Dead Hot Shot Read online

  “When I was here on the Fourth of July. Not that long ago.”

  “Let’s go back to the people at the party last night. You made the comment these people are the only ones who knew how to get along with—”

  “Please,” said Karen, one hand up as if to stop the conversation, “keep in mind I’m only telling you what I’ve observed during cocktails and dinner on a few occasions. I’m a small town girl, my opinion is hardly expert.”

  “I realize that,” said Lew. “But you’re helping Dr. Osborne and myself understand the dynamics here. And we’ll be talking to other people—so, go on, tell us what you think.”

  “I told you she was critical. The other thing is you cannot disagree with her. That’s just asking for trouble. So, like last night? She was the center of attention and everyone seemed happy to sit back and let her run the show. That’s how it always is. And why shouldn’t they do things her way? I’m sure she pays them well.

  “Of course, if you’re the hired help and not a lawyer or a stockbroker then it’s a different story. I’m a good example,” said Karen with an ironic smile. “Her whole reason for hiring me was my reputation. She found out about me at a party Miriam Murphy gave at their summer place on Sunset Lake where everyone raved about my garlic-stuffed tenderloin and my pan-fried walleye with a crushed almond crust—but would she ever order those? No. Her recipes are better. She would tell her guests that, too,” said Karen, mimicking Nolan: “‘Karen thinks she does a mean steak but our Reece family classics are s-o-o much more delicious.’“

  “And are they good?” asked Lew.

  “Heavens, no. Same old steak and fish you can get anywhere. Plus she insisted I buy the ingredients wherever they were cheapest—and you better believe she went over those receipts.”

  With a shrug of resignation, Karen said, “Y’know, at first I had to fight the urge to tell her to do it herself but as I got to know her, I could see she was that way about everything. Sometimes she knew when she’d gone too far. The dinner party might have been about that. I know she was working hard to make it up to her daughter since she was forcing her to marry that boy.”

  “Oh, come on now,” said Osborne. “That girl doesn’t look like you could force her into anything. Karen, I have two daughters and I can’t imagine having any influence when it comes to the men they choose.”

  “Not to offend you, Dr. Osborne, but I doubt you have a multimillion-dollar trust to hold over their heads.”

  “Ah, so money has something to do with Blue’s engagement?” said Lew.

  “Certainly does.” Even as she uttered the words, an emotion flashed across Karen’s face. It lasted less than an instant but Osborne knew what he’d seen: worry that she’d said too much. “So, now that I’ve told you all this—do you mind telling me how she died?”

  “The precise cause of death won’t be known until an autopsy is performed,” said Lew, dodging the question. “Now why would Nolan Reece be forcing—”

  “Oh jeez, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble and I shouldn’t have made that crack about the engagement.”

  “Karen, please, you do not want to withhold any information that might help this investigation. That could prove troublesome … for you” Lew was gentle but firm.

  Karen’s face crumpled and she sagged against the van. “I’m not the person who should be telling you this,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.

  Lew studied her face, then said, “Can I count on you to keep some information confidential?” “Yes,” Karen said in a whisper.

  “Right now,” said Lew, “the circumstances of Nolan Reece’s death are uncertain, which is why we have an immediate need to know what you know.”

  “Uncertain as in maybe it wasn’t an accident or a heart attack?”

  “Correct.”

  “Oh dear … oh, my God.” Karen covered her face with both hands and for a long sixty seconds she did not answer. Then, with a deep sigh, she dropped her hands and reached into her pocket for a Kleenex. She wiped at her nose.

  “The boy Mrs. Reece insists Blue marry? He’s gay”

  “Oh,” said Lew, her tone non-committal. “Does Blue know that?”

  “Of course. All the kids know. So I don’t think I’m telling you anything you won’t hear from other people. Blue, by the way, is a wonderful girl. She’s put up with a lot. A lot.”

  “So how is it the kids know this? And how is it you know?” said Lew, flipping her notepad open to a new page.

  “My son told me. He bartends.”

  “Oh,” said Lew, voice flat. “I hope this isn’t the usual northwoods bar room sociology.” A confused look on Karen’s face prompted her to add, “As in you heard it from the bartender who heard it from a patron who heard it from his cousin while they were having a drink. It would be nice to have a more reliable source.”

  Karen’s chin thrust forward as she said, “My son bartends at the Hodag Inn in Rhinelander full time during the week but weekends and holidays he helps me with the catering. He met Barry here at the Reeces’ when we did the Memorial Day picnic.” Lew and Osborne waited.

  “And.?” Lew finally spoke.

  Pushing herself away from the van, Karen straightened up. Standing with her feet apart and her shoulders back, she crossed her arms as she said, “My son, Jason, is gay. He fell in love with

  Barry. And vice versa—they’re a couple—and it’s Barry who told him the whole story.”

  Karen’s attitude shifted from friendly to fierce as she said, “Chief Ferris, Dr. Osborne, it is very important that you understand that I love my son and I respect him and I respect the relationship he has with Barry.”

  “Well.,” said Lew, “that must complicate things for Blue, I imagine.”

  “Yes and no. Blue’s mother simply refuses to believe that Barry is … who he is. And his mother doesn’t help—she would love for her son to marry Blue.”

  “For the money?”

  “I guess—though the Murphys are quite wealthy. They own car dealerships all across Illinois. What Barry told Jason is that Blue is supposed to inherit a twenty million-dollar trust from her grandfather on her twenty-third birthday. However, her mother controls the trust. She told Blue that she could change the terms so Blue would get nothing until age thirty and even then she could change it if Blue doesn’t—”

  “Marry this young man,” said Lew.

  “Do what she tells her to, yes. The wedding is planned for next May. Just before Blue turns twenty-three.”

  “They’re going ahead with this? For the money?” said Osborne.

  “That’s what Jason thinks. All Barry will say is that he and Blue have a pact. A promise they made to each other long ago. Has to be the money, don’t you think?”

  They heard a click and the door to the kitchen opened as Blue let herself out sideways, her back to the group standing near the van. She turned with a startled look. “Karen! I didn’t hear you drive up—”

  Before Karen could respond, Lew said, “Blue, please get your father. We have some important matters to discuss.”

  “Karen, why are you here?”

  “Your mother ordered Thanksgiving dinner—didn’t she tell you?” “Blue, please, get your father,” said Lew, stepping between Karen and the girl.

  “I’ll wait here,” said Karen, climbing back into the van.

  CHAPTER 12

  Osborne followed Lew through a small foyer fronting a kitchen that was very spacious, very white and outfitted with stainless steel everywhere. Andy was seated at a round oak table that was tucked into a bay window overlooking the lake. A cup of something hot steamed alongside a laptop computer. Andy, eyes glued to the computer screen, did not look up as they walked in.

  “I’ve got the information you need for the death certificate,” he said, fingers tripping away on the keyboard. “Except …,” he appeared to hit Save before looking up at Lew and Osborne, “for one thing.” Shoulders hunched and squinting as if in pain, he said, “There is one issue we ne
ed to discuss in private, Chief Ferris … Dr. Osborne.”

  Blue gave her father a puzzled look. “You mean you want me to leave the room?”

  “Just for a few minutes, hon,” said Andy. “It’s a private matter that was between your mother and myself, and I—she would want me to keep it that way.”

  “Well, sure, Dad,” said Blue with a slight tremor in her voice. “I need something from my room anyway. Holler at me when it’s okay to come back.”

  Andy waited until he heard her running up the stairs. “I’ve got a situation,” he said in a whisper. “Blue doesn’t know I’m not her natural father.”

  “That’s not required on the death certificate,” said Osborne. “Only the names of immediate survivors. Are you saying she’s adopted?”

  “Yes—by me but not by her mother,” said Andy. “Does that have to be recorded?”

  Osborne glanced at Lew, perplexed. “I don’t think so—not if it was a legal adoption. But let me check on that. Of course we’ll keep this confidential.”

  “Andy,” said Lew, “we have a serious problem that must be dealt with immediately. But let’s have your daughter back in the room first.”

  “Blue,” Andy called out in a loud voice, then got to his feet and walked into the hall to call up the stairs. “Blue, would you come down, please?”

  “Andy, Blue,” said Lew as soon as Blue entered the kitchen, “though we can’t tell you the precise cause of death until an autopsy is completed, it appears that Mrs. Reece was assaulted in some manner.”

  “What!” Blue was stunned. She moved towards her father.

  “I’ve called in the Wausau Crime Lab for assistance and they will be here early tomorrow morning along with myself and several deputies. In the meantime, your property is being secured as a possible crime scene and that, I’m afraid, includes the house. You’ll need to find somewhere to stay tonight, possibly several days, until we can be sure we’ve secured all the evidence.”

  “So it wasn’t lightning,” said Andy, his voice guttural as he choked out the words.

  Lew shook her head. “No, it was not. Now, Dr. Osborne has what he needs for the death certificate and the two of you have given me enough details of your activities last night that I can prepare draft statements for you to review tomorrow. Meantime, do you need help finding a place to stay tonight? We’ll wait here for you to make arrangements and pack overnight bags. And as soon as possible, please. It’s been a long day and everyone is tired and hungry.”

  “Dad, we can stay over at Barry’s folks’ place, I’m sure. They flew back to Lake Forest this morning. I’ll call and see if that’s okay.”

  “I’ll call for you,” said Lew, “because your phones need to remain here—and not be used.”

  “Our cell phones?” said Blue, astonished.

  “Your cell phones, your computers—any personal communication devices. It all stays here.”

  “My computer, too?” Andy’s shoulders sagged. “But I’m right in the middle—”

  “Sorry, that’s the law,” said Lew. “By the way, have either of you noticed if there is anything missing from the house?”

  Blue and her father looked at each other. “I haven’t thought to look,” said Andy.

  “Me neither,” said Blue. “What kind of thing?”

  “Just anything that may have caught your attention—anything unusual. Any doors or windows open early this morning that shouldn’t have been?”

  As the two shook their heads, there was a knock at the side door. Opening the door, Karen called in, “Blue, Andy—the girls are here for Thanksgiving dinner. Did you forget they were invited?”

  Lew and Osborne turned towards the open door in time to glimpse a dark green Ford pick-up backing away from where it had pulled up next to Karen’s van to deliver its occupants. Standing behind Karen were two teenage girls, shoulders hunched against the wind. They were dressed in identical forest green wool jackets and long, dark skirts that flapped around their bare legs: the Dark Sky sisters, Frances and Josie.

  Osborne pulled into the clearing in front of Lew’s barn shortly after seven. He was still feeling relieved to have arrived at his own home and found it empty. No Kathleen. No Fred. No fly rods and fly tying materials clogging his den.

  He had changed quickly, fed Mike and, after letting the dog into the back seat, jumped into his car for the drive to town. Stopping briefly by Erin’s house, he delivered the dog to three enthusiastic grandchildren. They were always happy when their grandpa visited Chief Ferris because Mike got to sleep over at their house with his friend, Dido, the family Weimaraner. Mike never complained.

  The farmhouse that had been Lew’s home since her divorce years ago was set at the top of a long, sloping lawn that led down to a small lake, a lake so small motorboats weren’t allowed on it. The cold front that had moved in late that afternoon had banished any cloud cover. As Osborne approached Lew’s doorway, he stopped to look up at a sky so clear he could see the Milky Way. Stars and stars and stars filled the sky.

  Lew opened the door before he could knock and up on tiptoes gave him a quick kiss. “Hurry in, Doc, it’s cold out there.” She had changed into black slacks and a black turtleneck that highlighted her dark eyes and the vibrant glow of her skin. A green checked apron completed the picture, reminding Osborne that she wielded a whisk as deftly as a 9-millimeter.

  “Don’t you look marvelous,” he said as he hung his jacket on a peg of an old oak coat-tree and turned to give her a quick hug.

  Over the years, and doing most of the work herself, Lew had removed interior walls so that when you entered her home you walked into a wide open space: the kitchen with a butcher block table and chairs was to the left, the living room with a comfy sofa, chairs and a ceramic pot-bellied stove to the right, and windows all around. The home felt warm, comfortable and lived in. Every time he entered, Osborne understood, kind of, why she would never leave.

  Not even the trauma of having been stalked on her property months earlier by a woman determined to kill her could shake Lew’s love for the little farm. “I’m a big girl, Doc. I work in law enforcement and there are people in prison because of me. They may choose to track me down some day. I know that and I’m careful but I need this place—my little lake, my barn, my garden, my workshop. It’s me. Simple as that.”

  So their homes had become something they laughed about: how each enjoyed the other’s but loved their own. And, Lew stressed, there is virtue in solitude. Osborne understood her but his daughters didn’t. “Dad, we really think you two should get married,” they would say, shaking their heads over the relationship. “You both love the outdoors, you love to fish together.” He didn’t have an answer for that except that he was not willing to risk asking Lew and be turned down. The few times he had brought it up, kidding of course, she had grinned in return—as if it was worth a chuckle but nothing more. Osborne got the message: better not to know than have your heart broken.

  “Thank you for the compliment,” said Lew, smiling for the first time that day, “but I’ll look better when I’ve had something to eat. Any sign of Ray and his turkey? If you’ll mash those potatoes, I’ll finish whipping the cream for the blueberry tart.”

  Even as she said his name, Ray’s headlights came bouncing

  into view through the windows of the living room. Osborne set down the masher and together with Lew rushed over to watch through the window. “Jeez, I hope he’s not bringing someone who just got out of the hoosegow,” said Osborne under his breath.

  “Oh, oh,” said Lew, “that’s not Ray’s car! I wonder who—” She started towards the front door but Osborne caught her sleeve.

  “Hold on, Lewellyn, I see Ray getting out of the passenger side and he’s wearing that hat of his” Osborne sounded a warning.

  “Oh yeah?” said Lew peering through the window. “We know what that means, Doc—a woman. And that’s okay with me—”

  “So long as whoever she is, she didn’t just get out of the hoos
egow.”

  Lew punched him in the arm. “Hey, I just thank the Lord he didn’t show up in that hat this afternoon.”

  Everyone knew Ray’s hat—a stuffed trout anchored to a battered leather cap with fleece-lined ear flaps that he wore loose over his ears in cold weather—was his prized possession and his guarantee for getting attention from the opposite sex. Granted having a fish hovering between your ears might not strike many as a babe magnet—but on Ray it was charming. Of course, it didn’t hurt that the face beneath the fish was tanned, handsome and quick to break into a happy grin.

  They watched in silence as Ray opened the trunk and reached for a large dark object, which Osborne assumed was the roasting pan with the promised turkey. A petite figure, a dark shadow against the car, waited for Ray, then reached in for something rounded and flat on top. They approached the farmhouse.

  “Oh, my gosh, it’s Gina Palmer!” said Lew. “I had no idea she was in town.” Hurrying to the door, she flung it open and with a happy laugh pulled the black-haired pixie of a woman into the room.

  CHAPTER 13

  The perfectly roasted turkey sat on the sideboard—half the bird it had been when it arrived. Bowls of leftovers had been tucked into the refrigerator (with equal portions for Ray to take home) and the first round of dishes washed and dried. Steaming cups of coffee rested alongside the remains of the evening’s desserts: plates of crumbs and berry smears.

  Sitting at Lew’s table—the glow of candles reflected in the faces of people he cared for as they ate, chatted and challenged each other in good humor—Osborne was happy. Sometimes life was just that simple.

  “So, the next thing you know,” said Gina, who had been holding court as the candles burned lower and lower, “my grad students and I—we get this contract with Bank One, which has branches across the Midwest, to work with their data and see if we can’t discover the source of fraudulent credit cards that have been hammering them. Ha! Talk about a challenge.”

  Osborne had forgotten how tiny Gina Palmer could kinetically charge any room: the cap of sleek black hair bobbing as she talked, the husky hammer of a voice filling all available space, and her hands—long, slender fingers flashing to emphasize every point. She was a woman who blew words out her mouth so fast he could only wish he could hit rewind and catch up.