Dead Madonna (8 page)

Marcy nodded, brushed away some tears, then struggled to speak. “So … we don’t have any leads yet on who …”

“We may not for a while,” said Lew, her voice gentle.

“Marcy,” said Osborne, getting up to join the two older women, “I don’t know if it helps to know this—but my preliminary exam indicated your daughter lost consciousness immediately.”

Marcy inhaled deeply. “I hope so. But I will want to know … how … you know?”

“Of course you will,” said Lew, patting her shoulder as they walked towards the doorway. “Oh, and Marcy, I’ll let you know when the team from the crime lab has finished with DeeDee’s car. They’re hoping to find trace evidence there that could give us a good lead. So I have no idea how soon they’ll be releasing it.”

“That’s okay,” said Marcy, “I understand.”

C
HAPTER
11

A
fter walking Marcy to her car and watching as she drove off, Lew turned to Osborne, “Poor woman. I know how she feels. You go home, you sit down, you look around, you feel absolutely cold inside and all you can think is: my child is dead. And if you’re like me—unkind—you think: Why my child? Why not the meth addict kid of that worthless piece of shit down the road?”

“That’s
unkind?”
said Osborne. “Sounds like an honest reaction to me—maybe the only way to deal with life’s unfairness. I wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking that way.” He paused, expecting Lew to walk over to the police cruiser. But she stayed where she was, checking back through her notes. Anxious to get over to the offices where DeeDee had worked, he said, “Lew, ready to head out?”

“In a minute, Doc. I asked Juliana to step outside—alone. Would you mind waiting with me? Marlene would have called if you had to rush over to the Chamber. Oh, and sorry about the fishing, I was looking forward to it.”

They lingered on the sidewalk outside the girls’ house, the late afternoon sun hot on their shoulders. Osborne checked his watch. “Too warm for trout tonight anyhow, Lew. Don’t feel bad.”

“I could use the break, Doc. Let’s see how it goes tomorrow. We’re never in the river before eight anyway. It’s just that tonight I have paperwork up the wazoo. And I have
got
to take time with the Loomis family.”

“Nora’s son, Russell, was a patient of mine all through high school,” said Osborne. “Would he be offended if you had me talk to him after I meet with the Chamber staff?”

“That’s a thought,” said Lew. “I’ll try to give him a call before I meet with the Moriartys. Marlene said he’s driving in from Eau Claire late today. If he doesn’t mind, that works for me. I’ll leave a message with Marlene—and, Doc, you have to get yourself a cell phone. This is ridiculous.”

“Lewellyn, I cannot get cell service at the house. Even Mallory’s reception is spotty, and she has Sprint.”

“Dr. Osborne, are we standing in front of your house?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it but—” He was interrupted by the ringing of Lew’s cell phone. With a wink, she pulled it from its case.

“It’s Ray,” she said, seeing the number in the digital display.

Ray was already on the job, having gotten a call from Lew shortly after capping off Cody and Mason’s shore lunch with ice cream bars. Half an hour after that Lew was able to clear the one hazard she always faced when attempting to deputize the keenest eyes in the northwoods: a misdemeanor file that reflected a hankering for controlled substances and a dedication to fishing private water. It was the poaching that got the game wardens most upset. But Lew had her ways—not to mention an abiding affection for Ray that she did her best to hide.

While still at the site where they had landed the Moriarty boat and pulled the victim onto the bank of the channel, she had asked Pete not to leave until she could reach the Wausau Crime Lab to request more help—a request that was granted the minute Bert’s name was mentioned. Apparently, his lawyer had already been on the line demanding an expert investigation versus “any of those Loon Lake bozos.” That was just fine with Lewellyn Ferris.

However, still needing someone to guard the site and DeeDee’s body, her next call was to Pete’s supervisor, Ken Deitz, in the Department of Natural Resources offices. She got him on the first try. After listening to her request that he allow the game warden to guard the area and the corpse until the Wausau boys arrived, Ken had paused then said, “Sure, but on one condition, Chief—you gotta tell me where you caught that big brown you’re holding in that photo on the bulletin board at Ralph’s Sporting Goods.”

“Come o-o-n, Ken,” Lew said, “you are way out of line asking me that.” Then, as if the entire Wisconsin Fly-Fishing listserv was eavesdropping, she lowered her voice to say, “Check page 22 in the fishing regs—and don’t tell anyone you heard it from me. Got it?” Ken chortled and approved as much of Pete’s time as she might need.

And so she turned to Pete, saying, “Warden, I have one small favor to ask. I need you to keep your hands off one of my deputies for awhile.”

“And who might that be?” Pete said, rolling a toothpick between his teeth.

“Ray Pradt. I need eyes on the ground and he’s the best—you know that as well as I do.”

“A-w-w-h, Chief, do I have to? I make my quota on that guy.”

“Two weeks—hands off. Then business as usual.”

Pete nodded. “Unless I find him growing pot.”

“Pete.” She saw his silly grin. “Stop pulling my leg, I am not in the mood.”

“I’m not pulling your leg—but I’ll ease up on the guy. Y’know, I keep thinking maybe one of these days he’ll live by the rules …”

Lew caught Osborne’s eye. Not likely.

Pete wasn’t the only Loon Laker who questioned (or was it envied?) Ray’s disregard for the emblems of responsible adulthood: 401Ks, annual inspections of septic tanks, and health insurance. Or as an overserved patron at Marty’s Bar said one night when Osborne and Ray stopped in to have a couple Cokes after a good night’s fishing: “I can’t believe it—a family like yours and you dig graves and go fishing every day? What the hell kinda life is that?”

Ray would just smile and shrug and answer the phone when his critics called for help after a dog or a child went missing in the woods, a fisherman did not return for dinner or a bird hunter stumbled on a peculiar set of bones that could be bear … or human?

Of course, if a woman badgered him Ray gave her the romantic version: “I don’t know, hon,” he would say. “I’ve been this way since I was a kid. I’m addicted to wildness, y’know. Love the neighborhood—squirrels, chippies, eagles, deer, a couple turkeys, two loons, half a dozen woodpeckers, oh, and a bear just moved in.”

After she swooned and offered to support him, Ray would decline with a gracious grin and say: “Thank you, sweetheart, but I am happy as I am. I may not have money in the bank but I got the sunset—all those colors! For free!”

What he also got for free was a ticket to the outdoors and a talent for tracking. Lew had no difficulty arguing that Ray was one of few people north of Chicago who could read sign on the ground, on a tree or in brush and know in an instant if it was the result of weather, creature or human interference. And so his talent trumped the misdemeanor file. Who knew you could be paid for seeing what others miss, for seeing what should be and isn’t?

“That’s fine, Ray,” said Lew, cell phone pressed to her ear as she listened for a long minute from where she was standing on the sidewalk, one eye on the door to the rental house. “Not sure about Doc but why don’t you and I plan to meet at the Moccasin Lake public landing at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. I have a seven a.m. with both Wausau teams—the guys working the Loomis property and whomever they send to work the Moriarty boat. It’ll be short, just an update on what they got so far. I’ll head your way right afterwards. I’d like a better look at the Moriarty boat—inside and out.

“But you’re right about the channel—once it’s dusk, don’t push it. Oh, and on your way out tomorrow morning would you mind stopping by the Loomis place? Todd assures me he walked the grounds inch by inch—but I’d feel better with one more set of eyes. Wausau may be the best indoors but when it comes to wooded areas, those boys are way too coat and tie.”

“Has he found anything?” said Osborne as Lew tucked her phone back into its case.

“Not yet. That asphalt parking lot didn’t leave much to go on. After the crime lab moved DeeDee’s car, Ray scoured the perimeter a good hundred feet into the brush and said he can find no signs of a struggle or of anyone going any further than they might if they wanted to use the bushes instead of the restrooms. He’s willing to bet our victim may have left—or was taken—in another vehicle.”

“Given what we heard from the girls, whoever she talked to on her cell phone might know something,” said Osborne.

“And if we can separate those two, we may find out just who that is,” said Lew, crossing her arms as she leaned against Osborne’s car, which was parked in front of her police cruiser. “I’m not leaving here until I have one more chat with Miss Juliana. She’s our weak link.”

“How do you figure that?” said Osborne.

“Because she cares. And she’s not stupid.”

“Ah.” So he and Lew agreed, Carrie
was
the less bright of the two. “Where’s Ray headed now—back here?”

“No, he said he tried taking his canoe up the channel against the current and it wasn’t too bad. On the chance that our victim may have entered the water at a point north and drifted down towards the boat, he’s going to give that west bank a good look up until dusk. What he doesn’t cover today, he’ll tackle first thing in the morning. Which is fine with me—tough tracking in the dark.”

The front door of the rental house opened and Carrie tripped down the stairs, swinging a small purse and waving as she said, “Chief Ferris, I’m meeting up with my folks—we’re going to make sure Mrs. Kurlander gets something to eat and has help with stuff. She and my mom are good friends.”

“Good, Carrie, you have my cell phone number if you remember anything,” said Lew. “Is Juliana going with you?”

“She’s meeting us at the Loon Lake Pub. Right now she’s on the phone—I don’t know who with ‘cause it just rang.”

“One more thing, Carrie,” said Lew, “sometime tomorrow you’ll hear from another one of my deputies. I’ve asked him to do a complete search of the channel and the stream banks leading up from Moccasin Lake. I’m hoping we can determine the exact spot where DeeDee’s body entered the water. Ray Pradt is his name.”

“Oh, Ray—he is so cute,” said Carrie. “Sure, whatever I can do to help.”

“He won’t be in the business of being cute,” said Lew. “He’s going to need specific details from both you and your friend Jeremy—where you were standing and walking when you last saw DeeDee and exact times.”

“Oh, sure,” said Carrie. Then, as if she had something else that she wanted to mention, she paused to study the pavement for a long moment before opening the door to her Honda Civic. Whatever it was, she decided to drop it and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“Lew,” said Osborne, checking his watch again, “I better leave if I’m going to get to those folks at the Chamber before it gets too late.”

Just then Juliana flew towards them from the doorway of the house. “Ohmygod, Chief Ferris, that was the bank that just called. DeeDee opened an account last Friday with a check for twenty thousand dollars—and all that money is missing! It was withdrawn early this morning.”

“Calm down, Juliana,” said Lew. “Which bank are you talking about?”

“First National. That was Bob Carlson, the president. He asked to talk to DeeDee so I told him what happened. That’s when he told me she had opened the account but the money was withdrawn. He asked me if I knew what she might have done with the money. You want his number?”

“We’ll have it at the office. Juliana, before Dr. Osborne and I leave, I have a question for you.”

“Oh …” The girl’s eyes darkened.

“Who do you think DeeDee was calling on her cell phone? Mr. Curry?”

“Oh, gosh no. Heavens, no. That guy gave her the creeps.” She stalled.

“Juliana,” said Lew, “look at me. This is a homicide case and if you withhold information, you become an accessory. Now DeeDee’s dead and any promises you may have made died with her.”

“I know that.” Juliana hung her head, letting strands of streaked hair fall across her face to hide her eyes.

“Well?” Lew’s voice was firm, uncompromising.

“She was sleeping with Robbie’s dad,” said Juliana, her voice low and deliberate, the cadence of a person aware that every word they say is changing someone’s life. “Since May, I think. I didn’t know ‘til a couple weeks ago.”

Juliana gave a heavy sigh as she raised her head to meet Lew’s eyes, “DeeDee knew it was crazy but she was in love. And he’s a rich guy, y’know? She said he promised they would get married.”

C
HAPTER
12

Osborne hurried along the pebbled sidewalk leading into the old mill building that had been converted into offices for the Loon Lake Chamber of Commerce. It was nearly five o’clock and he hoped he wasn’t too late.

The front doors opened to a spacious reception area lined with racks holding maps and brochures. A doe and her fawn, so expertly mounted that Osborne half expected them to walk towards him, welcomed visitors. A human—not mounted—looked up from behind a desk as he entered.

The human was a tall, lanky college student whom Osborne recognized as the nephew of Dick Nelson, one of his McDonald’s buddies and owner of the True Value Hardware store. “Dr. Osborne?”

“Hello, Ryan. I didn’t know you worked here. Sorry to be late. Is Mrs. Rasmussen still in the office?”

“Oh yes, she’s been waiting for you.” The boy jumped to his feet. “If you’ll follow me …” As they walked down a short hallway past a kitchen area and a restroom, he looked back to say, “I’m the summer intern.”

“Oh,” said Osborne, “I’ll bet that beats unloading trucks at your uncle’s store.”

“You betcha,” said the boy, with a shadow of a grin that disappeared as he added, “Y’know, Dr. Osborne, I still can’t believe the news. I
didn’t
believe it at first. Everyone here is so upset. DeeDee was so cool.” Under the bright lights of the hallway, Osborne could see the boy’s eyes were red and swollen. He had been crying.