Dead Madonna

by Victoria Houston

  “And that man—do you know how many times I’ve driven past here late at night and seen him in this office with all the lights on? When I ask him why, he’s very evasive. He lies—certainly lied to me about the size of his firm. Yes, sirree, that guy’s up to something. It doesn’t take twelve hours to print out the job fair handouts. Yuck,” she shivered, “I can’t wait to get those two out of here.”

  “I just hope they deliver those applications,” said Osborne, feeling defeated. Gwen Curry had taken control of the session and he didn’t like it.

  “I’ll call the DA this evening because those applications are the direct result of a Chamber initiative,” said Anita. “We won’t wait on those two. I doubt they even have a lawyer. What frauds! He really did tell me his firm employed one hundred fifty people. My fault,” she shook her head, “I should’ve done a background check.”

  “Dr. Osborne?” said Ryan as he and Osborne walked past the kitchen area towards the front door. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Certainly,” said Osborne. He didn’t, but something in the boy’s demeanor throughout the meeting gave the impression he was on the verge of saying something but kept deciding against it.

  “In here,” said Ryan, waving him into the kitchen and shutting the door behind them. Keeping his voice low, he said, “You need to know something—DeeDee was planning to file a sexual harassment suit against Mr. Curry. She warned him early last week, the day before he gave her the bonus. When she got the envelope with all that money, she was sure he was trying to buy her off.”

  Speechless for a moment, Osborne pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. “Does Anita know this?”

  “No. DeeDee had an appointment with an employment lawyer in Wausau next week. She wanted to handle things right before telling Mrs. Rasmussen. She didn’t want to risk losing her job. Thing is, Mr. Curry was going to contract to run more job fairs and DeeDee couldn’t stand the thought she might be assigned to work with him again.”

  “He was? The Currys told us they were ‘winding up’ the job fairs. You think they’re planning more?”

  “He told DeeDee he was. He wanted her to work full-time for him. See, I don’t think Mrs. Curry knew because then he went into this whole riff about how he was tired of taking orders from her and maybe he and DeeDee could get together. Yadda, yadda. DeeDee was totally creeped out.”

  “What kind of harassment are we talking about—do you know?”

  “Oh, I know all right. She told me all about it.”

  When Ryan finished describing DeeDee’s struggle to maintain her professionalism and deal with behavior that included inappropriate touching, lewd jokes and lurking outside her bedroom window in the dark, Osborne walked back towards the conference area, hoping to find Anita in her office, but she was gone. Leaving the building alongside Ryan, he noticed that his was the only car in the parking lot.

  “Ryan, do you need a ride somewhere?”

  “No, thank you, I have a bike. Got it from Uncle Dick. Hold on—” The boy jogged past a row of shrubs, ducked behind the shrubbery and emerged wheeling a small Japanese motorcycle. “Isn’t this cool? I’m paying for it with the money I’m making here this summer. Uncle Dick got a deal from one of his suppliers.”

  Ryan reached for a helmet hanging over the handlebars and pulled it on.

  “Looks like fun,” said Osborne. “Just don’t hit a deer on that thing. By the way, Ryan, don’t be surprised if Chief Ferris will want talk to you some more about the situation between Mr. Curry and DeeDee. In fact, I’m sure one of us will call you tomorrow. I also think you should tell Mrs. Rasmussen everything you told me. She doesn’t need any more surprises.”

  “Not a problem. I want to help.”

  Osborne started towards his car. “Oh, one more question—would you say DeeDee was upset when she left the office yesterday?”

  “She’s been upset since last week,” said Ryan. “Yeah, real upset. But I think I’m the only person she talked to about it. She was angry but she was embarrassed, too. She said the whole thing was so cheesy and she asked me if I thought she did anything to bring it on, y’know.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I told her ‘no.’ Without question ‘no.’”

  “Ryan, did you and DeeDee date?”

  “Oh, no. Gosh, no. We were really good friends but she was a couple years ahead of me in school. She went with older guys.”

  “Like Robbie Moriarty? Do you know Robbie?”

  “Not really. He was a friend of DeeDee’s but from what she said, just a friend. See, we talked a lot—DeeDee and me—but always just in the office. I don’t really know all those people that she partied with. They’re older, y’know.”

  “Did DeeDee ever come to work drunk?”

  Ryan looked at Osborne with a shocked expression on his face. “DeeDee was so professional.” The boy’s face twisted and he clenched his eyes shut for a few seconds, but he pulled himself together and said, “The DeeDee I knew was hardworking, pleasant, pretty—all those things. Never once this summer did I ever see or hear her do anything unprofessional. Anything. Did someone really tell you that?”

  “No,” said Osborne, “but I had to ask.”

  “Because if someone said that, I’ll—”

  “No one did, son. Believe me, that is not why I asked. Now I’ve kept you long enough, Ryan. You’ve been a big help.”

  “But late,” said the boy as he slipped his key into the bike’s ignition. “Way too late. I should’ve said something earlier.” His cheeks were wet.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, kid,” said Osborne, patting him on the shoulder. “No one saw this coming. No one.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Osborne had no need to check with the switchboard for a message from Nora’s family. Her son, Russell, was waiting in the conference room adjacent to Lew’s office.

  “He’s been here for over an hour,” whispered Laura, the young night dispatcher, to Osborne as he walked in. Laura was Marlene’s twenty-two-year-old niece. Just starting a two-year associate degree in law enforcement, she had lobbied hard for the dispatcher job to see how a police department operated. Whatever she may have expected her duties to be, caring for a bereaved but handsome man her own age was not one of them. Laura’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with worry.

  “I didn’t know what to do or say when he came in,” she said. “I got him a Coke—was that okay?”

  “That was very considerate,” said Osborne with an assuring pat on her shoulder. “Have we heard from Chief Ferris?” It was nearly seven. He hoped Lew might be on her way back from the meeting with the Moriartys and their lawyer.

  “Not since she left,” said Laura. “Been pretty quiet this evening. We had a 9-1-1 for a kid who took a softball in the face. The EMTs are on their way to the ballpark—but nothing else.”

  “Let’s hope it stays quiet,” said Osborne, heading down the hall to the conference room.

  “Dr. Osborne,” said Russell Loomis, standing up as Osborne entered. Sandy-haired and tall, Russell had the athletic build of a soccer player, which he had been in high school. Osborne knew him as a bright kid with a quick grin. No grin today—his features were slack with grief.

  “Russ,” said Osborne as they shook hands, “I don’t know where to start, son. Chief Ferris asked me—” Before he could say more, he was interrupted.

  “I went to the morgue. They won’t let me see my mom.”

  “They can’t. Not until the pathologist from the Wausau Crime Lab has finished the autopsy. Then you can, but, Russ, I’m not sure you should. I suggest you wait until the funeral home has an opportunity—”

  “I know, I know. I used to date Carleen Kiel, one of the nurses over there, and she told me my mom was pretty beat up. I couldn’t get her to say more.” Russell fastened his gaze on Osborne. “What the hell happened, Doc?”

  “We’ll know more in the morning,” said Osborne. “Right now all we can say with authority is that
your mother’s death was no accident. But as to exactly how she died and when—we have to wait for the autopsy results.”

  Russell looked away, then shook his head as he raised one hand in frustration and said, “You know, I’ve been feeling like something was going to happen. A premonition in the pit of my stomach. Even though it made my girlfriend madder n’hell, I had this urge to see Mom so I drove home last weekend—I mean, it’s only four hours from here to Minneapolis.”

  A sheepish look crossed his face as he said, “My mom always said she was kinda psychic and that I inherited that from her. We had a little agreement between us to pay attention to that kind of stuff. That’s what made me decide at the last minute to drive over.”

  “Ah, so you were here in Loon Lake this past weekend?”

  “Yeah. It seemed silly at first ‘cause when I got here not a thing was wrong, in spite of this nagging feeling that she might have a health problem or something.”

  “She must have been happy to see you.” Osborne didn’t add what he was thinking: one of Nora’s last thoughts might have been gratitude that she had been with her son so recently.

  “Oh yeah. And fact is, the pontoon wasn’t running right so I was able to fix that and a couple other things around the house. Little stuff, y’know.” The boy’s eyes reached for approval.

  “You have to feel good about that, given what’s happened.”

  “Well, yeah, that and the fact I was able to take her fishing.” Russell’s face lightened. “After I got the pontoon motor running, I took her up the river for smallies—just like she and Dad used to do on Sunday afternoons. And, Doc, would you believe she landed a seventeen-inch smallmouth? That son of a gun weighed over two pounds! I told Mom she should keep it and we’d get it mounted for the den but she insisted on releasing it. Whoa, that was one monster smallmouth—I know I’ve never seen one that big. And he fought—man, Mom loved it.”

  “What was she using?”

  “Dad’s favorite tackle—a Zoom 4-inch Dead Ringer on his Carolina Rig.” Russell’s smile belied the haunted look in his eyes. “I am so glad I came. I am so glad she had such a great time with that fish …”

  And then he wept. Osborne moved from his chair to sit alongside Russell and wait. Laura opened the door to check on them but Osborne waved her away. Then he did for Russell what Ray had done for him: he held his hand.

  “So there was nothing bothering your Mother,” said Osborne when Russell had regained his composure.

  “Oh, you know, she was stressed out over that job she started. She didn’t need to work, you know. Dad left her well off but Mom has always been involved—she needed something to do and when she was offered one within a week of attending a job fair, she felt like it was meant to be.”

  “Well, Russ, think it over and call me at home if anything comes to mind. Here’s my number at the house,” said Osborne getting to his feet. It had been a long day and if it was okay with Russell, he would just as soon talk with him again in the morning.

  “I did come across one weird thing today,” said Russell, getting to his feet. “I stopped by the bank where I’ve been helping Mom with Dad’s estate. They said she opened an account with a check for twenty thousand dollars late last week—and that the money was withdrawn early this afternoon. Now, Dr. Osborne, that doesn’t make sense, does it?”

  “Certainly does not. Which bank is it?”

  “Mid-Wisconsin.”

  “Really,” said Osborne. “I’ll alert Chief Ferris to that as soon as she’s back in the office. Did they say how the withdrawal was made? Maybe your mother had arranged for bills to be paid automatically from her account.”

  “I think I would know if she had a bill for twenty thousand dollars. She would have mentioned it to me.”

  As they walked down the hall towards the doors that led to the parking lot, Russell said, “I just wish she hadn’t let herself get so wound up over that dumb job at Universal Medical.”

  “What was it that bothered her? The long hours? Didn’t like the people?”

  “No, she liked the people all right. It was this one incident that threw her.” They were in the parking lot approaching Russell’s car when he said with a shrug, “But, you know, it’s the kind of thing you have to expect from those call centers.”

  “What kind of thing are you talking about?” said Osborne, stopping to listen.

  “Well, Mom was never in management before, so being a boss was a new dynamic for her. Part of her training to be a supervisor meant working the evening shift and taking calls for a couple weeks so she would have a feel for the system. It was something that happened with one of the calls that worried her.”

  Osborne set aside his feeling of fatigue. “And what was that, Russ?”

  “She said she overheard a drunk threatening to kill his wife. She told her boss and they said they would look into it, which they did up to a point, I guess. They told her they couldn’t trace the call so there was nothing more they could do. Mom worried that the woman had been hurt—maybe killed. She was letting it keep her awake nights.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Early last week.”

  “You don’t happen to know who she worked for out at Universal, do you?”

  “A woman by the name of Fern Carstenson. In fact,” Russell reached for his wallet, “I have my mom’s new business card with their main number here.”

  “I’m going to check into this,” said Osborne, shaking Russell’s hand. “You do your best to get a good night’s sleep. Are you sleeping at your mother’s?”

  “No, I’m staying with good friends—the Moores. You can reach me there or that nice girl on the switchboard has my cell phone number.”

  Back in the police department, Osborne hurried down the hall to the empty conference room. He reached for the phone console on the table. Fern Carstenson was due in for the late shift at ten p.m. He left a voicemail asking her to call him at home.

  CHAPTER 14

  He drove home through ghosts. The morning cold front had collided with the humid afternoon sun to charge the night with a slithering, shape-shifting fog. Trees, barns, utility poles had turned grotesque—unrecognizable in the moonless air. Branches jutted at unnatural angles, mimicking the contorted limbs of dead women. Even the statuesque balsam guarding the corner where he turned off the highway had morphed into a threatening presence, hanging over the road with arms stretched out to strangle.

  Peering through the fog streaming across his driveway, Osborne was relieved to see light beaming from the open kitchen windows. As he closed the car door he could hear Mallory talking to someone, her sentence ending in a peal of laughter followed by a hearty masculine chortle. Ray. Had to be, as there was no other car in the driveway.

  “Dad? Hey, Dad, is that you?” His daughter peered through the screen over the kitchen sink. “Have you had anything to eat? Ray brought pizza—saved you some.”

  “In a minute,” said Osborne with a wave she probably couldn’t see. “Taking Mike down to the lake.”

  He reached for the flashlight stored on the shelf just inside the garage door, then opened the gate to let the dog out. Mike, leaping with joy, left a slather of love on Osborne’s right hand. “Off!” he said without conviction. Sometimes unconditional love was not a bad thing.

  Reaching the dock, he made sure to throw a stick so far it would take Mike minutes to retrieve. He smiled as the dog sailed into the cloudbank, confident of success, Mike was one air-scenting lab who wouldn’t let a little fog get in his way. The sound of Mike’s slurping as he swam comforted Osborne. Unsettling as the day had been, it was good to know some things never change. As he waited, listening to the waves play their notes along the shore, he let fatigue and the emotions of the day wash over him. Then he heard a snap of jaws and a swirl as the dog spun towards shore.

  “Dad? Dad, you have got to see this! Ray has a brilliant idea.” Mallory, seated in front of the laptop computer that she had set up on the desk in the den,
turned eager eyes to Osborne as he walked in. Ray was leaning over, one hand on her shoulder, studying the screen.

  “Mind if I go for the pizza first?” said Osborne. Three years of Ray Pradt’s brilliant ideas had taught him that a five-minute delay would not be catastrophic.

  “Thanks again for helping out with the kids, Ray,” he said, loud enough so he could be heard in the den. He shuffled through the kitchen cabinet in search of a paper plate and a napkin. Finding a plate but no napkin, he ripped off a section of paper towel. It dawned on him he was starving—he wasn’t used to eating so late.

  “Ohmygod, Dad, you should have seen Cody,” said Mallory, bouncing into the kitchen as Osborne inhaled his first wedge of pizza. “Ray let him wear his hat—all through lunch. I took pictures. It was so cute.”

  “I’m sure,” said Osborne, his mouth full. Once again, he couldn’t compete.

  Ray’s hat was legendary: a stuffed trout sewn onto a battered leather cap so that the head and tail waved in the air over all six-feet-six-inches of its proud owner. In the summertime, the cap’s earflaps were tucked up into the crown, allowing Ray to tip the trout “just so.” And “just so” required time and effort. The McDonald’s crowd was known to place bets on how long it would take Ray, crouching in front of the side-view mirror of his pick-up, to find the ideal angle. Yep, no missing that guy in a crowd at a muskie fishing expo.

  Despite a twinge of jealousy, Osborne had to smile. Better even than catching bluegills, the privilege of wearing Ray’s hat would have made his grandson’s day.

  Picking up another slice of pizza, Osborne followed Mallory into the den. “So what’s this big idea that’s probably gonna cost some poor sucker like me a couple hundred bucks?”

  “You tell him, Ray,” said Mallory, turning to the fishing-guide gravedigger who was always just this side of a million dollars. She looked up at Ray with eyes too happy for her old man. Osborne harbored a nagging worry that his daughter’s crush on Ray could turn serious some day.