Dead Water

by Victoria Houston

  “Sounds good to me, Ray. Zenner’s having a great time,” said Joel, dropping the formal Carl. Osborne wondered if this was the first time he had used his son’s nickname.

  “Why do they call him Zenner?” asked Lew.

  “When we first moved here, he told the kids at school he was a Zen Buddhist,” said Joel.

  “You’re kidding,” said Ray.

  The dentist shot him a long look. “I wish I were, Ray. How would you like living with a hormone-riddled Zen Buddhist? Not what his mother and I asked for when he was born. Zenner is what the kids at Loon Lake High started calling him, and it’s stuck.”

  “How do you practice Zen Buddhism in this neck of the woods, Joel?” asked Osborne.

  “Oh, he’s moved on from that,” said Joel. “You’ll need all the help you can get, Ray. I know you’re younger than I am, but kids are different these days. Very different.”

  For a moment, everyone was quiet in the soft summer night, the lake a glassy black, the air fragrant with pine. Then Joel spoke, his voice low and mesmerizing, almost confessional, in a rhythm that no one seemed inclined to break.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “The kid is bright, he’s creative, but he’s just so goddamn goofy. A couple months after we got here, he developed a crush on some girl who was a Wicca. Do you know what that is?” Osborne could feel rather than see his eyes in the dark.

  “A witch,” said Lew. “A good witch. Pretty harmless, Dr. Frahm. Quite a few of the girls at the high school are into that. Beats LSD.”

  “Well … okay,” said Joel, “but the next thing his mother and I knew, he had books about vampires lying around his room. Now what’s that all about?”

  “That was last year,” said Lew. “I think the vampire thing has died down.”

  “I can’t believe we’re standing here discussing vampires,” said Osborne.

  “You need to work for me full-time,” said Lew. “That’s the tip of the iceberg, Doc.”

  “I just wish the kid would be a goddamn soccer player … or an ice fisherman,” said Joel. “Something normal.”

  “That reminds me,” said Ray with a chuckle, “I guess I better let ol’ Nick in on the fact I dig graves. Better he hear it from me than one of those razzbonyas in summer school.”

  “He doesn’t know?” said Osborne.

  “Not yet,” said Ray. “My trailer, the leeches, my wax worms in the fridge … not to mention the phone situation. It’s all been kind of a shock for the kid. Elise did not exactly prepare him.” He stood at the end of the dock, staring up at a half-crescent moon. “I’ll take him out in the boat tomorrow night. I’ll explain it all to him then.”

  The adults headed back up toward the trailer, where the door stood ajar. Ray’s kitchen window was open, and the boys’ voices, interspersed with giggles, came through clearly. Lew was walking at the front of the group. A sudden burst of giggling from inside the trailer caused her to stop and listen. They all did. Osborne grinned in the dark. He was starting to feel a little better about Nick. Maybe the kid wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Yeah!” Nick’s voice rang out. A brief silence and a few clicking sounds as if the computer were being turned off.

  Then Zenner’s voice. “Hey, man, so what’s your thing? Are you a jock or what?”

  “Nah. I’m just a bytehead.”

  “Me, too. And I’m into Goth.”

  “Oh yeah, I got friends into Goth.”

  “But you aren’t?”

  “Nah. Well … I just moved to my mom’s. I don’t know too many kids at my new school yet.”

  “You got vampires there?”

  “Some. Pretty subset, y’know.”

  “Huh. You got a stepfather?”

  “My mom’s got a new boyfriend. He’s on Wall Street. Makes twenty million a year.” Nick’s tone was one of obvious pride.

  Zenner whistled. “Guess you won’t be living in a house trailer for long.”

  “I gotta be here all summer. Bummer. My mom’s boyfriend is younger than she is. She doesn’t want him to meet me until she’s got him signed, sealed, and delivered.”

  Jeez, thought Osborne, what was it Gina had said? Kids today know more than they should. How right she is.

  “So what’s Ray to you?” asked Zenner.

  Osborne held his breath, acutely conscious of Ray standing right behind him.

  “I guess he’s my birth father,” said Nick. “That’s what she says anyway.”

  “Did you see the birth certificate?”

  “No.”

  “I know how we can go on-line and find it.”

  That was enough. Lew made a sudden noise to alert the boys of their presence.

  Ten minutes later, after the Frahms had departed, Lew, Osborne, and Ray walked slowly up the lane toward the main road. Osborne waited until he was sure he was out of earshot of the trailer. He wanted desperately to say something that would make it right for his friend.

  “That was interesting, Ray.”

  “Yep,” said Ray. “Well …” He sighed resignedly. “I guess if he’s gotta be here all summer, then he may as well go

  home a decent muskie fisherman. That’s all there is to it, Doc. That’s the best I can do.”

  “We know folks who pay good money for that,” said Lew.

  “Yep. Good night, you two.” Ray walked his loopy walk back toward the trailer, his shoulders drooping and his head down. After watching his friend for a moment, Osborne handed the saliva-marked credit card to Lew.

  “At least we know what Elise is up to,” said Osborne once they hit the road. His own drive was just 400 feet ahead.

  “Are you surprised?”

  “No. You wouldn’t be, either, if you knew the woman.”

  They walked on, silence warm between them. Lew’s little red fishing truck came into view, parked in the left-hand space in Osborne’s driveway. Its shadow loomed like bad news. He hated to see her go.

  “Got all your gear in the truck?”

  “Yep. Thank you for a nice evening.”

  As he walked with her to the truck, she paused to open the plate over the gas tank and reach inside for her keys.

  “Habit.” She grinned. She reached for the handle on the driver’s side door. The interior light flashed briefly, then she let the door swing closed enough for the light to go out. She turned to face him.

  Osborne found himself standing close to her, closer than he ever had. Lew curled her right hand into a small fist and nudged at his arm with her knuckle. Though she was touching him lightly outside his clothing, the sensation was of a stroke significantly more intimate. He couldn’t help moving closer. The moonlight was hazy but bright enough that he could find her eyes. Her gaze held his.

  “I had a very nice evening,” he said, wondering why he had to lose control of the English language. Surely he could think of something better to say than repeating her words. Still, she held his eyes with hers, her dark, deep eyes.

  Suddenly she lifted her face to give him a quick, impulsive kiss on the lips. A kiss both short and long. A kiss that held for a moment that he would replay again and again. What happened after that was a blur. How she got into her truck he never knew, how he got back to his own house was a blank, too. But he sure knew where he was from that point on: sky high.

  twenty-four

  “The congeniality and tact and patience demanded by matrimony are great, but you need still more of each on a fishing trip.”

  Frederic F. Van de Water, author

  Osborne woke to a gray, miserable day. The chop on the lake was the color of lead, and a stiff, damp wind chilled his bones as he walked onto the dock with a cup of coffee. One sip and he headed right back up to the house. This was not the morning to watch ducks and ruminate on life’s modest pleasures. Scooting Mike along in front of him, he put the dog behind the fence and hurried back into the kitchen to warm up.

  Poor Gina, he thought. She must be freezing to death. This was the kind of day the tourists
curse: Up for sun and fun, they get winter in June. They would be all over Loon Lake today, crowding the gift shops for trinkets, shopping at Ralph’s Sporting Goods for sweatshirts and rain gear, and packing into the Pub for egg salad sandwiches and chicken noodle soup. Yep, the kind of day to stay warm from the inside out.

  A sleepy-eyed Nick literally fell out of the door of Ray’s trailer when Osborne pulled up. At first he thought the kid hadn’t even changed his clothes. The uniform was identical to the night before, though a closer scrutiny showed the actual items of clothing had changed. The shorts were still baggy and dark, but not black. The T-shirt was still oversized and chewed-looking but it was a different shade of purple. The Teva sandals were the same. But from where he was sitting in the passenger seat, the boy did not smell.

  Nor did he talk other than to utter a few grunts in response to Osborne’s attempt at social intercourse as they drove into town. You’re gonna have to shape up if you’re gonna fish in my boat, Sonny, Osborne found himself thinking. But a flash recall of Lew’s sweet good-bye crowded any opinion of Nick out of his mind for the rest of the seven-minute ride into town.

  The sky opened up as they neared the high school, the downpour clouding the view of the building. Nick sat a little straighter in the car as they neared, peering through the cloudburst at clusters of students hurrying along the sidewalk from the parking lot.

  Was he relieved not to be dropped off by a battered blue truck with a leaping walleye on the hood and a sign under the grill spelling out in large letters the word Gravedigger? Probably, thought Osborne. Poor Ray.

  As Nick prepared to unload his bony arms and legs from the front seat of the station wagon, they heard a shout. Zenner came loping toward them, his face beaming under the hood of a dark green rain poncho and looking for all the world like a satisfied frog perched under a wet leaf.

  “Hey, man,” said Nick, stepping into the rain. The relief and happiness was so obvious in his voice that Osborne felt ashamed of his critical attitude toward the kid. Here he was thinking Nick was being deliberately rude when it was more likely the boy had been worried as hell about walking into a strange school all by himself.

  “I got you an interview out at the preserve,” said Zenner, splashing as he jumped up and down in his huge sneakers. He leaned into the car to see Osborne. “Dr. Osborne, Dad gave me the car today. If it’s okay with you, I’ll take Nick to work with me and drop him off later.”

  “But if this is an interview, shouldn’t I take him back to change or something?” said Osborne. The two boys looked at him like he was crazy.

  “No,” said Zenner. “This is fine. He’s got the job, really. I told Mr. Kendrickson Nick knows plenty, and I can show him exactly what to do. So, if you think it’s okay, I’ll have him at Ray’s place by five.”

  “Well … sure,” said Osborne, “I don’t see why not. You and Nick and your dad are fishing with Ray tonight, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Zenner, nodding enthusiastically. “My dad said he’ll be there by five, too.” By this point, Nick was nearly soaked through. Osborne waved the boys off with a smile.

  Yep, he had to give the boy a break. After all, Osborne himself had spent a good many years thinking Ray Pradt was a numskull. You couldn’t blame the kid for being a little leery of a guy with a fish on his head.

  By the time Osborne reached the jail, he was humming. The nice thing about a gray day was seeing all the lights on inside homes and businesses. Even the new detention center looked warm and cozy from outside.

  Lew gave him a bright smile and a wave when he finally located her in the large conference room down the hall from the probation offices. His heart lifted. She was sitting alongside Gina, whose eyes were riveted on her computer screen.

  Gina gave a quick glance as he walked in. “Morning, Doc,” she said. Her voice boomed at him, clipped but cheery. Tapping at her keyboard with a flourish, she grabbed her coffee cup and stood up to get a refill from the pot sitting on a hot plate against the far wall. Lew moved over to study the screen.

  “You must have been at Ralph’s when he opened this morning,” said Osborne to Gina as they filled their coffee cups.

  “How did you know?” She looked puzzled.

  “That shirt.”

  “Oh.” Gina looked down. She was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt with burgundy letters running across her chest that read, Loon Lake: Excitement, Romance, and Live Bait. The sweatshirt, paired with close-fitting Levi’s, made her look neat, trim, and tiny.

  “Say,” she said as she sat back down, warming her hands on her coffee cup, “I hear there’s a prime piece of lakefront for sale down the road from you and Ray.”

  ‘The old Gilligan place,” said Osborne. “That’s a nice lot. Good shoreline, but the old cabin isn’t worth much, Gina. Folks up here want something you can winterize. That’s a teardown.”

  “It’s got running water,” grinned Gina. “And every excuse never to clean it.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Osborne pulled out a chair to sit down behind the two women. “Would you really buy a place up here? Gina, you’ve only been here twenty-four hours.”

  “I like Loon Lake.” Gina swung around, coffee cup in hand, and crossed one foot over the opposite knee. “Had the best cheeseburger in the world at the Pub last night. I ended up at the bar, where I had a long talk with a very nice young real estate broker.” Her eyes were sparkling, and Osborne could see she had had a very nice evening. “Even if I didn’t get up here that often, lakefront property is a good investment, isn’t it?”

  “As good as the stock market,” said Osborne. The Gilligan lot was to the immediate north of Ray’s place. He wondered how much that might factor into Gina’s interest.

  “And the people here are so nice,” she said. “Yesterday afternoon I stopped by Ralph’s Sporting Goods. Everyone was so pleasant, even though I don’t know beans about fishing. Then I went to dinner by myself and made all these new friends. Trust me, you cannot do this in Kansas City, much less New York or Chicago.”

  Osborne nodded thoughtfully. “You know …” He paused, looking down at his own coffee cup. “That’s why I think we’re going down a blind alley looking for your Michael Winston in this neck of the woods. Everyone in and around Loon Lake knows everyone. Someone as self-important as I assume he is, from everything you’ve told us about him, a man like that would stand out in this town.”

  “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear,” said Gina, waving her left hand impatiently. “That’s exactly what he does so well. He doesn’t stand out in the usual sense. He makes everyone he wants to impress feel like they stand out; he makes you feel special. The man excels at seducing the unsuspecting. That is his talent.”

  Osborne chewed on that. He looked at Lew. He wanted to tell her she looked drop-dead beautiful, but instead he said, “Anyone come to mind?”

  “Ray Pradt,” she said without hesitation. They all laughed.

  “Frankly, no,” she said. “Not a soul. But I do think Gina has a point with the gun trail. I am more than willing to give this a try. If nothing else, I’ll have a handle on our local arsenals.”

  “Fighting words.” Gina swung back around to her computer. “I have the ATF data all lined up and ready to go,” she said. “It isn’t as bad as I expected, either. The local records work fine on my software. If I can get those boys in here tomorrow or the next day to help me install it on Chief Ferris’s system, I think we can debug enough to run the data before the weekend. I may get a good chunk of the data entry done today, even,” she said.

  “Chief Ferris!” Hank Kendrickson stood in the doorway. Osborne jumped in surprise, splashing his coffee, as the man’s voice rang across the room. “Can I see you a minute?”

  Osborne looked over at the stocky figure in the doorway. Fluorescent lighting was not kind to Hank. His cheekbones were blotched over the full beard, and his yellow gray hair looked like dirty straw. The red flannel shirt, chinos, and suspenders he was wearing also conspir
ed to emphasize his shortness, which Osborne noted with satisfaction.

  Lew stood up to walk toward him, then she stopped and turned back toward the table. “Hank—” She waved at Gina to come forward—“I’d like you to meet Gina Palmer from Kansas City. Gina is in town on a sad mission. She’s a family friend of one of the murder victims, but she’s also giving me a hand with our new computer system. She’s quite the expert.”

  Gina stood up and walked over, extending her hand as Lew continued, “Gina, this is Hank Kendrickson. He runs the Wildwood Game Preserve, where the young Frahm boy is working. Hank, I should get Gina out to your place for a tour before she leaves town … show her your elk herd.”

  “How nice to meet you, Hank,” said Gina, pumping his hand. “Chief Ferris said your game preserve is in the process of becoming one of the first E-commerce sites in the county. I sure hope you won’t mind if I pull your site expert, Zenner, in to help us out for a day or so.”

  Hank opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then he shook his head slightly, turned away, and coughed. He pounded at his chest with the opposite hand, then gave a weak look and in a tight, constrained voice said, “Excuse me, I got a frog in my throat. A lovely woman does it every time.”

  “Thank you,” laughed Gina, “but that is hardly the effect I want to have. Can we get you a drink of water?”

  “No, no, I’ll be fine.” He waved away the offer, but his voice remained high and tight. “You use Zenner as long as you need to, Chief.” He coughed again. ”Anything I can do to help. But I am in a bit of a hurry this morning. If we could …” He backed toward the doorway. “Chief … ah … do you have a minute?” Hank flushed a little, tripping over his words as he thumped his chest once more. It was obvious he wanted to speak to Lew in private, and he was trying to clear his throat in way that would not appall the group. Osborne did not feel sorry for him.