“I gotta get out of here.” He brushed past her and ran downstairs to check on Ann, Lacey right behind him. Ann slept peacefully on the sofa. He made coffee and sat down at the island.
“Do you think this shooting is related to the bodies we found?” John asked as he handed Lacey a mug.
“We’re looking into that,” Lacey replied, watching him stare at the sofa where Ann was sleeping. “I’ll clean up that mess while you get Thanksgiving dinner ready. You’re only a couple of hours behind. Lark and I will be here if your invitation is still open.”
“Are you sure you want to tackle the upstairs?”
“Lead me to your cleaning supplies.”
That finally coaxed a smile out of him. “You’re a lifesaver. I just can’t clean up Ann’s blood right now. I’ll get the turkey in the oven and then we’ll get that window boarded up.”
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
NOVEMBER 23—ANN RANSON
Ann awakened to the aroma of roasting turkey and couldn’t figure out why John had put the bird in without her special stuffing. Pain shot through her left arm and shoulder when she tried to get up, and the memory of her early-morning activities came rushing back. She groaned but managed to sit up, flinching when she heard gunshots off in the distance. She stood up, pulling the quilt around her shoulders. She was still in the clothes she’d worn to the hospital and had an overwhelming urge to change them. She headed upstairs just as Lark came in the front door.
He broke into a grin. “Ann, I’m so glad you’re OK. Can I do anything for you? Lacey got everything cleaned up, and she and John went to get some plywood to put over the windows. I was drafted to keep an eye on you while I make some phone calls.”
“I don’t need anybody to keep an eye on me,” she snapped, hobbling up the stairs.
Lacey had done an excellent job. The glass was gone and the bloodstains were now only faint wet spots on the carpet. The bathroom was spotless. Ann wouldn’t have known anything had happened if the window wasn’t missing and there weren’t two holes in the wall.
Even with the furnace running constantly, the bedroom was freezing, so Ann turned on the heat lamps in the bathroom. She decided to take a shower but needed to cover her sutures and IV Sighing, she walked back out to the railing and yelled for Lark.
“Can you get the Saran Wrap from the top drawer left of the sink and toss it up to me?”
“Saran Wrap?” he asked, puzzled.
“I need to keep the moisture out of my IV and dressings while I shower.”
He brought her the Saran Wrap without comment. Even with the heat lamps on and the door shut, the bathroom was freezing. Shivering, Ann convinced herself that the hot water would warm her up. Getting the Saran Wrap around her arm wasn’t difficult, but covering the dressings on her back was impossible. She gave up and curled up under a quilt in the spare bedroom to wait for John. Lacey woke her up.
“What time is it?” Ann asked, struggling out from under the quilt.
“welve-thirty,” Lacey said, sitting down on the chaise across from the bed.
“It’s time for more pain pills,” Ann said, grimacing as she sat up. “Where’s John?”
“We couldn’t find the boards he needed over at Lowery’s so he called the guy who owns the lumberyard in Park Falls. Since he’s such a good customer they’re opening up for him. He dropped me off to see if you needed any help.”
“You mean to keep an eye on me,” Ann said.
“He’s worried about you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he is, but I’m just like an old dog when I’m sick. I want to curl up in the corner and be left alone until I feel better.” Ann slid her feet over the side of the bed and sat up. She groaned as pain shot through her arm and back.
“What can I do for you?” Lacey asked, reaching out to steady her.
She gave up and lay back down. “I’d be forever grateful if you’d get me some pain pills and a Diet Coke. The pills are in my purse downstairs. Please don’t let Don Juan up here when I look like this.”
“Don Juan?”
“You know,” Ann said, motioning towards the stairs. “Mel Gibson’s taller, better looking, twin … whatever.”
Lacey burst out laughing. “Now that I think about it, he does look a little like Mel but he sure doesn’t act like Don Juan.” Still laughing, she went downstairs. Lark watched her dig around in Ann’s purse as he talked on the phone.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked when he hung up.
“Looking for Ann’s pain pills.”
Lark snatched a prescription bottle off the counter by the sink and tossed it to her. “John left them out so he could find them. Apparently, Ann’s purse is just as bad as yours. No one in their right mind would leave them in that mess. They might never be found.”
“Jesus, you’re irritable,” Lacey said, opening the refrigerator.
“You’re right. Sorry I snapped at you. The only name on the Lands’ End coat list that’s connected to this case is Ann Ranson. She bought the same coat that Yellow Mitten had on.”
“Didn’t she wear a red coat to the hospital this morning?”
“I think you’re right,” Lark said, wondering why he hadn’t remembered it.
They went to the foyer and pulled her coat out of the closet. The label read Lands’ End.
“Well, I guess coincidences do happen,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Did she do anything with the Saran Wrap?” Lark asked, following her into the kitchen.
“Saran Wrap?” Lacey asked, a bemused smile on her face. “I’ve read about alternative uses for Saran Wrap, but I don’t think the timing is good for that right now.”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, and from the look on your face, I’m not going to ask,” Lark said. “About an hour ago, Ann asked me to bring her the Saran Wrap so she could take a shower. I went up to check on her and found her asleep in the other bedroom.”
“First of all, Mel, you need to loosen up,” Lacey said, patting him on the arm. “I’ll check it out.” She gathered up the pills and soda headed back upstairs.
“Hey,” Lark yelled, looking confused. “Why did you call me Mel?”
“You’re a detective,” she quipped over her shoulder, “you figure it out.”
Ann was dozing when she got back upstairs. She sat the soda and the pills on the table beside the bed and was just about out the door when Ann spoke.
“You don’t have to leave, I’m awake. What took you so long?”
Lacey read the label, got out two pain pills, and opened the Diet Coke. “Did you get to shower?” she asked, noticing that Ann was in the same clothes she had worn to the hospital.
“No.” Ann swallowed the pills. “Could you help me with the Saran Wrap?”
“Let’s wait till your pain pills kick in,” Lacey said, watching Ann wince as she got up.
“By then I’ll be too sleepy. Let’s get it over with. They say suffering is good for the soul. We’ll do a little research and find out.”
Ann had left the bathroom door shut and the heat lamps on, so it was a little warmer than the frigid master bedroom. With Ann giving directions, Lacey wound a piece of plastic wrap around Ann’s arm dressing and smoothed a couple of large pieces over her shoulder dressing.
The shower was heaven. Ann’s pain pills hadn’t reached their peak and her arm was still sore, but it wasn’t the excruciating pain she’d felt when she first woke up. She got out of the shower and wrapped herself in her old, ratty terry cloth robe. John walked in just as she was trying to figure out how to use the curling iron with her right hand. He helped her put on her makeup and get into slacks and a sweater.
They went downstairs. John and Lark carried the plywood upstairs as Ann shuffled into the family room and flopped down on the sofa. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace and the entire downstairs smelled like Thanksgiving dinner. She decided to fix herself a snack. Just as she got into the kitchen, the doorbell rang. Ann
got to the door as John and Lark clattered down the stairs. She looked through the sidelight to see Myra and David Banski, their arms loaded down with bags.
“No need to bring out the guns,” Ann said, noting Lark’s hand resting on his shoulder holster. “It’s only the neighbors.”
Ann opened the door and Myra rushed in, bringing a sweep of cold air and snow with her. She handed two bags to John and then unloaded her son’s two bags on Lark. “I brought you a ham and all the goodies,” she said, studying Ann. “I heard you were shot and near death. I expected John to be here by himself. Thank God someone got their wires crossed.” Lacey took their coats and they went into the family room to sit down.
“Where’d you hear that?” Ann asked, trying to keep irritation out of her voice. Myra’s response was delayed while John took drink orders.
“David heard it from one of the IGA checkers. Her sister works at the hospital. You don’t look like you were shot.”
“Some crazy deer hunter shot out our bedroom window and I got some glass in my arm and back. They stitched me up in the ER.”
“Ann, I’m so glad you’re all right. I was so worried about you and John,” Myra gushed.
“John’s got a big turkey in the oven so we’ll never eat all that food you brought. Should we send it over to the shelter in Park Falls?”
“Heavens, no,” Myra said, waving her hand. “The restaurant sent a bunch of food over there this morning.” She glanced at Lark. “The police went all around the lake asking if anyone saw anything funny this morning. Everyone knows something’s up. You’ll have lots of people checking up on you. That food will come in handy.”
“Did either of you see anything unusual this morning?” Lark asked as John returned with a tray of drinks.
Myra shook her head and took a glass of white wine. “I didn’t get up until eight-thirty. Did you see anything, dear?” she asked David.
“Nothing.”
“Is this about the bodies found in the marsh?” Myra asked.
“Yes, it is. We’re looking into several missing person cases from the past few years. David, do you remember a student from a few years ago who turned up missing? A Gemma Patterson?” Lark asked.
David scrunched up his forehead in thought and Ann wondered why she never ran into guys that cute when she was in college. He was clean cut with broad, football-player-type shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. His dark brown hair was cut fashionably short and his mouth was partially disguised with a newly grown goatee.
“You know, I do remember her. She came from Minneapolis. She and Sandi Waltner took a class together and hit it off.”
“Did you ever date her?” Lark asked.
David smiled. “No, but I did go out to the Pine View with Sandi, Jim Kryjack, and Gemma once. Did they ever find out what happened to her?”
“No,” Lark said, watching him.
Myra wasn’t born yesterday. “Sheriff, was Gemma one of the bodies you found?”
“She’s still missing. We’ll be checking to see if one of the bodies is her.”
“How about a little good news after this morbid conversation,” Myra said, smiling at David. “Honey, why don’t you tell them.”
David shook his head and told her to break the news.
“David and Sandi Waltner are engaged. They’re getting married next year after David graduates from law school. Isn’t that wonderful?” Everyone congratulated David, which led to another round of drinks before the Banskis left for their own Thanksgiving dinner.
After basting the turkey, John, Lark, and Lacey went upstairs to hammer up the last piece of plywood. Against doctor’s orders, Ann took two more pain pills on top of the two glasses of wine she drank and fell into the best sleep she’d had for several days.
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
NOVEMBER 23—SWENSON
Lark’s cellular phone rang a little after three, just as they were putting the final nails into the plywood. Paul had arrested Ron Chevsky for drunk driving. Lark and Lacey drove through a blinding snowstorm to get to the station. Lacey rubbed her gloved hands over the passenger’s side window and pressed her face up against the spot she’d cleared. She was able to get a look at the red swirling lights of Tetzloff’s tow truck as it pulled a car out of the ditch.
They brushed off their coats and stamped snow off their boots as they trudged into the station. They met Paul at the coffeepot. He told them that Ron had failed his Breathalyzer test and was major league pissed that he’d been hauled in. They took a few minutes to warm up before interviewing him.
Ron looked worse than he had when Lark had last seen him. His long hair hung unkempt and matted around his face and his mustache was badly in need of a trim. His brown eyes were bloodshot. Blackheads pitted his nose and his face was an unhealthy ruddy color. He reeked of alcohol and body odor. A long underwear shirt, gray with dirt, stuck out of the top of his orange hunting jumpsuit. Lark suspected that he hadn’t changed clothes since they had seen him in the marsh on Tuesday.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing dragging me in here like this? I tried to avoid that bitch but she was all over the fucking road,” he yelled as they walked in.
“Watch your language,” Lark said.
“Fuck you, asshole, and fuck that bitch cop you got with you, too,” Ron yelled back.
Lark reached across the table and grabbed Ron’s jumpsuit, pulling him up out of his chair. “I’m not going to tell you again, watch your language.”
“Hurry the fuck up.” Ron fiddled with a cigarette butt he’d crushed in the ashtray. “I got things to do.”
“Yeah, we know,” Lark said. “Do you remember a girl named Gemma Patterson?”
“Got a light?” Ron asked, putting a fresh cigarette between his cracked lips.
Lacey slipped out and came back with a book of matches. Lark lit his cigarette.
“Now tell me about Gemma Patterson.”
“Fuck, I don’t remember any bitch by that name,” Ron said, taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing smoke in Lacey’s face. She waved it away without comment.
“You were students at UW together and she went missing three years ago. Do you remember now?” Lacey asked, her voice full of contempt.
Ron began coughing and almost fell out off his chair.
“Do you remember being questioned about Gemma’s disappearance?” Lark asked.
“Hell, you’re still looking for that dyke bitch?” he asked, laughing.
“What do you mean by dyke bitch?” Lacey asked.
Ron’s hands snaked out to touch her hair. Lark grabbed them and slammed them down on the table. “Keep your hands to yourself, Chevsky.”
“I’ll bet you don’t. I hear you ain’t had any in months, maybe years, since your wife kicked off. You fucking her now?” he asked, flipping his head in Lacey’s direction as he coughed up a wad of yellow phlegm and spit it on the floor. “That why you’re so touchy?”
Lacey left to get a box of tissues. When she got back, Ron was sitting quietly at the table and Lark looked like he was ready to explode. She wondered what had transpired between them.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. What do you remember about Gemma Patterson?” Lark asked, his voice barely controlled.
“She was a primo cockteaser, a fucking dyke,” he yelled. “I took her out twice. She was all over me on the dance floor but later wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Lesbo bitch.”
“Did you see her up here or in Madison?” Lacey asked.
“One time up here, one time in Madison. Then the bitch wouldn’t see me anymore. I guess I was too much man for her. You could probably handle me,” he said, eyeing Lacey. He grabbed his crouch and leered at her, showing a mouth full of grungy teeth.
Lark yelled for Paul to take Ron to his cell.
“She must have rejected him, so in his eyes she was a lesbian,” Lacey said, writing in a small notebook. “I think we should try to get him into detox. He’s in bad shape.”
&nbs
p; “We’ll see if we can get him admitted tonight. He’s going to be tons of fun for some poor nurse.”
“I’m sure they’re used to drunks.” Lacey stood up. “Let’s find Kryjack and get his interview over with so we can get back to the Ransons’ for dinner. Do you want to do this with me in or out?”
“I’d rather talk to him alone. If I hear anything that concerns me, I’ll pull you in.”
“Fine by me. I’ll go take a nap,” Lacey said, ambling into the breakroom.
Fifteen minutes later, Jim appeared in the doorway. “Happy Thanksgiving, Chief. What’s up?” he asked as he sauntered into Lark’s office.
“I need to ask you some questions.”
“Shoot,” Jim said, sitting down.
“Do you remember a woman you went to school with named Gemma Patterson?”
“Of course,” he said, his face an open book. “She was from Minneapolis and getting a degree in business. She and Sandi Waltner and Katey Lowery were great friends, and she came up here several times to stay with one or the other of them for the weekend. She turned up missing, last seen in Eau Claire three or four years ago.”
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
He lost his smile. “What’s this about, Chief?”
“Just tell me everything you remember about Gemma Patterson.”
Jim studied Lark’s face. It revealed nothing. He shifted in his chair and stared down at his hands folded in his lap. When he looked up, he was as serious as Lark had ever seen him.
“I went out with her twice. She was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. She and I, Dave Banski, and Sandi Waltner went to the Pine View for dinner one Saturday. Later that night we went dancing over at the Town Line. She was a great dancer. When we got back to Waltner’s, Sandi and David started necking. Gemma seemed uncomfortable, so we went for a walk on the Waltners’ dock. We talked and held hands. I remember kissing her good night. But it was just a friendly kiss.” He sat in silence staring at the wall behind Lark, remembering. “You know how it is when you like someone. I thought about her all the time, arranged ways to see her on campus and asked her out again.” He glanced at Lark, blushing.
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