she was assaulted indoors and forced from the building at gunpoint, Wausau has the technology to handle that evidence better than we do up here.”
“Lewellyn, it’s an old lady running a candy store. Maybe they got fifty bucks off her. Not like this situation.”
“You mean the death of a prominent, wealthy individual merits a close look at the crime scene but the death of an elderly shopkeeper does not?”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t think it’s going to yield—”
“You don’t think you’re going to get interviewed on TV for investigating a robbery at Mildred’s Food Shop—but you will be for looking into the death of the woman who was heir to one of the largest family fortunes in the Midwest, right?”
“Okay, okay, we’ll head over there when we’ve finished here.”
“You’re sure? Because Loon Lake is happy to pay for the analysis of both these crime scenes. I—”
“I heard you,” said Doug. He stormed out of the kitchen.
“No, Doug, wait,” said Lew, running after him. “Something I want you to be sure to get when you’re there.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, okay?”
“I have no intention of doing that. It’s just that you should know that Mildred Taggert has been the foster mother to two teenage girls whose natural mother was just released from prison after serving time for dealing drugs on the reservation. I think it might be wise to check the girls’ cell phones, too.”
Jesperson made no attempt to hide his irritation as he gave a wave. “We’ll take care of the details, Lewellyn.”
Back in the kitchen, Lew stood with her hands on her hips staring down at the floor. After a few seconds, she looked up. “Doc, I don’t think I handled that very well. Something about that man—just looking at him makes me mad.”
“Well, Lew, I don’t think you have to worry about whether he’ll stop by Mildred’s. I doubt he wants to be badgered by you for awhile.”
Lew’s cell phone rang. She answered, spoke briefly and hung up. “The pathologist called. Nolan Reece died of blunt force trauma to the right side of her neck, which appears to have prompted a laryngospasm. No water in the lungs. They’ll be analyzing the scrapings from under her nails and that may take until next Monday for results.”
“What about all that scuffing we saw on her clothing?”
“No marks on corresponding areas of the body apparently. But I’ll ask about that.”
“Who drives that green pick-up I see in your driveway?” asked Lew after knocking, then opening the door to the den.
At the sound of Lew’s voice, Blue uncurled her long, thin frame from the easy chair where she had been sitting with her feet up, arms hugging her knees. Scuffed, tight jeans and a close-fitting black t-shirt under a worn black leather jacket, her face devoid of makeup and her short hair tousled, she looked years younger than a twenty-something heir to millions. She looked like a teenager in need of a good night’s sleep.
“That’s Jake Cahak,” she said. “He’s the caretaker here. He’s always around.”
Andy rocked back in the swivel chair behind his desk and pushed himself to his feet. Given the rapid drop in temperature outdoors, Osborne was relieved to see he had traded the Bermuda shorts for a pair of dark brown corduroys and a navy blue sweater at least one size too big. He had bags under his eyes, visible beneath the dark rims of his glasses. He might have been crying.
“Jake Cahak,” said Lew, “is that who dropped the girls off yesterday?”
“Oh yes, Mother had arranged that, too—just like Thanksgiving dinner.” The irony in Blue’s voice was as unmistakable as the circles under her eyes. She, too, had been crying. Maybe Lew was wrong, thought Osborne, and it’s a Scandinavian trait to have delayed reactions.
“Jake takes care of all the upkeep this place needs,” said Andy. “A good man—does anything you ask him to. He should be leaving in a few minutes. I asked him to pick up the dogs at the kennel. The Murphys don’t have a dog so I didn’t want ours running all over their place. And he’ll pick up Frances and Josie on his way back—I thought they might be more comfortable over here now that we’re allowed back in.”
“What did he have to say about your wife’s death?” said Lew.
“Pretty upset. Feels it’s his fault an intruder got on the property. Yeah, he’s promised to keep a very close eye on things.”
“Folks,” said Lew, “let’s go into the kitchen where there’s a little more room for all of us to talk—please?” Andy and Blue followed her out of the den and back into the kitchen.
“Since Frances and Josie were never allowed to drive that old heap of Mildred’s, Nolan arranged for Jake to handle their transport on the weekends and whenever,” said Andy as he pulled out a kitchen chair for Lew before sitting down himself. Blue took the chair beside Andy, giving him a pat of assurance on his shoulders as she did so.
“The night of the dinner party—would he have picked them up that night, too?” said Osborne. He glanced over at Lew. “The girls couldn’t remember exactly what time they got home—he might know if he dropped them off.”
“Good point,” said Lew. She jotted down a note. “Andy, how did you and your wife come to know the Dark Sky sisters? Through church or. how?”
“Fantasy fishing,” said Andy. “It’s my hobby—”
“Your obsession, you mean,” said Blue, giving him a fond look.
“Well.,” Andy hunched his shoulders in embarrassment, “I guess you can put it that way. That’s why every day I liked to stop by Mildred’s for the latest news. See, she posts the tournament bulletins on the wall behind the cash register, sells the fishing magazines I like, keeps a lunar calendar so you can see the major and minor fish feeding times.”
“Perfectly innocent pastime,” said Blue. “But you know what Mother did? Wait, Andy, you tell ‘em what she did. It was unbelievable—but classic. Just classic.” Blue rolled her eyes.
Osborne was surprised to hear Blue call Andy by his first name. Hadn’t she called him “Dad” before? And she seemed so protective of the guy. Had something changed between the two?
“My wife thought I was having an affair—now, do you believe that? Me?” Andy pressed his right hand against his chest as he gave a sheepish grin. “So she followed me there one day and that’s how she met the girls. Took a liking to little Josie right away.”
“Oh, yes ‘little Josie’—cute, perky—everything I’m not,” said Blue. She cast a dim eye towards Lew and Osborne. “In case you can’t tell, I’m tired of hearing about little Josie.”
“And Frances?” said Osborne.
“Oh, Frances is okay,” said Blue. “I like Frances. She’s a good egg, tries hard. Takes a lot of crap from that sister of hers, though. Frances I don’t mind having around. A little bit of Josie goes a long way. But I’m talking too much—sorry, Andy.”
“Nolan was ready for a new interest, something she could sink her teeth into—”
“Besides us,” sai
d Blue. “And a good thing, too. Andy and I? We were tired of being targets.”
Ignoring Blue, Andy said, “The girls brought out the best in Nolan. I guess the way to put it is that Nolan always did better on her own than in a group—so the Dark Sky sisters became her special project. They needed a fairy godmother and Nolan could be that for them: expose them to a better way of life, help with their education, buy them nice clothes, fix up their rooms. See that they have things other kids have like iPods and laptops and—”
“And more clothes,” said Blue. “My mother spent a thousand
bucks on Josie’s back to school stuff. A thousand bucks! Do you believe it?”
Andy played with the edge of a place mat on the table. “Nolan got so much enjoyment doing things for the girls that she decided to establish a foundation that would help more Native American girls.”
“Yeah, well, Josie enjoyed the fact she promised to put her in her will,” said Blue. She tapped her cigarette on the edge of a blue ceramic bluegill that doubled as an ashtray and said, “My mother had a habit of making promises she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—keep”
“Is that true, Andy?” asked Lew.
Andy was silent for a moment, then said, “My wife was not a well woman. Blue knows. We made allowances.”
“I’d like to hear more about that,” said Lew.
“From both of us together or individually?” said Blue. “If Andy doesn’t mind, I’d rather we did it one on one or,” she glanced at Osborne, “two on one. I … well, I’ll be more frank if I’m by myself. Andy, do you mind?”
“Not in the least,” said Andy, getting to his feet. Blue reached up for his hand, caught it and held on. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me,” said Andy, patting her on the shoulder.
“I love you, man,” said Blue with a squeeze of his hand before letting go. “Nothing’s changed, you know.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He started towards the den, then stopped and turned back. “Chief Ferris? It’s okay that I bought a new computer isn’t it? I figured the crime lab might keep mine for a while and I really need to be online. I paid a guy at Best Buy to run one up from Wausau this morning and I have a receipt dated today.
Dead Hot Shot Page 11
