Dead Water (8 page)

That was it. Osborne had had enough.

“Listen, young lady, I don’t care if you are the star and

the moon and your uncle is the Big Dipper, your name was listed as the emergency contact for a young woman who was shot and killed up here. Now will you
please
shut up and listen?”

Osborne was astounded at the anger that had flooded into his voice. Never in his professional career had he told another adult to shut up. But then never had he been treated so rudely.

“I’m sorry.” Her tone changed abruptly. “Wait a minute, let me go into my office. I’m going to put you on hold, Doctor. Please, wait just a minute.”

Osborne took a deep breath as he waited. Then he took another one. The blood still pumped in his ears.

“All right.” The voice was softer. “Please, who are you trying to call, and what is this all about?”

“A woman by the name of Ashley Olson has been shot and—” said Osborne.

“No!” Gina Palmer shouted into the phone as if refusing to let herself hear him. “No no no no. No-o-o,” she keened. “Oh dear God, this can’t be.”

“I’m afraid it is. She’s dead. I’m with the Loon Lake Police and I … We are sorry to have to call this way, but we didn’t know any other—”

“It’s my fault. I knew this could happen. I just, oh God—” she stopped.

Osborne waited a brief moment before asking, “Are you family?”

“Umm. Kind of …” The woman’s voice trailed off, ending with a peculiar sound. Osborne recognized exactly what was happening.

“Take your time,” he said, feeling his own throat tighten. A vivid memory of his calls to his daughters the night of Mary Lee’s death flashed suddenly: their silence, the choking, the quiet sorrow.

“Gina … may I call you Gina?”

“Of course.” The strident tone had disappeared. In its place was the voice of a little girl.

“She gave your name when she registered at the Timber Lake Lodge bed-and-breakfast in Loon Lake, Wisconsin, this past Sunday….” He paused for several beats. “Before I continue … for our records, I need to know your exact relationship to Mrs. Olson. Are you next of kin?”

“What makes you think she was married?” The question came at him like a pistol shot. Osborne held the phone away from his ear and looked at it. Just who was asking the questions here? From little girl to velvet hammer in a matter of seconds. Was the woman schizoid?

“I’m sorry, Doc.” The voice calmed down. “I’m a reporter. I can’t help it. And, um, I’ve kind of been expecting something like this, so you better realize I feel pretty bad. Like I’m responsible in a way. But I’m upset with myself, not you.” She spoke with an easy directness that reminded Osborne of Lew.

“I understand.” He didn’t, but he’d try.

“You asked about
Mrs.
Olson … but it’s
Miss
Olson. Ashley wasn’t married. I don’t know why you thought that. But first, please … you must tell me how she died. Was she killed instantly? Did she suffer?” The woman didn’t even breathe between questions.

“I-we-we’re not sure,” Osborne stammered, realizing he had no hope of controlling the conversation.

“You’re holding back. Look, Doc, this conversation is off the record. Ashley was one of my closest, dearest friends. I am not going to report anything you tell me, okay? I don’t write the obit. But you have to tell me every detail, because I may be able to help you find the killer. See, Ashley has … had a penchant for the wrong kind of men. Like I said: I’ve been
expecting
this. Now, please. Tell me exactly how she died.”

If Gina Palmer was good at anything, she was good at making you feel you had to ante up. And for reasons that went against his better judgment, Osborne felt compelled to answer.

“My guess—and I’m a forensic dentist only, and a retired one at that—is that a high-powered rifle shot to the head may have killed her instantly.”

“May
have?”

“I’m not absolutely sure of cause or time of death.”

“Well.” The demanding tone rose in her voice again. “When will you know?” Her implication was clear: Not knowing meant someone wasn’t doing their job.

“The police chief will get a report from the crime lab shortly. We found Ashley’s body just a few hours ago, Gina. This is a very small town up here, and I help out as a deputy when the chief is shorthanded. As I said, I have some forensic experience, but I’m no expert. All I can safely say at this time is we know she was shot and it looked to me—but I could be wrong—it looked like she had multiple stab wounds in her chest … and …” He stopped before he went too far.

“And
…
?”
Too late. She knew he had more to add.

But Osborne balked, remembering that Lew had specifically directed him to keep the bite marks confidential.

“Brutally slashed across the throat and the chest … but, again, I may be wrong. There was a lot of blood.”

“Revenge,” said Gina grimly. “It’s a revenge killing. Why stab when you can shoot? I’ve seen a few murders in my day; I know the signs.”

Osborne wasn’t sure what to say next. As it turned out, he didn’t have to say a thing. Gina had finally decided to answer his first question.

“I’ve been looking after Ashley’s house and her cat, Doc. I’m sorry, do you mind if I call you Doc? I know it’s a little familiar but—”

“Certainly not. And her family?”

“She has none. Both parents have been dead for years. She had one sister who was killed in a car accident a year ago and a husband she divorced ten, maybe fifteen years ago. Doc, was she alone when she died?”

“We think so. She appears to have been out for a run.”

“That fits. Ashley was a fanatic runner … ten miles a day, sometimes longer. She was in excellent physical shape. She could defend herself, too. She must have been with someone she knew.”

“Miss Palmer, is there any chance you might be able to come up here to identify the body and—”

“No problem. I know her lawyer. I’ll make some calls regarding arrangements and all that stuff. It’s the least I can do…. I feel so … responsible.” Her voice dropped, and Osborne heard heartbreak in her last words. Then a quiet sobbing.

The receiver held tight to his ear, Osborne lowered his head as he waited in the swivel chair at Helen’s desk. “Do you have the time for just a few more questions?”

“Look, I’m going to set aside what I’m doing here, take the day off, and get up there as fast as I can. Sure, go ahead, whatever I can do.”

“The obvious one: Do you know anyone who would want to kill your friend?”

“I certainly do. Her ex-fiancé.”

Ah, thought Osborne, the wedding ring.

“And this gentleman is who?”

“Who knows what name he’s wearing these days….”

“Michael Winston appeared on the scene four years ago,” said Gina. “He rolled into Kansas City flashing a roll of Texas money, made a big hit with the local bankers, and got himself invited to all the right parties. That’s where he met Ashley. She liked him immediately, brought him in as a consultant, then they were dating, and before long, he wanted to buy into her company. Every step of the way, she was impressed with the guy.

“Can’t blame her; anyone would be. According to his résumé, he had an MBA from Harvard, had been a vice president for several of the big ad agencies on Madison Avenue, his family had made a fortune in real estate down in Houston, yadda, yadda, yadda. She resisted letting him buy in, but she did hire him … brought him on board as her right-hand person and CFO. Bottom line? She was in love with the twerp.”

“You didn’t like him.”

“I met him after the fact. I was assigned to write a profile on the guy for our business section. But …” Gina underscored her
but
with a long pause. “This was not a random assignment. Her late sister was a copy editor here, and she came to me one day and asked me to do a story on the guy. Chris wanted him investigated. She said she thought he was after Ashley’s money.”

“She had good reason to think that?”

“Yes. She told me her sister had a weakness for the narcissistic type who would say whatever he had to say to gain her affection … and access to her bank account. See, Ashley was a little different. She was moderately attractive, but in her twenties, she had had a type of breast cancer that required the removal of both breasts. Even though she had reconstructive surgery, the scars were deep … psychologically very deep. Chris seemed to think she had poor self-esteem when it came to her body. This made her, in her sister’s view, an easy target and a very vulnerable woman.

“I thought Chris was overstating the case,” said Gina, “but I agreed to look into it. That’s how I came to know this about Ashley. I could see right away why Chris was worried. Here was a bright, successful woman who was always attracted to inappropriate men. I mean, we all are to a certain degree. But Ashley seemed doomed to be attracted to flashy, sleazy guys. The list of men she dated before she met Winston was … well, one creepola after another. Who knows … maybe their father was like that.

“I got the assignment approved, then I called an old friend who’s a sportswriter for the
Houston Chronicle
to do some background. He recognized Winston’s name and had me talk to their lead investigative reporter. He sent up a batch of court documents, and I had Mike Winston cold: no Harvard MBA, no experience working anywhere close to New York City, the real estate fortune was a complete fabrication. Then I ran a database search on his license plates and discovered he had a felony conviction for penny stock fraud. He got off because his father was a well-connected lawyer, but he was forced to leave town.

“So I made an appointment to interview Ashley about her star performer—supposedly—and I delivered the news. I even had a detective fly up from Houston to document everything. Chris was afraid she wouldn’t believe us.

“Ashley was shocked when I told her. Not only had she just made him executive vice president, but she was planning to marry the jerk.” Gina’s voice took on a darker tone. “And she’d put him in charge of all her financials.”

“How big a company is this?”

“Was
. She sold out six months ago. Good sized, over a hundred employees. She sold it for ten million dollars.”

“So she’s worth a lot of money?”

“My friend is a woman of substantial means. I would estimate her estate at several million dollars or more, probably a lot more. Her house alone is worth over a million.”

“I see.” Osborne pondered that information.

“You need to find Michael Winston,” said Gina. “My bet is that’s why she was up there. He has to be in the area somewhere.”

“We’ve got a pretty big region up here,” said Osborne. “He certainly isn’t in Loon Lake, because I would know it if he was. But he could easily be in a neighboring town like Presque Isle or Manitowish Waters. I don’t understand. What would be her reason for finding him if what you say is true?”

“That I don’t know. I’ll poke around down here and see what I can find, though. At least I know where to start.”

“How did her sister die?”

“Car accident.”

“Suspicious circumstances?”

“In my opinion, yes. But no one shares my opinion.”

“Can you give me a description of this Winston?”

“He’s kind of nondescript really. Not the type to stand out in a crowd. Medium height, dark hair, very clean-shaven … a good Republican face. Nice-looking in a bland, baby-face way. Pleasant smile … but plastered on, if you ask me.

“The one distinctive feature I remember about the guy is that when he lies, which he did throughout my interview with him, he has a nervous tic … constantly clearing his throat. You know, Doc, I can check the morgue here at the paper for a photo for you folks. We ran a head shot with the story, and I know Michael attended a lot of charity events when he worked for Ashley. I’m sure we’ll have some good photos.”

“That will be a huge help,” said Osborne. “Thank you very much.”

There was a sudden silence on the phone and Osborne wondered if they had been cut off. “Hello? Hello?”

A soft mumbling. He could barely hear Gina’s voice.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

She took a deep breath. “I said, I’m sure I’m the reason she’s dead, Dr. Osborne.”

“Because she fired him? Broke the engagement, I assume?”

“No. She did nothing of the kind. She listened. She refused to confront Michael, but she did take her books to an outside auditor, thank goodness. He was already into her for half a million bucks.”

“So he was stealing from her?”

“That’s what I called it, but she tried to tell me that they had some misunderstanding, that he thought he already owned half the company and this was money for an acquisition of some kind. Pure baloney. I didn’t believe it.”

“If she thought that, why did he leave?”

Gina was quiet again. Osborne waited.

“I called him on it. A week after meeting with Ashley, knowing she was in Chicago on business, I confronted him. I told him that if he didn’t resign, I would tell Ashley the rest.”

“Which was?”

“He had a wife and three children living in Houston, Texas. He heard me all right. He left town the next day. I never told Ashley what I did. She would never have forgiven me.”

“Do you think she still wanted to marry him?

“Wouldn’t surprise me. She refused to prosecute. She let him run off with all that money.”

“Then why on earth would he want to kill her?”

“I’m sure he blames her for all the deals that fell through when he had to leave. After all, if he hadn’t tried to scam Ashley, he would never have run into me, and he would have made a fortune here. He had a lot of people conned, Doc, and he could have left when he wanted to, not because he
had
to.

eleven

“As the fish strikes, the line has to be given a little jerk … the timing and the pressure have to be perfect—too soon or too late or too little or too much and the fish may have a sore mouth for a few days but will probably live longer for his experience.”

Norman Maclean