“What about it?”
“You didn’t go to the second floor?”
“Doug, our investigation kept us there until close to midnight last night. Right or wrong, I chose to interrogate the neighbors. No, I did not go to the second floor of the barn. But I will—why?”
“It’s fully remodeled. Place looks like shit outside but the inside has been completely renovated. All new windows, the walls rebuilt. Two big fully furnished bedrooms and a study. One of the neighbors said your other victim, Nolan Reece, paid for the renovation. Wanted those girls to have a nice home. We’ve combed through there but nothing of note to report until we have lab results.”
“Are you saying I can let them back inside tonight?”
“I think so. I’ll know pretty soon if we’ve covered everything here. The first floor of the barn has been used strictly as a garage—the old lady parked that ancient Chevy of hers in there. But there is one odd thing that you need to watch out for. That upstairs study is wired for hi-speed Internet access with a router in place—but no computer. See if you can find the computer. Has to be one somewhere, otherwise—why the expense, y’know?”
“You got the girls’ cell phones that I left with the sheriff’s deputy?”
“We did. We’re heading into the weekend so not sure how quickly we can get back to you on that. You know, Lewellyn, if you listened to my jokes …”
“Maybe next time, Doug,” said Lew, grimacing at Osborne. Jesperson grunted. “Seriously, I do appreciate you’re being willing to take the time there today.”
“Oh, and one more thing—the lab called me an hour ago. They identified the shavings under the nails of the Reece woman. Marine paint: sapphire blue.”
Osborne let Mike out of the yard and walked behind the dog down to the shoreline. He folded his arms to rest elbows and forearms on a section of dock, which had been pulled onshore and upended against a tree in preparation for the blasts of winter: furious winds determined to shovel slabs of ice up onto the banks of the lake.
As the dog ran sniffing after hints of squirrels and rabbits, Osborne leaned forward, chin on his gloved hands, ready to savor the early sunset. He could never get over the fact that late November days ended before five o’clock. So dark, so soon.
Enough light remained for him to see that even though there was open water a hundred feet out, ice now glazed the surfaces close to shore. But at the moment he was less interested in the spreading ice than thinking back over the last half hour he and Lew had spent at the Reeces’.
Lew, as eager as Osborne to end the long day, had made short order of the DNA sampling. True to his word, Jesperson had dispatched one of the young crime lab assistants who had arrived within fifteen minutes of the conversation between Chief Ferris and his boss. Once Lew made the point that everyone attending the party would have to be swabbed for DNA samples, no one had resisted except Jake Cahak.
He made the lame argument that he wasn’t invited to the dinner but Lew reminded him he had been on the premises that night. With a shrug, he had agreed. After the samples were taken,
Lew checked with Jesperson one more time and was relieved to hear that the Dark Sky sisters could return to Mildred’s. That was when she said that since she had to drop Osborne off to get his car—she might as well give the girls a ride to town, too.
Leaning on the dock, Osborne thought back over that moment. Had he seen disappointment on Jake’s face? Or was he reading too much into the man’s expressions? He made a mental note to ask Lew if she had noticed a change when he learned he wouldn’t be the girls’ driver this time.
She may not have, as her attention had been drawn to Josie, who was lugging more than the overnight case and purse that Frances was carrying.
“Josie, what is that?” Lew had said as the girls were climbing into the back seat of the cruiser. She pointed to a flat plastic case that Josie had slung over one shoulder—bright blue with yellow and orange flowers.
“Oh, this? Just my school laptop,” said Josie.
“You have a computer in there?”
“Uh huh” Josie set the case on her lap and looked out the window as if the discussion was ended. Lew left it at that for the moment and turned the ignition key.
The four of them drove in silence until Lew turned onto Highway C. Then Josie had leaned forward from the back seat to say, “Chief Ferris, I remembered something that happened before dinner the other night.”
“Yes …” Lew waited to hear.
Osborne turned sideways, eyes on Josie as she spoke. “I. well. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
Lew glanced up at the rearview mirror to catch Josie’s expression and said, “Withholding information that might be important to the investigation is not wise, Josie. You can end up in more trouble than you might expect. Does this involve Jake Cahak?”
“No,” the girl said. Osborne saw Frances give her sister a look of surprise. “Blue and her mom had a big argument. Up in the guesthouse. I heard because I was in the bathroom fixing my hair.”
“Did you hear this, too, Frances?” said Lew.
“No,” said Frances in a low voice. “I wasn’t there.”
“Josie, what was the argument about—could you tell?”
“Yes, it was about money,” said Josie. “I couldn’t hear it all but Blue was real mad because her mother wouldn’t give her some. The door was closed so I couldn’t hear all the words real clear—but Blue screamed at her, then stomped out.”
“This was before the party?”
“It was when the party was just getting started ‘cause Blue got there late. Her mom was real mad about that.”
“Maybe that’s what the argument was all about,” said Lew.
“No. I heard them screaming at each other about money,” said Josie. “Mrs. Reece was shouting that she knew Blue was stealing money from her—maybe her purse or something? I couldn’t hear more than that.”
“They fought a lot, didn’t they?” said Lew.
“Not really,” said Frances, shifting on the car seat as if to distance herself from her sister. “Mrs. Reece could get pretty mean sometimes—to Blue and to Mr. Reece. But they were good about it.” Frances looked at Josie. “I never heard Blue get mad at her mother.”
“You weren’t there in the bathroom that night,” said Josie. “I know what I heard.”
“Whatever.” Frances turned her face away from her sister to stare out the car window.
Lew had decided to drop the girls off first and pulled into the drive alongside the door to the shop. “Mr. Jesperson from the Wausau Crime Lab said that he made sure the keys were left on the store counter. I’ll wait here to be sure you can get inside okay and in the morning, I’ll stop by. I would like to see all the work
that’s been done in the barn for you girls. Is that where you sleep?”
“Josie sleeps there,” said Frances. “I like my room in the house.”
As Josie opened the car door to get out, Lew reached back over the seat and said, “I’ll take your laptop, Josie. You can leave that on the seat there.”
Josie clutched the case to her chest. “No, I have all my school work on this. I have to have it.” She was getting out of the car when Lew nudged Osborne. He opened the car door and stepped out to block Josie’s way.
“We’ll be very careful with it, Josie,” he said as he reached for the case, wondering if he would have to fight her for it. But she let the strap slip off her shoulder without resisting, a pout on her face.
Back in the cruiser after the girls entered the house, Lew looked over at Osborne and said, “Looks like we found the missing computer, doesn’t it? Jesperson’s not going to let me forget that I should’ve checked for this. Damn, I hate it when I overlook the obvious, you know?”
“Thing is, Lew,” said Osborne trying hard to remember the scene at Mildred’s as Blue picked up the girls. “I don’t think Josie had it with her that night. You had each girl pack an overnight bag and they each had a purse. I�
��m almost sure of that.”
“You’re right, Doc. I don’t remember seeing the case she carries it in either. She certainly didn’t leave it at the Reeces’ either because we would have seen it.”
“Guess you need to run this down to Wausau in the morning?” said Osborne.
“Let me talk to Gina first,” said Lew. “She does computer forensics. Rather pay for her time than that creep Jesperson.” “I don’t blame you.”
Osborne pushed back from the dock. He had an hour to shower and change before fish fry. Before calling the dog, he studied the ice along the shore where the setting sun had turned it rose pink. The fading light highlighted a series of circles that each held their own center with ripples radiating out. Were those caused by miniature springs bubbling up from the lake bottom? Or had a late hatch of insects enticed fish circling just under the thin crust of ice?
The thought of the insects reminded him of his winter surprise for Lew: he was going to use his own new laptop computer, a birthday gift from his daughters, to visit the Wisconsin Fly Fisherman’s website every week. Once there, he would go to their database of “Aquatic Insects of Wisconsin Trout Streams” with a goal of memorizing two names for each of the stoneflies listed: the Latin family name and the insect’s common name. Next winter he would do the mayflies and the winter after that—the caddisflies.
Or maybe just their common names. He had yet to determine how hard his plan was going to be. The Latin terms might be a struggle as it had been too many years since he had studied Latin in high school. But the insects’ common names were enchanting—so provocative they should be easy to remember: Pale Evening Dun, Black Quill, Summer Golden, Yellow Eyes, White Wulff, Blank Dance.
Yep, if he did this right, he might not cast like an expert but he sure could sound like one.
Smiling at the thought, he called the dog. “Here, Mike. Time for us to shower. Friday night, doncha know—fish fry!”
CHAPTER 24
The Loon Lake Pub was bustling, with every table in sight filled. Brass sconces along the walls cast a warm glow making it easy to forget the freezing temperatures outdoors. A happy buzz of voices peppered with occasional hoots of laughter put a smile on Osborne’s face as he and Lew entered the bar fronting the dining room. A shout from one of the tables near the back caught their attention—Ray and Gina had already arrived and commandeered a table for four.
Given it was Friday night, Ray—on behalf of everyone at the table—had waived a need for menus and no one argued: fish fry for all. As Osborne leaned towards the waitress to order frosted mugs of Leinenkugel’s Red for the ladies and Cokes for himself and Ray, he saw two hands park themselves on Lew’s shoulders. Ralph Steadman, his chest expansive in a green and gold plaid Pendleton wool shirt, his white beard neatly trimmed to emphasize his perpetual sportsman’s tan, loomed over their table.
Great, thought Osborne, just when the evening was off to a wonderful start, this razzbonya has to show up. He did not return Ralph’s big fat grin.
“Chief Lewellyn Ferris,” said Ralph, bending so close he threatened to nuzzle Lew’s ear. He spoke with more than a hint of an English accent, which always struck Osborne as pretentious. It
was Osborne’s personal opinion, shared with his McDonald’s buddies on more than one occasion, that since the man’s parents had moved to the US when Ralph was four, he’d had plenty of time to lose the accent. Plenty of time.
“Have you made up your mind about our fly fishing trip to Jackson Hole?” said Ralph. “Tough to turn that freebie down—it’s going to be a hell of a trip. “
“I have indeed,” said Lew, pushing her chair back to gaze up at him with smiling eyes. “Not only am I planning to go but,” she extended her left hand towards Osborne, “I’ve invited Doc here to join me. He can pick up a lot more fly fishing expertise on that trip than I can ever teach him.”
A shadow crossed Ralph’s face. “But there’s only two openings.”
“Last time I checked there were only two of us,” said Lew, indicating herself and Osborne.
“Oh,” said Ralph, taken aback. Osborne knew right then that the jerk had planned for himself to be Number Two. Sorry, guy.
“Doc knows, of course, the entire trip is on horseback?”
“He sure does,” said Lew as Osborne nodded in agreement.
“Well, in that case you two better start training. Doc, when was the last time you were on a horse?”
Osborne pursed his lips, thinking. “Oh, fifty years ago maybe.”
“The ride in is twenty-two miles. That’s a bit of a ride even for a cowboy.” Ralph was not going to give up easy.
“How long a ride is that?” said Lew. “Must be several hours at least.”
“Six and a half. If the weather holds.”
“Six and a half hours straight on horseback?” Lew’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“I told you to expect serious backcountry fishing,” said Ralph. “Here’s some advice, you two. The outfitter recommends that first-timers wear panty hose—helps minimize the saddle sores. Doc, I think you’ll want to go for a woman’s extra extra large.”
“You’re putting us on, right?” said Osborne. Ray and Gina had covered their mouths with their napkins.
“Oh, come on, Ralph,” said Lew. “Did you wear panty hose when you went?”
“I haven’t made this trip, Chief. That’s why it was offered to the store. They’re trying to build business because it’s such a rugged go. But worth it—you’ll fish the Buffalo, Atlantic Creek—maybe the Thoroughfare. Famous trout water. And everything is packed in by the outfitter—tents, food, latrine, bear spray, you name it—all you need to bring is your fishing gear.”
“And panty hose,” said Lew with a lift of her eyebrows. “Wish you’d told me that part.”
“Enjoy your dinner, folks,” said Ralph, looking as satisfied as a walleye that had swallowed two minnows without getting hooked, “gotta get back to my table or my wife’ll kill me.”
Lew waited until Ralph was out of hearing range before she said, “He made that up—the panty hose part. I know I’m sure as hell not riding six hours in the heat of July in panty hose”
“Six and a half hours,” said Ray. “No, I don’t think he is wrong on that. I’ve guided a few fellas who’ve been on hunting trips where you go by horse into the backcountry for elk. I can tell ya they were a l-o-o-n-g time recovering, doncha know. If you like, I’ll check with one of ‘em—see what he suggests”
“Please,” said Osborne. “Woman’s extra extra large. God help me!”
Near the end of a meal that was as delicious as ever—the consensus of the group was that only Ray could sauté walleye or
bluegill better than the chef at the Pub—Lew broke the promise she had made to Osborne when he’d picked her up earlier.
“I know I promised no work talk tonight,” she said as she lifted her fork to cut into a slice of lemon meringue pie, “but I have a favor to ask of Gina.”
“Go right ahead,” said Gina, diving into her own wedge of pie. “I’ve had an excellent day capped off with an evening with good friends. I am in the mood to bestow multiple favors. What do you need?”
“The Wausau boys had already headed south when I found that one of the Dark Sky sisters had her laptop with her still. I had hoped that all the cell phones and computers connected with both investigations would be in their hands for analysis. Any chance I could send Josie’s home with you and have you take a look at what she might have—or not have—on the hard drive?”
“Better yet,” said Gina, “you’re talking high school kid, right?”
“Sophomore.”
“Let’s see where she’s been going online, too. That’s where you’ll get the best read on the kid. iTunes, eBay, Facebook—I’d love to see what she’s up to. In fact, it fits in a funny way with my work on the stolen credit cards because just today we reached an agreement with the local ISPs and their lawyers to the point that I’v
e narrowed our search to a final twenty-two locations selling fishing licenses. I noticed that Mildred’s Food Shop is on the list. I doubt Josie’s laptop has anything to do with our search but at least I’ll know we’ve examined all the computers in use at that location.”
“I’m not sure what else you need,” said Lew, “but the crime lab has finished their work at Mildred’s place so we can check the shop out easily in the morning. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, I’m interested in her place and the neighbors. We’re beginning to think that we may have innocent merchants with lousy firewalls and outdated security software that have outsiders siphoning off their electronic data. I’ve gotta believe a little shop like your victim’s is a classic example. At the very least, her place will give me a baseline for our investigation up here.”
“What about you, Doc?” said Ray, turning to Osborne. “I’m gonna fight that ice in the morning for one last day of muskie fishing. Wanna come along?”
“Nope,” said Osborne, “Chief needs me. We’re expecting Blue Reece’s fiancé and his parents to fly in first thing. Last on our list of people who were at the dinner party the other night—right, Lew?”
“Doc, I had a call from the switchboard just before you arrived. The winter storm that’s due to hit us late tomorrow has shut down Chicago’s O’Hare airport. The Murphys have changed their flights to arrive Sunday morning.” She gave him a wicked grin. “I see no reason you shouldn’t take the morning to fish with Ray.”
“Hey, old man,” Ray hit Osborne in the arm, “you gotta come. No more muskie until next spring, y’know. My boat’s ready, I got plenty of hot coffee. And I figure we’ll fish those—”
“Jeez, Ray,” said Osborne, “you and I both know this is the worst time of the year for muskie action and it’s going to be damn cold tomorrow.”
“You’re right, Doc. No time for sissies.”
“You mean guys who wear panty hose?”
Dead Hot Shot Page 14
