Dead Hot Mama (25 page)

Mallory
and Gina decided to drive down to Chicago in tandem—driving separate cars but stopping to have lunch together. They were leaving early Sunday. Nick and Lauren had late afternoon flights returning to school later that same day.

So Ray scheduled his memorial service for Clyde on Saturday: ten-thirty at his place with brunch to follow. Due to space limitations, the number of guests had to be limited to Clyde’s friend and six of that friend’s friends, not including Ruff and Ready.

“Time to leave,” said Osborne from the kitchen. Mallory was still in the bedroom, and it was already ten-fifteen. “Mallory?” No answer. He checked his watch, then knocked on the bedroom door. “Ready, hon?” A sound familiar to the father of daughters reached his ear. He opened the door.

She sat in the chair at the vanity that had belonged to his mother. Elbows propped on the vanity, face in her hands, she was dripping tears onto the doily covering the cherry tabletop.

Osborne sat down on the bed. He listened for a brief moment, then said, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

For the last two days, he had been aware that something was bothering her. At first, he wondered if it had to do with Ray. But he discounted that when he saw Mallory and Gina getting along like the best of friends during Friday night fish fry at the pub. How that happened, he had no idea. Ray had an uncanny ability to keep all the women who wanted him happy—with him and with each other. Not even Lew could figure that one out.

He remembered that Mallory had mentioned meeting an attractive young surgeon in her AA group. Was he the source of her distress?

“Whatever the problem is—you’ve not been drinking, Mallory. I hope you’re giving yourself credit for that.”

He waited. She pulled two Kleenex from a box and held them tight against her eyes. “It’s all my fault…”

Osborne heard a light knock at the kitchen door just as she spoke. That would be Lew.

“What’s all your fault?” He could hear the kitchen door open and close followed by footsteps.

“Clyde,” she sniffed. “He’s dead because I told my stupid story that night.” She pressed the Kleenex tighter as more tears squeezed through. Lew poked her head around the door and Osborne motioned for her to stay back. “I feel so bad, Dad, I feel … I feel haunted. If that woman hadn’t heard
from me
that he saw her,
from me
that he knew her face. Oh God, it’s all my fault.”

“No, no, sweetheart … come here now,” he pulled his daughter over to sit beside him, his arm around her shoulder. “You’re not being fair to yourself. For one thing—if you hadn’t told that story, I might have. It’s a good story.

A funny story. Not your fault at all. Clyde … poor Clyde was doomed the moment he showed up to help those people. Story or no story—once they knew he could identify them—”

“Excuse me,” said Lew from the doorway. “I couldn’t help overhearing. Mallory, telling that story may have had nothing to do with Clyde’s death. When Bud lured the rider from Tomahawk back to that area upstream, Clyde took a shot at him—just like he did your dad.

“Now I’m not positive exactly when it happened, but I think they killed that old man because they knew he would find the money and the snowmobiles they were hiding not that far from his place.

“And, believe you me, they never expected anyone to find his body so soon. They thought they were doing away with an old recluse nobody knew. Which was a good guess up to a point. They never bargained on Ray.”

“Really, you think that’s the reason?” Mallory wiped at her face. “You don’t know how worthless I’ve been feeling. Just awful.”

“Worthless,” said Lew. “Get over that, will you please? Aren’t you finishing up your MBA this spring?” Mallory nodded. “With a major in marketing? That’s what your dad told me.” Mallory took a deep breath as she nodded again.

“The reason I’m asking is because I need a marketing plan if I’m going to run a successful campaign in the fall.”

“What!” said Mallory and Osborne simultaneously.

“Kopitzke told me this morning—he’s planning to retire. I want to run for sheriff. Then I don’t have to listen to bullshit from razzbonyas like Arne Steadman. Who, by the way,” said Lew turning to Osborne, “has already reinstalled his wife’s cousin.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, but—using the excuse that the creep has agreed to work for half his former salary—Pecore’s back in the office.”

She looked back at Mallory, “So I was thinking as Roger was driving me out here a few minutes ago that with help from you and Gina, I could put together a pretty good campaign. You advise me on marketing and Gina on how to work with media.”

“Get Erin to be your campaign manager—she’s great at that stuff,” said Mallory.

As the three of them walked through the sunlit snow down to Ray’s trailer, Lew and Mallory arguing about whether or not to launch the campaign in the summer, Osborne couldn’t help feeling like the luckiest guy on Loon Lake Road.

“I can’t believe you had Clyde cremated,” Gina was saying as they entered Ray’s trailer. “Isn’t that bad for business?”

“Clyde would rather be out and about than stuck in the dirt with a bunch of jabones he never liked,” said Ray, putting the finishing touches on his table. “Keep those coats on, folks,” he said to the new arrivals. “When the kids get here, we’ll be stepping outside for a few minutes.”

“Lauren is coming?” asked Mallory, surprised.

“Nick is worried about her,” said Ray. “Kid’s pretty darn fragile—he doesn’t want to leave her alone any more than necessary.”

“Before Lauren gets here, I have a question for the women in the group,” said Osborne. “I’ve been trying to figure Karin Hikennen out. She had a wealthy husband, she had cornered the market on booze, karaoke, and sex from Thunder Bay Bar north to the Upper Peninsula. What more could a woman want?”

“Hold on there, Doc. Things were not as rosy as they might have appeared,” said Lew. “I learned just yesterday that Eve Theurian’s father put all his money in trust for Lauren—so Dave Theurian got very little out of Eve’s estate. I am sure that came as a shock to Karin.”

“And I had one of my colleagues review the financials on his business,” said Gina. “Theurian Resources was not booming. Recent media coverage like our series put a freeze on the allograft tissue industry—at least for the time being. He was carrying a lot of debt on his building and equipment.”

“But Karin’s biggest problem was that she made a bad business deal with her sister,” said Lew. “She bought Patrice out for major dollars at a time when the Internet has put sex just a click away. Her club business was way down. Both Theurians were financially stressed. And I’m convinced that if Karin and Bud had made it to Canada,?l’ Bud would have found himself ‘flushed out’ pretty darn fast.”

The door banged open as Nick and Lauren arrived. As the women swooped towards the girl, arms extended, eyes glistening, Ray stuck out an arm to hold them back. “Later, folks. Right now, everyone outside.”

Standing on the ice with the sun high overhead, they gathered behind Ray, who was facing west into the wind. He held a small black box, which he handed to Nick. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth. Some men are honored with a bugle wailing “Taps,” some with Schubert’s “Ave Maria,” but Clyde would have been pleased with his coda: the haunting wail of the wild loon.

Dropping his hands, Ray reached for the box. “My friend loved to fish hard water, and he loved the shouting wind,” he said as he shook the contents of the box into the air. A swirling breeze caught the old man’s ashes, sweeping them up, up into the arms of the white pines.

“And now,” said Ray, turning around, “I know Clyde would appreciate a good wake. Let the party begin.”

Back in the trailer, music was blasting, “… if the trailer ain’t level, ain’t nothin’ right…”

“Who are we listening to, Ray?” asked Gina.

“My Christmas present from Nick.
Trailer Park Troubadours.
Great rockabilly.”

“Never heard of them. Are they on Amazon?”

“I order off their Web site,” said Nick. “Hey, did Lauren and I tell you? We’re helping Ray design his own Web site, and during spring break we’re gonna get him set up to sell his Hot Mama on eBay.”

“Yep, I’m making lures like crazy,” said Ray. “I’ll be ready.”

“Yeah, eBay,” said Lauren. “Ray’s gonna be a Power Seller, you wait and see.”

“How come I didn’t hear about this.” asked Gina with a pout. “I can help.”

“You’ve been in town working all week,” said Ray.

“Nick and I got him started yesterday,” said Lauren. “First, we signed him up for Internet service, then I gave him one of my dad’s computers …” She paused. The table was silent, forks poised over the first course of fruit salad.

“Excuse me.” Lauren pushed her chair back and headed down the hall to Ray’s bedroom. Concerned looks passed around the table.

“Kinda hits her at odd times,” said Nick. “Think she’ll be okay?”

Lew started to get up, but Osborne put a hand on her arm. “Let me try,” he said, laying his napkin by his plate.

“Good luck, Dad,” said Mallory.

“Lauren, I cannot begin to imagine how you feel …” He spoke softly from the doorway. Lauren had thrown herself across the bedspread, her face buried in one of Ray’s pillows.

“I hate my father. Why couldn’t my dad be normal? Like you.”

“Me? Me?” said Osborne with a chuckle. “I will spare you the grisly details, kiddo, but you are talking to a man who nearly killed himself with alcohol. Nearly drove my daughters away forever.”

Lauren pulled her head up from the pillow to stare at him. Osborne sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yep, after my wife died, I went a little crazy. Started drinking heavily —and behaving so badly—that I ended up in rehab over in Minnesota.”

He reached over to give Lauren’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You want to know what becoming an adult is all about? Forgiving your parents. Seeing the good, forgiving the bad. Some of us are just worse than others.”

“Not as bad as my dad.”

“Lauren, you can forgive a father … even a bad father … terrible things. Who knows—if he had lived, he might have changed. I did. I changed, and I continue to change. We all do, sweetheart. That’s the only thing certain in life: change.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Lauren, sitting up. “It’s just … it’s hard not to hate the fact that I am his daughter. I mean … how much of his awfulness is in me?” The look in her eyes was heartbreaking.

“Lauren, are you forgetting that you are your mother’s daughter
and
the grandchild of Harley Fruehauf? He was a brilliant man. Brilliant. Both those people loved you dearly, and their goodness is in you.”

“Grandpa was weird.”

“Right—so you have a family tradition to uphold. You have the potential to grow up brilliant … and weird. And as talented as your mom.” He could see her thinking that over. “C’mon, our eggs are almost ready. Can’t keep the cook waiting too long, doncha know.”

As Lauren walked back to her chair, Gina piped up, “Lauren, we’ve been discussing your new status as an orphan.”

“I’m not exactly an orphan,” said Lauren, sitting down. “Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, friends of my grandparents, are going to be my guardians for the next two years. Dr. Osborne, you know Ed and Maddie, don’t you?”

“Certainly do. Very nice people.”

“It’s just … well, I barely know them,” said Lauren, a forlorn look crossing her face.

“Ah ha!” said Gina. “Then hear this—while you were out of the room, Mallory, Chief Ferris, and I had quite an argument—we were forced into a compromise.
Forced,
for the record. So you’ll just have to deal with the fact we declare ourselves your three big sisters.”

“And when you’re not in school—our homes are your homes—with plenty of advice whenever you need it,” said Lew.

“On anything,” said Gina, waving her fork. “Just ask, and if we don’t know, I’ll do a Google search.”

“Before you agree to accept this new family of yours,” said Ray from the stove, where he was carefully breaking eggs into the frying pan, “do you see any redeeming value to knowing the three bad influences sitting across from you?”

Lauren looked shyly at each, then said, “They laugh a lot?”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Gina, raising her orange juice in a toast.

“Did you hear the one about eighty-two-year-old Walter who went to see his doctor for a regular checkup?” asked Ray, as he set a plate before each of them: two eggs fried to perfection and sautéed walleye cheeks—framed with strips of crisp Neuske’s bacon.

“Keep it clean,” warned Lew. Ray gave her a dim eye.

“A few days later, the doctor saw old Walter out walking with this gorgeous young lady on his arm. So when the doctor saw him for his next checkup, he said, ‘You’re really doing great, aren’t you?’ ‘Just following orders, Doc,’ said Walter. ‘You told me to get a hot mama and be cheerful.’ I didn’t say that, said the doctor. I said you’ve got a heart murmur. Be careful.’”

Lauren laughed. “Nick, we
have
to put that on his Web site.”

When everyone was served, Ray took his place at the head of the table. He picked up a glass pepper shaker, and, tapping it with his right index finger, he slowly, slowly peppered his eggs. Everyone watched, waiting for him to take the first bite.

Instead, he took a slice of toast, slipped an egg onto it, added a strip of bacon and covered it with another slice of toast. With a cheery grin, he looked around the table then said, “In memory of old Clyde … I’d like to remind everyone … never forget … to take the time to appreciate … every … sandwich. Amen.”

Walking back to Osborne’s place later, Lew crooked her good arm through his. “You haven’t forgotten our date this evening … New Year’s Eve. I promised.”

“You sure you’re not too tired? Shoulder hurt?”