Dead Hot Shot (Loon Lake Fishing Mysteries) (12 page)

The Loon Lake Pub was bustling, with every table in sight filled. Brass sconces along the walls cast a warm glow making it easy to forget the freezing temperatures outdoors. A happy buzz of voices peppered with occasional hoots of laughter put a smile on Osborne’s face as he and Lew entered the bar fronting the dining room. A shout from one of the tables near the back caught their attention — Ray and Gina had already arrived and commandeered a table for four.

Given it was Friday night, Ray — on behalf of everyone at the table — had waived a need for menus and no one argued: fish fry for all. As Osborne leaned towards the waitress to order frosted mugs of Leinenkugel’s Red for the ladies and Cokes for himself and Ray, he saw two hands park themselves on Lew’s shoulders. Ralph Steadman, his chest expansive in a green and gold plaid Pendleton wool shirt, his white beard neatly trimmed to emphasize his perpetual sportsman’s tan, loomed over their table.

Great, thought Osborne, just when the evening was off to a wonderful start, this razzbonya has to show up. He did not return Ralph’s big fat grin.

“Chief Lewellyn Ferris,” said Ralph, bending so close he threatened to nuzzle Lew’s ear. He spoke with more than a hint of an English accent, which always struck Osborne as pretentious. It was Osborne’s personal opinion, shared with his McDonald’s buddies on more than one occasion, that since the man’s parents had moved to the US when Ralph was four, he’d had plenty of time to lose the accent. Plenty of time.

“Have you made up your mind about our fly fishing trip to Jackson Hole?” said Ralph. “Tough to turn that freebie down — it’s going to be a hell of a trip.”

“I have indeed,” said Lew, pushing her chair back to gaze up at him with smiling eyes. “Not only am I planning to go but,” she extended her left hand towards Osborne, “I’ve invited Doc here to join me. He can pick up a lot more fly fishing expertise on that trip than I can ever teach him.”

A shadow crossed Ralph’s face. “But there’s only two openings.”

“Last time I checked there were only two of us,” said Lew, indicating herself and Osborne.

“Oh,” said Ralph, taken aback. Osborne knew right then that the jerk had planned for himself to be Number Two. Sorry, guy.

“Doc knows, of course, the entire trip is on horseback?”

“He sure does,” said Lew as Osborne nodded in agreement.

“Well, in that case you two better start training. Doc, when was the last time you were on a horse?”

Osborne pursed his lips, thinking. “Oh, fifty years ago maybe.”

“The ride in is twenty-two miles. That’s a bit of a ride even for a cowboy.” Ralph was not going to give up easy.

“How long a ride is that?” said Lew. “Must be several hours at least.”

“Six and a half. If the weather holds.”

“Six and a half hours straight on horseback?” Lew’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me that part.”

“I told you to expect serious backcountry fishing,” said Ralph. “Here’s some advice, you two. The outfitter recommends that first-timers wear panty hose — helps minimize the saddle sores. Doc, I think you’ll want to go for a woman’s extra extra large.”

“You’re putting us on, right?” said Osborne. Ray and Gina had covered their mouths with their napkins.

“Oh, come on, Ralph,” said Lew. “Did you wear panty hose when you went?”

“I haven’t made this trip, Chief. That’s why it was offered to the store. They’re trying to build business because it’s such a rugged go. But worth it — you’ll fish the Buffalo, Atlantic Creek — maybe the Thoroughfare. Famous trout water. And everything is packed in by the outfitter — tents, food, latrine, bear spray, you name it — all you need to bring is your fishing gear.”

“And panty hose,” said Lew with a lift of her eyebrows. “Wish you’d told me that part.”

“Enjoy your dinner, folks,” said Ralph, looking as satisfied as a walleye that had swallowed two minnows without getting hooked, “gotta get back to my table or my wife’ll kill me.”

Lew waited until Ralph was out of hearing range before she said, “He made that up — the panty hose part. I know I’m sure as hell not riding six hours in the heat of July in panty hose.”

“Six and a half hours,” said Ray. “No, I don’t think he is wrong on that. I’ve guided a few fellas who’ve been on hunting trips where you go by horse into the backcountry for elk. I can tell ya they were a l-o-o-n-g time recovering, doncha know. If you like, I’ll check with one of ‘em — see what he suggests.”

“Please,” said Osborne. “Woman’s extra extra large. God help me!”

• • •

Near the end of a meal that was as delicious as ever — the consensus of the group was that only Ray could sauté walleye or bluegill better than the chef at the Pub — Lew broke the promise she had made to Osborne when he’d picked her up earlier.

“I know I promised no work talk tonight,” she said as she lifted her fork to cut into a slice of lemon meringue pie, “but I have a favor to ask of Gina.”

“Go right ahead,” said Gina, diving into her own wedge of pie. “I’ve had an excellent day capped off with an evening with good friends. I am in the mood to bestow multiple favors. What do you need?”

“The Wausau boys had already headed south when I found that one of the Dark Sky sisters had her laptop with her still. I had hoped that all the cell phones and computers connected with both investigations would be in their hands for analysis. Any chance I could send Josie’s home with you and have you take a look at what she might have — or not have — on the hard drive?”

“Better yet,” said Gina, “you’re talking high school kid, right?”

“Sophomore.”

“Let’s see where she’s been going online, too. That’s where you’ll get the best read on the kid. iTunes, eBay, Facebook — I’d love to see what she’s up to. In fact, it fits in a funny way with my work on the stolen credit cards because just today we reached an agreement with the local ISPs and their lawyers to the point that I’ve narrowed our search to a final twenty-two locations selling fishing licenses. I noticed that Mildred’s Food Shop is on the list. I doubt Josie’s laptop has anything to do with our search but at least I’ll know we’ve examined all the computers in use at that location.”

“I’m not sure what else you need,” said Lew, “but the crime lab has finished their work at Mildred’s place so we can check the shop out easily in the morning. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, I’m interested in her place and the neighbors. We’re beginning to think that we may have innocent merchants with lousy firewalls and outdated security software that have outsiders siphoning off their electronic data. I’ve gotta believe a little shop like your victim’s is a classic example. At the very least, her place will give me a baseline for our investigation up here.”

“What about you, Doc?” said Ray, turning to Osborne. “I’m gonna fight that ice in the morning for one last day of muskie fishing. Wanna come along?”

“Nope,” said Osborne, “Chief needs me. We’re expecting Blue Reece’s fiancé and his parents to fly in first thing. Last on our list of people who were at the dinner party the other night — right, Lew?”

“Doc, I had a call from the switchboard just before you arrived. The winter storm that’s due to hit us late tomorrow has shut down Chicago’s O’Hare airport. The Murphys have changed their flights to arrive Sunday morning.” She gave him a wicked grin. “I see no reason you shouldn’t take the morning to fish with Ray.”

“Hey, old man,” Ray hit Osborne in the arm, “you gotta come. No more muskie until next spring, y’know. My boat’s ready, I got plenty of hot coffee. And I figure we’ll fish those — ”

“Jeez, Ray,” said Osborne, “you and I both know this is the worst time of the year for muskie action and it’s going to be damn cold tomorrow.”

“You’re right, Doc. No time for sissies.”

“You mean guys who wear panty hose?”

“N-o-o-o. That’s not what I mean. We may be one of two boats out there but at least it’ll be all us true sportsmen. ‘Cuz, Doc, you gotta remember that if we do see a muskie — it’ll be a lunker. A super lunker. This time of year, those females are heavy with eggs and winter fat. We got huge fish out there — and you know it, Doc.”

“Is he right?” said Gina. “Or does misery love company?”

“No, he’s right,” said Osborne. “My argument is that you may have monsters out there but they’re canny and their metabolism is slow and — ”

“So I stocked up on live suckers and chubs and packed up my plugs — Suick, Eddie, Pikie Minnow, Cisco Kid, Rapala, Swim Whizz, Bobbie baits and a nice new Rizzo Diver. And a Slammer–”

“Enough,” said Osborne, “you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll go, I’ll go.”

Ray gave him a happy grin, eyes snapping with anticipation. “I won’t make too big a thing of it, Doc. I figure we’ll fish from late morning to one or so. Not too long. And just one spot — out by the big boulder. I spotted some green weeds out there.”

“If you bring the coffee, I’ll bring egg salad sandwiches,” said Osborne, feeling a little more enthused. Fishing with Ray wasn’t just fishing — you got a lot of freebies, too. Like good stories and new bad jokes. Plus, he wouldn’t mind catching the biggest muskie of his life. A man is never too old to thrill to the landing of a really, really big fish.

• • •

As they walked to their cars after dinner, Osborne glanced across Main Street towards the sports bar where the young crowd liked to hang out. Pick-up after pick-up lined Loon Lake’s main drag on that side of the street.

“Is that Jake Cahak’s Dodge over there?” said Osborne as he opened the car door for Lew. She stood up to check. “Yes, that’s his license plate. You can’t miss that.”

Osborne had to agree: BIG DOG does stand out.

“Something else, Doc,” she said as she slipped into the passenger seat. “It was bugging me that I didn’t get Josie’s laptop sooner so I gave her a call late this afternoon and asked her how she happened to have it today since Mildred’s place was secured before they left with Blue last night. She said Jake had had it since last weekend. She needed a new DVD drive and Nolan arranged for him to install one for her. So you were right — she didn’t leave the house with it that night. And if I had checked the barn, I wouldn’t have found it either.” “Make you feel better?”

“Nah, Jesperson will find some way to make an issue of it, I’m sure.”

“An excuse to tell you another dirty joke.” Lew punched him in the arm.

The day was classic November: the sky a flat steel grey and winds blowing fifteen to twenty out of the north. Heads down, Osborne and Ray heaved the bassboat over the ice until it fell through about eight feet from shore. The lake was so low Ray had to row another twenty feet and touch bottom with an oar until he was confident the water was deep enough to drop his 100-horse Mercury. As Ray throttled forward, Osborne wondered if two pair of long underwear might not have been wise.

Waves spraying off the sides of the boat, they neared the marker set out to prevent the loss of propellers to the monster rocks lurking below. Ray knew just where he wanted to anchor and did so. Within minutes they were casting, the wind to their back. Osborne scanned the lake in all directions. They were the only boat on the lake. True sportsmen or complete idiots?

No action. After twenty minutes, Ray changed his lure but Osborne had an old Rapala crank-bait that felt good when he cast so he stuck with it. His hopes of landing a fish had been high as they set out that morning but were sinking by the minute. Another half hour of no strikes confirmed his hunch that the shark of the north was nestled snug in the weeds below and not in the mood for teasing.

Even Ray’s enthusiasm waned as the promised one o’clock hour neared. That plus Osborne’s confession that his feet were freezing despite heavy socks and Sorel boots helped them make up their minds: time to eat lunch then call it a day.

Two sandwiches and the dregs of the coffee thermos later, Ray moved to start up the Mercury. He throttled forward — no movement. Again he throttled. The boat did not move.

“Do you think the wind pushed us a little too far over?” said Osborne. Ray tried again. No use. The chilled fishermen stared at each other and neither had to say a word. Under normal conditions, the area near the marker was hazardous. But with the lake as low as it was this year, it was even worse: the sunken boulders were poised to take hostages.

Ray put the outboard in reverse, then forward. Nope. He could not budge the hull off the rock. After thirty minutes of intermittent attempts, he sat down and pulled out his cell phone. “Doc, who do we call? We gotta find somebody to pull us off here.”

“Do you even have cell service?”

Ray checked. “Yes, thank goodness. But I sure as hell can’t call you, can I? Gina doesn’t know how to run a boat. Most of my buddies are out deer hunting.”

“Mine, too,” said Osborne, a sudden image of the hunting shack’s hot pot belly stove making him rue his decision not to hunt. “I would try Erin,” said Osborne, “but she and Mark are in Milwaukee with the kids, visiting his grandparents.”

“Lew?”

“I hate to do that, she’s so busy as it is.” “Not to mention we’ll look like fools.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Osborne. He wasn’t the jabone who had insisted on fishing in these conditions.

“Hey, I got the ticket,” said Ray, pointing an index finger to the sky. “I’ll call the Birchwood Bar — see if there’s anybody watching the football game that’d be willing to get us — for a six-pack.”

“Good idea,” said Osborne. “Be grateful the Packers aren’t playing.”

• • •

In less than fifteen minutes, a weathered pontoon with a 150-horse motor was barreling through the waves towards them. A stocky guy in an Army parka with a black knit cap pulled down over his ears waved at Ray, then tossed a yellow strap with a hook at one end their way. “Yo, Ray,” he called over the wind, “you are gonna owe me for this, big guy.”

“Who is that?” said Osborne as Ray wedged the hook in tight and raised the propeller so it would clear the rock as the boat moved.

“You don’t know Clarence? He lives north of the Wisconsin River up on Highway G. Drives a school bus in the winter, works construction in the summer. Good man.”

• • •

The good man was more than deserving of his six-pack. Under a black, scruffy beard Clarence was still red-faced from the wind when they took their seats at the bar. Ray was true to his word on the six-pack, threw in a promise of a day’s ice fishing and Clarence was more than pleased.

“So you drive a school bus, Clarence?” said Osborne, warming his feet outside his boots. He was so chilled he’d ordered herbal tea, which he never drank — but it sounded hot and harmless.

“Yep,” said Clarence. “Been drivin’ for twenty-six years. Get to retire in four.”

He took a swig from his beer then set the bottle down on the bar. “Yep, been a good job. I like the kids.”

“You drive for St. Mary’s or the public schools?”

“The high school. The teenagers. I got that serious look,” Clarence scowled at Osborne and Ray, “so I can scare the bejesus out of any that get under my nerves, y’know? But I tell you — ,” he banged his bottle so hard on the bar, the beer fizzed over the top, “things have changed in twenty-five years. Too many kids go home to empty houses these days, and you know where that takes you. Man oh man.”

“I can imagine,” said Osborne, shaking his head in agreement. “More drugs, more fooling around.”

“Yep. When you drive a bus, you hear it all. They forget you’re there, y’know.”

“Really,” said Ray. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve heard recently?” He caught Osborne’s eye over Clarence’s head: this was turning into a fun afternoon.

“You two hear about that rich woman that was killed over on Lily Pond Road?”

“Heard a little,” said Ray. “What’d you hear?”

“Well, those two Indian girls that live with old Mildred — they ride my bus. The young one, Josie, she’s been bragging to her friends that she’ll inherit a million bucks from that Reece woman someday. Looks like her day’s come sooner rather than later, doncha know. Now isn’t that something? Don’t we all need friends like that.” Clarence chuckled.

“Did Josie say this recently or a while ago?” said Osborne.

“Ah, she’s been bragging off and on since school started in the fall. You know something else I noticed? Those girls are not friendly to each other. Makes me wonder how they can live in the same house.”

“How do you mean ‘not friendly’?” said Ray, opening another beer for Clarence.

“Just watching ‘em get on the bus you can tell. Josie always sits up front — she’s got two pals and they giggle and make fun of some of the other kids. But Frances is different. Very serious that one. Always goes to the back, always sits alone. Stares out the window most of the ride. She’s got something on her mind if you ask me.”

“Maybe she’s wondering if she inherits a million,” said Ray.

“Could be,” said Clarence, finishing the first of his beers. “Could well be.”

“You know a guy by the name of Jake Cahak by any chance?” said Osborne.

“Guy with a Minnesota plate — drives a Dodge RAM?”

“Yeah, you see him around much?”

“Can I tell you two something in private?” said Clarence. “You can’t tell anyone or I’ll be in big trouble.” “Cross my heart,” said Ray. “Strict confidence,” said Osborne.

“That Josie slipped me a fifty-dollar bill to let her off early to meet that guy. I shouldn’t be doing that.” Clarence shrugged. Osborne knew fifty dollars was a lot to a man whose weekly take-home was maybe three hundred bucks.

“She met Jake?”

“Yep, he was always there waitin’ for her.” “And Frances?”

“Oh, she hates that bastard. You should see the look on her face when he shows up. She never got off early. No sirree.”

Ray’s cell phone rang. He checked the number and handed it to Osborne. “Looks like it’s the Chief, Doc. Why don’t you take it?”