“I must talk to you about my father. Ray told me that you and Dr. Osborne are reviewing the case? I hope you are because I know he did not kill that girl. I want his name cleared.”
Lew, caught off guard, stammered, “Well, I thought … Doc said you…. Edith, would you have time to sit down with us on Monday or Tuesday before you leave? I would do it sooner but we’re overloaded this weekend. I shouldn’t even be here tonight but Dr. Osborne insisted—”
“Of course. And there’s someone else you should know about—”
At that moment a loud bong rang through the house. Ray appeared in the doorway. Resplendent in his trout hat and a crisp white butcher’s apron, he carried a heaping platter of fish fillets high and in front as he marched into the living room. Positioning himself in front of the fireplace as the ringing faded, he announced, “Fresh-caught walleye, folks. Follow me … to the buffet.”
“Excuse me,” said Edith, reaching for her camera. “Parker plans to sign Ray for the show and I need footage of that tray of walleye before it’s served. Can we talk later?” She rushed off to the dining room.
Shaking his head as they followed her, Osborne wondered how it was that Ray always managed to take over the party. Jeez Louise.
When everyone had heaped their plates with sautéed fresh walleye fillets, French fries, potato pancakes, applesauce, and cole slaw, they took their places at one of the three tables, now lit with candles. Osborne and Lew chose the smallest table, which was situated off to the right of the others and closer to the house. A couple from Minneapolis, Parker’s stockbroker and his wife, joined them.
Ray remained standing until everyone was seated, then raising his hands as if he were the Pope, he said, “A blessing…. ” A few nervous looks were passed around but everyone politely bowed their heads as he prayed, “Bread feeds the body … flowers the soul … Amen.”
“Hear, hear,” said Parker from the first table, raising a glass of white wine.
“A toast—to the star of our newest feature on The Fishing Channel, ‘Ray’s Fish ‘n’ Fry,’“ said Hayden, saluting from where she sat at the second table.
As Ray sat down, a figure stepped through the French doors from the living room. The girl was very tall, her height exaggerated by a cap of wild white-blond curls. Wearing faded green shorts, a wrinkled black T-shirt, and a face identical to her father’s, there was no doubt who she was. She dropped a scruffy backpack onto the deck. It hit with a loud thud just as Parker and Hayden leaped to their feet.
“Jen!” Parker crossed the deck quickly to his daughter. “I had no idea you were coming—how are you, sweetheart?”
“Dead broke, Dad. Nice of you to ask.” Her voice quivered. Her body was thin but wide-shouldered, and even through the dusk, Osborne could see she was trembling. Lew gripped Osborne’s forearm. The entire dinner party was silent, forks in the air.
“What? Why didn’t you call?”
“I did. I’ve been trying to reach you for three weeks. She”—the girl pointed at Hayden—”wouldn’t put my calls through.”
“That’s nonsense.” Parker looked over at Hayden.
“I told you he would call you next week. We have been very, very busy,” said Hayden through gritted teeth as she sat down.
No one moved; no one even coughed.
“Jen, come with me,” said Parker. Reaching down for her backpack, he beckoned for her to follow him into the house, closing the French doors behind them.
“Okay, folks, don’t you dare let that fish get cold,” said Ray, his words sparking a polite buzz of conversation as everyone worked hard to pretend nothing unusual had happened.
Parker, apparently forgetting the windows were open so that everything he said could be heard clearly by the four people seated at the small table, pulled his daughter into his den. “Jennifer, what the hell happened? That ranch of yours is worth over a million dollars.”
“Mother came to visit three months ago. You know her name is on the property until I turn thirty…. ”
“Yes, but—”
“She refinanced it, took the cash, and left town. Never told me either. Then the weather turned on us. The rains were very bad this year, Dad. We had flooding and mudslides and all the livestock were washed down into the ocean…. ”
“Jennifer, this doesn’t make any sense. I made sure you had a good manager—”
“Mother was so horrible to him, he quit. I’ve been trying to call you for weeks, Dad, but all your personal calls are routed through that monster—”
“Okay, okay, we’ll deal with that later.” The soft sound of a girl’s sobs came through the window. “Come on now … everything will be all right. This is your old dad, here. Let’s go find you a bedroom…. ”
“Where is this ranch?” whispered Osborne to the stockbroker.
“Maui. This isn’t the first time Catherine has done something like this. Poor kid.”
“Is it true what she said about Hayden and the phone calls?”
“Oh, yes indeed. That woman is a guardian lion if you know what I mean.”
“She’s awful,” the broker’s wife confided, “but it’s his fault, he lets it happen.”
“Hey, you, Ray Pradt!” Parker was still in the house when Bruce Duffy’s voice rang out from the first table to where Ray was holding court at Hayden’s.
“Yes-s-s?” said Ray. He rocked back in his chair and gave Duffy his full attention. Osborne recognized the expression on Ray’s face: It was the look he had when he changed lures, angling for the big one, setting his drag the way a musician tunes his instrument.
“I hear you’re so successful a fishing guide that you have to dig graves to make a living.”
“Now Duff, old man, if that’s a job application—you’ve got to change your attitude.” Ray’s chair rocked. People shifted uncomfortably. Hayden opened her mouth, then closed it.
“Yeah, right. How is that bishness, the grave bishness?” Duffy winked heavily at the wife of the Mercury Marine marketing director seated to his right.
Ray let his chair fall forward. His face brightened and he waved a fork in the air. “Since you asked, the truth is we’re getting hammered with cremation. Just hammered. But I have to tell ya, even though it’s a no-growth business—it is steady. As reliable a customer base as you’ll ever find.”
Duffy grunted. He wasn’t sure if he was being put on or not.
Hayden finally found her voice. She jumped to her feet. “Okay, everyone, I have an announcement. Parker surprised me today with my very own pontoon boat. I’ve already christened her: Serenity. And every evening at the stroke of six, if you’re in Loon Lake when we’re in Loon Lake, you are invited to join Parker and myself on a cocktail cruise of Steadman Bay. Our maiden launch departs in five minutes—so everyone on board for dessert and afterdinner drinks!”
Just then the French doors opened and Parker stepped onto the deck.
“Parker,” Hayden said, her voice unnaturally gay, “I’ve just invited everyone down for a maiden voyage on our new boat.”
“You can only get ten people on at a time,” said Parker. He sounded very tired. “Go without me.”
Hayden paused for an instant, then looked around at the tables. “Tally ho, then.” Somewhat reluctantly a number of the guests agreed to join her. They did not include Bruce Duffy.
The pontoon had been gone for about ten minutes when Edith, who was sitting at Parker’s table, pushed back her chair and gazed around the deck. The remaining guests were having coffee, chatting quietly in the candlelight. Jen had joined the group, taking an empty chair between her father and Edith, where she was hungrily attacking a full plate of food.
“Chief Ferris?” Edith called softly over to the small table. “Ray said you’re quite the fly-fisherman. I’ve been thinking about giving it a try. Tell us, how did you start?”
“Girl shit,” muttered Duffy. The woman beside him poured more coffee in his cup and shoved it in front of him.
“Well …” Le
w hesitated.
“Go ahead, I’d like to hear, too,” said Osborne. Now that he thought of it, he had never asked about that himself.
“I have an uncle that I worked for as a kid,” said Lew. “He managed a sports shop over in Minocqua. He loved to fly-fish but I was never interested. I wanted muskies—big fish.
“Anyway, about fifteen years ago, my son, my oldest, was killed in a bar fight. I had a call from my uncle the day after the funeral and he told me to come by his place. He had a little cabin on the Bearskin River, which was full of brookies in those days. He knew I was in bad shape.
“When I got there, he had a fly rod all set up for me … and a few trout flies … some waders, which didn’t quite fit,” she chuckled.
Lew paused. The deck was very quiet. “He gave me a few pointers, a couch where I could sleep when I needed to, and told me I couldn’t come out of that river until …” She stopped.
Everyone waited. Finally Edith said, “How long were you in the river?”
“Twenty-two days.”
No one said a word, not even Duffy.
“When I was ready to go home, not only did I know how to fly-fish, I had made up my mind to try to get a job in law enforcement.”
“I don’t get the connection,” said Edith.
“There isn’t any,” said Lew. “It just so happened that both my son and the boy who killed him were high on speed that night. I made up my mind that if I could catch a brook trout, maybe I could nail a drug dealer—I have my own opinion as to which of those two is smarter.”
Just then the door from the kitchen opened and a young woman called out, “Chief Ferris, phone call.”
twenty-four
“(Angling) is tightly woven in a fabric of moral, social, and philosophical threads which are not easily rent by the violent climate of our times.”
—A. J. McClane,Song of the Angler
While Lew was gone, Osborne made small talk with the stockbroker and his wife. He hoped that phone call was from the DEA agent who was in charge of the team from Chicago. It was getting late and Lew still had no details as to their plans for the raid on Patty Boy’s place.
Lew poked her head out the French doors, her face serious. She motioned to Parker. The two disappeared into the living room.
Osborne looked around for Ray. No sign of the guy. He was sure he hadn’t gone out on the pontoon.
“Look this way, Doc.” Ray’s voice came from over his left shoulder. He was standing behind Osborne’s chair with Edith’s camcorder in his hands. A pinpoint of red signaled the camera was running. “Getting some home movies here…. ”
“Ray—” Before Osborne could protest, a blaze of light illuminated the entire deck as Parker and Lew stepped out. Parker’s face was flushed purple under his white hair.
“Duffy!” he thundered.
“What?” Bruce Duffy roused himself slightly.
“You’re out of the tournament. I’m pressing charges.”
“What the hell—” The fishing pro moved clumsily to his feet.
“Chief Ferris just had a call from our headquarters—your name showed up in the ballot box for the lottery twenty-five times. It should have been in there once”
“Wha—? I have nothing to do with that. For Chrissake, I’ve been here all night.”
“The Loon Lake police arrested two men who were seen coming out of the tournament booth after they locked up late this afternoon. Bert Kriesel and Harold Jack-somebody.”
“Jackobowski,” volunteered Ray, moving the camera from Parker to Duffy and back again.
“Never heard of ‘em.”
“Mr. Duffy,” said Lew, stepping forward, her eyes dark under the bright lights, “I have a witness who was told by those two men that they have been working for you.”
“Yep, that’s what they told me all right,” said Ray, camera on Duffy.
“You have compromised this entire tournament circuit,” Parker’s voice thundered. He was so apoplectic, Osborne worried he might have a stroke. “You have compromised my entire investment in this enterprise. I want you arrested.”
At that moment, Hayden came running up the stairs to the deck. “What on earth? Parker, what’s happening?”
“And you. I want you out of my face tonight. You hear me.” Parker was shaking. “Out of my face”
While Lew waited for Roger to drive out from town and pick up both herself and Bruce Duffy, she and Osborne stepped into the foyer, out of earshot.
“Doc, for once, Roger did his job. After Ray called in about the leech traps, he found those two just where Ray thought he might. He stayed on ‘em all day. He watched them go in the booth after the guys working it took a dinner break. They were behind a curtain so he wasn’t able to see what they were up to but he suspected no good. So when they held the big drawing tonight, it was Roger who suggested that they check the ballot box.”
“What a stupid thing to do.”
“Stupid is one thing, but why risk your career? That man,” Lew observed, looking through the doorway to where Bruce Duffy sat slumped on a camouflage-upholstered loveseat, “must be desperate.”
Back in the big house, Osborne hunted for Ray. He found him in a rear room, an office area packed with video monitors and equipment. Ray was alone, lounging in a chair with one leg crossed over the other.
He winked at Osborne. “Told you it’d be a good party. I’m making myself a copy of tonight’s tape for the family archives,” he said. “Edith got some terrific shots of me in the kitchen.”
“Ray, I don’t think Bruce Duffy likes you.”
Ray laughed. “Did you see how fast people cleared out of here?”
“Lew asked me to thank you for tipping Roger off to those two razzbonyas.”
“Put one foot in front of the other, you can’t lose. You in the parade tomorrow, Doc?”
“I forgot about that. No, what time is it?”
“SevenA.M. I’ll be on guard duty, I guess. Haven’t heard otherwise yet, though after tonight, who knows.”
When Osborne got home, he had a message from Ralph’s Sporting Goods. Ralph was nicer than usual, saying that he hoped Osborne could ride on their float in the morning. They had been counting on having a dozen members of the local Trout Unlimited chapter to dress up in their fly-fishing vests and waders and throw candies to the kids along the parade route. Four people had had to cancel for various reasons. Ralph promised to up his donation to TU if Osborne would substitute.
Osborne called him at home and said he’d do it. Then he tried Erin’s number but no answer. Assuming she and the kids must still be out at the hunting shack, he decided to stop by the house after the parade. He knew Mark and Erin wouldn’t let the kids miss the big parade.
Just as he was about to fall asleep, the phone rang. It was Lew.
“Still no word from the DEA, Doc. And no one answers my calls, not even their cell phones. I don’t know what to do about this—I can’t stand by and let Patty Boy sell drugs and stolen goods out there tomorrow.”
“Lew, I am sure you will hear something in the morning. What else can you do? How did it end with Duffy tonight?”
“I didn’t have enough to hold him. Those sidekicks of his had made bail by the time I got there. Once I have a chance to interrogate those two, I’m sure we’ll have Duffy on fraud. That’s on my plate for Monday. Right now, I’m worried sick about this other situation.”
“Nothing you can do tonight, Lew; try to get some sleep. Will you be at the parade?”
“Yes, I will be at the parade.” She sounded beat.
twenty-five
“God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than fishing.”
—Isaak Walton
The parade was to launch from the parking lot of the Lutheran school at the top of Main Street. It was just shortly after six when Osborne parked on a side street, but the place was already buzzing with activity. Looking down toward the center of Loon Lake, he could see families already setting up the
ir chairs along the parade route.
Looking for Ralph’s float, Osborne strolled past band members tuning instruments, a couple dressed like a hooked bluegill with a bobber putting last-minute touches on their float, and members of Kiwanis handing out steaming cups of coffee.
Parker Steadman’s car was at the very front of the line. His crew had decorated a vintage white Cadillac convertible with streamers of gold and silver. As Osborne headed toward the back of the line, where he knew he would find Ralph’s float, he saw Parker leaning against the convertible, a cup of coffee in his hand as he talked to a group of men crowding around him.
Jen was sitting in the car, watching her father with an admiring smile on her face. They both looked happier this morning. The simple tableau of father and daughter reminded Osborne of Erin and Mallory and how they had filled that hole in his heart after Mary Lee’s death. No wonder Hayden didn’t like the girl.
A vintage Thunderbird convertible was parked immediately behind Parker’s Cadillac. Hayden, her eyes covered with dark sunglasses, sat slumped in one corner of the back seat. Edith, sitting beside her, was intent on a clipboard resting on her lap. She glanced up as Osborne walked by and gave a cheery wave. A banner rigged over their heads featured their names and titles under large black letters announcing the fishing channel. Their car did not flash gold and silver. Parker had definitely separated family from employee.
Prepared to walk alongside both cars with a video cam in a shoulder harness and a large battery pack with an attached microphone hanging off his hip was Rob, the young cameraman that Osborne had met at the airport. At the moment, he was deep in conversation with Ray. Osborne strolled over.
“Employed?”
“One more hour. I’m driving the T-bird in the parade and then, as far as I know, I’m done for the day. That’s fine with me; those two aren’t speaking this morning and I’d just as soon be out of the line of fire.”
Dead Frenzy Page 21
