Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (6 page)

Living here was going to be even better than
she had ever expected.

Karen escaped from the Lodge as soon as was
logically possible. It was a relief to finally step outside into
the cool night air and let the heavy wooden door close behind her,
shutting out the muted clink of silver on china from the dining
room and incessant chatter from the front desk. She stood on the
wide front entrance stairs and listened to the blessed silence. The
respite from the constant commotion eased the tension that was
turning her neck to stone and had given her a pounding
headache.

The idea that it might have been a mistake to
attempt jumping right in crossed her mind briefly, but she banished
it firmly. Making a good first impression was important and showing
up her first day here would go a long way to showing them what kind
of employee she was. It made for a long day, but she'd catch up on
her sleep tonight and, with any luck, she'd be able to concentrate
a little better tomorrow.

She just hoped she didn't have to deal with
that obnoxious woman too much in the future. Karen's lips
tightened, turning her mouth into a slit as she remembered the
hippie wannabe who had been so condescending earlier. The memory
consumed her and she scarcely noticed her surroundings as she
returned to the cabin. All she could think about was the way that
bitch had smirked at her and said "good luck", as if she'd be lucky
to last out the week.

How dare she, Karen fumed as she stomped down
the path to the cabin. As she reached the cabin, she turned and
glared back in the direction of the Lodge.

"Bitch," she spat. Spittle flew from her
lips. "Fucking bitch."

The hippie had clearly ingratiated herself
with the employees at the Lodge which put her ahead for the moment.
Well, Karen might not be able to do anything about that bitch right
now, but down the line was she was set in the job and they saw how
indispensable she was, she'd have something to say about people
like fucking Fae O'Neill. Just see if she didn't.

She pulled out her keys and turned to the
door. Then, suspicious, she tried the door first to see if it was
locked. The knob turned easily and she pushed the door open.

"Damn it, Stella!" She turned on the living
room light and slammed the door. She stormed down the hall to the
girl's bedroom, almost hoping the kid hadn't cleaned up the mess
she had made earlier. The mood she was in, every bit of fuel for
the furnace was handy dandy as far as she was concerned right about
now.

Stella was standing in the middle of the
room. To her disappointment, the girl's room was tidy and clean.
But that still left the front door.

"How many times have I told you to keep the
door locked?" she yelled. "Anyone could just walk in here. And then
what?" She shook her head. "God dammit. Just once I wish you'd pay
attention. Is that too much to ask?"

She glared at her daughter, only then
noticing the flush on the girl's face. "And what the hell have you
been up to? And don't lie to me."

"Nothing."

But the flush on the kid's face told Karen
otherwise. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the room to give her
away.

"Don't give me that," she snapped. "I can
tell just by looking at you."

"I was just picking everything up," she said.
Then she looked up with a mutinous look on her face that was such a
perfect imitation of her father that Karen was dumbfounded.

"This isn't Minneapolis," Stella added. "No
one's going to come in off the street up here. And besides," she
added. "I didn't lock the door because I knew you were coming and
you were going to be tired. I was just trying to be nice." Then she
looked down at her feet as if all her bravado had deserted her.

Karen closed her eyes, all her energy
draining out of her. She sighed heavily, suddenly too tired to
bother any longer. "Go to bed then," she said, turning away. "It's
been a long day." She turned back briefly. "And from now on, I
don't want to find that door left unlocked. Do you hear?"

Without waiting for a response, she pulled
off her jacket and went into the kitchen. Maybe a cup of coffee
would make her feel better. Then, having a spot of inspiration, she
opened the frig to see if she had put the white wine in earlier.
For once she was in luck and Karen poured herself a nice full glass
of wine. As she walked into the living room, she looked down the
hall and saw that her daughter's light was still on. For a moment,
she considered saying something about it, then decided not to
bother and flopped down on the lumpy couch that had come with the
cabin.

Starr didn't move as her mother went down the
hall and into the kitchen. She listened carefully for returning
footsteps in case she decided to come back again. But pretty soon
she heard her mother muttering under her breath in the living room.
Starr let out the breath she had been holding and went back to the
closet. She double checked the cubbyhole to make sure it was
invisible. Then she was able to relax.

When she first heard the door slam and her
mother yelling, Starr had been afraid her mother was about to
ransack her room. Sometimes it felt as if her mother was always
looking for something to get mad about. Starr had just been closing
the trapdoor when her mother came home and had been afraid that she
had been careless and something would give it away. Thank goodness
her mother had run out of steam before she really got going. She
didn't think she could bear it if her mother found out about her
new secret hiding place.

Finally satisfied her mother wasn't coming
back, Starr flopped down on the bed. She wasn't ready to go to
sleep yet. Besides, getting yelled at for not locking the door
still stung. She had worked really hard to get everything put away
and all her mother could do was yell at her because the door was
unlocked. Nothing about what a good job she had done.

It wasn't fair.

This wasn't the middle of Minneapolis, for
pete's sake. No one was going to pull off the highway, break in and
make off with their stuff. But she knew that if she said that, her
mother would simply say, "life's not fair, missy." And then she'd
start in on how Starr never paid attention to anything she said
anyway.

Starr had really hoped that getting this job
would finally make her mother happy. But, except for the location,
nothing seemed to have changed. Maybe once they settled in, her
mother would relax.

But from now on, she would always lock the
door. No matter what. So if that didn't make her mother happy, at
least she wouldn't get upset about
that
any more. Of course,
she would probably find something else to get mad about, but at
least it wouldn't be an unlocked door.

Starr wrinkled her nose and put her mother
out of her mind. She still wasn't ready to go to sleep. It had been
such an exciting day. She smiled as she thought about the cubbyhole
and the thrill of seeing Lake Superior.

First thing in the morning, she thought.
She'd get her camera and go down to the lake and see if she could
get some pictures of those rocks.

On that thought, and still grinning, Starr
fell asleep.

David Fowler had chosen to live in St. Paul
because, although it was in Minnesota with its godawful weather, at
least it had panache. He liked the old buildings and the feel of
history and quality. Plus, it had a lot of very old money and
people who were easy to con. However, the last thing he wanted was
to have anyone see him tonight. Especially if they knew Diana. And
since St. Paul was still in many ways a very small town, it was all
too likely someone would.

So he made the sacrifice and battled the
traffic to Minneapolis.

Not only was Minneapolis a modern pain in the
ass with traffic to match, finding even a half-way decent parking
space was nearly as hard as finding one in New York City on New
Year's Eve. It took forever just to get to Loring Park and then he
had to drive around for ages before finding a space. Part of the
problem was that apparently something was going on at the Guthrie
and many of the play goers often parked over here instead of the
wait-for-an-hour-to-get-out parking ramp next to the theatre.

Fowler supposed he should be grateful it
wasn't the dead of winter with the accompanying mile high drifts,
icy everything and temperatures so cold it made the bones in his
forehead hurt. Nor was the humidity so high tonight that if felt
like the inside of a steam room.

Then he caught himself and shook his head. It
was pathetic how he had learned to be grateful for such things, he
thought as he crossed the park, the restaurant lights beckoning
from the other side.

He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. It
was
pathetic, now that he put the thought into words. He'd
managed to live with the way things were here for much too long.
Ignoring the weather and the phony Minnesota "nice" was probably
the only way he had managed to stay sane. Granted Minnesota had
proved to be fertile ground, but it was a hell of a place to
live.

Fowler thought about his trip to the North
Shore and the possibilities it had presented. If everything went
smoothly, he not only would be rich, he could finally live
someplace where the weather was actually reasonable. He'd never
have to be grateful for teeny favors from the weather gods again.
And he'd never have to drive in Minneapolis again for any reason
whatsoever.

As he stood in the dark, he saw his dinner
companion waiting for him at a table near the window. His smile
grew slowly as he studied her and went over his plan in his mind.
It would work. Unless something went drastically wrong, it could
really work. And considering he hadn't had a con go bad since that
unfortunate incident over fifteen years ago, this was practically a
no-brainer.

Jubilation rising with each step, Fowler
entered the restaurant and slid into the seat across from Vivian.
She smiled at him provocatively as he reached across the table and
took her hand.

"I have the perfect job for you," he told
her.

"Does it have anything to do with fishing or
camping?" she asked cautiously.

"Not this time," he said, grinning. "Plus,
there's a lot of money in it for you."

"How much?"

"Let's just say that you could retire after
this job if you wanted to."

Now her smile broadened. "I just love it when
you talk money like that. Tell me everything."

"Food first," he said, looking around for a
waiter.

"Philistine."

"Ahh, but a Philistine who is going to be
very, very rich in just a few weeks. I suspect that gobs of money
erase a good many sins, don't you think?"

He could see that not only was she intrigued,
but she was firmly on the hook. Fowler just loved it when things
went well. He smiled happily as the waiter came over. "I think
champagne is in order tonight," he said.

When Starr woke up, it was barely light. She
was still dressed, but was now under the covers and the light had
been turned off. She vaguely remembered waking up freezing cold at
some point and crawling under the covers, but didn't remember
turning out the lights. Then she remembered where she was and
bolted upright, tossing the covers out of her way.

She pulled on a sweatshirt, crawled into the
closet and hauled her camera out of its hiding place. Her mother's
door was closed, but Starr tiptoed down the hall anyway. She took
her jacket just in case and then stepped out onto the porch. Easing
the door closed, she locked it and then took a moment to drink in
the scenery around her.

Because it was so early, the light filtering
through the dark trees was soft and diffuse. Starr could barely see
the outlines of the individual trees as they were still a feathery
dark blot. Nothing moved in the early morning stillness and she
felt as if she had been transported to another world altogether.
Starr was a big fan of Harry Potter and in this atmosphere, she
could easily believe that magic existed. It would be so much fun if
she had a wand and could try. She didn't know if she had magical
blood, but if it
could
happen, it would be here.

She giggled a little at her fantasy, tied her
jacket around her waist and hurried down the path towards the lake.
She wanted to run, but the path was bathed in shadows and she
didn't want to trip and break the camera. But walking was much too
slow, so she settled for something in between, sort of a skip
without the bounce.

Before long, she was out of the woods and in
the long meadow that led to the edge. As she reached the cliff, the
wind picked up and she was glad she had remembered her jacket.

Starr put her camera bag down, put on her
jacket, zipped it up snugly and dug the camera out of the bag. The
light at this hour was completely different than it had been
yesterday and the cliffs now looked pink and grey instead of the
vivid oranges and reds of yesterday afternoon.

Looking across the lake, Starr could see a
giant freighter near the horizon slowly creeping its way south.
Probably Duluth, she thought. She had read that the city was a
major shipping port and she wondered where the ship had come
from.

She wished they could have stopped in Duluth
on the way up. It would have been really neat to see how big the
ships really were. If she was lucky and they stayed here for a
really long time, maybe she'd get the chance to find out some
day.