Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery (3 page)

If you are wondering about how Reddy and I knew KC was having puppies, let me digress and tell you what Matte told me about last summer when KC, the pups' mother, disappeared up at Skeleton Lake. KC had spent some time with the wolves up at the Lake, and several months later Craft had more Akitas than he could handle. As two of the pups were inseparable, we took them both.

Angie and I felt more secure than ever in our Berkeley home. Every stranger that even accidentally got between them and us got a very scary growl. Succinctly put, the dogs completed our new security system and readily received Reddy's approval which included treats at the Beastro Coffee House after our daily runs in the hills behind my home. Our family had two new members, Shy and Comet.

The CIA visit taught me a lot about Reddy Burton, sniper extraordinaire, and the two agents mentioned a second wife which still had my curiosity tingling. However, I learned most of what I know about the man himself during summers at Skeleton Lake while I learned a trade I never thought I'd have any part of, a trade that was to lead to our starting a family business. I also never thought until recently that I had a father and maybe siblings.

I'm trying to come to grips with why he seems to enjoy killing, even if the targets are the bad guys, and even if he is trying to eliminate collateral damage. Mostly, I'm wondering, how is it I was declared dead, and is he off somewhere on assignment or with his other family.

 

Chapter 2: Summer 1 at Skeleton Lake   

As I mentioned earlier, Professor Craft and Dr. Matte recently invited Reddy and me to spend the summer at his cabin at Skeleton Lake. Matte suggested it as a father/daughter bonding experience. However, there is a catch to their invitation.

Northwest Air flight 433 from San Francisco landed on time at Lambert Field at 14:25 CST. Reddy and I trekked into the terminal, heading for the cargo area to get Shy and Comet who had made the five hour flight in the cargo hold as per FAA regulations.

We also expected to meet Dr. Rhyly Raincrow, former graduate assistant for Professor Craft, now a professor in her own right, a U.S. Air Force veteran and member of the Chippewa tribe in southern Illinois, and a friend of Craft and Matte. We soon saw a young woman striding toward us as she tied her long raven black hair into a ponytail and pulled it through the opening in the rear of her cardinal red baseball cap. She wore a leather flight jacket and mirror aviator glasses. An avid runner like Craft and myself and Angie, she radiated energy and physical fitness.

She greeted us with a deep, raspy voice. "Hi folks, welcome to Lambert Field. I rescued these two characters from the cargo area." Folks in the terminal gave the two rambunctious big dogs a wide berth as they came loping towards Reddy and me. Reddy had some dog treats in his jacket pocket so they quickly lost interest in me.

"Hi, Rhyly, I see you've met Shy and Comet," I said. "Thanks for getting them released."

"Hi, Shannon!" Rhyly said, smiling as she came across the baggage claim area. The next thing I noticed about Rhyly as she got close enough for a hug, yes I flinched, is that her latest wound was superficial, a bandage around her neck the only visible clue of her being shot. This recent shooting was the second attempt on her life by a sniper, the first having occurred during an attempt to steal the Westminster Throne replica from Professor Craft's office at the Track on the campus of RVU.

I recently told Matte that Reddy and I see each other so rarely that I can't imagine us ever becoming a family. That was in part why we were invited to Skeleton Lake. Accepting Matte and Craft's invitation to spend the summer at his cabin at Skeleton Lake was our first real opportunity to do some father and daughter bonding. In return for our vacation, Matte and Craft wanted Reddy to investigate who hired the shooter(s), find the shooter(s), and set up security for Rhyly at Moosonee where she would be the archaeological project leader for the next two months.

We walked the pups outside to where Rhyly had parked the Cessna Caravan, a single engine turboprop equipped with floats that accommodated nine passengers and a couple thousand pounds of cargo. Craft had reluctantly agreed with his mechanic, Sarge, that it was time to retire the now thirty-year-old Cessna 185 that had served him so well.

The dogs quickly got their land legs back and I was expecting them to balk at being loaded into another aircraft. They surprised me and leapt into the Caravan where I fastened their harnesses as Rhyly did a pre-flight check of the aircraft and Reddy loaded the luggage.

An hour later, we landed on the light chop of the Ohio River and taxied up to the dock at Craft's place in River View, Illinois. Matte, Craft, Laz, and the matriarch of the Bear clan, along with two of her pups were at the dock to greet us. As we tethered the Caravan to the dock and disembarked, I said, "Shy and Comet, meet Rogue and Wolf and your mother KC."

"Nice tan," Matte said as she shook Reddy's hand. "Shannon's told me nothing about you."

Reddy was sporting a ten-day beard, offset by a deep tan. He looked younger than his forty-eight years. However, his face remained expressionless as he said, "I think confidentiality is an important aspect of your profession, Dr. Morgan." Then he added, "Got this great tan in the Caribbean, did a swing around several islands on a yacht. I have some regular clients down there." Matte stared at him with her usual penetrating gaze. To his credit, Reddy didn't flinch. I think he sensed what was coming on tomorrow's flight to the lake.

"Hi, Professor Craft," Reddy said with a smile blemished only by a recently acquired gold cap on his left eyetooth. He wasn't the talkative type. His hard muscled arms and lean 5 foot 11 inch frame were matched by an even harder look in his slate gray eyes. As usual, he was taking in everything around him. To me he looked the part he had chosen to play in life, investigator and probably covert operator for some government agency since his years as a Marine sniper. Matte was probably counting on his demeanor becoming magically transformed into a sociable dotting father when his daughter was nearby.

"Can you recommend a good dentist here in RV? Not that you'd recommend a bad one. I need to get this gold cap replaced with a porcelain one," Reddy asked with a toothy grin as he slung a duffle bag over his shoulder and started for the house. Maybe he does have a sense of humor, I thought.

"Doc Venton's been my dentist for years. I've got him on speed dial." Matte said, flipping open her cell phone and punching a number, then handing the phone to Reddy. The penetrating gaze briefly changed to a warm friendly smile.

It wasn't until weeks later that this dental thing came back to me. Reddy pays incredible attention to details that might influence how he appears to others. It's not vanity; he just doesn't want to be recognizable. A gold front tooth was definitely noticeable. He manages to be as inconspicuous as any person I have ever met. Sort of like a ghost or phantom. I need to ask Matte what she thinks about that.

Matte and I had a lot of catching up to do, including stuff about my bonding with Reddy since he rescued me twelve years ago, and my new "Top Secret" job. I probably should have confided in Matte about my rescue when I was her graduate student; however, I never did provide any details. Perhaps I was still too angry or confused at the time.

Matte whispered to Craft, "She's a research scientist buried in the basement labs of a top secret research agency, a subcontractor for the government. What a waste."

"I heard that. Have you been talking to Angie behind my back?" I said, looking at Reddy for confirmation. He didn't acknowledge my wink.

Matte pulled me aside and whispered, "Rhyly and Laz just recently returned from nearly a year of witness protection and within days she gets shot for the second time. The girl needs some professional security and protection services. I think she's withdrawing, far from her usual ebullient self.

Thankfully, Laz is here for a few days. However, two months at Moosonee without Laz is a problem."

Laz Lazerov was Rhyly's main squeeze, a lanky athletic blond haired international business professor with a rumored past as a Russian spy. Rhyly and Laz were also staying with Matte and Craft for a few days before heading for Skeleton Lake and then on to Moosonee where Rhyly would be honchoing the new archaeological dig this summer.

Sitting on stools at the kitchen counter, Reddy and I were devouring bowls of Matte's secret recipe five-bean soup and homemade Russian rye bread sticks, when Rhyly broke into our gourmand bliss.

"Hey, you guys, take a look at this," Rhyly said holding out her smart-phone screen for us to see what appeared to be an airplane. "Laz, it's an email from St. Petersburg, Russia, from your Uncle Sergei."

Matte read it aloud, "Rhyly, your Pilatus Porter will arrive at Lambert Field in St. Louis on 1 July." What in heaven's name is a Pilatus Porter? Any relation to a platypus?"

"It's a flying machine," Rhyly replied. "A turbo prop, STOL aircraft, the best bush plane on earth, no offense to the Cessna 185, Professor Craft."

"OK, it's an airplane," Matte said facetiously. "What's an S-T-A-L aircraft?"

"Not S-T-A-L, S-T-O-L, Short-field Take-Off and Landing. The Porter can get airborne quickly and land on some ultra-short airstrips. I got a few rides in them in Southeast Asia many years ago," Craft said.

"Here, you read the rest of this,"  Matte said, handing Rhyly's smart-phone to Craft who quickly scanned the aircraft's specs and Sergei's instructions for assembling and testing it.

"Sergei says that the Pilatus Porter will need reassembly, including adding floats before you give her a checkout flight," Craft said to Rhyly. "I'll ask my mechanic, Sarge, to fly over to Lambert Field and oversee the reassembly if you'd like. Sarge can give her his seal of approval and have her ready by the time you return from Moosonee in September. We can tether her at my dock on the river. I'll get out my carpentry gear and get to work building an extension onto the dock to accommodate the Porter."

"You're terrific. Thank you," Rhyly smiled and gave Craft a big hug.

"About that dock extension," Laz said, "I can help. I'm pretty handy with a nail gun if you have one."

"Thanks, Laz. I just happen to have every tool known to man in the shed by the dock," Craft replied.

Reddy added, "I know enough to measure twice, cut once."

Matte, being the more practical member of our entourage, said, "Sergei Lazerov is one generous man; I don't even want to guess the value of a Pilatus Porter in good flying condition."

"Uncle Sergei can afford it," Laz observed. “He's the seventeenth wealthiest man in St. Petersburg, but you'd never guess it by the way he talks and looks. He is always dressed in a cowboy hat and a dark brown leather slicker that comes down to his laced boots. He thinks it makes him look like the Marlboro man."

Rhyly chipped in, "He's really a genuinely soft-spoken man and a damn good pilot himself, although he wasn't my flight instructor. I had no idea he was going to ship the Porter to me as a gift. Did you know, Laz?" Laz held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I suspect it will take me ten years to earn enough to pay him back," Rhyly said. "Any chance Sergei will be in the States soon so I can thank him properly?"           

"He keeps a pretty busy schedule, what with all his international business interests and his position with the G-8 as Russia's representative," Laz replied. "We'll cross paths before long, I'm sure."

After the surprise of the Pilatus Porter from Laz's uncle, Rhyly started to come out of her funk. Skeleton Lake and on to Moosonee was now only a day away. Laz left that morning, driving a rental car to Champaign-Urbana to check in at his new post on the U of I faculty. Still, knowing that Rhyly would be alone for a couple of days at Moosonee was making us all nervous. Hell, the reason for calling in Reddy was to protect Rhyly. We had gotten so wrapped up in the excitement over the Pilatus Porter that we damn near forgot the main reason for our being invited this summer, Rhyly's protection and safety.

By lunchtime, Matte asked, "Should we leave Reddy or KC with Rhyly for security?" I was about to make this suggestion myself when the house phone rang. It was Laz. Rhyly put the call on speakerphone.

"Hi everyone!" Laz said, "Matte tells me she is still worried about Rhyly's security up at Moosonee." He quickly added, "I did some haggling with my new Dean and he's okay with my starting here at U of I at the beginning of fall semester instead of now. Any chance I could stay at your place on the river tonight? That way I could fly up to the lake with you all tomorrow and stay for most of the summer, if that's okay?" The rest of the funk went out of Rhyly's face and she jumped for joy.

"Of course," Craft answered, "there's lots of room in the cabin at the lake as well as at the Moosonee dig site. So come on down tonight. We take off at daybreak." Rhyly's immediate security problem was solved and only just in time.

Matte sighed and started to give me a hug, then said, "Sorry!"

"That's okay. I need to get over my hugging phobia some day. Besides, Laz's joining Rhyly at Moosonee is a big relief."

Finally headed to Skeleton Lake, we walked down to the river as Sarge arrived in the Cessna Caravan cutting her engine as he glided up to the dock. He pulled a big red rag from the back pocket of his grease-stained railroad striped bib-overalls and waved it at us, then wiped his hands and stuffed the rag back in his right rear pocket before reaching out to greet us.

"Thought I'd give that patch on the Caravan's portside float one more look, other than that she's sound as a dollar." Then he turned to Rhyly and added, "I'll have the Streak ready in September as promised."  

Before Rhyly could respond, KC and her clan came bounding across the dock and started leaping into the back of the Caravan. Curly tails were flopping back and forth excitedly, ready to take-off. Matte and I loaded gear and got in back with the dogs behind us. We buckled their harnesses. Reddy untied the tethers and settled into the co-pilot's seat. Craft finished his walk around pre-flight check and got into the pilot's seat one leg at a time, while Laz let go of the last tether line and closed the door. The Caravan began drifting out onto the river as Craft throttled the powerful turboprop engine to a smooth "let's get rolling" sound.

"This is your captain speaking," Craft announced. "Please fasten your seat belts, folks. We're ready for takeoff. No smoking en route. Lunch will be served by our lovely flight attendant, Ms. Matte, after we reach our cruising altitude of 12,000 feet."

We all buckled up as Craft taxied the Cessna out onto the river bucking as we crossed the wake of a barge hauling coal downriver, taking off to the north, and then banking east for the seven hour flight from River View, in southeast Illinois, to Skeleton Lake in Canada's Muskoka Lakes region.

"Didn't know I was serving as crew on this flight," Matte shouted over the drone of the engine, feigning distress before getting into the spirit of things. "A beverage of your choice, water with or without lemon slices, or diet DP. A lunch of delicious almond butter and banana on light rye sandwiches, with chips, will be served. Except for the pilot, whose menu has yet to be determined." Matte soon had everyone's drink orders and was passing them out.