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Authors: Victoria Houston

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BOOK: Dead Madonna
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“Carrie shouldn’t have said so much,” said Juliana with a heavy sigh.

“But Chief Ferris said the smallest detail might be important,” said Carrie, glaring at her friend over Marcy’s collapsed shoulders. “I’m not
trying
to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

Somber, patient, Lew and Osborne remained seated in worn armchairs across from the women. Osborne gazed around the living room of the rental house, which was small but tidy and decorated with used furniture. A vase of fresh daisies sat on a beat-up coffee table that also held fashion magazines, a scattering of CDs and DVDs, a bottle of silver-blue nail polish and an iPod plugged into its charger. Outside an open window, a honeybee buzzed.

Once Osborne had secured the information needed for the death certificate—age, last birthday, legal residence, cause of death (TBD)—he had, at Lew’s request, taken the chair next to her. She introduced him as the acting coroner and a deputy who would be assisting in the investigation. Osborne was always surprised at how pleased he was when that happened, even though it had been nearly two years now that she had come to rely on his participation and perspective in difficult interrogations.

Years in the dental office spent listening for the mundane detail that might clarify the source of a patient’s problem had given him an acute ear. Was that pattern of wear due to poor orthodontics? Or was the patient under severe emotional stress? Add to that the reality that men and women hear things differently—not to mention vary their responses when quizzed by a member of the opposite sex.

And so it was that Lew and Osborne had learned to count on surprising each other when they compared notes. Marcy reached for the Kleenex box on the coffee table. As she leaned forward, Juliana shot a look at Carrie. Osborne caught the exchange and knew what it meant: Carrie had just been ordered to say nothing that could cause Marcy more distress.

The older woman blew her nose, then raised her head and said, “Do you know that when her dad died of a heart attack two years ago, DeeDee offered to help me pay the mortgage on my house? I mean,
that
is the kind of person she was. And did you notice her closet—how well organized she is … was …”

Marcy was right. A quick survey of DeeDee’s bedroom while waiting for Juliana to arrive had shown she was orderly in her habits. The closet door—ajar as if DeeDee had left in haste—exposed a hanging rack with each item of clothing on its own hanger and hung with like items: slacks with slacks, blouses with blouses, jackets with jackets. Above the rack was a shelf loaded with shoeboxes. An inside wall of the closet held more shelving on which were arranged dozens of pairs of shoes. Organized against one wall of the small bedroom were more sandals, heels and tennis shoes—each shoe paired with its mate.

“She had a passion for stilettos,” said Carrie at the expressions of amazement on the faces of Osborne and Lew. “She loved buying online and always found the best deals. She was a perfect size six so she could do that, y’know?”

“Doc,” said Lew, turning to Osborne, “DeeDee wasn’t wearing shoes, was she?”

“No.”

“Do you think you could identify her shoes if we were to find them?” said Lew to Carrie.

“Probably. Lately she’s been wearing Campers—the right foot is different from the left so they’re pretty distinctive. I’d recognize any of those for sure.”

The top of an old oak dresser and a bedside table held gaily colored cardboard boxes brimming over with bracelets, earrings and other items of jewelry. On the floor beside the bed, which had been made with a lemon yellow coverlet and matching pillow, was one empty water bottle and a half-eaten power bar tucked neatly into its wrapper. The drawers to DeeDee’s dresser and the nearby desk were closed.

“Don’t you want to see what’s in her desk?” said Marcy as Lew turned to leave the room.

“Not yet,” said Lew. “Without a search warrant I can only examine what is in plain sight, which is why it is very important that no one touch anything in here until I examine all her belongings. I should have the search warrant by dinner time, I hope.”

“But you don’t need a warrant,” said Marcy. “The girls and I don’t care. We want you to do everything you can.”

“I appreciate that,” said Lew, “but it’s a legal issue that protects any evidence that’s found. A formality, but critical in a courtroom.”

“Do you want us to close the door?” said Carrie.

“Yes—oh, wait,” said Lew, pausing in front of the dresser on which was set a mirror framed in oak. Wedged along the bottom edge where the mirror met the frame were three trout flies—feathered lemon yellow and tipped with a spray of deer hair. “These trout flies,” said Lew, pointing, “beautifully tied Conehead Madonnas. You don’t see those very often. Did DeeDee fly fish?”

“Oh, heavens no,” said Marcy. “My dad made those. He was a fly fisherman and loved to tie trout flies. Dad adored DeeDee—he called her ‘my little Madonna’ and made those for her when she was just a little tyke. I think Dad was kidding when he said he needed strands of her blond hair to make them perfect—but DeeDee believed him.”

Marcy loosened one trout fly from the mirror. “Maybe … I’d like to bury one with her. Dad would have liked that …” She took a deep breath, then paused, “Oh, dear, I’m disturbing things right after you said—”

“No, please, take it,” said Lew, raising a hand to keep Marcy from putting the trout fly back in place. “I’ll make a note. So long as no one touches anything more in this room, that will be fine.”

C
HAPTER
10

“S
o, Marcy, you were saying that DeeDee had plans,” said Lew when the woman had regained her composure.

“What kind of plans?”

“Her career,” said Marcy, taking a deep breath. “She’s been working at the Chamber of Commerce for almost a year now. Loved the job. Two weeks ago, they gave her a nice raise and a promotion. We had dinner together last Sunday and she told me she planned to go to school parttime for an associate degree in business and public relations. The Chamber sponsors a program that allows you to do that at the tech college over in Rhinelander.”

“That’s what she told me, too,” said Juliana. “Her boss said she could have Fridays off for school.”

“So … no problems at work?” said Lew.

“Hardly,” said Juliana. “They had like eleven applicants for the new business liaison job and DeeDee got it. Her annual review was excellent—they told her she was a natural. Like these job fairs she’s been doing? She got so many people to come, it was like unreal.”

“Juliana’s right,” said Marcy. “DeeDee felt so lucky when she got that job—it was fun, she made decent money and it came with an SUV even—used, but a nice car. I know she was putting in at least eight hours a day.”

“More!” said Carrie, eager to deliver good news for a change. “Golly, Mrs. Kurlander, I know days she worked ten, twelve hours. Partly ‘cause she would drive to the locations to make sure everything got set up right.”

Lew checked her watch. “Doc,” she said, “it’s not quite four thirty. I’m scheduled to meet with the Moriartys and their lawyer at six. If I have Marlene call the Chamber and ask those folks to stay a few minutes, would you mind stopping by and asking them a few questions?”

“Fine with me,” said Osborne. “It’s obvious I have to change any plans I had for later this evening, so please, Chief, use me where you can.” He gave her a regretful grin as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Doc,” said Lew, her apologetic glance acknowledging his reference to their aborted plan to spend the evening in a trout stream. She reached for her cell phone, saying, “I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Nora Loomis’s son yet and Marlene’s logged two calls from him, poor man. Girls, anyone in particular at the Chamber that Dr. Osborne should contact? Who was her immediate boss?”

“Anita Rasmussen,” said Juliana, “but maybe that Mr. Curry, too. He thought she was doing great work. He said he’d write her a recommendation for school if she needed it.”

“Yeah, you better talk to him all right,” said Carrie. “He was starting to hang on DeeDee. I found him sitting in his car watching our house one night last week—”

“Carrie! You know he had files for DeeDee. He wasn’t lurking,” said Juliana. “Just because you didn’t like him doesn’t mean anything.” Carrie shrugged, her lips tight.

“Good,” said Lew as she reached Marlene and left the two names along with the instruction to call back only if the Chamber people couldn’t see Osborne.

“Something else,” said Carrie, after Lew had completed her call. She shot a defiant glare at Juliana, then glanced around to be sure everyone was listening, “Mr. Curry paid her a
very
nice bonus.”

“What do you mean by ‘very nice’?” said Marcy, turning on the girl. “Are you implying that DeeDee was—”

“Oh, gosh no,” said Carrie. “It was a real bonus. Ask Mr. Curry. He told her his job fairs had never had such terrific turnouts. But, jeez, an envelope with two hundred dollars in it? DeeDee was pretty taken aback.”

“That is a nice bonus,” said Lew. “A very nice bonus.”

“Ye-e-a-h,” said Carrie, “but DeeDee wanted to give it back. That’s what she told me, anyway.”

“Did she give it back?” said Lew.

“I dunno,” said Carrie.

“I’m sure she did,” said Juliana.

“So she was working for the Chamber
and
for Mr. Curry?” said Lew. “Did she have
two
jobs?”

“No, no,” said Juliana with a shake of her head. “Carrie is confusing you. The Chamber offers new businesses in town the services of their liaison team for a limited time. Mr. Curry was planning to hold six job fairs in the region and DeeDee was assigned to help with three—one in Rhinelander, one in Loon Lake and the last one was this past week in Minocqua.”

“Speaking of Minocqua,” said Lew, “how well do you girls know Robert Moriarty?”

Quizzical expressions crossed both girls’ faces, then Carrie said, “Oh! You mean Robbie? I’ve never heard him called Robert.” She giggled.
“Robert?
That’s funny. I can’t imagine him as a ‘Robert.’ Sounds so serious.”

“So you know him well?”

“Oh sure, we party with Robbie all the time. Like I said earlier—we were all on his boat last night. DeeDee, too, of course.”

“Right—,” said Lew. “So tell me more about Robbie. Were he and DeeDee a couple?” The girls looked stymied. Neither one spoke.

Osborne decided to change the subject. “So you said that the last you saw your friend was around eleven last night in the parking lot at the public landing on Moccasin Lake Road.”

“That’s right,” said Carrie. “But that was after we left Robbie’s boat—and the party.”

“And where was the boat at that time?”

“Where it always is—the north end of Party Cove just past the public landing. Is … is that the boat where …?” Carrie’s eyes widened with disbelief.

“Yes,” said Lew, “only not at that location. Robbie said his boat drifted up the channel by mistake. Were you aware of the boat drifting when you were on board?”

“No,” said Carrie. “Except for when they brought us back to the landing, it was definitely anchored.”

“Are you saying Robbie didn’t mention that DeeDee was at the party?” said Juliana, her surprise genuine.

“He hasn’t had an opportunity,” said Lew. “His father insists their lawyer be present when his son is questioned. Carrie, why don’t you fill us in on exactly where you and DeeDee were last night—the entire evening, not just the last time you saw her.”

Carrie plucked at something on the knee of her close-fitting jeans. “Oh … well, yeah, Robbie had a big party last night and we were all there. DeeDee went straight from work ‘cause she worked late, so she was already on the boat when I got there.”

“Was this one of your beer pong parties?” said Osborne.

“Oh, no, just friends—it was Robbie’s birthday. He invited a bunch of us. And then …” Carrie paused, concern in her eyes as she struggled to recall the events the night before. Osborne wondered if she had had so much to drink that she couldn’t remember clearly.

“Juliana, I take it you were there?” said Osborne.

“Yes, but I stayed on board when Carrie left with Jeremy and DeeDee.”

“Yeah, then this weird thing happened,” said Carrie. “Well, no, maybe it wasn’t weird—forget what I just said.” “Wait a minute. Carrie, if you’re holding back for my sake,” said Marcy, “don’t! Chief Ferris needs to know everything, anything. Me, too.” Marcy put an affectionate hand on Carrie’s knee. “I promise I am not going to be angry with you … please.”

“It’s not that,” said Carrie. “It’s just … I’m trying to figure this out …”

“Let Dr. Osborne and me figure it out,” said Lew. “You give us the details and we’ll take it from there.”

“Here’s the thing—it was weird that DeeDee left us the way she did. See, we ran out of beer so me, DeeDee and Jeremy decided to drive to the filling station up on Highway 47 for another case. But when we got to the landing, DeeDee changed her mind and said she would wait for us in her car because she had to make a phone call.

“We were gone maybe fifteen minutes at the most and when we got back she wasn’t there. Her car was but she wasn’t. I figured she was back on the boat, but I realize now she wasn’t. Thing is,” said Carrie, a stricken look on her face, “I didn’t pay attention, not even when we were back on the boat. I just assumed she was hanging out with somebody.”

“Because why?” said Lew. “You were otherwise engaged?” Carrie turned red.

“Kinda.”

“What kind of phone call?” said Marcy, oblivious to Carrie’s embarrassment. “She had a cell phone, why wouldn’t she have stayed with you and made that call?”

Carrie’s eyes darted to Juliana, then away. “I dunno. I just assumed it was a private call.”

“Do you know who she was calling?” said Lew.

“No,” said Carrie. She answered so quickly Osborne knew she was lying.

“Well, enough for now,” said Lew, standing up. “Marcy, I will be in touch with you as soon as the pathologist has completed the autopsy. If you’re making arrangements.” Lew beckoned the woman into the corner of the living room where she spoke in a low whisper. Osborne heard enough to know she was advising against an open casket.

BOOK: Dead Madonna
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