Dead Boogie (16 page)

“Okay,” she said, dusting cracker crumbs from her hands, “I had a visit from Robbie Mikkleson with the results of the data recorder from Peg’s car. Bruce was so excited to hear what they found, he jumped right in his car and drove up from Wausau this afternoon to check it out.”

“Excuse us for a minute,” said Ray, rising from his chair. “We heard about this earlier, and if you two don’t mind, I see some friends that I would like Gina to meet.”

“Sure, go right ahead,” said Lew. She turned her attention back to Osborne, took a swig of her beer, then said, “So the three of us—myself, Robbie, and Bruce—drove out to the site where car was found.

“First, Bruce was able to confirm that a bungee cord found on the ground near the car is the one that was tied to the bottom of the steering wheel and the arm of the brake pedal to keep the car moving in a straight line. Robbie’s mechanic friend put the data from the car through the computer, which showed that the cruise control had been set for sixty, though the car had reached just forty-six miles per hour when it rolled.

“So we have someone somewhere who thought they had that car headed straight down the road and into the pines where the road makes that sharp turn—and jumped out as soon as they could get the cruise control to resume. Their error was eyeballing that road. It looks pretty darn straight but it isn’t exact—add the rough surface and you have a car that ran off too soon, hit a boulder hidden under that stand of tag alders, and rolled.

“If it had done what it was supposed to do—hit those trees at sixty miles an hour—there would have been very few questions. Even Bruce said there would have been such severe trauma to the bodies that we wouldn’t have known to look for bullet wounds. Drunk driving, a missed turn—no evidence of murder.”

A funny look came over Lew’s face as she was speaking. She looked over Osborne’s head, then raised a finger to her lips just as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Beebo!” It had been fifty years, but he recognized the laughing eyes instantly.

twenty-two

Fishing consists of a series of misadventures interspersed by occasional moments of glory.

—Howard Marshall,
Reflections on a River

The
woman who hovered over him seemed tall, wide, and shining. She was deeply tanned with short, spiky, light brown hair tipped gold. Golden globes hung from her ears, a gold chain encircled her neck, and gold bracelets on both arms jangled as she spoke. He resisted the urge to warn her against going in the water with all that hardware.

“Paul! This is such a coincidence. I just left a message on your answering machine today! And now to run into you here? Well, I’ll be—”

Napkin in hand, Osborne scrambled to his feet. He gave the woman a hearty handshake as he said, “Yes, Beebo. I got your message an hour ago—”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re available tomorrow,” she said before he could finish. Then she looked down at Lew, who was watching with a bemused smile on her face. “Hello, I’m a childhood friend of Paul’s—Beebo Rowland. We knew each other as kids, didn’t we, Paul.

“I lost my husband two years ago. This year I made it a goal to track down all my old friends and make a new life. Paul was one of my first targets—and it has not been easy to find this man. Paul, you’re not on-line!” “No, I—”

“Well, at least your children are, thank goodness. Now, I don’t want to keep you and your friend here—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Beebo, I’d like you to meet Lewellyn Ferris—”

“How nice to meet you, Lewellyn. Now, Paul, I must get back to my friends, but tomorrow evening at six at the main lodge at the Dairyman’s. See you then?”

“No, I’m sorry, Beebo—I have a commitment tomorrow evening.” He knew better than to say he was going fishing.

“No, Doc, you go right ahead. We can get together another time,” said Lew.

Beebo looked from one to the other, then said, “How about brunch instead? If you have plans, don’t change those, Paul. We have so much to catch up on. I want to see you when we can take our time. How about tomorrow morning at ten—same place. They have a lovely brunch at the Dairyman’s.”

“Well—”

“Fine. I will see you then. Enjoy dinner, you two,” said Beebo. Then, with a clap of her hands, she said, “This is absolutely my favorite spot for a real Northwoods fish fry. Don’t you just love it?” And she was gone as quickly as she had arrived.

Lew leaned forward with a teasing look in her eye. “And what was it you were up to at age twelve with that attractive woman, Doc?”

“I was fourteen, she was twelve.” Just then Ray and Gina returned to the table. “Can we discuss her at another time?” said Osborne, feeling the redness creeping up his neck.

“Oh, I think we must,” said Lew as her plate of beer-battered fish was set down in front of her. “I can’t wait to hear all about her. You know what they say, Doc—first love, best love.”

Osborne thought that over for a second, then said, “You made that up, Lewellyn.” She laughed and reached for the pepper.

Osborne had to admit: He wasn’t that unhappy that he would be seeing Beebo tomorrow. He could see her at a table across the room with two other couples. Even from a distance, she had a vibrancy unusual for a woman in her early sixties. It would be fun to catch up.

Though the food was good, they did not linger. Given the crowd, they were lucky to be served and get their check before seven-thirty.

“Chief, you’re still up for stopping out at the Happy Daze Pub tonight, right?” said Ray.

“You better believe it,” said Lew. “Thought you said that the woman who served Peg and the girls Wednesday would be tending bar tonight?”

“That’s what the owner told me this morning. Said she’d give her a call and make sure she knew we’d be by.”

Terri Schultz had been tending bar at the Happy Daze Pub for six years. Osborne recognized her face though her name hadn’t rung a bell. A short, chubby woman, Terri wore her red-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a shapeless red sweatshirt, and black jeans. Since the bar served pizza and sandwiches, she was constantly taking off and putting on a soiled white chef’s apron.

The two gas pumps outside were self-serve so she didn’t have to fuss with anything except the cash and credit cards. The pumps plus lottery tickets plus fishing licenses kept Terri and the other bartender busy.

They took stools at the bar and waited for Terri to finish with a customer. It was a moderately busy night, and as they waited, Osborne remembered what it was that made Terri distinctive: She had a collection of very dirty jokes that she told with relish and a hearty laugh. She was a pleasant woman who made it easy for strangers to linger and listen.

Tonight she was ready to take time with Ray and his party between breaks serving and bantering with her regulars.

“Yep, yep,” she had said when they first got there, “you got it. Those girls stopped by here every Wednesday on their way home. Got a kick out of those three—we called ‘em ‘the karaoke kids.’ Every Wednesday ‘cept January when we close down for a month. Cute, those three. Hate hearing what happened, doncha know. Just makes you wonder. What kinda weirdos do we have around here?” She slammed her dishrag on the counter and gave it an angry swipe.

“So they were here this Wednesday late, right?”

“Yep. The usual. They shared a pizza and a pitcher of beer and gassed up. They always filled the tank of that pretty little convertible and split the cost. Three ways—same’s they did every week.”

“Who else was here? Anybody unusual? Anybody talk to the women?”

Terri thought hard. “Well, down at this end I had ‘pepperoni, black olives, and no onions'—he’s a regular. Nice guy. Carpenter, I think. Over at that table were Jeff Kapelski and his old man having a couple beers after fishing. They’ll be in later tonight, too, if you wanna talk to ‘em. This was late, y’know, and I was in the kitchen working on the books. About eleven-thirty.

“Hold on a minute—Lizzie!” She called down to the other bartender, a slim, fresh-faced blonde who looked about thirteen, though her extremely close fitting jeans and black halter top made it obvious she was older.

Lizzie walked down the bar and Terri repeated the question, then said, “Anybody you notice?”

“Yeah, mantis man was hanging around. Now that you ask—he’s been here the last few Wednesdays. Comes in about eleven usually.”

“What do you mean ‘mantis man'?” said Lew.

“Oh, he’s this guy who has a praying mantis tattooed down his arm. Kind of a cute guy, started coming in this summer. Name’s George.”

“Oh, sure, I know who you mean,” said Terri. “Quiet guy. At least, he’s never had much to say when I’ve been around.”

“So what did he do Wednesday?” said Lew. “Have a couple beers and leave?”

“That’s what he usually did—but this Wednesday, after he left, he came back to make a phone call. I know because I had to get him some change. He was pretty upset over something, too.”

“Was this before or after the women came in?” said Lew.

“Both. He got here before they did, left right after ‘em. Fact, he was talking to the tall one as they walked out the door. They seemed to know each other.”

“Was he sitting with them?”

“Oh no, he stayed down at that end of the bar. Like I said before, he left when they did and later came running in to make that phone call.” She pointed to the pay phone on the wall near the restrooms.

“Any idea how long was he gone?”

“Oh, gee …” said Lizzie, jamming her hands into her back pockets as she tried to remember. “Well, we close at one. So for sure he was back before then. I gave him the change, then I was down at the other end of the bar washing glasses so I wasn’t listening until he started cursing.”

“Any chance you heard what he said then?”

“Oh, yeah—his language was so bad, I walked down to tell him to put a lid on it, y’know. That’s when I heard him say a couple things like ‘What the hell do you expect me to do with three thousand pounds?’ Then he made reference to just what they could do with it themselves. Like ‘shove it,’ y’know?” Lizzie was hesitant to repeat exactly what he had said.

“Shove three thousand pounds, you mean?” said Lew.

“Right. But then he calmed down and I heard him say, ‘Okay, okay, but I’ll do it tomorrow—I don’t have anything with me to make that happen tonight.’ ”

Both Lew and Gina had been taking notes while Lizzie talked. Now Gina walked over to write down the number of the pay phone.

“What else do you know about him, Lizzie?” said Lew. “Any idea what kind of car he drives? His last name? ‘Bout how old do you think he is?”

Lizzie shook her head and said, “Oh, gosh, early thirties. Maybe older. He’s got that weather-beaten look so it’s hard to tell. Don’t know his last name—only know he’s George ‘cause I asked him once. He drives an old, dark blue pickup.”

“Big, medium, or little like a Toyota?”

“Big. Like a Ford, kinda.”

“Lizzie, this is a big help,” said Lew. “If you remember anything else he may have said that night, or any night, will you call me right away? Or if he walks in here later tonight—call me immediately. Here’s where I can be reached.”

Lizzie looked down at the card Lew handed her, then said, “Is there something wrong with this guy? He’s real cute.”

“We don’t know yet. But he may have been one of the last people to see the women before they were killed so I’d like to ask him some questions.”

A quick check with the other patrons in the bar turned up nothing. No one knew anything more about George than the two bartenders. None of the men had even noticed him.

Lew started for the door then stopped and walked back to the bar. “One last question, Terri,” she said. “Any idea why those women would have taken the dead highway home?”

“Oh sure,” said Terri. “I’m the one told ‘em that shortcut. First time they stopped in here. They always went that way—cuts fifteen minutes off getting to Loon Lake. Have to watch for deer and it might get your car a little dusty, but you get back to town good and fast.”

“A guy with a praying mantis on his arm—that’s a fashion statement,” said Gina as she opened the door of the bar to head outside. “I think I prefer Ray’s hat.” Osborne was right behind her. He turned around, anxious for Lew to get out of the bar.

“I know the guy,” said Osborne, the minute Lew stepped through the bar’s screen door. “The guy with the praying mantis—he’s the caretaker for Ed Forsyth and the Nehlsons. I ran into him out there today.
Not
very friendly.”

“Has to be the same guy that my buddy at the casino told us about,” said Ray. “The one that drives Forsyth and Nehlson to the casino.”

“Why would he do that?” said Gina.

“So they can drink and not worry about getting picked up,” said Ray. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one or both those two aren’t close to losing their drivers’ license if they got stopped—this state is tough on drunk drivers. That’s my guess, anyway.”

Lew had pulled out her cell phone and was checking her notepad. She found what she was looking for and punched in a phone number.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” said Osborne as she waited for someone to pick up.

“Very likely,” said Lew, listening. “I want the guy’s name and where he lives so we can check the tread marks we picked up on the road near where the women were killed …” She quit the call and punched in the number again. “Match those tread marks against this George fellow’s tires. Trying the Nehlsons right now …”

The phone kept ringing. “No answer.” Lew snapped her phone closed.

twenty-three

It is not a fish until it is on the bank.

—Irish proverb

Osborne
was in baby food on his way to coffee when he rounded the corner of the aisle and nearly bumped into Pauline Leffterholz and her short-shorts boyfriend. His first inclination was to duck past the end cap of potato chips in hopes of not being seen, but it was too late. Pauline spotted him.