Death at the Door (13 page)

May 31—Second Story Restaurant,
Ephraim, Wisconsin

Sheriff Skewski walked into the lobby of the Ephraim Shores Motel and found Joel sitting by the staircase waiting for him. The sheriff took off his hat and shook the rain off it. They trudged up the stairs to the Second Story Restaurant and were immediately seated at a table by the window. They both stared at the mist-covered harbor.

“I hate it when it rains but we really need the moisture,” Skewski said as he opened his menu. They ordered their lunch from a young blond waitress who looked like she belonged on a California beach. After she brought their water they got down to business.

“I just talked to the university police. Daisy is listed in critical but stable condition,” Joel said. “She isn't alert or oriented and they don't expect her to be for several days. Hopefully she can name her attacker when she wakes up.”

“Amen to that.” Skewski pulled a small spiral notebook out of his jacket pocket. “Both Mr. Neilsen's sons say that his car never left his driveway. They both went by the house after church so they are pretty sure of their times. They worked in their orchard all afternoon and they both saw his car.”

“Did either of them see their dad?” Joel asked after the waitress delivered their juice.

Skewski glanced down at his notebook. “Neither of them saw him.”

“Does he have another vehicle he could have driven?”

“He has a truck and an SUV. He also has a tractor. I suppose he could have taken that to the golf course.” Skewski's eyes crinkled into a smile. When Joel rolled his eyes, Skewski went on, “His kids only saw the his truck sitting out. He said his SUV was in the garage and his tractor was in the barn where he usually keeps it when he isn't using it.”

“So you think he really was home taking a nap?”

“I never see that SUV of his out unless he's driving it. He takes better care of it than some people do of their children. I think he probably was at home.” The waitress delivered Skewski's food, a cheeseburger and fries. Joel glanced down at his grilled-chicken-breast sandwich and looked longingly at Skewski's plate.

Skewski laughed. “Wife put you on a diet?”

“How'd you guess?”

“She guilted you into it because you're gone so much. She's stuck at home taking care of the kids. Yada, yada, yada. Been there, done that.” He shoveled some fries into his mouth. “The only hope you have is that she packs on a little weight herself. Then she can't jump on you unless she dumps a few pounds. How many kids you got?”

“Four,” Joel said, envisioning Molly carrying an extra thirty or forty pounds. He decided that his lunch was looking pretty good.

“Man, if you got four kids, she should already have a little spread.”

“She's very thin.” Joel ate a bite of his sandwich. “She says the kids keep her so busy she hardly has time to eat.”

Skewski shook his head as he mopped up ketchup with some fires. “You're outta luck, bud.”

“What about Mr. Rassmussen?”

“Rassmussen's a strange bird. He moved up here from Chicago four years ago to ‘get away from people.' He's a retired accountant. Bought himself a farm. The next thing we knew he decided to subdivide it into lots. He put up a sign advertising lots for sale and ran a huge ad in the paper. Ran ads in the Chicago and Milwaukee papers as well.” Skewski laughed. “Can't imagine what those cost him.”

“So what's his issue? He already got what he wanted.”

“That's the point. His land was zoned agricultural. He never applied for rezoning,” Skewski said.

“You're shitting me.”

“Said he didn't know he had to apply. He tried to sue the county saying he had the right to do whatever he wanted with his property. He also tried to sue to get back the money he spent on the ads and the signs.” The sheriff grinned at Joel. “He is, without a doubt, the cheapest son of a bitch I've ever met. That's saying something up here. There's a lot of folks in Door County who could squeeze a nickel until the buffalo shits.”

“He said he was in church Sunday morning.”

“Funniest thing, no one remembers seeing him. His priest doesn't remember him and he says he usually notices him.”

“He'd be hard to miss,” Joel said, thinking of Rassmussen's size and his beard.

“The priest gave me a list of the parishioners he remembers from church on Sunday. I've got one of my deputies interviewing them. I'll let you know what we find out.”

“The handwriting on the four anonymous letters I found in Larsen's house matches the handwriting on the letters Rassmussen wrote to the
Door County Ledger.”

“No shit,” Skewski said.

“Rassmussen is now at the top of my list.” Joel pulled out his wallet. “What about Rassmussen's wife?”

“She's in Chicago visiting her family. If you can believe this, she's harder to get along with than he is. How they've stayed together all these years is beyond me. They should have killed each other decades ago. Must be a standoff. Believe me, no one in Door County would shed a tear if that bastard turned out to be the one.”

They paid their bill and headed back out into the rain.

May 31—Ephraim, Wisconsin

Lark was in a black mood as he headed back to Ephraim. The rain and the gray clouds didn't help. He was disgusted with himself for giving up his vacation to work. Both cases were a mess. Between the sheriff's department, the state police, and now a private detective working for the insurance company, he wondered if they would ever get things sorted out. He felt like he needed a scorecard to keep everything straight. This mess reminded him of one of the reasons why he had left the Chicago Police Department. His mother's old phrase, “too many cooks spoil the soup,” floated into his mind.

He groaned when he thought about Russell O'Flaherty. Russ was a smart guy and had always been a team player when he was FBI. Lark wondered if Russ would work differently now that he was private.

He'd known Russ for years and could never figure out how he charmed his way into so many women's underwear. Lark's mind substituted
lingerie
for
underwear
and a smile played across his lips as he thought of Lacey. Russ was tall but he was gangly like a teenager. He still had a full head of reddish blond hair and the freckles across his nose and upper cheeks that went with the complexion of a natural redhead. He had a big goofy smile that was hard for anyone to resist. That, combined with his easygoing nature, made people think he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. That impression was something that Russ often used to his advantage. Lark had seen him sit down at a bar and be initially ignored by a woman who left the place with him an hour later. Lark pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Lacey was no match for him. He'd have to warn her about him.

He drove around the curve into Ephraim and looked at Eagle Harbor. So much mist was on the water that he couldn't tell where the water ended and the sky began. Spring in Wisconsin, the rain and mud season, he thought, not allowing himself to remember the six previous gorgeous days.

He pulled in the Edgewater parking lot and noticed that John and Ann's car was gone. He pictured them out shopping and again wondered why he had allowed himself to get pulled into this investigation. He trotted up the stairs, shaking those thoughts out of his head. He had work to do.

When he got to his suite, he was pissed to find that the maid had come in. She had dumped his coffee and washed the pot. Any other day he wouldn't have thought anything about it, but in his mood, he was looking for anything to be negative about. He made a fresh pot and pulled out the phone book. He called the Door County Chamber of Commerce and slammed the phone back into the cradle when he got a busy signal. He stalked across the living room and went out on his deck to look at the water and get himself under control. He stood at the porch railing for five minutes, breathing in the sweet, moist air and watching the fog get blown gently across the lake. He was oblivious to the occasional car that went by below him on Highway 42.

When he'd calmed down, he went back inside and redialed the Chamber of Commerce number. A cheerful-sounding woman answered it on the first ring. Lark explained who he was and what he was investigating. She fell all over herself to provide him with help. She agreed to print out a list of businesses that belonged to the Chamber and have it ready for him if he wanted to pick it up or she'd fax it to the sheriff's office in Sturgeon Bay. He decided to pick it up, thinking that it would be faster. He poured himself a mug of coffee and headed out to make the trip down the peninsula to Sturgeon Bay.

Lark drove south along the bay side through the rain. The stores along Highway 42 seemed to have picked up business and he wondered if most of the people visiting the peninsula were out shopping because of the rain. Even the bustling town of Sturgeon Bay, the largest city in Door County, population 9,176 according to Rand McNally, seemed busier than it had when they had driven up on Saturday. He pulled into the Chamber parking lot just as the rain began to come down in sheets. He swore, opened his door, and made a run for it. His jacket was soaked by the time he got inside.

The clerk, a cheerful young woman, was true to her word. She asked to see his ID and told him that she had called the sheriff's office to confirm that he was indeed working for them. She gave him a computer printout of the business list and he headed back to Ephraim to get to work. The pouring rain continued as he made his way back up the peninsula. He had to resist the urge to stop at the White Gull in Fish Creek to check up on Lacey. That thought made him angry and he fumed the rest of the way back to the Edgewater.

Lark settled into his suite to review the Chamber list. For a county with only twenty-six thousand residents in it, it sure had a lot of businesses. He booted up his laptop and created a list of all the restaurants, galleries, and antique shops. He also listed their owners and telephone numbers. Once that was completed, he realized that he didn't have any discs with him. He swore and pulled on his jacket as he went out to buy some. He noticed that the rain had backed off to a mist. He walked past Ann and John's suite and heard their TV. He looked down at his watch and realized that it was four o'clock. His stomach growled and he decided to check on the Ransons' dinner plans.

John answered the door and invited him in. Ann was curled into a corner of the sofa, her feet tucked up under her. She had a large piece of needlepoint in her lap. She turned the volume down on an old episode of
Law and Order
.

“Lark, come in. John will get you a glass of wine. It's made at a local winery. We bought it and some local cheese and sausage.” She held up her plate. “The crackers are the only out-of-state food.”

Lark hung his coat on the hook by the door and sank into a chair while John poured him a glass of wine. “I can't stay long. I've got to run out and buy some computer discs.”

“I'll give you one. I brought a box with me.” Ann got up and went to the kitchen counter. She rummaged around in her computer case until she found some discs.

“What are you doing for dinner?” she asked as she handed him one.

“No plans yet. You all want company?” He looked back and forth between them trying to determine if they wanted to be alone for the evening.

“Lacey just called and asked us the same thing,” Ann said, getting back to her needlepoint. “We're meeting her and this insurance investigator at Al Johnson's in Sister Bay at six-thirty. Wanna come?”

Lark got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I think I'll just get a pizza and stay in,” he replied, getting up from his chair.

Ann held her arm out as if to grab him. “Wait a minute,” she said sternly. “You haven't even finished your wine.” She pointed to his half-full glass on the coffee table.

Lark sat back down, his elbows balanced on his knees, his clasped hands pointing down to the floor, the same place he was staring.

“I asked Lacey about Gene and she said he and Sophie were now an item. She didn't sound to happy about it.” Ann watched Lark, waiting for a response. He continued to look down at the floor, saying nothing. She reached out and patted his arm. “I'm sorry, Lark, I didn't mean to pry. I had no idea that Sophie meant that much to you.”

Lark looked at her and laughed. “Sophie's an old friend. It's fine with me if she goes out with Gene. They seem like they're made for each other. I was thinking about Lacey going out to dinner with Russ O'Flaherty.” He shook his head. “Russell's a real piece of work where the ladies are concerned.”

“All the more reason for you to go out to dinner with us.”

Lark nodded. “I'll be down here at six-fifteen.” He drank the last of his wine and headed upstairs. His mood was improved and there was a spring in his step.