Dead Hot Mama (21 page)

As
Osborne walked into the room, Gina jumped off her stool, Bud Michalski’s résumé in her hand. “How can that be? Says right here he’s been working the call center at that pet supply place over in Rhinelander. I checked it out, Ray. He does a three-day twelve-hour shift with four days off.”

“Did I say ‘day job’—I meant nights,” said Ray, throwing his parka over the chair in front of Lew’s desk. “He works nights at either the Cat House or Thunder Bay, Wednesdays and weekends.”

Lew looked so stunned, Ray raised his hands in defense. “I’m not lying. You can chalk it all up to some bad bluegills, but I got the scoop, folks. I think everyone better take a seat.”

And for a change he talked fast. As he recounted the events of the afternoon, Ray was as focused and determined as a man with a loaded gun. No joking around, no wasting anyone’s time.

“I walked in and recognized the guy right away,” he said. “Remember the Japanese fella I said was at Thunder Bay last summer? The one who was leading karaoke one of the nights I chatted with Eileen. Well, he was at the bar when I walked into the Cat House today.

“So I took a seat and asked how the fishing was. He said he didn’t fish, and I said too bad ‘cause I just caught a nice mess of bluegills. He said he hated bluegills—’goddam marauding foreign invaders’ he called ‘em.

‘“Come on,’” I said. ‘How can you say such a thing about my favorite piscator.’ And offered to buy him a beer, of course. So he told me. And when he finished telling me why he hates the lovely bluegill, I did what any self-respecting American would do. I offered to buy him another beer.

“Only this round we left the Cat House, went next door. I mean, this is a town with thirty-one bars for a population of eighteen hundred, so I suggested we sample the local culture. That’s when he told me he was celebrating due to the fact that he had just quit his job at the Cat House due to the fact that last night the owner shoved a dancer’s head in the toilet. He figured he’s next on her list …” Ray could not resist a pause.

“You have our full attention, Ray,” said Lew. That was understatement. Both Gina and Osborne were hunched forward in their chairs.

“The gentleman I was talking to? His name is Kenichuro Fujimoto—Ken for short. Real nice guy. Grew up in Oshino, Japan, and came here for college. He’s trained as a lab tech in freeze drying pharmaceutical and biological products.

“Dave Theurian hired him right out of school to work for Theurian Resources. Only when he got here Dave told him because it’s a start-up business, he only had a couple days’ work a week for him. That’s when Mrs. Theurian offered him the job running karaoke nights at three of her clubs.

“He said it was fun at first. He would work Monday to Wednesday at the lab, then have his days off and work nights. Fun until he discovered what was going on.

“That’s kinda how he met Eileen. She came to work for the Theurians at the same time he did and found out, like Ken, that the job opportunity she had been promised—in her case it was the dancing contract—wasn’t gonna happen. At least not right away. Like Ken, she was assigned another job, which was basic bookkeeping—paying bills, handling invoices, ordering supplies. And driving around with Ken to collect receipts.

“He said about a month into working the clubs, he and Eileen started to notice things. On the few occasions Karin showed up at one of the clubs, which was only when she was angry about something, she didn’t hesitate to abuse the staff. A bartender got her fingers slammed in the cash drawer. The dancer whose head was shoved in the toilet? That was because the girl held out ten bucks in tips. An in-house legend says when Karin was a teenager, a boyfriend thought he could dump her: she ran over him with his own car. Yep, according to Ken, the people who work for Karin Hikennen work scared.”

“Did he know anything about the credit card—” Lew couldn’t help interrupting.

“Hold your horses … I’m getting there. This fall Eileen told Ken she was getting calls from club patrons, not locals but people from the cities, who said their credit card statements showed unauthorized cash advances—always
after
they had used their cards at one of the clubs. They accused someone connected to the clubs of putting those through.”

“That fits,” said Lew. “I called around. No recent complaints of credit card theft in the county, nor the neighboring counties. If tourists had a problem, they would call their card companies direct—and the police in their own districts.”

“Now it so happens that Bud Michalslci started working as a bouncer right last summer—”

“And you’re sure it’s Bud?” asked Lew. “Were you able to get names of the other people working there?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ray said, reaching into his back pocket, “Ken wrote them down. He’s been there long enough to know everyone at the Hurley club. Bud’s was one of the first names he mentioned, because everyone working there noticed how he and Karin seemed to get along real well. Real well.

“At first, Ken assumed it was a status thing. Bud bragged how his family had so much influence when it came to tax assessments, shoreline regs, that kind of stuff. Now he’s sure there’s something going on between those two. Bud acts like a sick puppy when she’s around.

“Keep in mind Ken is still working part time for Dave and something real curious happens. Early last week, Dave Theurian was out of town on business. Ken drove out to the warehouse to see if there had been any deliveries that needed processing. Driving in, he passed Bud driving out.

“Didn’t think too much about it until he started work in the lab and found that someone had been running the freeze-drying equipment, someone who didn’t realize the computer recorded all operations. This was odd. Supposedly Ken and Dave are the only two with keys to the warehouse—but the computer showed the units had been used during Dave’s absence. And Ken knew he sure as hell hadn’t been there.

“He said something to Dave about it, too, because whoever had used the equipment didn’t seem to know what they were doing. Any tissue processed might have been compromised and shouldn’t be shipped. He’s not sure Dave heard him—the guy seemed to have a lot on his mind. Ken’s main worry was covering his own ass.”

“What about Eileen—did he say anything about her death?” asked Lew.

“Oh, yeah. That’s when he made up his mind to quit. He was so bummed. They had become good friends, and he’s positive Karin had something to do with it. Eileen had confronted Karin about something the day before her body was found. Right in the office, which is located at the back of the Cat House, so everyone heard the shouting.

“Ken heard Eileen slam out and watched her drive off. That’s the last he saw of her. Karin left a little while later.

“And that skimmer? I described it to Ken. He was told it was a card cleaner. Didn’t think much about it. As far as he knew, Bud would set it by the cash register on karaoke night and badger the girl tending bar if she forgot to use it.”

“I need to get your friend in here,” said Lew. “I guess he’ll be surprised to find out you’re a deputy, huh?”

“No,” said Ray. “When he was halfway into telling me all this, I figured he better know. I also told him to get his butt out of town.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He was already on his way. When I ran into him at the bar, he was only there because he was saying good-bye to a couple of the girls. He gave me his new phone number, Chief. He starts a new job at a hospital in Minneapolis. They’re doing ACL transplants and offered him double what he’s been making for Dave and Karin.”

“I hope he knows not to say anything to anyone who might alert Bud or Karin—”

“Can’t imagine he would. Not only is he leaving town today, but he said Bud hasn’t been working the club the last few days—hasn’t been around at all.”

“Ray, you done good,” said Lew. “I’ll put in for double time for you. Be sure to make out an expense report for your gas and all the beverages.”

“Thanks, Chief, but one more thing I want to mention. It’s about Dave Theurian.” Ray leaned back in the chair, a look of regret on his face.

“That guy’s not interested in my lure. We had our get- together over at the Pub, and I could tell he wasn’t paying attention the way he should have.”

The room was quiet as Ray spoke. “You know what he really wanted this morning? He wants me to introduce him to Joe Terzinski and Mark Stiles. I could see why after Ken explained that Theurian Resources’ cement isn’t exactly what you want to use in a sidewalk. Then it made sense. Grief counseling? Baloney.”

“We were planning to give you the details this afternoon,” said Gina.

“So everyone here knows?” Ray looked at Osborne, who nodded.

“Who are the two men you just mentioned, Ray?” said Gina.

“Joe owns the funeral home used by the Catholics around town, and Mark is the manager for St. Mary’s Cemetery—the guy who hires me to run the backhoe.” Ray gave a rueful grimace. “Never thought my sideline as a gravedigger could make me so attractive.”

“Not a gravedigger—a
cemeterian
,” said Gina. “We gotta upgrade your title, Ray. Who knows, the tissue trade could change your life.”

Ray waggled a finger at her and broke into a half smile. “Yeah, well, the only cheeks I plan to fillet are the ones I find on walleyes.”

“Ray, that is so gross!” said Gina, slamming the papers in her hand on Lew’s desk. “That is a totally inappropriate remark.”

“Honestly, Ray,” said Lew. But she caught Osborne’s eye to share a look of relief: inappropriate for sure, but good to have Ray back to his old self.

“One question, Ray,” said Osborne. “You said you and this Japanese fellow bonded over bluegills. What the heck was that all about?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you, he hates those fish. To hear Ken talk, it’s a criminal situation in Japan.

“Years ago Mayor Daley of Chicago visited Tokyo and as a thank-you he sent Emperor Akihito some bluegills to put in the Ushigafuchi Moat at the Imperial Palace. The moat was famous for its seventeen native species and now they put in the bluegills, okay? Over time, those bluegills have eaten every one of the native fish. When Ken calls our beautiful bluegills ‘marauding foreign invaders,’ he’s not kidding.

“Yep,?l’ Ken was in the mood to chat. All it took was one bluegill to get that dude started.”

Gina unhooked her computer. “I think I’ve covered the bases for you, Lewellyn,” she said as she shoved her laptop into its case. “I have a call in to that
Kansas City Star
reporter who wrote the feature story on the Theurians. He has my number and the number at Ray’s place, so if I hear anything critical I’ll give you a call. But he could be taking the week off.”

“What’s that?” asked Ray.

Gina waved a hand. “Oh, I’ve got more to tell you that’ll make you just as happy you aren’t in business with that man. Chief, do you mind if I corral Ray to take me fishing in the morning?”

“Heck no,” said Lew. “Please, do that. You both deserve a break.”

“Are you sure, Chief?” asked Ray. “I’m still trying to locate Clyde’s family.”

“If I need you, I’ll call. Now get out of here—both of you!”

“What about you, Lewellyn?” said Osborne, pulling on his parka. “You need a break. Can I at least buy you a burger over at the Pub? Mallory is having dinner with friends, so I’m baching it…”

“I can’t, Doc, I have paperwork up the wazoo. I need a warrant to search Thunder Bay and more paperwork to persuade my colleagues up in Hurley to search the Cat House. I have to find Arne Steadman—this situation with Bud is driving me nuts.

“But if I can take a rain check,” she walked towards him as she spoke, “you are invited to my place for New Year’s Eve.”

“Just me?”

“Just you.” She reached up and he reached down.

So the wind didn’t seem too cold as he bounded out to his car, frisky as a sixteen-year-old. Plus he had plans for breakfast. Ray’s last words as he held the door for Gina were to invite his neighbor down for a classic ice-fishing breakfast: wild rice pancakes, local maple syrup, and sautéed walleye.

The
long-forecast snow started during the night. Six inches of the white stuff forced Osborne to put all his weight against his back door in order to open it far enough to let the dog out. And it was good snow—not too heavy, not too light—ideal for cross-country skiers and snowmobile trails. It was the kind of snow that smelled like money to the Loon Lake Chamber of Commerce.

A hollow howl of wind tossed the tops of the Norway pines lining the lane down to Ray’s, and a scrim of falling snow obscured the lights in the trailer windows. Osborne loved days like this.

He’d awakened with a plan: breakfast with Ray and Gina, then a quick trip to town for coffee with his pals at McDonald’s. On to Lew’s office to deliver her Christmas gift, then back to his own cozy living room. Once home, he would set the fly-tying vise on a card table in front of the fireplace and tackle the damn pink squirrel.

Lauren had called shortly after midnight, reaching Nick who was just falling asleep. She kept breaking down in tears as she whispered that even with her door closed, she could hear her father and stepmother screaming at each other. Nick did his best to calm her down, then called Ray.

“She’s one jumpy kid,” said Ray, standing at the stove in his long underwear. He was lifting and turning one slice of bacon after another, the gas as always on low. Ray was a firm believer in slow cooking. Too slow sometimes, but just right this morning.

“Can you blame her?” said Osborne, sipping his coffee from where he sat at Ray’s kitchen table. It might be blowing snow and twenty-three degrees outdoors, but inside the trailer was cozy. Glancing into Ray’s living room, he saw a suitcase open in one corner but no other evidence of Gina sleeping on the sofa. Not that it was any of his business.

“Nick wasn’t sure if I should call her back or not. I tried—but no answer. Nick said he would keep trying until he could reach her. If not, he’d call back. I didn’t get any more calls, so things must have settled down.”

“Knowing what I know now about her father, I worry about that girl,” said Osborne. He had filled Ray in with all the details from Maddie Wallace.

“Yep,” said Ray. “On the other hand, because so many friends of the family suspect Dave of having a hand in his wife’s death, don’t you think he would be doubly careful to see that nothing happens to his daughter?”

“You’re right about that. He’d be in the hoosegow so fast.”

Gina came walking down the hall in a pair of bright red sweatpants and a matching turtleneck, her head down as she rubbed at her hair with a towel.

“Where’s my coffee, guys?” She plopped into the chair beside Osborne and inhaled deeply. “Life doesn’t get much better than this, doncha know.”

“That’s my line,” said Ray.

“You better believe it,” said Gina.

The phone on the wall near the stove rang. Ray cradled it between his ear and his right shoulder as he lifted crispy strips of bacon from the pan and laid each carefully onto a paper towel.

“Uh-huh,” he said, turning off the gas under the front burner. “Yep, where is she? When she calls back, you tell her to stay right where she is until she sees Doc’s car in the driveway … no, we can’t take the time, Nick. I’ll call you when we get there.”

Wiping his hands with a towel, Ray turned around to face Osborne and Gina. “Lauren just called Nick on her cell phone—she thinks her father is dead. She heard noises in the driveway, looked out her bedroom window, and saw her stepmother and the boyfriend carrying his body. Just now.”

“Where is she?” asked Osborne, jumping to his feet.

“Holy shit,” said Gina, rushing into the living room and grabbing clothes from her suitcase.

“She’s locked herself in her bedroom. They don’t know she saw them.”

The phone rang again. Ray listened, said “Okay,” and hung up. “They just left in one of the big cars—but without the body.”

While Ray and Gina scrambled to pull clothes on, Osborne reached Lew at home. It wasn’t even six-thirty yet.

“I’ll meet you at the fire number in front of Theurian’s drive,” she said. “I have to call the sheriff’s office. Theurian’s property is outside my jurisdiction. He may want to go in with us. Call Nick back and give him the emergency number. Tell him to keep us updated if he hears more from Lauren. I’ll alert Maureen to patch him through to my radio or the cell phone.”

The two cars, Doc’s and Lew’s cruiser, fishtailed and skidded their way up Theurian’s drive and around to the back of the house. Ice was building under the snow, making it difficult to maintain traction. Since the last call from Lauren indicated she was still alone in the house, Osborne pulled his car off to the right, alongside the garage. Lew’s cruiser hit ice as she stopped in front of the stairs leading up to the deck, her left front fender nearly taking out the railing.

The county sheriff had given Lew the okay to go in without him. He and his deputies were working a three- car, four-fatality pileup caused by a jackknifed semitrailer. The accident had closed Highway 17 south of Rhinelander, and traffic was backing up.

“You need me to uncase the shotguns?” asked Gina from the backseat.

“I don’t,” said Osborne. Driving in, he had noted no new tire tracks in the snow, so he felt confident only Lauren was inside. He hated carrying guns around people.

“What about you, Ray?”

“Yeah.” Ray reached for his gun as he got out of the front passenger seat.

“Back me up, Ray,” said Lew, dashing up the stairs, her SIG-Sauer drawn. Ray followed, twelve gauge ready. Osborne and Gina stayed by his car, crouched low behind the passenger door.

As Lew knocked, Ray shouted, “Lauren—it’s Ray, we’re here. Open up.” They waited. Lew knocked again. Again Ray shouted.

Still no answer. Osborne backed off towards the garage. He tried the knob on the door and pushed it open to peer inside.

“Lew,
both
Hummers are gone,” he called. The snow was so heavy he could barely see her standing on the deck.

At that moment, Lauren threw open the door. “Hurry,” she cried. “My dad’s downstairs but the door is locked. I’ve been trying and trying …” She burst into tears as Osborne and Gina ran up the stairs to the back foyer.

Ray was already pulling at the drawer where he knew Theurian kept the keys, but it was locked. “Lauren, what about the key to your bedroom?”

“On my dresser—”

“Go get it—we’ll meet you downstairs.”

Lauren ran down the hall towards her room, as the rest of them crossed through the main hall past the darkened living room and down the stairs, stopping at the door to the room where Mitten said they processed their berries and butchered their deer.

They waited for Lauren. She came rushing down the stairs, the key in her hand. Ray grabbed it.

“They had this big fight last night, see—”

“Who’s ‘they’?” asked Lew, keeping an eye on what Ray was doing. Sitting on the stairs, he held the key against his left knee. In his right hand was the file he kept in the pocket of his parka for filing down fishhooks. Twice he swiped at the key, then tried it in the door. No luck.

“My dad and Mitten. She started it. All of a sudden screaming at him to stay out of her business. I heard like a slap, then he said she was doing her best to ruin his operation—that anything she did reflected on him.

“They just kept at each other. It was so awful. That’s when I called Nick. I kept thinking, I should break into their room and tell my Dad what she’s been doing—but Nick kept saying that was a really bad idea.”

“Which it was; you would not have helped. You could have been hurt, too. So then what?”

Again Ray tried the key in the door.

“Then this morning …”

“Ray, what is it you’re doing with that key?” asked Gina in a low voice. “Why don’t you just blow a hole in the damn door.”

“Give him two more seconds,” said Lew. “He’ll get it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Ray’s first misdemeanor,” said Lew, raising her eyebrows slightly. “When he was in high school, he managed to find a key to the boy’s gym and turn it into a master key that unlocked every door in the school—perpetrated mischief for months before he got caught.”

“Any kid who takes shop knows the secret,” said Ray, as he gave another careful swipe with the file. “If there’s a master key to a building, all you need is one of the other keys and a file and you’ll find your way in.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he said. This time the door opened. Lew was the first to enter, though slowly. Dim light through the sliding glass doors gleamed off the two steel tables in the center of the room. The room was empty. Even the counters were bare.

“Footprints,” said Lew, pointing at puddles of grit and water on the ceramic tiles. “Someone’s been here but—”

At the sound of tires crunching in the driveway, everyone turned to look towards the windows. “That’ll be the sheriff,” said Lew.

“I’ll go meet him, show him where we are,” said Gina, running up the stairs. She was back in less than a minute with an odd expression on her face. Before she could say anything, Dave Theurian walked into the room, amazement on his face.

“Daddy! But I thought—” Lauren burst into tears and flung herself at her father.

“Hey, hey, Lauren, take it easy.” Theurian looked over the head of his sobbing daughter. “What are you people doing here?”

“Chief Ferris, Loon Lake Police. We met the other night,” said Lew, stepping forward. “What are
you
doing here? Your daughter reported you missing.”

“Missing
? For heaven’s sake, Lauren, I had business appointments in Madison starting at noon but the roads are so bad, I turned back at Stevens Point. Lauren …” Theurian grasped his daughter by the shoulders, pushing her away until he could see her face. “I know I told you I would be gone overnight.”

“Yes, Dad, you did but—” Lauren threw her hands up. “Oh, Daddy, I was so scared …” Theurian pulled her close as she shuddered, sobbing, into his shoulder.