“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was, but—using the excuse that the creep has agreed to work for half his former salary—Pecore’s back in the office.”
She looked back at Mallory, “So I was thinking as Roger was driving me out here a few minutes ago that with help from you and Gina, I could put together a pretty good campaign. You advise me on marketing and Gina on how to work with media.”
“Get Erin to be your campaign manager—she’s great at that stuff,” said Mallory.
As the three of them walked through the sunlit snow down to Ray’s trailer, Lew and Mallory arguing about whether or not to launch the campaign in the summer, Osborne couldn’t help feeling like the luckiest guy on Loon Lake Road.
“I can’t believe you had Clyde cremated,” Gina was saying as they entered Ray’s trailer. “Isn’t that bad for business?”
“Clyde would rather be out and about than stuck in the dirt with a bunch of jabones he never liked,” said Ray, putting the finishing touches on his table. “Keep those coats on, folks,” he said to the new arrivals. “When the kids get here, we’ll be stepping outside for a few minutes.”
“Lauren is coming?” asked Mallory, surprised.
“Nick is worried about her,” said Ray. “Kid’s pretty darn fragile—he doesn’t want to leave her alone any more than necessary.”
“Before Lauren gets here, I have a question for the women in the group,” said Osborne. “I’ve been trying to figure Karin Hikennen out. She had a wealthy husband, she had cornered the market on booze, karaoke, and sex from Thunder Bay Bar north to the Upper Peninsula. What more could a woman want?”
“Hold on there, Doc. Things were not as rosy as they might have appeared,” said Lew. “I learned just yesterday that Eve Theurian’s father put all his money in trust for Lauren—so Dave Theurian got very little out of Eve’s estate. I am sure that came as a shock to Karin.”
“And I had one of my colleagues review the financials on his business,” said Gina. “Theurian Resources was not booming. Recent media coverage like our series put a freeze on the allograft tissue industry—at least for the time being. He was carrying a lot of debt on his building and equipment.”
“But Karin’s biggest problem was that she made a bad business deal with her sister,” said Lew. “She bought Patrice out for major dollars at a time when the Internet has put sex just a click away. Her club business was way down. Both Theurians were financially stressed. And I’m convinced that if Karin and Bud had made it to Canada,?l’ Bud would have found himself ‘flushed out’ pretty darn fast.”
The door banged open as Nick and Lauren arrived. As the women swooped towards the girl, arms extended, eyes glistening, Ray stuck out an arm to hold them back. “Later, folks. Right now, everyone outside.”
Standing on the ice with the sun high overhead, they gathered behind Ray, who was facing west into the wind. He held a small black box, which he handed to Nick. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth. Some men are honored with a bugle wailing “Taps,” some with Schubert’s “Ave Maria,” but Clyde would have been pleased with his coda: the haunting wail of the wild loon.
Dropping his hands, Ray reached for the box. “My friend loved to fish hard water, and he loved the shouting wind,” he said as he shook the contents of the box into the air. A swirling breeze caught the old man’s ashes, sweeping them up, up into the arms of the white pines.
“And now,” said Ray, turning around, “I know Clyde would appreciate a good wake. Let the party begin.”
Back in the trailer, music was blasting, “… if the trailer ain’t level, ain’t nothin’ right…”
“Who are we listening to, Ray?” asked Gina.
“My Christmas present from Nick. Trailer Park Troubadours. Great rockabilly.”
“Never heard of them. Are they on Amazon?”
“I order off their Web site,” said Nick. “Hey, did Lauren and I tell you? We’re helping Ray design his own Web site, and during spring break we’re gonna get him set up to sell his Hot Mama on eBay.”
“Yep, I’m making lures like crazy,” said Ray. “I’ll be ready.”
“Yeah, eBay,” said Lauren. “Ray’s gonna be a Power Seller, you wait and see.”
“How come I didn’t hear about this.” asked Gina with a pout. “I can help.”
“You’ve been in town working all week,” said Ray.
“Nick and I got him started yesterday,” said Lauren. “First, we signed him up for Internet service, then I gave him one of my dad’s computers …” She paused. The table was silent, forks poised over the first course of fruit salad.
“Excuse me.” Lauren pushed her chair back and headed down the hall to Ray’s bedroom. Concerned looks passed around the table.
“Kinda hits her at odd times,” said Nick. “Think she’ll be okay?”
Lew started to get up, but Osborne put a hand on her arm. “Let me try,” he said, laying his napkin by his plate.
“Good luck, Dad,” said Mallory.
“Lauren, I cannot begin to imagine how you feel …” He spoke softly from the doorway. Lauren had thrown herself across the bedspread, her face buried in one of Ray’s pillows.
“I hate my father. Why couldn’t my dad be normal? Like you.”
“Me? Me?” said Osborne with a chuckle. “I will spare you the grisly details, kiddo, but you are talking to a man who nearly killed himself with alcohol. Nearly drove my daughters away forever.”
Lauren pulled her head up from the pillow to stare at him. Osborne sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yep, after my wife died, I went a little crazy. Started drinking heavily —and behaving so badly—that I ended up in rehab over in Minnesota.”
He reached over to give Lauren’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You want to know what becoming an adult is all about? Forgiving your parents. Seeing the good, forgiving the bad. Some of us are just worse than others.”
“Not as bad as my dad.”
“Lauren, you can forgive a father … even a bad father … terrible things. Who knows—if he had lived, he might have changed. I did. I changed, and I continue to change. We all do, sweetheart. That’s the only thing certain in life: change.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Lauren, sitting up. “It’s just … it’s hard not to hate the fact that I am his daughter. I mean … how much of his awfulness is in me?” The look in her eyes was heartbreaking.
“Lauren, are you forgetting that you are your mother’s daughter and the grandchild of Harley Fruehauf? He was a brilliant man. Brilliant. Both those people loved you dearly, and their goodness is in you.”
“Grandpa was weird.”
“Right—so you have a family tradition to uphold. You have the potential to grow up brilliant … and weird. And as talented as your mom.” He could see her thinking that over. “C’mon, our eggs are almost ready. Can’t keep the cook waiting too long, doncha know.”
As Lauren walked back to her chair, Gina piped up, “Lauren, we’ve been discussing your new status as an orphan.”
“I’m not exactly an orphan,” said Lauren, sitting down. “Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, friends of my grandparents, are going to be my guardians for the next two years. Dr. Osborne, you know Ed and Maddie, don’t you?”
“Certainly do. Very nice people.”
“It’s just … well, I barely know them,” said Lauren, a forlorn look crossing her face.
“Ah ha!” said Gina. “Then hear this—while you were out of the room, Mallory, Chief Ferris, and I had quite an argument—we were forced into a compromise. Forced, for the record. So you’ll just have to deal with the fact we declare ourselves your three big sisters.”
“And when you’re not in school—our homes are your homes—with plenty of advice whenever you need it,” said Lew.
“On anything,” said Gina, waving her fork. “Just ask, and if we don’t know, I’ll do a Google search.”
“Before you agree to accept this new family of yours,” said Ray from the stove
, where he was carefully breaking eggs into the frying pan, “do you see any redeeming value to knowing the three bad influences sitting across from you?”
Lauren looked shyly at each, then said, “They laugh a lot?”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Gina, raising her orange juice in a toast.
“Did you hear the one about eighty-two-year-old Walter who went to see his doctor for a regular checkup?” asked Ray, as he set a plate before each of them: two eggs fried to perfection and sautéed walleye cheeks—framed with strips of crisp Neuske’s bacon.
“Keep it clean,” warned Lew. Ray gave her a dim eye.
“A few days later, the doctor saw old Walter out walking with this gorgeous young lady on his arm. So when the doctor saw him for his next checkup, he said, ‘You’re really doing great, aren’t you?’ ‘Just following orders, Doc,’ said Walter. ‘You told me to get a hot mama and be cheerful.’ I didn’t say that, said the doctor. I said you’ve got a heart murmur. Be careful.’”
Lauren laughed. “Nick, we have to put that on his Web site.”
When everyone was served, Ray took his place at the head of the table. He picked up a glass pepper shaker, and, tapping it with his right index finger, he slowly, slowly peppered his eggs. Everyone watched, waiting for him to take the first bite.
Instead, he took a slice of toast, slipped an egg onto it, added a strip of bacon and covered it with another slice of toast. With a cheery grin, he looked around the table then said, “In memory of old Clyde … I’d like to remind everyone … never forget … to take the time to appreciate … every … sandwich. Amen.”
Walking back to Osborne’s place later, Lew crooked her good arm through his. “You haven’t forgotten our date this evening … New Year’s Eve. I promised.”
“You sure you’re not too tired? Shoulder hurt?”
“Heavens, no. I’m planning on it—I’ve got the fly fishing videos all set to go …” She cut her eyes sideways. “Just kidding.
“Oh, smell that fresh air,” she said, inhaling happily as they walked. “You know, Doc, when I’m with you … everything is good.”
F+W Crime is committed to developing the past, present, and future of crime fiction in all of its forms. With widely-praised content at its core, F+W Crime offers readers a true community experience that crosses all spectrums of media, and boldly shares in the evolution of how a story can be told.
Visit us today for information on new authors, exclusive offers, and more!
fwcrime.com
Published in Electronic Format by
TYRUS BOOKS
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
4700 East Galbraith Road
Cincinnati, Ohio 45236
www.tyrusbooks.com
Copyright © 2000, 2008 by Victoria Houston
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction.
Any similarities to people or places, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
eISBN 10: 1-4405-3151-X
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-3151-4
This work has been previously published in print format by:
Bleak House Books
A division of Big Earth Publishing, Inc.
Print ISBN: 978-1-932557-93-0
Dead Hot Mama Page 27
