Dead Frenzy (26 page)

“Before he went to bed that night, he told Hayden he wanted her off the property the next day, after the parade—and he would personally see that she would never work in television again.”

“Edith, none of this explains how you could be remotely responsible for some jabone taking him out with a .50 caliber sniper rifle,” said Lew.

Edith’s eyes brimmed. “I’m the one who added Loon Lake to the tournament circuit. We weren’t coming here originally. You know, this area is really too small for the kind of bass fishing you need for a million-dollar purse.

“I talked Parker into coming here. He always told me how much he loved Loon Lake. I had this crazy plan. I thought if they were a family—he and Jen—on the lake with all the memories. I never realized…. ”

“How could you know he had former family members who are hardened criminals? Parker himself was nicknamed ‘the Predator.’ He was no innocent, Edith. You are not to blame for that man’s death,” said Lew.

Edith pushed at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Lew tapped her pen on her desk. “Edith, who do you think fired that gun?”

“You know those guys they caught cheating on the drawing for the boat? Because of that, Bruce Duffy will never be allowed in another professional tournament. He’s furious. He did it or he hired someone to do it.”

“Good theory,” said Lew. “Except Bruce Duffy is dead. And I happen to know he didn’t fire the gun that killed Parker.”

“Oh,” Edith said in surprise. “I didn’t see that on the news.”

“No, and you won’t until I decide to make it public.”

Lew thought hard for a minute. “Edith, how would you feel about doing something for me? Have you and Hayden already discussed the fact you think Duffy is behind Parker’s death?”

“No. She never talks to me—she barely
sees
me. She’s all over Jen, trying to make up.”

“Good. When you go back to the house, see if you can find the right opportunity to let Hayden know that you’re convinced that Duffy killed Parker and you don’t understand why we haven’t made an arrest.”

“And see how she reacts?”

“Right. If she doesn’t agree, that’s a good indication she knows Duffy is dead. That tells me she’s in touch with the people who killed him.”

“You think Hayden—”

“She met Patty Boy when he delivered all those antique lures, didn’t she?”

“Yes, they had quite a conversation now that I think of it.”

“All it takes is money and a phone call. Money and a phone call and the arrogance to think she can control the daughter like she did the father.”

As Edith stood up to leave, Osborne stood, too.

“Edith,” he said, “Hayden told us you’ve been under the care of a psychiatrist relative to your father’s suicide. She instructed us not to discuss it with you—that it would cause a severe emotional reaction.”

Edith laughed. “So she finally figured out who I am. Even after Parker told everyone that I grew up in Loon Lake, I wasn’t sure she put it all together. That’s a lie, by the way. I haven’t been seeing a shrink—which isn’t to say I don’t need one.”

“What Dr. Osborne is trying to say is—be careful, Edith.”

After Edith had left, Osborne said, “You’re comfortable letting her go out there?”

“Edith is smart, Doc. The kind of work she does requires attention to detail. Visual detail. She knows what I’m looking for. And she knows Hayden’s face. Be interesting to hear what she has to say when we get there this afternoon.”

“Oh, so I’m included,” said Osborne.

“I thought you might enjoy landing a big one for a change.”

A
light rain christened the windshield of Lew’s cruiser as they pulled up the drive to the big log house. Stepping out, Osborne inhaled. Nothing smells so good as summer mist in the pines.

Hayden’s Mini Rover and the Chevy Suburban were parked in the drive. They walked past the cars and through the portico leading up to the front doors with their etched glass panels. Lew knocked. No answer. She peered through the windows. No movement indoors either. She knocked again.

Lew started around to the lakeside of the house and Osborne followed. Edith was standing on the dock, looking out at the lake through a pair of binoculars. They walked on down. It was still misting.

“Hayden took Jen out on the pontoon boat an hour ago. She said they would be back by four,” said Edith, pushing her hair out of her eyes. The sun was trying to break through the clouds and a stiff breeze was blowing out of the north.

“She insisted on taking Jen out alone. Wanted her away from me, I guess.” Letting the binoculars drop against her chest, Edith thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans. She was wearing a T-shirt and Osborne could see goose bumps on her arms.

“Not like either one of them has a clue how to handle that boat. It took them half an hour to get started after Hayden flooded the engine. I was checking to be sure they aren’t stranded out there somewhere.”

“What would we do if they were?” said Lew. She looked around. The only other boat in the vicinity was an aluminum canoe tipped over on the grassy bank next to the dock. “That canoe will be difficult to maneuver against this wind,” she said.

“May I see those?” said Osborne. Edith handed him the binoculars. Lake Consequence was one of the region’s bigger, deeper lakes. The bay in front of Parker’s home was just one finger of a long, winding body of water reached through a narrow channel at the far end of the bay. Peering through the lenses, Osborne swept the bay, then focused in on the channel. “No sign of them.”

Dropping the binoculars, he looked up and down the nearby shoreline. Several summer cottages could be glimpsed through the dense growth of birch and white pine that crowded the lake in both directions. Nothing was as grand as the Steadman home.

“What’s going to happen to this place?” Lew turned to look back up the hill at the massive log structure. “And”—her eyes twinkled—”all that camouflage?”

“We can make fun of it,” said Edith, “but the public relations director for the cable channels has
Instyle
magazine shooting a spread here next month. That’s if Jen agrees—all this is hers now. I hope Parker’s death doesn’t change everything with the TV group. A photo spread like that is great for our sponsors.”

“Are those two getting along?”

“Can’t tell. Jen was in her room when I got back. Hayden was on the phone all morning. Then the two of them went in to see the funeral director. They got back about an hour and a half ago.”

“So Hayden could have met with me earlier,” said Lew.

“Oh, yes. And I brought up Bruce Duffy just like you said.”

“And?”

“No reaction. Nothing. As much as I hate to say it, Chief Ferris, I don’t think Hayden had anything to do with Parker’s death. If you really think about it, it’s hardly to her advantage with Jen in the picture.”

“Hey, you two, here they come.”

The pontoon’s green-and-white-striped awning was vivid against the soft gray of lake and sky. It came at them rhythmically, bouncing over the waves. As the pontoon reached the middle of the bay, Osborne heard the purr of an outboard motor.

From a dock down the lake, a fishing boat nosed out. Osborne watched it idly. It was a big bass boat. Again the grayness of the day exaggerated the boat’s color: glitter white edged with stripes of black and yellow. The driver kicked the engine into a higher gear, the stripes morphing into streaks.

As the boat sped off to the right of the dock, Osborne raised the binoculars. He could make out two people: one wearing dark green, the other something patterned in black and white like the plumage of a loon. The boat hydroplaned, making it easy for Osborne to focus.

He dropped the binoculars. He knew that boat—and he knew the loon.

“Tattoos,” he said. “Lew, that’s Catherine Plyer’s husband in Duffy’s boat—the one I saw at Patty Boy’s.”

“You sure?” Lew had her gun out.

The pontoon continued toward them, on a diagonal from the channel. They could see the women sitting side by side in the bucket seats at the front.

The bass boat swerved toward the pontoon, closing the distance between them at high speed. The women on the pontoon jumped to their feet, waving and shouting. They must have thought the driver of the bass boat couldn’t see them.

“Shoot,” urged Osborne.

“I can’t. The boat is in line with the pontoon—I’ll hit the women.” Lew crouched, left hand supporting the SIG Sauer in her right, waiting.

A figure stood up in the bass boat. The line of a rifle barrel etched the sky.

“He’s got a gun, Lew!”

Two shots. One of the figures on the pontoon fell forward, hanging over the rail. The other dove for the deck. The pontoon chugged forward, up and down over the waves. The bass boat curved away and up toward the channel. Lew fired. Again and again.

“Too far away, Doc.”

“Go for the outboard.”

“I did.” She got off two more shots. Edith stood silent beside Lew, her fist to her mouth.

The pontoon kept coming, closer and closer, aimed straight at the dock. The figure on the deck lifted its head as the body hanging over the railing fell back to one side.

“How do I stop?” screamed the woman, now on her knees. She had light-colored hair.

“Jen,” cried Edith. “Grab the wheel.”

Jen lunged for the wheel. Holding it with both hands, she swung down onto her knees. The boat went into a sudden spin, barely missing the dock.

“Turn the key! Turn off the ignition,” Osborne shouted, hoping she could hear over the noise of the engine.

The boat stopped with a lurch. Edith, who had pulled off her sandals, dove into the water.

“Get that boat over here,” said Lew. “Hurry!”

Osborne and Lew helped Edith and Jen up onto the dock. It was too late to do anything for Hayden. Together they swung her limp form off the boat. Then, jumping onto the pontoon, they took off.

Winding their way through the channel, they saw the boat. The driver, unfamiliar with the shallow channel, had run it up on a sandbar. She was in the water pushing away at the big boat.

“My brother!” cried Cheryl as they pulled near. Osborne crouched behind one of the bucket seats. Lew knelt behind the console of the pontoon, gun out. “My brother’s bleeding to death! Help us, please help us!”

Time was not on Jimmy’s side. One of Lew’s bullets had ripped through his upper back, and blood was all over the place.

Two hours later, Osborne and Lew sat with Cheryl in Lew’s office. A matron on duty in the jail had found her some dry clothes. She sat sobbing quietly in the same chair Edith had occupied that morning. She had waived her rights to a lawyer. She wanted to talk. She seemed relieved to talk.

“Jimmy was just following orders,” she said. “It was Catherine’s idea. She and Patty Boy made him do it. He needed me to help,” she sobbed harder. “He was my brother, my big brother.”

“Made you do what?” said Lew, her voice kind but firm. “Cheryl, be specific. The more you tell us, the easier it’ll be for you.”

Before the drive into town, Cheryl had taken them to the RV, which was parked at a cottage, farther down the bay, where she and Jimmy had put in the boat. It was a summer place that had not been opened that year. The shuttered cabin was located at the end of a long overgrown drive. They could have hidden in there for as long as they wanted if their provisions had held out.

“Catherine and Jimmy scouted the place earlier this summer, while all the work was being done on Parker’s house,” said Cheryl. “Catherine knows this lake real well from when she and Parker lived out here years ago.

“At first, she planned for Jimmy to take Parker out from somewhere around here—you know, just get him through those big windows some night. Then Patty Boy got wind we were gonna get busted, so they had to hurry it up.”

“How’d he hear that?” said Lew.

“He’s got friends in Customs up in Canada. Very good friends.”

“That .50 caliber sniper rifle—is that around here?” said Lew.

She showed them the gun, cased up and stored in the bedroom that Bert had been using. A box of ammunition held cartridges six inches long.

“Jeez Louise,” said Osborne.

In the kitchen, they found two boats of Ecstasy. “Jimmy was kind of upset he couldn’t deliver those—that’s forty thousand dollars’ worth, y’know,” said Cheryl.

Before they left the RV, Osborne checked the livewells: the smallmouth bass were gone, the water drained, and the pumps had been turned off. He hoped the fish were okay.

“When Catherine heard that Parker was building a place up here, she set it up. She wanted him dead—before he married that girlfriend of his, the one on TV.”

“Jealous after all these years,” said Lew.

“Oh no. She wanted the money. If Parker got married, then their daughter would only get half, see.”

Cheryl wiped tears off her cheeks. She was calming down as she spoke.

“Catherine didn’t want that to happen. Her plan at first was to kill just Parker. But when she found out their daughter was coming—that’s why we had to finish up today.”

“So your brother was trying to kill Jennifer, not Hayden,” said Lew.

“Catherine figured if Parker was dead—and Jennifer—she was next of kin. Being Jennifer’s mother, she would inherit everything. But Jimmy shot the wrong person.”

Cheryl looked from Osborne to Lew. “That’s Catherine’s fault. She told him he would know which one was Jennifer because she’s so tall. She never said they would both be tall.”

“She should have watched more television,” said Lew.

“Not Catherine. She hated Parker. She wouldn’t watch his stuff for nothin’.”

It
was Friday night and Osborne’s deck was a busy place.

“A beer, Lew?”

Lewellyn Ferris shook her head. “No, thank you, I’m just fine, Doc.”

She was lying on the chaise longue, eyes closed, the setting sun caressing her face. Osborne liked how it looked as if she belonged there. She was dressed for fishing, though he was hoping they might just take it easy that evening. Maybe he could persuade her it was one of those “sometime” times.

Meanwhile, he had other guests. They did not include Brenda Anderle. He had managed to cancel their fish fry date by saying he had paperwork to complete on the Schultz murder case. She was disappointed but impressed. He would deal with that another day.

 • • •

The week had rushed by. On Wednesday, the fishing tournament had hobbled to a finish. Even the million-dollar purse seemed anticlimactic after the tournament’s explosive opening. Following Ray’s advice, Jennifer turned the awards ceremony into a wake for her father. He attended—in a birchbark container that Edith found at Ralph’s Sporting Goods.

The motorcycle rally ended the next day. The year’s count was better than in the past: only three fatalities, eleven accidents, and one serious bar fight. Osborne found himself reluctant to part with the big Harley and his borrowed leathers. He was mulling over a possible purchase, particularly if Erin and Mark were able to keep their bike, most particularly if he could ride with Lew.

Only Hayden remained unresolved, her body awaiting burial plans. The Carlsons, her adoptive parents, were deceased and a search was under way for her next of kin. Mark was helping with that.

And so the mood on the deck that evening was lighthearted. Ray had dropped by with Edith and Jen in tow. They wanted to celebrate a decision made by Jen earlier that day: She and Edith would do their best to maintain and expand the Steadman television dynasty. Plans were still in place for the “Fish ‘n’ Fry”—to be hosted by a certain Loon Laker. Ray was beaming.

“But, Ray, if that happens, you’ll have to give up your grave digging,” said Edith. “Hey, given you spend so much time around headstones, any thoughts on your own epitaph?”

“You betcha,” said Ray. “Got it in my will: ‘High Risk, High Reward.’“

The women thought that was hilarious. Osborne and Lew had heard it many times before.

“All right, all right, enough of that baloney,” said Osborne, raising his bottle of Coke. “A toast—to three happy fishermen. Here’s wishing you good ratings and tight lines.”

Edith sat down in a deck chair next to Lew. “I want to thank you, Chief Ferris, for seeing that justice was done on behalf of my father. If Hayden were alive, I know that—”

“Dr. Osborne is the one to thank, Edith,” said Lew. “Because justice is not punishment; justice is never forgetting. Doc, like yourself, never forgot.”

The deck was quiet. An owl hooted. Ray cleared his throat. “Okay, girls, down to my place. Fresh bluegill is the entrée this evening, seasoned with a spicy beet salad on the side.”

“Beets?” Edith had a funny look on her face.

“Jen,” said Lew, standing up as the three prepared to leave, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do much about your mother and those brothers of hers. The Canadian authorities are convinced they made it to Tokyo on false passports.”

“Do you think she would ever try …” Jen stopped. She couldn’t say it. No one could say it.

“All I know is they will be back,” said Lew. “You be vigilant, I’ll be waiting.” Lew paused, then she said, “Jen, we never know why people do things. Whatever it is that motivates Catherine happened to her long before you were born. You’ve done nothing to deserve a mother like that.”

“I know,” said Jen. “That’s something my dad told me, too.”

Lew and Osborne leaned over the deck railing, side by side, watching the three young people as they walked the lake path over to Ray’s.

“How could Parker Steadman have fallen in love with two such cruel women?”

“He told you, Doc. He never knew his mother.”

“But I never really knew mine.”

“Maybe you did, just enough.”

It was nearly midnight when Osborne reached up for the small box he had hidden behind the clock. Shopping had been good that morning at the Loon Lake Market. He found wrapping paper with a white-on-blue fish pattern that was perfect. For ribbon, he used a strand of Orvis’s braided white Dacron twelve-pound test line.

He held the box out to Lew. She hesitated, a grave look on her face. She pulled at the bow, then undid the paper, taking care not to tear it. She lifted the lid from the box. The original box.

“Oh …” She was speechless. The wooden lure glowed pale yellow in the light from the candle.

“Night Radiant Moonlight Bait #1000, four treble hooks … very rare,” said Osborne. He knew better than to add, “… like you.”

“Doc, this cost thousands of dollars. I can’t accept this.”

“I made a deal with Jen. She gave it to me on the condition that you and I warn all predatory females away from Ray until she has an opportunity to get to know him better.”

“Isn’t Edith closer to his age?”

“I made a deal with Edith—”

“Oh, you!”