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Authors: Victoria Houston

Dead Madonna (20 page)

BOOK: Dead Madonna
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“Ouch! Something very sharp … Chief, Doc—let’s get some light on this before someone gets hurt.”

Within minutes, they were staring through the crystal clear water of Mirror Lake. “Well, folks,” said Ray, “your guess is as good as mine. Animal? Vegetable? Mineral? Or … one beat-up computer.”

“Hey, look over there,” said Lew, waving her flashlight across tiny slivers of leather and plastic floating close to the shore.

“I’ve got a net if you want to grab some of that,” said Ray. Osborne took it from him and waded in a short way to scoop up the bits and pieces. Lew shone the flashlight over the contents, then said, “Gentlemen, I’m willing to bet this is all we’ll find of Hugh Curry’s wallet. I guess we’ll be relying entirely on Mrs. Curry for purposes of identification.”

“And personal financial records perhaps?” added Osborne, thinking of all the minutia a person’s wallet might contain—details they might want kept secret from surviving family members.

Walking back to the cruiser after making sure the house was locked up, Lew said, “Doc, what do you think Gwen was making for supper?”

“I don’t know—hadn’t thought about it.”

“I have.”

“And?” He linked his arm through hers.

“And I saw nothing close to a meal being prepared on the stove or on the counters. Nothing in the sink that hadn’t been there for weeks, if not months. And no table setting—though that would be hard to tell through all the mess.”

“Boy, that never occurred to me,” said Osborne, “you’re right. Be interesting to hear what her answer will be to that, Lew.” He watched her reach to open the door of the cruiser. Moonlight got caught in the curls falling over her forehead and gleamed off the irises of her dark, dark eyes. Osborne couldn’t help it, he started planning for the weekend.

C
HAPTER
26

Mallory was still up and working away on her laptop as Osborne walked into the den. Setting his black bag off to one side, he said, “Honey, do you know how late it is?”

“Yeah, I do—but I want to get this done,” said Mallory without taking her eyes off the computer screen. “Say, Dad,” she paused to look up at him with a wide grin, “guess what—I’ve decided to move in with you and run this FawnCam business for Ray.”

At the expression on his face, she laughed out loud. “I am just
kidding.
For heaven’s sake. But, seriously, I do think Ray is on to something this time. I’ve had emails back from the Smithsonian shops, two gun catalogs and the Outdoors Network.” She turned back to her computer screen. “Two more emails and I’m done here.”

“That’s great, Mal,” said Osborne, suddenly remembering Gretel, her guns and Ray’s obvious crush on the woman. How would that fit with FawnCam? Would Ray dating Gretel upset Mallory?

“I’ll head back to Evanston on Saturday, Dad. Ray and I are going to fish fry Friday night after we wrap up what he needs to do to keep everything moving forward.” “Um … you sure about that?” “Yeah, why?” She turned around to look at him. “Well, I think that Ray might have other plans is all. Might want to check with him.” Osborne decided right then and there that
he
was not going to be the one to tell her.

“Oh, you mean the woman with the guns? He’s pretty excited about Gretel. She can get us into even more markets through the companies she reps.”

“Oh, that’s good … I guess.”

“Dad, what’s wrong?” Mallory’s eyes teased him. “You got something on your mind?” “No.”

“Yes, you do. I can see it. Oh, I know—I’ve stayed too long, haven’t I?”

“Absolutely not. I love having you here.”

“Dad, I’ve been through enough therapy to know
you
do not handle confrontation well. Now if you don’t level with me, I’m going to insist you go back into rehab.”

“All right, all right,” Osborne gave up. “It’s Ray, honey. The blonde. That Gretel woman with the guns. I think he’s like …”

“Okay, Dad, here’s the deal. First, let me turn off the computer.” She hit a key, then waved a hand at him. “Sit down, would you please?”

Osborne plunked himself into the leather armchair that he had rescued from his office over Mary Lee’s objections that it was too worn and ripped along the seat cushion. It was still ripped and worn
and
the most comfortable chair in the house.

“I know you think I’m in love with Ray, but I’ve learned a lot about him in the last few days. He’s a wonderful guy, Dad, but I can never marry someone who can’t read a spreadsheet.”

“He can’t read a spreadsheet?” Osborne stalled, wondering why that would be a problem. The guy had other qualities after all.

“Hell, no. Numbers drive him nuts. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t fun.”

“So what about Gretel? If he’s attracted to her—that doesn’t bother you?”

“D-a-a-d, I know the guy. When it comes to women, he is totally morally flexible. Always has been. You think I don’t know that?” She angled her head with that teasing smile again. “That’s part of what makes him a hell of a lot more interesting than most of the guys I date.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’m not going to worry about you.”

“I’m a big girl, Dad. Please … do not worry about me. Although …” she hesitated, “there is something.” Osborne waited.

“Very likely, I won’t marry again. I mean, I don’t
want
to get married again.”

“Have you been talking to Lew?”

“I’m serious, Dad, because I worry about you—would you be okay with that? I have so many things I want to do and I’m not big on having kids. Erin’s kids feel like they’re mine, too, and I love that. But I worry that you’ll think I’m … I worry that you’ll worry.”

“Oh Mal, come here,” said Osborne, standing up and opening his arms. Mallory got to her feet and walked into his embrace. He held her close. “I just want you to be happy. If you’re happy with your career and your friends—that’s fine with me.” He tipped her face so he could look into her eyes and said, “You know … you’ve grown up to be a very different woman from your mother. And that’s good because life is different for women these days.”

“Thank you. I needed to hear that, Dad.”

She pulled away and Osborne started for the door. “Just one question, kiddo. What’s an SBF? I heard you and Erin talking about that.”

“Oh, Jeez, Dad! It means Secret Boy Friend. Like the guy who’s totally off limits but you have a crush on him anyway.”

“Don’t tell me Erin has an SBF?”

“No! She’s very happy with Mark. We were talking about me. If you have to know—referring to Ray. But, Dad, that was so yesterday. Things have changed.”

“The spreadsheet.”

“Right. The spreadsheet.”

Osborne walked slowly towards his bedroom. What was it Mallory had said? Morally flexible … makes him fun … Jeez Louise! Would he ever understand women?

He was still half awake when he heard the bedroom door creak open. A creature, its fur standing on end, loomed in the shadows. Wavering on hind legs, it crept towards the bed. The eyes were hot and angry. The talons dripped blood. As it came at him, he knew: Lew was next.

Osborne screamed—and screamed again but the cries never left his throat. He woke with a thud to a long, slow snore from Mike. Blinking, he sat up. The bedroom door stood slightly ajar—just as he’d left it. Through the open window he heard the hoot of an owl. A west wind moaned through the pines. His world was unchanged except for those eyes—he knew they had been there.

C
HAPTER
27

Osborne woke to a chorus of crows, woodpeckers, robins and finches arguing international politics. Bright sunshine did nothing to curb their enthusiasm but it did encourage him to leap out of bed and head for the kitchen, where he found that Mallory had already put the coffee pot on to brew.

A full mug of coffee in hand and Mike bounding beside him, he headed down the stone stairway to the dock. Inhaling summer with all its sounds and warm breezes and his own pleasure in being alive, he paused at the end of the dock, took a deep sip of his coffee and studied the lake. A good walleye chop beckoned. He glanced down the shoreline to his right. Ray’s boat was out. Of course.

He had promised Lew that he would stop by the Curry place at ten. If Dan hadn’t made it up from Wausau, the plan was for Osborne to load the wrecked computer into his car and drive it down to the crime lab.

“Hey, Mike,” he called to the dog who was busy retrieving the stick he had tossed out over the waves, “c’mon, let’s see what the chief wants. I have a hunch I should pack my waders. You know, if all goes well, this could be one fine day for the float tube.” But even as he said that, he winced.

Float tube fishing was tough. Lew loved it but he still hadn’t figured out how to maneuver his way onto the water without looking like a wounded elephant; kick out to a good spot without asking Lew to stop and wait for him six times; tie on a trout fly bearing some resemblance to the insects hatching around him; and, finally, execute backcasts, forward casts and power snaps—all without being sabotaged by leg cramps. He was close to mastering everything but the leg cramps. But, hey, whatever it cost to fly fish with Lewellyn. He could fish through pain.

“I saw it in her eyes all day yesterday,” said Osborne, trusting Mike to give him good advice. “That woman has got to get on water soon. The endorphins are calling. Runners need to run, bikers need to bike and fishermen need to fish. I tell you, Mike,” Osborne pointed a finger of authority at the dog, “as Ted Williams used to say, ‘Every day you fish adds a day to your life.’” Mike yelped agreement as Osborne tossed him not one but
two
doggie treats.

An hour later he was humming his way towards the Curry place, past fields of grass buttered gold by the sun, lush-leaved potato fields and public landings crammed with boat trailers starting the weekend early. He parked near the cluster of police cars and a van that filled the driveway as well as the road in front of the Curry house. He wasn’t surprised. Before leaving home, he’d made a quick call to Marlene who said he would find Lew here with three of the Wausau boys, including Dan.

“They were on the road at seven this morning,” Marlene had said. “You got banks losing money and they’re all over the place, doncha know. Not like some crumb bum gets knifed at a tavern—then they could care less. Say, Doc, did you hear what Ray saw out at Chief Ferris’s place last night?”

“Out there or on that FawnCam of his?”

“Yeah, on the video. Y’know that thing really works. The chief thought she had a mountain lion—no way. It’s a wolf! Huge, too, Ray said.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. Those fawns may not be long for this world.” Marlene paused. “Do you think that wolf would eat those camcorders that Ray hung around their necks?”

“Don’t know, Marlene. My dog did a good job on a remote control.”

Osborne found Lew on her knees just inside the open front door. “Get a load of this, Doc,” she said pointing to a colorful box that had been pulled out of the larger box in which it had been shipped. “A karoke machine—professional model. Now what on earth could the Currys have planned to do with that?”

“Train for
American Idol?”
said Osborne, thinking of the plastic version that Erin had bought for his grandchildren. They had had great fun with it until someone left the microphones out in the rain.

“Well, I can’t imagine …” said Lew as Osborne extended a hand to help her to stand up. The day was already heating up and with no air conditioning the temperature in the house, even with all the doors and windows open, was nearing eighty degrees—enough to leave a sheen of perspiration across Lew’s forehead. Didn’t seem to bother her, however. Dusting grit from the floor off her hands, she looked fresh and rested.

“On the way out I stopped by Dr. Elman’s office with those teeth that Ray found at the Moccasin Lake site. Marcy had said he was DeeDee’s dentist. Elman promised to pull her chart and have a report for you early this afternoon.”

“Well, not much to do here, Doc. That damaged computer doesn’t need to go down to Wausau after all. Dan could tell right away that it is all that’s left of the server that Hugh Curry was using—and the hard drive was completely destroyed. The updated database, any financial records that Hugh may have kept on the server’s hard drive—he obliterated with a sledgehammer and finished off with a good drowning. No one’ll ever find those records. So there is no hope of using that to tell us where or what Hugh did with all his money. In the meantime, because it’s bank fraud, the Feds have directed Wausau to take over the search here at the house and in the office Hugh was using at the Chamber.”

“That must mean you have the day off,” said Osborne, his heart lifting.

“Not so fast, kiddo.” She punched him lightly in the shoulder. “I have phone calls to return and a small mountain of paper work to finish up.”

“Even with Hugh Curry’s confession and the fact his wife is pretty sure he was familiar with Nora Loomis and had chosen her as one of his easy marks?”

“I wish it were that easy. But I am putting the homicide investigation on hold until I see what they find here at the house.” Lew set the karaoke box back in its shipping container. She cut her eyes sideways towards Osborne as she spoke, her voice low and teasing, “So, Doc, did I tell you Ralph Steadman left me a message yesterday …”

His heart sank. Steadman, owner of Ralph’s Sporting Goods and a guy who was definitely “morally flexible” when it came to his marriage, had the bad habit of hitting on Lew, which irritated the hell out of Osborne. That plus the jerk’s talent for launching arcane discussions of fly-fishing that Lew appreciated but were way, w-a-a-y over Osborne’s head. Knowing Steadman did it just to intimidate him, Osborne despised the razzbonya.

And so he half-listened, eyes cast down. Very likely Lew was trying to let him down easy with the news that she had been invited to fish with Ralph and some visiting bigwigs from Orvis or St. Croix or Cabela’s or BassPro …

“Doc,” Lew waved a hand in front of his face, “are you listening to me? Ralph said he got in some new kayaks that have been rigged for fly fishing and wants me to try one out. But I told him I need two—not one. And he agreed! I know he’s figuring we’ll end up buying ‘em.”

BOOK: Dead Madonna
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