Dead Creek (21 page)

“Ray,” Osborne interrupted, “Marie is the woman I saw in the woods that night. When she leaned over the lamp in her cabin, her hat fell off, and I recognized the head and the shadows in her face. That’s who was there when we found you. Marie is the mushroom woman!”

“You’re kidding,” said Ray, looking hard at Osborne. “You’re sure?” He wrinkled his brow as if thinking back over what few sensations he could remember. “I know I had this intuitive sense of being held by my mother, which sounds crazy, but now it makes sense. I would trust Marie with my life….

“Yeah, I guess I’m not surprised,” Ray said, putting the truck into gear. “I have news, too. Herman told me he knows the beavers went to work about ten years ago around the old Cantrell land. They dammed up a creek that used to flow into the Gudegast. He figures that’s good water in that lake. I was wrong when I thought we were on Dead Creek yesterday. That was the Guddy.

“He’s been back and forth in there a lot recently. He said it’s Judith Benjamin building in there, all right. She’s put up one of the log houses that come in a kit and has Marie doing finish work on it. Herman drives Marie over to work every day and picks her up. Except Saturday, he couldn’t find her. Worried sick about it, but she showed up yesterday just fine.”

“Did he mention if he saw Ted Bronk hanging around?” asked Osborne.

“Yep. That’s why he was worried about Marie. Herman doesn’t trust Bronk. Didn’t know he’s dead, either, till I just told him. He was worried the guy might go after Marie in his slimy way. He knows Marie’s intelligent, but he knows her limits, too.”

“But she was okay when he found her?”

“She was okay, but she wouldn’t tell Herman where she’d been.”

“Jeesh,” said Osborne. “Wait’ll Lew hears this.”

“We have got to reach her as soon as possible,” Julie interrupted. “Now that I saw that painting, we can get a search warrant—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there.” Ray looked at Julie. “Don’t get frantic, okay? Marie is not going anywhere. We’ve got time. We’ve got to find the linchpin here. We’ve got too many unanswered questions.”

“He’s right,” said Osborne. “For one thing, we haven’t looked closely at the responses from the families of the other victims—they may have information that could put an entirely different spin on this. We have been so focused on Robert Bowers that we could be overlooking something quite important.”

“You may have Marie in possession of the painting,” said Ray, “but I swear to you Marie did not mastermind a multiple murder that involved siphoning assets out of the Bowers estate. Not Marie.”

“How do you know?” said Julie, a grim tone to her voice. “How do you know she’s not scamming?”

“What!” Ray’s voice didn’t hide an edge of anger.

“Sorry, forget it, I take it back,” said Julie. “I’m really sorry. That was unkind.”

“Then why did you say it?” asked Ray. “Now, Julie, I’m not mad, but I’m curious as to why you would say that. I’ve known Marie for years—years—and she’s always been this way.”

“I just feel … well, now this is strictly intuition. I don’t think Marie is retarded. And please remember I grew up with a father who treated disturbed people. I don’t think she’s even learning disabled. If you ask me, odd behavior patterns aside, I think Marie is every bit as bright as the three of us. Maybe brighter.”

“What makes you so sure?” asked Ray.

“Because when I put her on the spot with questions about the painting, she stopped all the nervous tics,” said Julie. “I caught her off guard. If she had a real physical problem, there wouldn’t have been a blip in her movements. If she was slow mentally, she wouldn’t have answered the way she did: she dodged all my questions quite neatly. I’m a lawyer, Ray. Questions are my craft, and judging answers is my talent.”

Ray heaved a sigh. “This complicates things.”

“That depends,” said Julie. “You don’t seem all that surprised.”

“Well … I’ve seen some things that have made me wonder, too,” said Ray.

“Personally, I’m with you, Ray,” said Julie. “I don’t think Marie is who we’re after. But what’s with this Judy person?” said Julie. “Isn’t she the one who set up the party with the dancers for the YPO group?”

“Not exactly,” said Osborne. “She provided dancers at the request of a professor from the university branch over in Rhinelander who was offering some sort of bonehead art class. Ted Bronk was to drive them over and back from the resort or wherever this party was supposed to be.”

“I can’t wait to see this Judith person,” said Julie. “Maybe something will jibe. Hey, guys, we need to get in touch with Lew as soon as possible.”

“Yep.” Ray put the truck in gear and pulled onto the highway. “Let’s go by Thunder Bay and see if Lew’s still there.” He looked over at Julie. “Be prepared. This is a joint, a raunchy roadhouse. It is not
your
kind of place—”

“But a lot of fishermen?”

“Yeah, bait and spinner guys. Hunting season, you get the bear guys, deer hunters. But class, it ain’t, kiddo.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Julie absentmindedly. Osborne noticed she was staring out the truck window as if she had something on her mind other than listening to Ray.

“Drop me off at Erin’s, will you, Ray?” Osborne asked. “I’ll pick up my car and the dog and follow you out to Thunder Bay.”

“Still worried?”

“Not really. I’m sure Erin’s back by now. But, you know? I’ve been thinking about that Judith. Remember how she shuts that bar down every Labor Day and goes away until March? Do you know where she goes, Ray?”

“Nope. Now that you mention it—no, I don’t.”

“Ah,” said Julie, turning away from the window as if another puzzle piece had fallen into place.

Erin
was not home. Nor the baby. But Osborne’s son-in-law was, and he looked tense. He was waiting on the front porch as they pulled up.

“Dad, isn’t Erin with you?” Mark came running down the stairs to the truck as Osborne was climbing out.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day. She isn’t back yet?”

“What do you mean, yet?” asked Mark.

“I dropped the dog off two hours ago, and she wasn’t here.”

“I don’t understand,” said Mark. “Our car is in the garage, she didn’t leave a note, and there is no sign of her and the baby. I just sent the girls over to the neighbors. I thought I’d go out and drive around a little in case she’s walking back from downtown or something.”

“Who saw her last?” asked Ray from inside the cab of the truck.

“The girls when they left for school at nine this morning,” said Mark. “Even her coffee cup is half full and sitting by the sink. She always finishes her coffee. And the wash was half-stuffed into the washing machine, none of the beds are made. It’s like she left in a rush hours ago.”

Osborne saw his son-in-law’s eyes tear up suddenly. He resisted a rush of panic himself. “Ray, why don’t you and Julie come on into the house. Let’s call the station from here and locate Lew. I—we—”

“Good idea.” Ray waited to get out of the truck on the passenger side after Julie. “Erin first. Then we can see how Lew wants to handle this other.”

The four of them hurried into the tall Victorian home. Mark picked up the phone. He reached the police station and asked for Lew.

“She’s not there and they don’t know where she is.” He looked at Osborne.

“Let me talk to them,” Osborne reached for the phone. Lucy Olson was on the line. “Lucy? This is an emergency,” said Osborne. “We’ll get in the car and go find Lew if we have to.”

“Good luck, Dr. Osborne,” said Lucy. The older woman had a decidedly stressed-out tone to her voice. “She said she had a meeting with Judith Benjamin at four but she’s not there now. Neither is Judith Benjamin. No one knows where they are.”

“She never showed up?” Osborne was incredulous.

“I don’t know. I’ve got two cars out looking for her because I can’t get no response from her on the radio either,” said Lucy. “This is not like her. The mayor is demanding to talk to her right this minute. I’ve got him screaming on the other line.”

Osborne exhaled deeply, “Lucy, my daughter Erin is missing. Can we get someone to help us look for her?”

“Erin is missing?” This time it was Lucy’s turn to sound incredulous. “Well, I don’t know. You want me to call someone in from Rhinelander? I’ve got our guys out after Lew.”

“Yes, I want someone from Rhinelander. As soon as possible,” said Osborne. He set down the phone.

Ray stepped forward and put a hand on Osborne’s shoulder. “Okay, Doc, you stay right here with Mark until the Rhinelander cops come. Julie, you come with me.”

“Where are you going?” asked Osborne.

“We’ll drive up to Thunder Bay and see what the story is,” said Ray. “I’ll call from up there and tell you what I find.”

“Good, good.” Ray and Julie hurried from the house.

“Did she tell you about seeing that guy the other day?” Mark asked Osborne.

“Yes, but I can’t imagine that is related to this,” said Osborne.

“Well, she was worried about it,” said Mark. “She must’ve told me five or six times she couldn’t get over this look of intense fury on the guy’s face. I think she felt like he might come after her.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Osborne, wondering and doubting his own words even as he said them.

He walked over to where Mark stood, a look of great worry and helplessness on his face. At first, Osborne started to reach for his son-in-law’s shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze, but he found himself putting both arms around the younger man instead. As he looked over his son-in-law’s shoulder, his eyes caught the gleam of a bottle on the top shelf of a half-open cupboard.

He remembered his solution to the despair he felt right after Mary Lee died. One night, in fact, it had been Erin and Mark who found him passed out in his own kitchen, tucked him into bed, and called the rehab center at Ha-zelden for him the next morning. It was Erin who volunteered to take the role of the family in confronting Osborne with his alcoholism. He couldn’t bear to lose Erin, too. If she was lost, he was lost.

“Mark, I know we’ll find her. I’m sure everything is all right,” whispered Osborne hoarsely. The two men clung to each other for a brief moment. This was so unlike anything Erin had ever done. They both knew something was very, very wrong.

“Mark, I’m going to take a walk over to Saint Mary’s. If anyone calls, I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Osborne walked quickly toward the front door. He needed a few minutes alone.

Osborne
didn’t even nod to Mike’s plaintive bark as he ran down the front stairs and hurried along the sidewalk toward the church. Erin and Mark lived exactly one and a half blocks from Saint Mary’s. In less than three minutes, Osborne had turned the corner, walked another hundred yards rapidly, and tried the side door of the church. It was open.

He slipped inside. The interior was dark and empty, with enough of the fading sun still glowing through the stained glass windows that Osborne could find his way to his usual pew. He sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands. First, he prayed. Then he began to think. He let his mind move back and forth over the scenes of the week. What kept crowding back in was a trio of images led by Lew’s dark, penetrating, emphathetic eyes. Eyes that watched his to see if he could see.

Suddenly he remembered the boots, the boots on the dead body in the road. Ted Bronk’s boots.

He had this very strong image of the boots stomping across the porch of the house where Erin saw him. Stomping after her and the baby …

And with that, Osborne realized why Erin could be a target:
She can place Bronk out in the woods at that strange house. She is a witness to his dealings with someone who may have killed him. And if that’s true,
thought Osborne,
could her disappearance be directly tied to the other murders?

His head still in his hands while he was thinking, Osborne had not seen the door from the sacristy open. Nor had he heard the young man approach. Osborne jerked his head up at the soft pat on his shoulder.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Doctor.” Wally, the young student who’d been helping with the baptismal database, stood in front of him. “I saw you walk in a little while ago, and I thought you’d like to know I found some more records with the names of the two babies that Mrs. Minor had adopted.”

Osborne sat back on the seat of the pew. “You did?”

“She gave one up to another family,” said Wally. “That family had the baby’s baptismal records changed because they changed the baby’s name. It’s a very confusing set of records, but I think I got it right. Father Vodicka found some more information in the convent files about how it all happened because Mrs. Minor said two children were too expensive and too much work for her, so she brought one back to the sisters. Then the second family made a big deal that no one should know their child was one of the triplets. I guess that mother wanted everyone to think her baby came from Rhinelander. Anyway, it was kept pretty quiet by the nuns.” And with that, he offered up the names.

Osborne felt his entire body begin to vibrate.

“Thank you, Wally,” he said quickly. “That’s very good to know. Thank you.” He thought later the kid must have thought he was berserk the way he ran from the church. Ran out and all the way back to Erin’s in a minute or less.

“Mark! Mark!” He was shouting as he neared the house. Mark came running out the front door. “C’mon. I think I know what’s going on.” said Osborne. “I’ve got to find Lew. I’ve got to get her.” He pushed past Mark into the house and to the phone. Frantically, he dialed the police station and got Lucy again. “Lucy, any luck locating Lew?”

“No. Doc.” said Lucy. “I am so sorry—nothing. I was going to call you. The Rhinelander police are on their way. They said they’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

Osborne and Mark heard footsteps running up the front porch even as Osborne put the phone down. But the faces that burst through the front door weren’t cops, it was Ray and Julie, both looking grim.

“Doc. I’ve got some interesting news.” said Ray. The easygoing, laconic Ray had disappeared, replaced by the rapid-action, no-nonsense guy whom Osborne had only ever witnessed during the landing of a very large muskie. The man in front of him was “business Ray.” all the way. in spite of the trout hat.

“No Lew at Thunder Bay. But the bartender said he passed a couple cars on his way out to clock in this afternoon and he was pretty sure one was Judith. For sure one was a cop car because he slowed down when he saw it.” said Ray. his words firing in staccato, “but Julie and I stopped at Guptill’s Grocery for gas and the bathroom, and we’re walking in past the community bulletin board when Julie sees a poster for the Northwoods Regional Art Show, curated by—guess who?” Ray paused for one brief instant.
“Professor Bradford Miller,
with his picture front and center—”

“That’s Brad Kirsch!” interrupted Julie, her voice loud and insistent. “That’s him. That’s the dealer I’ve been telling you about—and he’s the silver thief! He’s the same guy that goes by Fred Shepard. too. He always works with a woman, remember? I’ll bet my life I’ll recognize Judith Benjamin. Doc, these are the two. I’m just sure they killed Robert. I’m sure.” Julie was shaking.

“It fits,” said Osborne, his voice very calm in spite of the feeling that his entire body was one raw nerve. “I just learned Brad Miller is the third of the triplets found by old Herman. Ruth Minor adopted him originally but gave him up within three months to another Loon Lake family–”

“When did you hear all this?” asked Julie.

“About ten minutes ago. I ran into the college kid inputting the baptismal database over at Saint Mary’s. He finally found all the documents from the baptisms that followed the adoptions. The whole thing was confused because one of the babies was baptized twice. My old friend, Joe Miller, and his wife—they adopted that third baby.”

“Jeez….” Ray raised his eyebrows as he looked at Osborne and Julie, each in turn, his eyes questioning theirs. Osborne didn’t find his spirit helped by the deepening concern evident in Ray’s expression and his uncharacteristically subdued manner.

He could see Ray was worried, and that
really
worried Osborne. In fact, it pushed him to the brink of panic. He forced himself into calmness, if only to fortify his son-in-law, who was standing off to the side, listening and watching the three of them, his arms crossed, his body tense.

“Erin and the baby are still missing,” said Osborne abruptly. “I think I know why.” His heart pounded as he spoke. “I think the angry, crazy man she saw when she was delivering those brochures was Ted Bronk. She told a lot of people about that encounter. I’ll bet Brad and Judith heard about it and realized she knows about the house in the woods. If they killed Ted because he knew what they were up to, maybe they think she saw something or he said something or …” Osborne stopped. He couldn’t finish thinking what was on his mind, much less putting it in words. “I—we’ve got to find Lew! We need her help.”

“You’re right, Doc,” said Julie, putting a hand on Osborne’s arm, “but you need to settle down. Lew is right where you want her: interrogating Judith Benjamin. Just hold on until she’s back in touch with the office—”

“But they think she’s missing!” Osborne insisted.

“I think they’re wrong,” said Julie firmly, so firmly he believed her. “Doc, how often do you have criminal interrogations up here? A session can go on for hours. Lucy is just a switchboard operator. She’s overreacting. Okay? Relax.”

At least he
wanted
to believe her.

“I think Lew found a way to work on Benjamin and is taking her time to get everything she needs,” said Julie. “The bartender told us he saw Lew’s cruiser pull into the lot at Thunder Bay. He saw Judith go out the door to see her, and then they both drove off in their own cars. I figure Lew was successful at getting Benjamin off her own turf for the interrogation, which is critical to gaining an advantage. I know that from my own experience.”

“Julie’s right,” said Ray. “We both know Lew can take care of herself. Doc, I think it’s time we go to the source. We should be talking to the good professor. The man with the answers.”

Osborne took a deep breath. The logic was sound, but something felt wrong. It was just a feeling. He kept his mouth shut.

“The last I heard, the professor was living at home with his mother,” said Ray. He glanced at his watch: “Teatime. Let’s pay a call on the Miller household.”

“Where are we going?” said Julie.

“Right up the street,” said Osborne. “Mark, you stay here. Give me a call at the Millers’ when you hear from Lew.”

“Tell her to meet us there,” added Ray as the three of them walked toward the front door.

“No. Stop,” said Osborne, balking in the hallway near the door. “I don’t think this is right. I think we should get out to that log house. Someone who knows something is there. I’m sure of it!”

“You may be right,” said Ray, tipping his hat back on his head and looking hard into Osborne’s face. “But even if you are right, we don’t know exactly who that is. We can’t just barge in and accuse somebody of murder. We can’t just barge in period. We need to know if we’re dealing with people carrying weapons. If we aren’t careful, someone could get killed—”

“Or sued,” said Julie. “Ray’s got a point. Before we drive out there, we need more information. We need to be very, very careful.”

“Look,” said Ray to Osborne, his voice sympathetic, “Ten minutes with the professor or with Peggy and we’ll have a much better read on the situation. Are you with me, Doc?”

“Fine. Okay. But let’s hurry. We’re running out of time.”

“Yes, we are,” said Ray. “But look at it this way. It is either too late already or we’ve got enough time to make sure of what we’re doing.”

Mark looked stunned at his words. “Please go,” he said. “I’ll keep checking with the station.”

Osborne, Ray, and Julie raced for the cars. “Take mine,” shouted Osborne. “I’ve got plenty of gas.”

Peggy Miller lived seven houses away, up six doors and around the corner, in an elegant red brick home with white shutters on black-trimmed windows. Osborne had always thought the house unspeakably pretentious for Loon Lake.

“Well,” said Julie dryly, unable to resist a chuckle in spite of the tension as she tipped her head to look past Ray at the house, “Do I see a Williamsburg mansion set down in a Yankee town? Correct me if I’m wrong: This woman loves money?” The men nodded. Then she briefed them on her approach to Brad’s mother.

Oh, Peggy loved her house, all right, thought Osborne as he listened to Julie’s plan. And Peggy loved Joe’s money. Just like she’d loved the little bridge parties with tea sandwiches and weak coffee that she and Mary Lee had hosted for years, always being sure to leave out some young wife that the two of them didn’t care for at the time, making sure that woman knew she wasn’t invited—and giggling over it later. They had wielded enough social clout that Osborne had felt its effects on his practice from time to time.

No, Peggy loved the money and the house, but she never loved Joe. She made that clear when she left him to die alone in the hospital. Alone with his lymphoma, a difficult death from a cancer probably brought on by the stress of working at the mill to pay Peggy’s bills. Osborne had arrived at the hospital to visit his friend, only to find Joe had passed away just thirty minutes earlier. The nurses told Osborne it had been two days since either Peggy or Brad had been in to see the man, even though he was conscious to the end, and they had placed numerous phone calls to the home. The nurses had been disgusted with the family.

As Osborne parked his truck, he realized for the first time how much he disliked Peggy and how he had hated that Mary Lee was a partner in her little schemes. Now he wondered if that twisted side of the woman had coalesced in Brad, the adopted son that she had indulged and cooed over, even when he was a grown man. Brad, a killer? Brad holding Erin and the baby somewhere? Osborne took a deep breath as Ray and Julie gave him instructions.

It was 5:30 when they rang Peggy’s doorbell. She cracked the door open so quickly after the ring, Osborne figured she’d been watching from behind the curtains as his car pulled up and the three of them got out.

“Yes? Who is it?” Peggy peered out. She was a slight, stiff woman with a long, horsey face. Her distinguishing feature was a jaw that thrust forward and appeared to be elongating with age. Above the jaw was a pointy nose and two close-set and intense black eyes. When he first met her, many years ago, Osborne had made a mental note that she was one of those women who was always watching.

Today her hair was neatly fluffed in a beauty parlor pageboy, and she was wearing trim navy blue wool slacks, a pale pink blouse, and a navy blue cardigan sweater. A small brooch secured the neck of her blouse. She wasn’t pretty, but she wasn’t homely, and she had a crisp, tailored style. Perhaps it was the style that had made her hate Joe for locking her away in little old Loon Lake.

“Well, my goodness, Paul Osborne.” She opened the door wide. “What are you doing here at this time of day? And Ray Pradt? Gracious, what brings you folks out?”

“Mrs. Miller?” Julie extended her hand and stepped forward with authority. “I’m Julie Rehnquist from Kansas City. I’m the lawyer Brad is expecting to discuss his inheritance. Is he here?”

“No. He isn’t.”

“I don’t understand,” said Julie graciously. “I asked his office to make an appointment for us to meet at this time, but maybe I misunderstood. You aren’t expecting us?”

“Julie is the daughter of an old school friend of mine,” volunteered Osborne. “Ray and I met her at the Mosinee airport earlier today. We thought we’d just drop her off for the meeting with Brad and come by later to pick her up.”

Peggy looked very confused. She stepped back and opened the door wide. “Come in, everyone. I don’t understand. Brad didn’t say anything about your appointment. But, please, come in and sit down.”

She beckoned them into the front hall and on into her living room. The room was filled with reproduction English furniture: ornate mahogany tables and overstuffed chairs and sofas. It was formal, not comfortable. Ray and Osborne sat side by side on a small sofa, Julie picked an armchair. Peggy excused herself for a minute, saying she would put some coffee on to brew. She was back quickly and seated herself primly in a small rocking chair.

“Now, tell me about this inheritance?”