Dead Insider (13 page)

Checking with the switchboard for messages as Osborne drove through the dark, Lew learned that Ray had found nothing to indicate anyone had been trespassing on the Ericsson property. Even the workmen had come and gone in predictable ways.

Osborne had a message from Mallory that she and Kenton had gone to a movie, but she had made a cold macaroni salad that she knew was one of Osborne’s favorites, and it was waiting for him in the fridge. “And, Dad, I left four ears of corn from the farmers’ market along with two fresh tomatoes on the kitchen counter.”

Bruce checked his messages and heard that the pathology report on Mike Kelly was waiting for him on his computer back at his room at the Loon Lake Inn. Anxious to see it, he made Osborne drop him off first.

After Bruce had gathered up his fishing gear and headed off, Osborne turned to Lew. “Dinner at my place?” She smiled a response. And the evening was swell.

By nine-fifteen the next morning, St. Mary’s Church was half full. By ten, the church was packed and people were shoulder to shoulder in the vestibule. Following the celebration of the Mass, Kaye walked up to the podium. She pulled the mike toward her and started to speak, but choked. She tried again, but couldn’t get a word out. Shaking her head, she turned to start back toward her seat. Ray, who had been sitting beside her in the pew, rushed up to take her by the arm and guide her.

Meanwhile, Father John stepped up to the mic and introduced a young woman, one of the college students who had been staffing the Loon Lake campaign office. The student spoke to Jane’s skills as a candidate and the student’s conviction that she would have won the race.

Next was an old friend and colleague of Jane’s who had flown in from Washington, D.C., that morning after hearing news of Jane’s death on television. She talked of how Jane’s law career had been outstanding and that she, too, knew that Jane would have made a fine senator.

Finally, there were a few words from Father John as he invited everyone in the church to the parish hall for an early lunch.

“No mention was made of the circumstances of her death,” Osborne heard one television reporter say as he was taped standing on the stairs outside the church. Osborne ducked his head and hurried by. Earlier that morning, Mallory had warned Osborne and Lew to expect some reporters hoping for updates on the investigation. That was enough for Lew. She had decided not to attend the service.

As he walked into the parish hall cafeteria, Osborne spotted Kaye sitting with Mallory, Ray, and Kenton. He joined them as they lined up to file past the ladies serving up plates of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and slices of blueberry pie. They walked back to their table and started to eat.

As people continued to file in and find seats at the long tables, Osborne saw Lauren Crowell enter the room, look around, and choose a seat to herself off in the farthest corner. She laid her purse on the table but made no move to get food. Osborne decided to keep an eye on her as she watched the room.
Be interesting to see who she might talk to
.

Within ten minutes the cafeteria was nearly full, though the chair opposite Osborne was empty until Bob Kuhl, who had been in Mallory’s high school class, sat down with a heaping plate of food.

“Hey, Mallory,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in years. What are you up to?”

“Got myself an MBA and I’m working in marketing down in Chicago,” said Mallory. “How about you?”

“I’m an accountant in my dad’s firm,” said Bob. “We handle the bookkeeping for the Ericsson estate and for Jane Ericsson’s campaign.”

“A lot of money invested in that campaign, I hear,” said Kenton, who was sitting beside Osborne.

“You would be surprised how much—over a million, and that’s not counting what Jane herself put in,” said Bob before tucking into the heap of potatoes in front of him. He ate with such relish that Osborne wondered when he had had his last meal. With one chicken wing remaining, Bob exhaled, wiped at his mouth, and said, “Dr. Osborne, I hear you’re working part-time for Chief Ferris these days? You helping with the Ericsson murder investigation?”

“Up to a point,” said Osborne, reluctant to say more. “I’m more helpful to Chief Ferris when a dental ID is needed, or when Pecore, our coroner, is not available. Right now he’s in Madison on business, so I was called in help out, but only on the basics. I’m no medical examiner—but how did you know?”

“Our firm does the payroll for the town, so I see your checks every once in a while.” Bob gnawed on the chicken wing, then pushed his chair back, reached for his plate, and stood up. “Say, Dr. Osborne, I’d like to have a minute with you if I could.”

“In private?” Osborne was taken aback.

“Well, how ’bout the hallway? I just don’t want to be shouting, y’know.”

“Sure. Kenton, Mallory, would you excuse me, please?” asked Osborne as he got up to follow Bob out of the cafeteria. They walked down the hall to a cloakroom and Bob closed the door behind them.

“Doc, it may be nothing, but I’m concerned over something that’s been happening with the campaign accounts, and I would appreciate it if you would mention it to Chief Ferris. Starting ten days ago, someone has been withdrawing large sums of money using Jane Ericsson’s access codes and password. We’re talking fifty to a hundred thousand at a shot, but no record of who, what, and why. My job is to keep on top of those records so the campaign isn’t hit with legal issues.

“What really worries me is that I spoke with Jane on the phone last Monday, and she had no idea this was happening and why. She planned to talk it over with her staff and get back to me, but she never did. But here’s the strangest thing: someone pulled a hundred thousand dollars out of the account just this morning,
using Jane Ericsson’s access code and password.”

Osborne stared at him. “Using Jane Ericsson’s personal information?”

“Right. I thought you might want to let Chief Ferris know. I’ll be in the office all afternoon if she wants to check with me.”

“Back up for a minute,” said Osborne. “Was this happening this way before? I’m surprised Jane would be taking money from the campaign.”

“That’s what caught my eye,” said Bob. “It’s unusual. Each campaign office has a person designated to handle expenses. They contact me, submit invoices, and I e-mail the funds into the accounts. Jane, of course, has had access from the beginning, but never used it until ten days ago. She did it via her cell phone, if that helps. It didn’t occur to me until just before the memorial service this morning—when I stopped by the office and saw that last transaction—that someone may have stolen her cell phone.”

“But that wouldn’t work unless they had her password, right?”

“It puzzles me, Doc. I wanted to share this without anyone hearing. God forbid the wrong person be accused.”

“Who would that be?”

“Well …” Bob hesitated. “For a couple years now, Jane was the co-signer on a credit card that Kaye Lund used. But that has always been small stuff like groceries, meds—nothing like this.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Osborne, “but the funds that worry you have all been withdrawn from the campaign account, not Jane’s personal account?”

“Right. But that may be because anything over ten thousand dollars must be approved by the executor of the Ericsson estate—and that’s one of the senior executives at the bank that manages the estate’s investments. You can’t get those funds as quickly as the campaign funds, because no one has set an official limit on campaign-related withdrawals.”

Kenton and Mallory were waiting in the hall when Osborne and Bob came out of the cloakroom. “What was that all about? asked Kenton.

“Oh, Bob has some personal concerns he wanted to discuss,” said Osborne. Kenton was getting on his nerves. He had to make an effort not to ask Mallory how soon she might drive the guy back to Chicago.

“Dr. Osborne,” said Bob as they walked toward the door, “I see Chuck Winters over in the corner. He was one of the largest donors to Jane’s campaign, and he flew up from Madison this morning. Do you mind if I introduce you? I think he would appreciate some feedback on the investigation—if you don’t mind.”

“I’m happy to say hello to the man,” said Osborne, “but I’m afraid I have nothing to say on the investigation. He’ll have to touch base with Chief Ferris on that.”

Before he could say more, Winters had walked over to put an arm over Bob’s shoulder. “Bob, you holding up okay? I know you worked closely with Jane.”

“Doing all right, Chuck, thanks for asking.” With a nod toward Osborne, Bob said, “Chuck, I’d like you to meet one of the forensic experts working on the case.”

Osborne extended his right hand to shake Winter’s as he said, “That’s a bit of an overstatement, I’m afraid. I’m retired from a dental practice, but I cover the odontology needed by the Wausau Crime Lab and the Loon Lake Police. Afraid I’m not well versed enough to give you any information on the investigation at the moment.”

“It is a devastating turn of events,” said Winters. “I had so much faith in what Jane could do for Wisconsin. I knew her father.”

“So did I,” said Osborne. “I understand you were planning to host a gathering of supporters the other evening?”

“Yes. We were having cocktails on the pontoon when I tried to reach her and see what was holding her up, but her phone just rang and rang.”

“Do you recall what time you made the first call?” asked Osborne, realizing this might give Bruce and Lew a better handle on just when Jane had become unreachable. “I know Lauren Crowell said she was trying her as of eight o’clock or so.”

“Lauren who?” asked Winters.

“Her campaign manager. I believe she was one of the organizers of your event. A tall, black-haired woman? Slender, attractive.” Osborne glanced around to see if Lauren might be in the vicinity.

“Um, no, we worked with the Madison-based staff. Not sure who you’re talking about.”

“Lauren Crowell,” Osborne repeated. “She told the investigating team that she was on your boat Friday night, waiting for Jane to show up.”

“We were only twelve people, Dr. Osborne. I knew everyone there. My wife and I invited everyone personally. I don’t believe I’ve even heard the name, but whoever she is—she was not in our home Friday night.” Winters handed Osborne a business card and said, “Please call if I can help in any way. My wife and I are beside ourselves—still can’t believe it.”

Osborne hurried toward the parking lot, anxious to get over to Lew’s office. “Doc, wait,” said Kenton as he ran toward Osborne with Mallory close behind. He stopped suddenly at one of the cars just pulling out of the lot: a black Jeep.

Kenton stepped out in front of the Jeep, forcing Lauren to a stop. She opened her window to demand, “What—”

“Just a quick word is all,” Osborne heard Kenton say in a friendly tone. “Tell me the name of your company again? I was trying to look you up on LinkedIn, but I must have misspelled the name. I want to stay in touch in case our firm can submit some proposals—”

“Listen, you, stay out of my face. Don’t you dare stalk me online—”

“What? I’m not
stalking
you,” said Kenton, his face red. “I’m just—”

“You back off,” said Lauren in a voice so loud that people walking toward their cars stopped to watch. “Keep this up, and I’ll see that you never do business again.”

Kenton stepped back from the car. “Is that a threat?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

Lauren thrust her right fist at him, the middle finger extended, before gunning her engine so hard the Jeep leaped ahead, almost hitting an elderly couple crossing to their car.

“That woman is unbelievable,” said Kenton as the Jeep drove off.

“She has to be under a lot of stress,” said Mallory.

“Stress, hell. She’s nuts. Certifiably nuts.”

“Kenton, I don’t understand why you are so obsessed with that woman,” said Mallory as they neared their cars. She had parked next to Osborne. “She obviously wants nothing to do with you.”

“It does not make sense,” said Kenton. “From the day I met her during the first and only meeting I had with her—nothing has made sense. I know political strategists. I know campaign managers. Nothing about her fits the profile of people working in that field. The first rule in politics is to be
inclusive
, not the opposite.
And
she’s paranoid.”

“Excuse me, you two,” said Osborne, “but what is this ‘linked in’ that Kenton referred to?”

“It’s a social networking website for people in business,” said Mallory. “It’s international, Dad, millions of people use it.”

“It’s where you go to recruit people and new business opportunities,” said Kenton. “If Lauren Crowell is running a legitimate business as a political consultant or as the head of a small public relations firm, she would be listed.” He paused before saying, “I made a reasonable request and got a nutcase response. Maybe it’s my old reporter instinct kicking in, but there is one thing I really want to know: Just who the hell is Lauren Crowell?

“Mallory, let’s drive over to the police station. I want to see Chief Ferris about this.”

“Hold on, fella,” said Osborne. “Better let me call ahead.”

Speaking of nut cases
, thought Osborne,
the last person Lew might want to see is hothead Kenton
. But to Osborne’s surprise, when Lew heard what Kenton wanted, along with Bob Kuhl’s concerns, she didn’t hesitate.

“Doc, how soon can you get here?”

“Ray is on his way over,” said Lew when Osborne arrived with Kenton and Mallory in tow. “He was dropping Kaye Lund off at her home before stopping by his place to pick up that cell phone we hope might be working by now. Bruce should be here any minute, too.

“Hold on, Kenton,” she said as Kenton opened his mouth to speak. “I have an interesting piece of news to share with Doc before we get started here.”

She looked over at Osborne and said, “Doc, I called your daughter, Erin, this morning. Since she handles a lot of probate, I thought she might point me in the right direction. I wanted to reach the executor of Jane Ericsson’s estate to see who her heirs might be. Let me re-phrase that—to see who might profit from Jane’s death.

“Bruce had found a copy of her will when he went through her desk, but it’s ten years old. The good news is that it did mention which bank handles the investments. Erin was very helpful; she knew just the person who handles estates over there. Sharon Wright and I talked half an hour ago. Sharon said she helped Jane and her lawyer draw the will up ten years ago, which was not long after her mother died.”

Lew gave Kenton and Mallory a severe look. “Please remember, what I am about to say is confidential information. At some point the estate is required to allow public access to the will, but right now I want this information to stay in this room.” Mallory and Kenton nodded in agreement.

“Ten years ago, according to Sharon, Jane Ericsson signed a will leaving half her estate, which is substantial, to the Nature Environment Reserve. The other half is to go to Kaye Lund.”

“Whoa,” said Osborne.

“But,” Lew raised one hand, “Jane called the bank three weeks ago to set up a meeting with Sharon and her lawyer to rewrite the will. That meeting was to take place ten days ago. She didn’t show. When Sharon called her to reschedule, Jane said she wanted time to think it over.”

“So the will has not been changed?” asked Osborne.

“No, right now Kaye Lund stands to inherit nearly ten million dollars. That includes the Ericsson property, and that is valuable timber land.”

“That’s a good reason to knock someone off,” said Kenton with a snort. “I’m sure I would give it some thought.”

“Something tells me you would,” said Lew, without a smile. “The question I have is whether or not Kaye has been aware of the contents of the will. That, everyone, is the problem. Come in,” she said at the sound of knocking on the door.

Ray poked his head in. He was still in his church clothes—carefully pressed khaki pants, a crisp white shirt, and a blue string tie secured at the collar with a brass walleye—and wearing his fish hat with the trout anchored firmly in place. An eager grin stretched across his face as Bruce, who was right behind him, gave Ray’s shoulder a shove that bounced Ray into the room.

“Not sure this is the best time for me to welcome a razzbonya with a fish on his head,” said Lew. “But come in and sit down, both of you.”

“Hat looks terrific,” said Mallory with an approving smile as Ray took the chair beside her. “Dad said Kaye fixed it?”

“Yep. Terrific job,” said Ray, taking his hat off and placing it with care on the conference table. “But … that’s not the best news, people … this … is.”

Everyone in the room watched as he pulled Mike Kelly’s cell phone from his shirt pocket, stood up, and walked over to set it down in front of Lew. “I thought you might want Bruce in on this, in case he needs more phone repair in the future. I am … available. As is my … box of rice.” Ray sat back down in the chair, thrust his legs out in front, crossed them at the ankles, folded his arms over his chest, and leaned back.

“I can’t stand it when you look so satisfied,” said Lew. “Have you tried the phone? Is it working?”

“Yep, yep, and yep. But,” said Ray, “what I have not done … is go through the voicemails on there.” He sat up straight, the goofiness gone.” I was worried that I might inadvertently delete something.”

“Smart move,” said Bruce. “Chief Ferris, can we record the voicemails as we listen, just in case they delete automatically after they play?”

“Excuse me, Chief Ferris, do you need us to leave?” asked Mallory. Kenton gave her an annoyed look.

“Yes,” said Lew, “please wait outside. I’ll call you in when we’re finished. Allowing unauthorized people in the vicinity when we’re reviewing new evidence could compromise the chain of custody. Likely not, but I don’t want to risk it. Lawyers are great at finding loopholes.”

Osborne heard Kenton curse under his breath as they left the room. Before he closed the door behind him, he said, “Don’t forget, Chief Ferris, I’m here to report something important, too.”

“You’re on my list, guy,” said Lew. “Please close the door.”

The four of them huddled around the conference table as Bruce took the phone, which turned on at the first touch, and got ready to press the voicemail icon. Lew had the recorder going. The first few voicemails were from a woman with a Madison phone number.

“This really is working,” said Bruce, his voice low as they listened. “That must be the girlfriend.”

Another female voice identified herself as the
New York Times
reporter who said she had received documents he had e-mailed. She also repeated her cell phone number, and said she would be waiting for his call after his meeting with Jane Ericsson.

The next caller identified herself as Jane Ericsson, and said, “Mr. Kelly, I am finally here at my home at the end of Rolf Ericsson Drive. I know it’s late, but my flight was delayed by the storm. I’m sorry about this. I realize it’s eleven o’clock. If you’re available, I’m happy to have you drive over, as I do look forward to our meeting. If you come, I suggest you have the money with you.”

That was the last voicemail on the phone. “Is that Jane Ericsson’s voice?” Lew asked the room.

“No,” said the one person in the room who would absolutely know: the man who had been her lover sixteen years earlier. “That is not Jane Ericsson,” said Ray.

“I’d swear that is Lauren Crowell,” said Osborne.

Lew checked the digital readout on her recorder and hit a rewind button. Silence. A puzzled look crossed her face. “Doc, this should be the interview we recorded with Lauren Crowell at the Ericsson house Sunday morning. Why don’t I have anything?”

“Oh, Lew. I’m sorry,” said Osborne, “we had so much going on, I forgot to mention that Lauren picked up your recorder to see what brand it was, and accidentally erased the interview.”

“Accidental? Baloney! She did it on purpose. Okay, I’ll try this.”

She hit more buttons to get a different date, and now the voices of Lauren Crowell, Osborne, and Lewellyn Ferris could be heard.

“She didn’t know I had this running during our session yesterday,” said Lew. “It’s always out of sight when I’m interrogating here in the office.”

“That’s the woman on Mike Kelly’s voicemail,” said Bruce. “The one who identifies herself as Jane Ericsson. Sounds the same to my ear, and we can authenticate in the lab.”

“Yes, it is,” said Lew. “Doc?”

“Without question,” said Osborne. “That is Lauren Crowell on Mike Kelly’s phone.”

“You know what we’re missing?” said Lew, looking over at Bruce and Ray. “Jane’s phone. But you guys have had no luck finding it, right?”

“Nope,” said Bruce. “I took that house and her car apart, too.”

“Nothing outdoors that I could find,” said Ray.

“On the other hand,” said Bruce, “at least this phone has the number we’ve been searching for. I couldn’t find that before—not even staffers in the campaign office had it.”

“Can you put a trace on that phone, just like we did with Mike Kelly’s?” asked Lew.

“Not yet, not without Jane Ericsson’s private access code,” said Bruce. “We lucked out with Mike Kelly’s because it was an iPhone, and his girlfriend was able to give us his Apple ID.”

“Lew, before you bring Kenton back in here,” said Osborne, “you need to know what I learned after the memorial service today.”

Quickly, he laid out the accountant’s concern with the unauthorized withdrawals from the campaign account, and Chuck Winter’s comment that Lauren Crowell was not in attendance at the event for donors that he’d hosted in Madison. “Remember, she said she was there,” said Osborne.

“I recall that clearly,” said Lew. She got up from the conference table and walked over to the door. “Kenton, Mallory, come on in. Kenton, your turn, and make it fast, please.”

“I think you should know that Lauren Crowell went off on me in a very, very strange way,” said Kenton. “Absolutely bizarre. And Dr. Osborne heard it all. So I’m telling you again that I think it is absolutely mandatory to run a criminal background check on that woman.” As if he thought he wasn’t being heard, Kenton’s voice had risen to a high pitch as he spoke.

“Excellent point, Kenton,” said Lew, raising a calming hand. “Dani ran the check through the NCIC this morning. Let’s have her tell us what she found.”

Lew picked up her phone and asked the switchboard to invite Dani to join them in her office.

“What’s the NCIC?” asked Mallory.

“It’s the National Crime Information Center,” said Bruce. “Only law enforcement people are allowed access to it.” Kenton sat silently, his right leg jiggling as they waited for Dani.

“I found an address for one family member, her mother, up in Presque Isle,” said Dani, “and hospital records that indicate Lauren has been in and out of psychiatric hospitals for years. She escaped from the last one a year ago and hasn’t been seen since.

“I also did a trace on the woman she said she stays with in Madison—Phyllis Cook. I got two names and called them both. Neither one has ever heard of Lauren Crowell.”

“So, Kenton,” said Lew, “this is still confidential, but you will be happy to hear that because of your experience, Dani’s results, and several new developments over the last few hours, that I have requested a warrant for the arrest of Lauren Crowell. I have no doubt that she is a person of interest in the murder of Jane Ericsson.”

“Wait,” said Bruce, “didn’t you tell me that Kaye Lund is the person named in the will as the heir to a chunk of Ericsson money? I understand from Ray here that she is an expert butcher of deer. Shouldn’t the Lund woman be interrogated, too?”

“Kaye may be able to butcher a dead animal,” said Ray, his voice somber, “but she isn’t strong enough to walk much further than from her car to her house. You said yourself that the early report indicates Jane Ericsson suffered a blunt trauma to her head. Kaye doesn’t have the strength—”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Bruce, interrupting. “Adrenaline works in strange ways. Think of the stories you hear of mothers lifting cars off their children after an accident—”

“We’ll argue this later,” said Lew. “Right now, I want Lauren Crowell in custody.”

“If it makes Bruce baby here happy,” said Ray, “I’ll keep an eye on Kaye Lund. I’ll take her some fish later—make sure she’s okay. I owe her for the work on my hat.”

Ray sounded so sad that Mallory reached over and took his hand. She didn’t let go. “Maybe I can help?” she asked.