Dead Hot Mama (15 page)

Pristine
snow greeted the three as they trudged the perimeter of the Theurian property. The only footprints leading in and out of the forest belonged to deer, squirrels, rabbits, a fox, and other assorted wood rodents. If Lauren left the house on foot, she had to have used the road or headed across the lake.

They tackled the buildings next. Even though Theurian had said the warehouse was locked, Ray went straight to the building with the “Theurian Resource Systems” sign across the front. “The minute you tell a kid ‘don’t go there,’ that’s exactly where they want to be,” he said.

“No one knows that better than you,” said Osborne. But Theurian was right. Both the front double doors and a side entry were locked, as was a rear loading dock. Ray banged on each, but they heard no response from inside.

The vast, L-shaped garage was unlocked and silent. Not empty. Two red Hummers, a spotless Honda Pilot SUV, and four gleaming 700cc Yamaha SRXs were squeezed into the six stalls. The wall alongside the snowmobiles was outfitted with hooks holding snowmobile suits and shelves with helmets, gloves, and goggles.

“Lauren didn’t tell me that her dad owned
these
,” said Nick, hovering over the snowmobiles and sounding like he had just found a good reason to visit more often.

“Those machines go from zero to sixty in less than three seconds,” said Ray, his eyes as big as the teenager’s. “I’ve seen ‘em do it. They’re quiet, too. No fumes. Four- stroke engines do make a difference. Too bad they cost so much.”

Back up on the deck, Osborne tried each of the dozen light switches on a panel just inside the back door. The last one worked, throwing light down the path to the lake, along the entire length of the dock, and pooling out towards the snowmobile trails. From the dock, it was easy to see the wooden structure Theurian called his ice house.

Ray got there first. He tried the doorknob, then looked back at Nick and Osborne. “Unlocked,” he said. He pushed the door open.

“Hel-l-o …” said Ray, stepping inside. Nick and Osborne crowded through behind him. Silence. The room was pitch black. Osborne fumbled along the wall to his right, more out of instinct than logic. His gloved fingers found a switch, and the room exploded with light.

A narrow table holding wildlife carvings blocked their way. Just beyond that was the back of a sofa, which faced a circular glass coffee table. Along one wall was a bar with stools and a small TV suspended overhead. Measuring about ten by fourteen feet and surprisingly warm—they were standing in a miniature version of any suburban family room.

As Osborne’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, a head of matted dark hair rose slowly from the sofa. Pushing her bangs back from her eyes, Lauren blinked sleepily, then stared.

“Omigod, Nick, what are
you
doing here?” She scrambled to her feet, her eyes searching their faces.

“We’ve been looking for you,” said Nick. “Your dad called me thinking you were at my place. When I said you weren’t, your mom and dad thought you were lost.”

As Nick talked, Ray stepped outside to shout the news up to the main house.

“Who
called you? Had to be my dad, right?”

“Yeah—I called Ray to help out, and Dr. Osborne came along, too.”

“Lauren, your family has been worried sick,” said Osborne.

“Gee,” said Lauren, “I didn’t mean to upset everyone.”

“So what’s the deal with this place,” said Nick, looking around the room. “What the heck are you doing out here?”

“Hiding from my dysfunctional family,” said Lauren with a thrust of her chin. Osborne thought he saw a sly grin appear and vanish. “You would, too, if you were stuck out here.”

Pointing at Ray who had just walked back into the room, she said, “It’s all his fault. Right, Ray? Didn’t you say when the world gets you down, go fishing.”

“Guilty as charged,” said Ray. “But this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. You have to tell people where you’re going, y’know.”

Just then Theurian appeared in the doorway. He rushed around the sofa to grab his daughter by the shoulders. “Lauren! Honey! Where the heck have you been all this time?”

She twisted away in embarrassment. “D-a-a-d, I told you I was going fishing. I guess I fell asleep.”

She bent over the coffee table and lifted it up to expose a neat circle of open water. What had appeared to be glass was a plastic cap-like unit, flat on top and designed to cover the fishing hole cut into the ice beneath the house. Lying on the plush beige carpet near the hole was a jigging rod rigged with Ray’s Hot Mama. Also on the rug were two of the biggest walleyes Osborne had ever seen.

“What do you think, Ray?” asked Lauren as Ray knelt to hoist the fish.

“Twelve, maybe thirteen pounds each—these are trophy fish, girl.”

Theurian glanced at the fish then back at his daughter. “Lauren, do you have any idea what time it is? It’s nearly ten o’clock at night. I’ve been looking for you since noon.”

Lauren gave her father a sharp look. “That’s not true, Dad, and you know it. You didn’t even get back to the house until four.” The challenge in the girl’s voice startled Osborne. He shot a quick glance over at Ray, but his neighbor was on his knees in the far corner of the room, lifting another patch of carpet to examine the flooring beneath.

“So how many holes can you have in here?” asked Ray, trying his best to change the subject.

“If you
had
checked at noon,” said Lauren, hands on her hips. “You would have found me down in the basement doing my laundry. And if your
wife
said she didn’t know where I was, she lied. She’s the one who made me do it. But, Dad, I
told
you I was coming out here this afternoon.”

“If you did, I didn’t hear you,” Theurian said, looking defeated. Osborne felt sorry for the guy. With a high- strung bride and a resentful daughter, he had his hands full. Not even money could buy him out of this pickle.

Lauren kicked at the sofa. “Well, you found me—okay? It’s not my fault you never listen.”

While the two argued, Nick fiddled with the TV over the bar. “Holy cow, you got cable out here,” he said. “HBO, too?” No one heard the front door open.

“Drinking …
again
?” Mitten Theurian, a black coat thrown across her shoulders, loomed over the sofa. For such a small woman, she had the presence of a moose.

“I certainly was not,” said Lauren, throwing her shoulders back. It was the first time Osborne had seen her stand up straight.

Mitten leveled an accusing finger at a cluster of empty beer bottles on the bar. “What do you call
that?”

“Those are not mine and …” Lauren stopped as if she thought better of what she had been about to say.

“Just how long have you been hiding out here anyway?” demanded Mitten. Lauren didn’t answer. Osborne couldn’t tell if she didn’t remember or was ignoring the question. Mitten waited, her eyes boring into the girl. No one said a word.

“I came out here … I guess about … three? After I folded my clothes,” Lauren said, her voice firm. “I wasn’t
hiding
, I told Dad that I was coming out here to fish with this special lure that Mr. Pradt gave me. See?” She pointed to the fish, which Ray had laid back on the carpet. “And I took a little nap—”

“Oh, right,” said Mitten with a sneer. “Fishing. Give me a break. Since when do you fish? Tell the truth, for once, young lady. You did this on purpose. Anything to get attention.” As she spoke, Lew and Mallory appeared in the doorway.

“And I just hope you’re happy—you’ve almost ruined our party. Now get those damn fish off my rug before you ruin that, too. I tell you, David, she does these things just to annoy me.”

Theurian took a step away from Lauren, his shoulders hunched, as if ducking objects instead of words. “Mitten…”

“Don’t ‘Mitten’ me—I’ve had it. She’s your kid, you deal with it.” Mitten spun around to leave, knocking Lew in the shoulder as she barged out the door.

“Don’t worry about Mitten,” said Theurian. “She sounds mad but she was worried, too. I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetheart.” He gave his daughter another affectionate squeeze of the shoulders.

Lauren resisted the hug but offered her dad a slight smile. From where he was standing next to Ray, Osborne could see her face was smudged, her eyes red and glassy. She might have been drinking—or crying—or both.

“I just don’t understand how you could nap so long,” said-Theurian. He walked over to the windows on one side of the room. Opening their shutters, he exposed the main house with all its lights ablaze. “Couldn’t you see our party had started?”

“I didn’t notice those shutters were closed, Dad,” said Lauren. “They must have been closed when I got here.”

“Mr. Theurian, a fatigued teenager is capable of sleeping through
anything
,” said Lew, walking into the room. “A train could come through here and not wake her up. I know, I raised two.”

“That’s right. I took a long nap this afternoon myself,” said Nick. “We had that layover so long in Chicago and stayed up pretty late at Ray’s place, y’know. We were already tired from finals—”

“Okay, okay, let’s put this behind us. Just don’t do it again,” said Theurian, reaching up with his knuckle to give Lauren’s cheek a friendly nudge. He had to be close to three inches shorter than his daughter. Osborne found that interesting: Lauren’s mother must have been quite a bit taller than Mitten.

But if wife number two was less imposing than her predecessor in height, she more than made up for it. In contrast to her mild-mannered spouse, the woman was a velvet hammer. Still, she was stunning, and opposites do attract. Osborne could see Theurian seduced by her beauty and if his money helped seal the deal—well, it ought to buy something.

As Osborne speculated on Theurian’s love life, a soft smile had worked its way out from under the man’s moustache. “I suggest you move the fish like Mitten said—but those
are
nice, Lauren. Congratulations. I had no idea you were so talented a fisherman.”

“Not me, Dad—Mr. Pradt. He made this lure himself.” Lauren dangled the Hot Mama in her father’s face. “You should try it, see if it works for you.”

“I gotta tell ya, Dave,” said Ray, using the mention of his name as a cue to enter the conversation, “this is one heck of a fishing shack.” He looked up from where he was bent over rummaging through a cabinet behind the bar. “Got something in one of these cupboards she can put those fish in? Never mind—here’s a plastic bag. Dave, you clean fish?”

The look on Theurian’s face made everyone laugh.

“Tell you what, Lauren,” said Ray, “I’ll take these home and clean ‘em up for you. You bring your folks down for a fish fry sometime in the next couple days. Would you like that?”

“Dad? Can we do that—please?”

“We’ll see. Your stepmother has lots of plans.”

“So, Dave, how long have you had this … this
house
out here on the ice?” said Ray.

“Couple weeks,” said Theurian. “I don’t know what Lauren thinks she’s doing with that silly thing you gave her, because this place is outfitted with everything an ice fisherman could ever need. Take a look.” Theurian turned around to open the doors of a light oak armoire that took up the entire back wall.

“I’ve got a Vexilar electronic depth finder, underwater cameras, a Strike Master auger for anyone who insists on fishing outside, a dozen tip-ups, and boxes of the best tackle on the market. Oh, and we’ve got more plastic bubbles up at the main house if you want to open a few more holes in the floor.”

He pointed across the room. “That sofa converts to a queen-size bed so you can sleep out here, we put a port-a- toilet out back for the ladies, and there’s a generator to run the show.” Theurian smiled as he thrust his hands into his pockets, “What more can you ask for?”

“My Hot Mama,” said Ray. He raised his right palm in defense. “Just kidding—with a set-up like this you must be one heck of an ice fisherman.”

“‘Fraid not,” said Theurian, shaking his head. “This is for clients, strictly for entertaining. I’ve got a start-up business to manage—I don’t have time. Tell you the truth, my wife put all this together.”

“Doc,” said Lew, “now that we know Lauren’s okay, we should get going. It’s late.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Theurian, walking around to give everyone’s hand a hearty shake. “Before you go, I want you up to the main house, get everyone a hot toddy, some mulled cider—a little something to munch on. We have quite a spread up there.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Osborne.

“Another few minutes won’t hurt, will it?” said Theurian. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for coming out tonight.”

From the expression on Mallory’s face, Osborne could see there was no way she would leave now. Even Lew looked interested. Lauren, meanwhile, had pulled on a jacket and was gripping Nick’s arm, whispering in his ear.

As she whispered, she turned her back to the group, pulled a small object out of her jacket pocket and offered it to Nick. He studied it for a moment, then shook his head as if to say “no.” In spite of his response, Lauren pushed whatever it was into Nick’s pocket anyway. Osborne hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was.

Ray turned around from the armoire, where he had been examining Theurian’s high-tech fishing gear. He held a package in his hand. “You got the Loch Ness Monster in this lake?” he asked.

“‘Course not, why?”

“This fishing line is made of steel. You could reel in a sumo wrestler on line like this.” Ray tossed the box back into the cabinet. “No way you need five hundred pound test line on a little lake like Firefly. Sheesh, what some jabones will sell ya. Next time you need equipment, Dave, you call me. I can get you top of the line and at an excellent discount, too.”

“He will, indeed,” said Mallory, chiming in merrily as she pulled on her mitts. “And don’t stop with the fishing equipment. You need a burial plot? Ray’s your man. He can get you a deal on that, too. Right, Ray?”

A funny look crossed Theurian’s face. Rarely did Osborne wish he could put a lid on his daughter like he did at this moment. Razzing Ray was one thing, and, of course, she had no way of knowing what Ray had told him earlier—that Lauren’s mother died just over a year ago. Ouch. He tried to send her a warning look, but she was already out the door.