Read Cold Hunter's Moon Online
Authors: K. C. Greenlief
Cold Hunter's Moon (7 page)
NOVEMBER 22âSWENSON
Wednesday dawned cold and snowy. Lark was up and ready to leave for the station when Lacey came downstairs. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, looking like it might escape any minute. She had on heavy white crew socks and a long dark green velour robe that accentuated her green eyes.
He watched her make herself at home, opening and closing cabinets until she found the cups. She grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. Smiling, she leaned back against the counter, closed her eyes, and lifted the mug to her nose to inhale the aroma of the steaming coffee.
“I just can't get going without my coffee,” she said as she took a sip and wandered into the dining room. She sat down at the table and pulled her right leg up underneath her. Lark noticed that she was wearing long, green, silky pajama pants.
“I slept like a log. It's so quiet and peaceful out here.” She sipped her coffee and stared out at the falling snow.
Tongue-tied, he couldn't think of anything to say. She asked who would deal with Lands' End. He told her he wanted to handle that himself,
and asked if she and Joel would take two Mason County officers and finish the search of the Ranson property. She agreed, saying she much preferred to work outside. She refilled her coffee mug and headed upstairs.
and asked if she and Joel would take two Mason County officers and finish the search of the Ranson property. She agreed, saying she much preferred to work outside. She refilled her coffee mug and headed upstairs.
Lacey occupied Lark's thoughts as he drove into Big Oak. He found her very attractive and likable but she was probably no more than twenty-five. Much too young, he decided, putting her out of his mind. He barely noticed how dreary and snowy it was.
When he arrived, Flo asked if he could spare a minute. He grabbed a cup of coffee and pulled up a chair as she took a call. After dispatching for thirty-five years, she had forgotten more about Mason County than most people ever knew.
He studied her while she worked the call. Gold wire-rimmed glasses framed her brown eyes unless they had slid down her nose or been shoved on top of her head. A felt turkey decoration was pinned to her right shoulder and she had tiny ceramic turkey studs in her ears.
His reverie was broken when she radioed Jim Kryjack to check out an abandoned car. She then turned her full attention to Lark. Although there were only eleven years' difference in their ages, he somehow felt his mother was about to rip him a new one.
“You shoulda talked to me before you let Lonnie go last night,” Flo said, jamming her glasses back up her nose. “He's just gonna beat the crap out of Betty and drink up her paycheck like he's been doin for weeks.” Shaking her finger at him, she ranted on. “You had the perfect opportunity to keep him in jail and get him sobered up. You coulda had Mrs. Ranson press charges and saved Betty a ton of grief.”
“Betty showed up at the Ransons and begged Ann not to press charges. Without the Ransons, we didn't have anything on him that would stand up in court.” He paused to take a breath and held up his hand to keep Flo quiet. “Mrs. Ranson tried to get Betty to sign Lonnie in for detox, but she would only do it if Lonnie would go in voluntarily and he refused.”
“It's a damn shame that asshole didn't get so drunk that he shot himself and put everyone out of their misery. He's such a snake that shooting him would be considered justifiable homicide by everyone but Betty.” She glanced at Lark. “I'll bet you'd be real surprised at how fast the number of summer cabin robberies would drop if he wasn't around. He's also quite the poacher.”
“Can you prove any of this?”
“Do you think he'd still be here if I could?” she grumbled. “I hear things. You fit them together and they point to Lonnie. How can he stay drunk and not work but still have a roof over his head? Betty takes all the overtime she can get but her paycheck only stretches so far. There's other money comin' into that house and Lonnie's not doin' any legit work for it.”
“Thanks for the heads up, I'll keep my eyes peeled,” Lark said as he got up.
“Hold it,” she said, pointing her finger at him as she got another call. He sat back down and watched her take a message.
“I hear those two bodies from out at Wazowski's had on UW-Madison clothes.”
“You heard right,” he said, not bothering to ask how she got the information. Somehow she always knew everything.
“My Frank's on a long haul and won't be home'til tomorrow afternoon, so I was free last night. I went over to the library and looked through the high school yearbooks. I made a list of the kids from here who went down to UWâMadison. I added the summer kids I know about.” She held out three handwritten pages stapled together. “Both Jim and Paul are on the list.”
Lark thanked her, took the list, and got up to leave. Before he could get away, she handed him the message slip she'd just written. “I told him you'd call him before eight.”
The message was from Joel. Lark noted that it was seven-thirty and called him back. Joel answered on the second ring. “You becoming a donut-shop cop? Based on when the lovely Lacey told me you left here, you shoulda been there when I called.”
“I was waylaid, but not by the donut shop,” Lark grumbled, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs. “Our dispatcher did some detective work last night.” He told Joel about the list she'd given him.
“Well, from what you've told me, the FBI probably doesn't have more accurate information.” Joel chuckled. “Between her names and the list from Lands' End we'll be drowning in data. I'll see if we can spring someone in Wausau to help with the phone calls. Speaking of Wausau,” Joel added, all business, “looks like our body was only out there two or three days.”
“That jives with the snowmobile the Ransons heard.”
“What's even more interesting is that both bodies have the same injury patterns. Depressed skull fractures of the right frontal and right parietal areas. For the medical terminology challenged, that's the right front and side of the head. They both have right humerus fractures, that's the upper arm, and right femur fractures, the big bone in the upper leg. The skeleton of Red Boot has a couple of old right radius and ulnar fractures, that's lower arm, that may help us with identification.”
“Do they think the fractures were the cause of death?” Lark heard Joel shuffling papers.
“Jesus, I can hardly read the notes I just took,” Joel grumbled. “The long bone fractures didn't do any healing at all and the skull fracture was very depressed. The lab concluded that Red Boot died right after they happened. The skull fracture is probably as close to the cause of death as we're going to get.
“The injuries on Yellow Mitten were all blunt. No penetrating wounds. She was hit with something very hard: crowbar, ball bat, a heavy piece of wood. According to the bruising around the wounds and the state of the fractures, she probably died a couple hours after she was hit. Looks like she was moved. She was on her back for a while and then dumped on her stomach. They can't say for sure how Red Boot was injured because there isn't any soft tissue to examine, but the fracture patterns look very much the same.”
“Both have right-sided fractures and the head injuries are frontal and right side?”
“You got it, Kemosabe, probably a lefty.”
Lark was trying to remember if either of the Ransons were lefthanded. He wondered about Lonnie and closed his eyes, trying to remember how he handled his rifle.
“Are Yellow Mitten's fingerprints out yet?” Lark asked.
“Nationwide, but don't be surprised if that turns up a big fat nothing. How many college girls do you know who've been fingerprinted? I'll have the office fax you a summary of this as soon as it's transcribed. Gotta go, the lovely Lacey is done with her shower and raring to go,” Joel said, laughing.
“Just behave yourself, Grenfurth, and remember your wife is a great friend of mine,” Lark said with mock concern. As far as he knew, Joel hadn't seriously looked at another woman since he'd gotten married, but you'd never know it to hear him talk.
“The lovely Lacey would never look twice at me. She goes for the Gorgeous Georges of the world. You should see the Mr. Body Beautiful she just dumped. My nontraditional physical appearance and inner beauty are lost on her.”
Lark hung up the phone and shook his head to get his mind back on business. He sorted through the papers on his desk for the Lands' End number. It was almost eight, and he wanted to get as much as possible done before things shut down for Thanksgiving. He unearthed the number and yelled at Flo to send Paul and Jim out to the Ransons'. After a pit stop at the coffeepot, he was on the phone to Lands' End.
He was put through to Janey Dawes, the director of merchandising. She told him the Madison television channels were carrying a brief news story about two bodies discovered in northern Wisconsin. Lark told her he couldn't comment. Janey confirmed that almost all of the five thousand size-seven red boots had been sold through the catalog four years ago. The remaining one hundred and two pairs had been sent to their outlet in Madison.
She was willing to fax him the list of catalog customers who had purchased the boot as long as none of the data was publicly released. Lark agreed. They ended their conversation with him reaffirming that he wanted the names faxed even though the list was one hundred and forty pages long.
Before he hung up, he asked if the state police had called about a red Lands' End coat. Janey said they hadn't. She told him she needed the request by noon to get him the data before Lands' End closed for the holiday.
Lark checked his watch, noting that it was eight-thirty and called his house. He caught Joel just before they walked out the door. He agreed to light a fire under Wausau to get the information requests out to L. L. Bean, Eddie Bauer, and Lands' End.
Lark got off the phone and warned Flo that the fax from hell was coming. She rolled her eyes and told him he was just a little late, that it had already started. She also told him that if this was going to go on all day, someone had better run to the office supply store because they only had one ream of paper left. Swearing, he left to make the half-hour run to Park Falls.
When he got on the road, he realized he'd forgotten to tell Joel that the media had wind of the case. He leaned forward to look up through
the windshield at the continuous cloud cover and the steadily falling snow and decided that no one in their right mind would come to Big Oak in this weather for a story. But Lark had never known any press people in their right minds.
the windshield at the continuous cloud cover and the steadily falling snow and decided that no one in their right mind would come to Big Oak in this weather for a story. But Lark had never known any press people in their right minds.
He called Flo on his cellular to tell her he needed two additional officers to secure the Ransons' property. She got a good laugh out of that, saying all their officers for the day would be working this one case. She quit laughing when he told her that the Madison television stations were already broadcasting the story.
It was a good thing they were on the cellular or her “Oh, shit” would have gone out on the police band. Then some idiot with nothing better to do would bring up swearing on the radio at the next public works meeting. Flo assured him she'd get someone out there ASAP.
Lark decided he'd better stop at the Ransons'. It was only five minutes out of his way. There were three news vans with satellite dishes parked on the berm of Big Oak Road, and two more vans in the driveway. He met John Ranson's truck a hundred yards down the drive. John backed up to let him through just as Lark's cellular rang.
“Sheriff.” Flo sounded very concerned. “I've got Mrs. Ranson on the phone.”
“Tell her I'm out in her driveway with her husband. Get on the horn and see if anybody wants overtime. See if the other counties or Park Falls can give us some help. We're going to need two more people out here.” He shut off the phone before she could respond with another expletive.
John climbed into Lark's Jeep, scanning the area like he was looking for terrorists. “I've got more officers coming,” Lark said. “I'm really sorry about this.”
“Don't worry about it,” John said. “I grew up in a small town and my father was a deputy sheriff for years. If it gets too crazy, I'll pull some of my guys off the job and bring them over.”
“Hopefully, that won't be necessary,” Lark said as they pulled up in front of the house. Ann met them at the door.
“I told the reporters they were trespassing. I took down their license numbers and told them I'd have them arrested if they didn't get off our property. They left pretty quickly but I don't think they're clear on where the property lines are.”
“We'll move them off,” Lark said. He gave Ann his business card after
writing on the back. “If they give you any more trouble, call the dispatcher or me at the number on the back of the card.”
writing on the back. “If they give you any more trouble, call the dispatcher or me at the number on the back of the card.”
Lark and John drove up to the two press vans still parked in the Ransons' upper drive. John made it clear he'd bring charges against anyone trespassing on his land.
Once they realized there was nothing to see from Big Oak Road, the press left. Lark had his doubts that they'd find any motel rooms nearby and hoped that thoughts of a family Thanksgiving would draw them back to their homes. Nevertheless, he assigned an officer at each end of the Ransons' property and added two extra people to the search. It was almost ten before he got back on the road.
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