Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (34 page)

The practical side of his brain told him that
a murder in a state park was unlikely. And when the person making
the accusation was a kid…. Well, the whole damn thing was unlikely
as hell.

But as Donovan had pointed out, if it did
happen to be true, he'd be in a shit load of trouble for not doing
something about it.

So he'd sent out the lab tech, figuring that
would be the end of it.

But, like a loon popping where least
expected, that wasn't the end of it.

The lab tech had told him that it sure did
look like blood. Now he was doing tests to see if it was human, but
there had been something there. It was unofficial so far, but that
didn't really matter a whole heck of a lot right now. The minute
the guy had opened his mouth, Thompson had been on the hook.

So here he was, hat in hand, waiting to talk
to a possible killer and see if the guy could produce a wife.

Because if he couldn't, then Thompson was
going to have to call in the BCA and that didn't sit too well with
him either.

The last time he'd had to do that was the
first year he'd been sheriff and he'd been as green as early cut
wood. A couple of neighbors with a long standing feud had finally
escalated into murder. Not an out and out shoot 'em up like you
usually got up here, but a sneaky kind of thing where people were
missing and the body didn't turn up for months and nothing was
straightforward. Not like a plain and simple hunting accident or
bar fight gone sour.

He'd had to call in the BCA and that had made
him feel stupid. Especially since the agent in charge was one of
those damned pushy feminists that set his teeth on edge. Which is
what he was likely to get stuck with here if there wasn't a damned
good explanation.

Then it occurred to him that if he did call
in the BCA, whatever happened would be their responsibility and not
his. Now that
was
a good idea. Especially since he was
beginning to feel like he'd landed on the Edmund Fitzgerald and was
going down fast.

When no one came to the door after his third
knock, Thompson wrote out a note asking the guy to call him when he
returned and stuck it on the door with the tape he'd gotten from
the front desk clerk.

He went downstairs and back to the front
desk. "He didn't come in while I was up there, did he?"

"Nope." The girl behind the counter was
clearly eating herself up with curiosity, but he wasn't about to
say anything.

"Do you know what kind of car he drives?"

She checked the registration. "White Lexus.
KZH973."

"Thanks."

When he went back outside, he scanned the
parking lot, but didn't see it. He shook his head. Probably out
hiking. Which meant he was going to have to come back later. Which
also meant eating dinner late. Which usually put him in a bad mood.
He liked things regular. Organized. None of that unexpected
crap.

Thompson sighed, got back in his patrol car,
and tossed his hat on the seat next to him. He really hoped that
the kid was mistaken or joking.

One of Fowler's better characteristics, even
if he did say so himself, was that he was a very patient man. It
wasn't always easy. It certainly wasn't his natural inclination.
But he had learned (thanks to several painful experiences) that
patience would see a great many difficulties vanish as if they were
bits of fog fading under a strong sun.

He watched the sheriff put the note on his
door and then amble back down the hall and vanish down the
stairs.

Still, he didn't move. No telling what a
small town Minnesota sheriff was likely to do. Might well be
lurking around the corner just to see if Fowler popped his head out
of his room like a delayed jack-in-the-box.

After another couple of minutes, Fowler
stepped back outside to see if he could see the patrol car. He
wouldn't be visible if he stayed right next to the Lodge, but he'd
still have a good view of the road. And sure enough, after another
few minutes, he saw it drive up and turn onto the highway.

Fowler allowed himself a tiny smirk and
stepped back inside. Making sure no one was in the hallway, he
looked at the note on the door. The sheriff had folded it over so
he was unable to see what it said. He left it alone. He wasn't
about to get his fingerprints on it. He'd let Viv do that.
Unlocking the door, he stepped inside, closing it quickly. In less
than a minute he had everything he needed.

The dangerous part now was making sure no one
saw him come out of the room and leave the note on the door. But
the corridor was still empty. Moments later, he was outside and
striding back to his car. He transferred the bulk of the money and
papers to the hiding place under the back seat and a few minutes
later he was driving north on Highway 61.

He hoped Viv would get the right makeup this
time so he could take care of both the ranger and the sheriff at
the same time. That would leave the camera as the last piece of
business. As soon as that was done, they could take off and collect
the money.

Then he thought, to hell with it. He'd go
ahead with the plan even if the look wasn't perfect. As long as Viv
got reasonably close, they'd have no difficulty pulling it off. The
sheriff hadn't looked terribly bright and since neither he nor the
park ranger had ever seen Diana or Viv before, he could probably
introduce them to Suzie Q from Timbuktu. They'd never know.

As to the Lodge, he'd get her in and out so
fast, no one would have time to get a good look, let alone suspect
a damn thing.

His intention had originally been to have
lunch at the place in Grand Marais he'd discovered last night. But
as he drove, he decided to drive up to Naniboujou instead. He'd
heard it was great. He could take his time and pick up Viv on his
way back. They could stop at the park to see the ranger and then
call the sheriff from the Lodge. If he got the camera tonight, they
could be back in St. Paul by midnight.

That thought alone put him in a great mood
and by the time he got to Naniboujou, he was looking forward to
lunch.

Fae wasn't even halfway to her garden when
the phone rang.

"Damn."

For a moment she considered letting it roll
to the message machine. But she couldn't do that. If someone had
actually seen Devious Dave, she'd be kicking herself from here to
Florida for not answering the phone. Not to mention telling Bailey
that she'd had a chance to catch the guy and hadn't felt like
answering the phone.

She pulled the cordless receiver out of her
pocket. "Hello?"

"Fae? It's Dana Davis up at Naniboujou."

"What can I do for you?" Fae's attention was
still on the corner of the garden where the roses were desperately
defending themselves from the onslaught of weeds.

"That man you asked about? I think he's
here."

"What's he doing?" Fae lost all interest in
her garden as she headed back into the house for her purse and
coat.

"He's in the dining room. He's eating lunch."
Dana's voice sounded outraged even at a hoarse whisper.

"Did he just get started or is he almost
done?" Fae slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her coat.
She could put it on later.

"Maybe halfway through. The girl on the desk
didn't recognize him right away."

"OK. See if you can keep him there somehow.
Drag your feet getting the bill or something. I'm on my way." Fae
was already locking the door and heading to her car.

"You're sure he's not dangerous."

"You'll be fine," Fae said.

She disconnected the phone as she got into
her car. She wished she had time to call Bailey and alert him, but
there was no chance now. She was more than happy there was no cell
coverage, but had to admit it would have been handy just this
once.

As she pulled onto the highway, she realized
she was still dressed in what Bailey called her hippie wannabee
clothes. Never mind that she
had
been a real hippie at one
point, so there was no wannabee about it. She usually dressed more
conservatively for work, but it was too late to change now.
Besides, what she was wearing was the least of her concerns.

Charlie acted as tour guide on the way down
the Superior Hiking Trail as the girls returned from Ruby Cove. She
pedaled her bike slowly so she could point out all the paths that
broke off from the Trail, some marked with sign-posts complete with
arrows and mileage and some that were mere whispers through the
dense underbrush.

Starr noticed that some of the signs had
clearly been put together by someone with a sense of humor, like
the ones to Arizona and California, complete with mileage.

"A lot of cross-country skiers use this trail
and sometimes it's so cold up here that all you can think about is
going someplace warm."

"I suppose if they keep going they'll finally
get there," Starr said with a straight face. "Seems like an awfully
long way to ski, though."

Charlie gaped at her. That alone was enough
to make Starr lose control and start laughing.

Then Charlie realized she'd been had and
joined in. "It would be, wouldn't it."

Which just set them both off again and they
finally had to stop to catch their breath.

The sign-post for the cutoff to the Lodge was
well marked.

"But don't go that way," Charlie advised.
"It's shorter to go to the park and then cut over like we did this
morning."

"So why didn't we come back that way?"

"'Cause we're going past the Lodge," Charlie
said. "This trail gets a lot closer to the lake pretty soon, so
then we're practically at Fae's house."

"Sounds like there's all kinds of ways to
go," Starr said.

"That's the best part about living here,"
Charlie said enthusiastically. "It's a lot of fun figuring out
which way to go. And a lot depends on the weather or what you want
to see, too."

A few minutes later, the Superior Hiking
Trail headed downhill. It was steep enough that Charlie had to get
off her bike and walk, holding the bike back to keep it from
running downhill without them. It was a short hill though and soon
they were back on flat ground. A few minutes later Charlie
stopped.

"This is where we cut off," she said,
pointing at a stand of birch trees.

Starr had to look for a long time before she
saw the faint trail between the trees. "How did you know it was
there? I can hardly see it."

"I take it all the time. You just need to
know what to look for. First the birch trees. Then the stump." She
pointed to a small stump in what looked like a raspberry patch.
"That's what I look for and then I know where the trail is. This
one's pretty obvious, but some are a lot trickier."

"You call that obvious?"

Charlie smiled. "It will be after awhile.
Come on." She plunged into the trees.

"I'm glad
you
think so," Starr
muttered, thinking she'd
never
remember which stump or rock
went with which path or where they ended up. She followed Charlie,
moving slowly as she figured out where the path went as it wound
between birch, fir and a number of other trees Starr couldn't begin
to identify.

On this part of the shore, the trees had
grown thick over the years as no one had come in to cut or thin
them out. Navigation seemed to be mostly finding the way of least
resistance around, rather than through. Fortunately for Starr, the
path had been used often enough that even in the dimmed light she
could see the faint line that marked it.

After umpteen mosquito bites and only a few
scratches from some blackberry bushes, they emerged at the edge of
the highway.

"We'll have to get more bug spray," Starr
said, smacking a couple of mosquitoes who thought her arm was a
good place for a nice long drink.

"This is the only part where you really have
to be careful," Charlie said as she looked up and down the highway.
"Sometimes there's a lot of cars, especially in the fall. You can
usually hear them coming, but I always go as fast as I can anyway,
just to be safe."

Starr looked across the highway. It just
looked like more trees to her.

A couple of cars drove past and then it was
clear.

"Come on."

The girls darted across the highway and back
into the woods. On this side, the path was much wider and easier to
see. Even better, at least as far as Starr was concerned, they
weren't swarmed by voracious mosquitoes and they soon emerged into
a clearing with a huge old-fashioned home at the far end near the
lake.

"Wow," Starr said when she saw the house. It
looked like something out of Jane Eyre or a gothic novel.

"Yeah," Charlie said. "But her car's gone.
She's not here."

Starr's hopes which had inflated wildly when
Charlie told her about Fae, now sank like one of the ships that had
gone down off Storm Point.

"So what do we do now?"

"Let's sit for a bit and see if she comes
home," Charlie said, wheeling the bike towards the house. "And if
she doesn't, we can try again tomorrow."

As Starr trudged towards the house, she
realized that there might be nothing else she
could
do.
Maybe she had taken it as far as was ever going to be possible.
Even thinking that made her feel as if she had just been sentenced
to live with her grandparents again. She sat next to Charlie on the
front porch and stared at the waves rolling across the surface of
Lake Superior.

"If there's no body…" Starr stopped without
finishing the sentence.