Dead Tease

by Victoria Houston

  “What’s the address?” asked Lew.

  “Um, um, let me check my notes…. Oh, here it is—the James McNeil residence. Someone broke into their basement—”

  “McNeil?” said Lew, backing toward the door. “You should have alerted me right away.”

  “Oh, but—Marlaine said not to call you unless it was something important. Oh, dear, I did the wrong thing?” Dani’s eyes filled with anxiety.

  “Dani,” said Lew, keeping her voice level even as she wanted to speak fast, “breaking and entering is a felony. Please, radio Roger right now and tell him I am on my way and he is to stop whatever he is doing and wait for my arrival.”

  She didn’t add that Roger’s competency as a deputy started and ended with emptying parking meters. Having chosen law enforcement as a second career when he found selling insurance too much effort, Roger’s ineptitude in filling out a police report had given Lew enough nightmares. She did not need another, and especially if it concerned someone with a connection to an unsolved murder.

  “Dani—why did you not think this was serious?”

  “Because they said it happened a while ago, like yesterday or the day before. Chief?”

  “What?” Lew tried hard not to be short with the girl.

  “There is another call….”

  “Okay, what’s that?”

  “Um, the crime lab guy—”

  “Bruce Peters?”

  “Right. He called and asked for Ray Pradt—said he needs help tracking, so I gave him Mr. Pradt’s phone number.” Lew’s shoulders sagged. “I did the wrong thing, huh?”

  “Oh,” said Lew shaking her head in frustration. “Here’s the way it has to work, Dani. Wait, please, don’t cry. You didn’t know and now you’re learning, and we can work this out. But Ray Pradt is not a police officer. Far from it.”

  Lew stopped there, choosing not to mention the Loon Lake Police Department’s file on Ray Pradt—the one bulging with a history of misdemeanors for indulging in a type of grass not grown in Kentucky, poaching giant trout from private ponds, and, at age eight, being the Loon Lake vendor of record for illegal fireworks. Ray never let the law get in the way of his vision of entrepreneurship.

  Though his father had been a prominent physician, his older brother a hand surgeon, and his sister a well-known trial lawyer in Chicago, Ray was less concerned with degrees, money, and consumer goods.

  He lived in a trailer home painted to resemble a humongous muskie, drove a battered truck with a leaping walleye for a hood ornament, and dedicated his days to spending as much time in the outdoors as weather would allow.

  To his credit, he was the only person Lew had ever known who could get a deer to eat out of his hand. And he was an expert tracker, which was a talent both the Loon Lake Police and the Wausau Crime Lab had utilized more than once.

  Lew suspected that Bruce Peters had been brusque in demanding that Dani reach Ray “ASAP”—a request that Marlaine would have known to run by Lew. Nor would Marlaine have been intimidated by gruff, good-looking, nerdy Bruce.

  “Dani, department policy requires that Ray Pradt be deputized by me before he is allowed to work on an investigation. And I need to check my budget before I hire him.”

  “But Bruce said—”

  “I don’t care what Bruce said. He’s not in charge.”

  “He said,” Dani gulped her words out between sobs, “he said it might rain tonight so Ray had to get to those condos where they found that woman right away. That’s what he said so—”

  “Dani, take it easy. I’m just letting you know what the procedures are around here. Now, please, I’m running out to the McNeils, I have my cell phone and the radio is always on in the cruiser. Any emergencies of any kind—notify me right away. I’ll reach Robin and ask her to relieve you.”

  “Chief Ferris,” Dani wiped at her cheeks, “I am so sorry.”

  “Later,” said Lew. “You’re not fired, so relax. I know you were doing your best.” Back at the bench where the owner of the stolen truck was sitting in dutiful silence, Lew handed him her notepad and said, “Write down your name and phone number. I have an emergency but I will put one of my deputies on this right away and see if he can locate any new information on your truck.”

  As Lew pushed open the door to leave the station, Dani ran up to hand her a note. “Sorry, Chief, I almost forgot this and he asked me to be sure you get this today.” Glancing down, Lew saw that the mayor wanted a morning meeting. Great, she thought, a budget hearing now? Maybe she could persuade him to hold off a few days.

  Moments later she was on the road to the McNeils, siren blaring, lights flashing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lew pulled up behind Roger’s squad car just as a dark green convertible zoomed by only to brake hard at the front door of the two-story contemporary lake home belonging to the McNeils. Leaping from the driver’s seat, Jim McNeil slammed his car door shut and half-walked, half-ran toward Lew. He was not smiling.

  “Mr. McNeil, I thought you would have been here half an hour ago,” said Lew, eyes full of surprise. “That’s when my officer arrived. About then anyway.”

  “Chief Ferris, we need to talk,” said McNeil through gritted teeth as he thrust his hands deep into his pockets. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he said, “This is at least the fourth time my wife has called me insisting there is a prowler. Not once have I seen any evidence that there is, in fact, a prowler. Raccoons, yes, deer, yes, people, no.

  “And I am embarrassed to say this but …” He dropped his head and, glancing off to one side, bit his lower lip as if struggling with what he might say. Making up his mind, he took a deep breath and said, “My dear wife, Leigh, is so paranoid these days that I am convinced—especially after today—that she needs professional help. Her imagination is out of control. Chief Ferris, she has worked herself into a state of hysteria.”

  Looking over McNeil’s shoulder as he spoke, Lew spotted Roger waving to her from a doorway beside the attached garage. “Down in the basement, Chief,” shouted Roger. “This way.”

  McNeil spun around.

  “Let’s discuss your wife and the calls once I get a handle on what’s going on here,” said Lew. She raised a questioning eyebrow toward McNeil. “Sounds like the officer thinks he’s found something.”

  McNeil raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness but followed Lew through the doorway to the stairwell leading down to the basement.

  McNeil at her heels, Lew skipped down the basement stairs and followed Roger through a cavernous outer area holding a furnace and storage shelving to a small laundry room where a washer and dryer were situated under two horizontal windows.

  Across from the appliances stood an ironing board and iron along with a white Formica-topped kitchen table holding a sewing machine and an assortment of empty wooden frames. A quilt rack holding a partially completed quilt stood nearby along with a smaller table heaped with wrapping papers and baskets of ribbons. It was a pristine, well-organized workroom with southern light streaming in from the overhead windows.

  Roger pointed to the dryer, and Lew walked over. At first glance, she thought someone had spilled coffee grounds on top of the appliance. It took a second before her eyes registered that the mess was mud. Examining the muddy patch up close, Lew made out one well-defined print from a shoe and a smear of caked dirt where another shoe might have slid across the top of the dryer. Clumps of dried dirt littered the floor in front of the dryer.

  “Check out that window on the right, Chief,” said Roger pointing up. Though it hadn’t been obvious when she walked into the laundry room, Lew saw that the window, a casement-type that opened out, had been shattered. Only a few shards of glass remained in the frame. “A lotta glass on the floor behind the washer and dryer,” said Roger. “I was thinking we might get prints off some of that, Chief. The light in here’s not so good right now but earlier I thought I could see a little blood—”

  Lew peered around one side of the dryer. Broken
glass littered the floor. One shard did have a dark stain running across it. She looked up at the broken window. “My guess is the intruder may have bumped that window accidentally and got cut. Now, Roger, you haven’t touched anything in here, right?”

  “Umm, not down here,” said Roger, his voice hesitant. “I, um, the lady of the house has been pretty upset since I arrived. Been trying to calm her down, see if she can tell us when this might have happened. Had to touch her to help her up the stairs. On the elbow, her left elbow. Hope that’s okay?” Roger looked ready to duck.

  “Of course that’s okay,” said Lew. How could a guy be so dumb? She reminded herself to check again to see if she couldn’t get him transferred over to the county sheriff. He’d see it as a promotion but for Lew—a relief.

  “Any sign of someone attempting to enter the house elsewhere?” asked Lew, reaching for her cell phone.

  Roger straightened up, shoulders back with pride. “No, Chief. I checked real careful just before you got here. There’s a flower garden outside those windows, and Mrs. McNeil said she had sprinklers going all day yesterday. I found muddy footprints right by this broken window but nowhere else. So we know the source of the mud and the point of entry. That’ll help, won’t it?”

  Lew knew he expected a pat on the head, but she didn’t have time. Standing in the doorway behind Roger was McNeil, his eyes moving up to the window and down to the muddied dryer as if trying to comprehend what might have happened.

  “When was the last time you were in this room?” Lew asked McNeil.

  “Me? I never come down here. This is Leigh’s workroom. Good God, I can’t believe this,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Leigh was right—someone did break in. Dammit! What do we do now?”

  “I’d check my security system for starters,” said Lew, “meanwhile excuse me while I get in touch with one of the techs from the Wausau Crime Lab who’s in town working the crime scene over at the condos. If he’s got the time, I’d sure like to get him out here tonight.

  “Dani,” said Lew, turning away from McNeil as she pressed the cell phone to one ear. “Patch me through to Bruce Peters, please. Do you know how to do that? Good.” Lew waited, “Bruce? Chief Ferris here. I got a residential break-in with one good impression of the sole of a shoe—looks like a sneaker or a sandal. Also I may have blood and prints on the window they broke getting in.”

  Lew turned to McNeil, “He’s wondering what kind of security system you have—cameras?”

  McNeil shook his head. “We got the signs but no activated system. Didn’t think we needed one in Loon Lake.”

  Lew repeated the first part of his answer then said, “Would you and Ray have time this evening to check these out when you’re finished there? I’ll have Dani give you directions…. Great. Ray is still with you, right? Put him on please.”

  Lew waited as the phone changed hands then said, “Ray, thanks for getting over there so fast, and even though Dani didn’t follow protocol, don’t worry. You are officially deputized on the project and—” Before she could say more, Ray must have interrupted her because she said, “What?” in an astonished voice. “Say that again.”

  As Lew listened, Roger and McNeil waited, watching in silence as she said, “Really? You’ve located a vehicle, too? A pickup? Any registration in it?”

  Lew nodded as she listened. “Hmm. Be careful now—don’t jump to conclusions. Just because it’s parked so close to the condos doesn’t mean the driver killed Jennifer Williams. If it’s as beat up as you say, could have been junked by someone.

  “Hold on for a minute and let me check my notes.” Lew handed her cell phone to Roger and, reaching for her notepad, she opened it to where she had written down the name of the kid whose truck was missing. Taking back her phone, she said, “Yeah, it’s the same guy,” she said. “This could be a simple coincidence but tell Bruce to impound the vehicle so he can check for prints and DNA.

  “Now, Ray, I have a break-in out at Squirrel Lake….” After describing the scene in the McNeils’ basement, Lew said, “So I told Bruce what I need here from him, but I want you to get a good shot, black and white and color, of this footprint on the dryer. Then see what you can find outside—any indication of how the individual got access to the property.”

  Before putting her phone away, Lew checked back in with Dani: “Bruce and Ray have located the pickup that was stolen from that kid. I need you to make two calls. First, call the Honda dealer over on Highway 51 and arrange for that young man to rent one of their used vehicles. Our department has an account with them—just use my name.

  “Then call the owner of the pickup and tell him we need to run some tests on his vehicle. He can pick up a rental and the Loon Lake Police Department will cover the cost. Absolutely do not say anything more than that. I don’t need anyone jumping to conclusions.

  “Oh, one more thing. Ask the owner to stop by the station because Bruce will need his prints in order to sort out what he might find in the truck. Remember how to take a person’s fingerprints? Good. Last thing—I did reach Robin and she’ll be in to relieve you at six. And, Dani—thank you.”

  Putting her phone away, Lew turned to Roger. “I want you to hustle back to the station and check the files. I need all the information you can get on Alvin Marski—where he’s living, where he’s working, where he is at this moment. See what you can find out and let me know ASAP. And, Roger, alert Todd that I may need backup during an arrest shortly. His shift doesn’t start until eight so you may have to reach him at home.”

  “Holy cow,” said Roger. “You think Marski killed that girl?”

  “I don’t know what to think—and you don’t either. All we know for sure is that Alvin borrowed that truck a couple days ago and hasn’t returned it.

  “What Ray said was he was able to follow a set of tracks from the site where the body was found—apparently the killer got some blood on his shoes. But Ray lost the trail for several hundred yards. By chance, he spotted a vehicle parked on the bike path that runs behind the clinic and those condos.

  “That does not mean the two are connected. Knowing Alvin Marski, he probably ran out of gas, ran out of cash, and walked off.”

  Lew looked over at McNeil, “We’re discussing an individual who is a repeat offender, a small-time crook—stealing fishing equipment and gas cans from pontoon boats. I’m going to be very surprised if there is any connection between Alvin Marski and Jennifer Williams.

  “So my point, Roger, is that even if you have heard me say that Marski is a person of interest, don’t assume he’s done anything more than run off with a buddy’s pickup.”

  As Lew motioned for the two men to follow her upstairs, she said, “Mr. McNeil, I will need you and your wife to stay out of the basement and your yard until Bruce and Ray have looked everything over.”

  “Fine,” said McNeil with a wave of his hands.

  “Whew,” said Lew after Roger had driven off. “This has been one busy afternoon. Mr. McNeil, let’s go see your wife.”

  “Come on,” said McNeil with a sheepish and attractive grin, “I wish you would call me Jim.”

  “Okay … Jim.” Lew managed a half-smile. “But before we talk to your wife—does that name, Alvin Marski, sound familiar? He wouldn’t be someone who has been employed at the clinic? Food service? Maintenance?”

  “Not that I’m aware,” said McNeil. “I’m happy to call our HR person just to be sure.”

  “I would appreciate that,” said Lew.

  Before following McNeil into his kitchen where Leigh was waiting with a drink in her hand, Lew took a moment to make one last call. She got Osborne’s voice mail.

  “Doc, please save me something for dinner but go ahead without me. If you’re still up for it and I get there before nine, let’s plan to fish even if it’s only for an hour.

  “Let me rephrase that: I need time on the water.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lew could see that once upon a time McNeil’s wife had been s
tunning. White-blond hair pulled smooth, twisted into a chignon at the base of her neck, and married to a creamy complexion and wide Delft-blue eyes gave her a doll-like prettiness. But prettiness marred by too much flesh.

  Whatever the cause—an excess of food or drink, lack of exercise, or too many meds—the woman’s delicate bone structure was hidden beneath jowls, puffy rings around the eyes, and cheeks that swung too loose. No doubt the redness in her face was due to the emotions of the moment, but Lew sensed this was a woman who never woke feeling happy.

  “I am terrified,” said Leigh, pounding a fist on the table as she sat in a kitchen chair across from Lew and her husband. The small tape recorder Lew had placed in the center of the table bounced and flipped over. As Lew turned it right side up, Leigh picked up a yellow legal pad in front of her and shook it in the direction of McNeil.

  “Jim, we have got to move out until the police find the person who’s stalking me. I am so totally frightened I cannot sleep here another night.”

  “Leigh …” said her husband, a note of caution hanging in the air, “we are not doing that. I’m calling the security firm and we’ll get the system repaired and upgraded. Again.”

  He turned to Lew, “The security system built into this house keeps blowing during electrical storms. Vibrations set it off so easily that half the time I don’t use it.”

  “Worse than that,” said Leigh. “Whoever is stalking us does something remotely to turn it off. Remember? Last week when you were at the conference in Appleton, it went out. The weather was fine.”

  McNeil raised his hands in a gesture of futility. “I don’t know,” he said to Lew. “I’ve had the security guys out here at least five times in the last few months. They can’t find anything wrong except the electrical storm issue, which happens to everyone in the area. We’re waiting on a new base unit so the system has been off for the last week.”

  “I want cameras,” said Leigh, whining like a six-year-old.

  “Cameras will cost us thousands of dollars,” said McNeil. “That’s overkill, and I’ve told you that.”