Dead Deceiver (12 page)

“I do not need a lecture.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. Osborne glanced over at Lew who was busy dressing the salad and did not look up.

“As far as this beer goes, I have it to
look at.
That’s all. I do that sometimes. I test myself.” Lew gave Osborne a quizzical look to which he responded with an affirmative nod. Ray had been known to keep a can of beer in his refrigerator for exactly the same reason.

“Really,” Suzanne sounded doubtful.

“Just watch. How long you in town?”

“The weekend. Got the news my husband wants a divorce three days ago. Turns out he’s been bopping the bookkeeper at the real estate agency where he works so I left our two kids with friends and thought I’d hide out here for a few days. Think things over. Decide what to do next,” she said with a sigh.

“So you criticize my beer and here you are—running away. How smart is that?”

“Give me a break, will you? I have to go back and deal with the jerk so I’m not
exactly
running away.”

There was silence for a few seconds, then Ray said, “You must have known he was an asshole when you married him.”

“Yeah, well hope springs eternal, doncha know,” said Suzanne with a light laugh. “I know things will work out. I mean, look at my mom.” This time when Osborne glanced over at Lew, he thought he saw a tear glisten in her eye.

“You’re a very attractive woman and I can tell you’re smart,” said Ray. “Why would he leave you?”

“Good question. I had my first visit with a therapist yesterday and I guess one thing might be that I’ve had more success than he has. I’ve done well as a CPA—make three times what he does. And there’s a lot we don’t do together. I run and work out while he’s allergic to fresh air. I like movies, he’s big on TV sports. That might be part of it. Plus we married pretty young. Ten years ago.” She paused, then said, “the weird thing is the bookkeeper looks like his mother—maybe that’s it.”

“You’re kidding!” Ray chuckled. “She looks like his
mother
?”

“I’m not making that up. Hand me your beer, please. I finished mine.”

Ray must have held his back as he said, “Hold on now, you’re not honoring a family tradition, are you?”

“Hey, if I have one glass of wine or a bottle of beer a week, that’s a lot for me. Tonight I feel like I’m coming out from under a goddamn cloud of stress and two beers won’t kill me. Not like I’m driving anywhere.”

“Okay, here. What are you doing tomorrow night? Want to go out for dinner?”

“I’m married.”

“Kind of. I’ve dated married ladies.” On hearing that Osborne rolled his eyes at Lew.

“So I’ve heard. And I’ve heard plenty about you, Ray Pradt.” Suzanne laughed and then said, “Sure, okay.”

“Dinner is ready,” Lew called out from where she had just set a large bowl of pasta on the table.

She grinned at Osborne who whispered, “Good work, you. We’re about to have dinner with two people who haven’t felt this good in days. Even makes me happy.”

Beaming, Lew gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

C
HAPTER
17

“S
o, Ray,” said Osborne as they were passing their plates around the table for Lew to serve everyone from the bowl of pasta, “were you able to check out Gina’s cabin okay?”

“Oh yeah. Remember the power outage we had during the last ice storm? For some reason, maybe a power surge, almost all her appliances were on including the television and the DVD player—and the heat, too. I called to tell her I turned everything off but left the heat on low so her water pipes don’t freeze. Nothing was damaged.”

“Good” said Lew. “Thanks for handling all that, Ray. We’ll be on a conference call with Gina tomorrow trying to figure out the computer crisis at the tech college. Based on what we’ve told her, she seems to think it won’t take long to figure out who the culprit is. I sure hope she’s right so we can concentrate on the Beltner case.”

“What’s that, Mom?” Suzanne gave her mother a quizzical look.

“Oh golly, would you mind if we talked about that later?” asked Lew. “It’s a sad, frustrating case that doesn’t make for the best dinner conversation.”

“By the way,” said Ray, in a light tone of voice, “late this afternoon I stopped into the Loon Lake Market for some mouse traps for Gina’s cabin and one of the clerks there said he heard the fishing teams from all the foreign countries should be in town by tomorrow afternoon.”

“The teams and a couple thousand tourists, not to mention media from across the country,” said Lew, as she passed the salad to Suzanne. “You wouldn’t believe how many requests for security we’ve had to turn down. People must think the Loon Lake police and sheriff’s departments have nothing to do except to watch over their equipment.” She shook her head.

“Where are they from? This is an
international
fishing tournament?” asked Suzanne. “Here in Loon Lake? Wow, Mom, that’s exciting.”

“It sure is. For Loon Lake, it’s the equivalent of hosting the Olympics. I’m just hoping everything stays calm,” said Lew. “Let fish get caught, let TV crews do their thing and, please God, let no vehicles go through the ice.

“The good news is that the tournament is only a week long and it does bring in a lot of tourists, which works for everyone. There’ll be a dance and an ice shanty contest. Vendors are setting up in the high school gym—”

“And there’s a reality TV show starting to shoot, too,” said Ray in a non-committal tone.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Suzanne. “Maybe I’ll come back later in the week.”

As the conversation buzzed, Osborne basked in the warmth of the voices, the aromas from the dinner table, the glow of friendship on the faces of the people around him. No wonder young people like Suzanne and Ray—even older folks like himself and Lew—don’t want to be alone. Does anyone?

After Osborne and Ray had cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes, Ray started towards the door. “See you folks tomorrow,” he said, then paused and walked into the living room where the two women were chatting. “Suzanne, you want to go for a ride?”

“Sure.” Suzanne jumped up from where she had been sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked under her. “Where we going?”

“Few miles down the highway to the Merriman ski trails. Doc, ever since you asked me if anyone lives in the swamp that runs along the west loop of the Merriman Ski Trails, I’ve been thinking. I know I’ve seen deer stands in there but whether anybody actually
lives
in there? Tell the truth—I’m really not sure. So I got hold of some logging maps today and marked a couple lanes that if the snow isn’t too deep, I’ll go check ‘em out.”

“Tonight?” asked Lew. “Don’t push it, Ray. I’d hate for you to get stuck in there. You know cell service is spotty once you’re off the main roads. Suzanne, if you go—dress warm. I wouldn’t trust the heat in Ray’s truck.”

“I wouldn’t trust Ray’s truck, period,” said Osborne. “Lew’s right, Ray. That may not be such a great idea.”

“Hey, it’s not even nine o’clock yet and I figure if anyone is living back in there, I might see lights. Give me an idea where to look in the daylight. And, Chief, don’t worry—I’m not driving the lanes tonight. Just the county road that loops around the swamp along the west side and down across the far end.”

“All right, Ray,” said Lew, reluctance in her voice. “But if you see anything, you wait to follow it up tomorrow, promise? I never trust people who live with no fire numbers. Those are the ones who eat their young.”

“Chief, I hear you. I will not put your daughter at risk.”

“We’ll see about
that,”
said Suzanne with an easy grin. She was definitely happier than when she had arrived. And so was Ray.

“Okay, Doc, ready for Session Twenty-One?” asked Lew after the door had closed behind Ray and Suzanne.

“Sure,” said Osborne, taking his spot on the sofa with pen and notebook in hand while Lew inserted the DVD they had been working their way through since the holidays.
Joan Wulff’s Dynamics of Fly Casting
was Osborne’s winter assignment: to watch and practice the basics of fly fishing as demonstrated by one of the icons in the sport. Their pattern had been to watch a session or two on the evenings he spent at her place. While watching, Osborne often found himself taking notes to carry with him later when the season opened.

Jotting down tips on the power snap, loading line, changing direction while casting, and shooting line had already filled more than a few pages. Worried at first that it would be too technical for a beginner like himself, Osborne found himself enjoying the video more than he had expected. Joan Wulff made fly casting look easy as she broke the movements down into simple steps that were definitely less intimidating than the books he had tried to read.

Maybe he also liked it because watching Joan Wulff’s rhythmic motions as she demonstrated technique reminded him of Lew’s grace in the water—especially in the moonlight on warm summer evenings. Instructions and nice memories: not a bad way to end a long winter’s day.

“Here’s where it gets fun,” said Lew as she hit the remote buttons and Session Twenty-One came up on the screen. “The double haul. Doc, when you can double haul—I’ll buy dinner.”

“Deal,” said Osborne, nestling in beside her on the sofa. The video started to run and he watched dumbfounded as Joan Wulff’s hands moved in opposite directions. “Lewellyn, excuse me, would you back that up, please?”

Osborne leaned forward to watch closely. “Um, back it up again, please?” After the fourth viewing, he said, “Is this where they separate the men from the boys?”

Lew laughed. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just takes practice. All you need is to remember the haul is fast and the give back is slow.”

“That’s not what worries me. It’s both hands moving in opposite directions. I have enough trouble tying on a Size 18 dry fly without tackling this. How ‘bout I just false cast for the rest of my life?”

“Doc, I said I’d buy dinner …”

“Yeah, that’s one safe bet. This looks very confusing. Let’s go back and watch the section on casting into a headwind. I can master that. I like the part about not worrying over the presentation of your dry fly because the water is so choppy—”

Just then the back door opened and Suzanne came in.

“Back so soon?” said Lew, hitting the Pause button.

“You bet—it is cold out there. I got so chilly—I don’t think that truck has any heat. Man, my feet are frozen!”

“See anything?” asked Lew.

“Maybe. We drove around the swamp area as far as the road would allow. We saw lights in three different locations—though Ray thought we might have been seeing the headlights of other cars. Dr. Osborne, he said he would call you tomorrow to see if you’ve got time to go with him and check those out.”

“He wants my car is what he wants,” said Osborne, getting up from the sofa. “A vehicle with heat. Lewellyn, it is time for me to head home. Thank you for a wonderful meal and, Suzanne, nice seeing you again.

“Hope this visit is therapeutic. I told your mom that my oldest daughter had a similar experience a few years ago. Her husband took up with her best friend. She’s since finished grad school, landed a great job, loves her apartment, loves living in Chicago. I know she would tell you the divorce was the best thing that could have happened given how her life has changed.”

He left out the part about Mallory having a brief fling with Ray Pradt. A fling that had been good for her ego even if it had given Osborne heartburn; Ray was someone he valued as a friend but not the best candidate for a son-in-law. The good news was both parties were now just friends.

“I’m off to a good start thanks to you and Mom tonight. That Ray is fun to be around.” Suzanne shook her head as she grinned, “You know, he is just plain cute.”

As she walked Osborne to the door, Lew gave him a quick kiss and a smile that radiated satisfaction. Ray Pradt had certainly boosted Suzanne’s spirits and, it appeared, she may have done the same for him. Mission accomplished.

“Doc, before you go to sleep tonight take a few minutes to practice that double haul exercise in the mirror—the one where you swing your body from side to side while using your line hand to haul as you swing.”

“Sounds like a recipe for a nightmare, Lewellyn. Thank you.”

Once in his car, he found he had a message from Ray on his cell phone: “Doc, that swamp isn’t as empty as I thought. What are you doing tomorrow morning right after daylight? That would give us time to see what might be back there. Then maybe I could borrow your car later to pick up Suzanne?”

Osborne chuckled. Yep, Ray sounded like his old self.

C
HAPTER
18

I
t was just twelve noon on Sunday morning. Beth Hellenbrand, head of the computer technology department, had taken a seat between Osborne and Lew in the Office of the President at the college. Lew had stressed with Patience that the only individual capable of taking the highly technical directions via phone calls and emails likely to come from Gina would be an experienced computer programmer. Beth was elected.

A slim woman of medium height, Beth Hellenbrand had the narrow skull, high checkbones and firm jaw of her Swedish ancestors. As she had entered the room, Osborne was struck by the simple lines of her face, which reflected the small-boned structure of her entire body. Quite a contrast to Patience.

Her manner was solemn—she had yet to break a smile—and the intelligence in her eyes, which were the crystalline blue of a lake under a summer sun and a cloudless sky, signaled that she felt in command when it came to computer technology. But she was so serious that Osborne began to wonder if she was angry about something.

“My degree is in computer engineering,” Beth was saying in quiet voice after being introduced to Lew and Osborne, “after which I spent two years working with the eBay tech teams in northern California before I moved back here to take this job. Just so you know, I have made some progress on following the trail of the spammer so far. We have been able to set up so we can at least see exactly when they enter our system.”