“That’s an excellent suggestion,” said Beth. Her eyes met Lew’s and held.
“Dani,” said Lew, “we have an offer to make.” Dani’s eyes widened. “If you will switch your major from cosmetology to computer science, Professor Hellenbrand, Dr. Schumacher and myself will vote to award you the first internship, six months of paid time in addition to academic credits, here at the Loon Lake Police Department. What do you say?”
“Sure,” said Dani with a huge grin. “Yes, yes and yes. I would love to do that. Anyway,” she dropped her eyes coyly, “you can’t win customers as a hair stylist when you have a cut as bad as mine.”
“Awww,” said Beth, “it’ll grow out.”
“Maybe, but I kinda like it short,” said Beth, tipping her head sideways and giving a shrug. Her eyes turned solumn. “I am sorry that I got so involved with that man. I-I should have known better … you know? I thought … I was so stupid … I thought he had a crush on me.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I have a lot to learn about guys, I guess.”
“Oh, Dani,” said Lew, “welcome to the club. We all do.”
CHAPTER 33
“Do I have to sit next to a man wearing a sweatshirt that says “Addicted to Quack?” asked Suzanne with a laugh as she, Ray, Lew and Osborne sat down to fish fry that Saturday night. A phone call from her mother with the news of Ray’s success had prompted Suzanne to take one more day off work, leave the kids with their dad and drive north for the weekend.
“If a photo of me sitting here next to this razzbonya shows up on Facebook, jeepers. I’ll never get accepted at the Cranbrook Academy of Art.”
“But I’m a world famous ice fisherman,” said Ray, “after THE TODAY SHOW aired yesterday, I got two calls from guys in Chicago who want to hire me to take them ice fishing. This is just … the beginning, folks. And … and … I am also a builder of unique ice shanties. Just think, Suzanne,” he said, “if you do get into Cranbrook, you can be my ice shanty designer. How ‘bout that!”
“Let me get into grad school first, than I’ll consider the offer, Ray.” Suzanne laughed. “I am not sure how ‘Designer of Ice Shanties’ will play on my application when they ask me how I plan to use the MFA degree. But I am pleased that you—we—won. That’s the best news I’ve had all week.”
“And I have more good news,” said Ray.
“You told us already. You’re building ice shanties,” said Osborne.
“Yeah, well that’s seasonal. I have a better idea.”
“That’s always dangerous,” said Lew with friendly grin.
“You know old Walter,” said Ray, glancing around the table with a smug look on his face.
“Y-e-e-s-s-s,” said Osborne, worried about what they might hear next. The niece he had reached had been quite cursory in her attention to funeral preparations for the old guy, basically agreeing to pay for a cremation, period.
“We’ll figure out what to do next,” she had said. “Just mail the ashes to me.”
“Well,” said Ray, “I called his niece after Doc talked to her and she agreed to let me take care of Walter, which I will do … for free.”
“And?” asked Lew.
“It will be a wildcat scattering over the land where Walter lived as a hermit all those years.”
“Does the niece know that’s your plan?”
“Nope. But no one’s living on that property so what does it matter?”
“Why call it a ‘wildcat scattering?’” asked Suzanne. “I’ve never heard that term.”
“That’s the funeral industry term for scattering ashes without permission.”
“Ray, this not a good idea,” said Lew.
“Chief Ferris, with all due respect, it is not against the law and I am talking about land where no one is living. Think what it will mean to Walter.”
Everyone stared at Ray. “Okay, but what does this have to do with your new business idea?” asked Osborne skeptically.
“It’s a start to a special service I plan to offer the bereaved. I’m calling it Love, Honor, Cherish and Scatter—and I will charge five hundred dollars to scatter your loved ones’ remains. With permission,” he added at the expression on Lew’s face. “Only in locations where I have permission. Scattering ashes is big in the cities these days but no one is doing it up here … yet. I see a real future in it.”
After leveling a baleful eye on Ray, Lew shrugged and said, “You try my soul, sir. You try my soul. Now let’s order. I’m famished.”
Later that evening as Osborne sat in his favorite chair near the fireplace, feet up and his copy of TROUT MADNESS on his lap, he watched Lew working at the kitchen table. She was determined to read through Bruce Peters’ reports from the Wausau Crime Lab before going to bed.
“Leave no paperwork undone?” kidded Osborne.
“Almost finished,” said Lew without raising her head.
Her dark curls shone under the warm kitchen lights and he could imagine the fragrance of her skin even as he watched from a distance. She had a gift for stillness and he reflected on how, whether studying in silence or casting in a moonlit trout stream, she filled his life with a quiet eloquence.
Soon they would fall asleep, her breath warm on his back. Thank goodness.
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
Dead Deceiver Page 20
