Dead Rapunzel (14 page)

“Someone used a baseball bat, maybe a sledgehammer,” said Osborne. “One blow to knock him out. Then a few more to finish the job.”

“Maybe it was this,” said Ray, holding up a damaged ice auger, which lay on the snow by a toboggan holding gear.

“Poor kid.” Lew clapped her mitts together to keep warm. “Let's secure a wider area here. Check it out first thing in the morning. Might find something.”

“I doubt it,” said Todd. “Looked to me like he pulled his sled with his gear out along the snowmobile trail over there, and walked here to his usual fishing holes. Enough snow is packed down to make me think he fished here often.”

Ray had been walking in a circle around the four holes that had been cut in the ice. He bent down to pick something up. “Any of your boys smoke?” he asked the detective from the dive team. “No, and certainly not tonight,” said the man. Ray turned to Todd and Roger with a questioning look.

“No,” said both in unison.

Ray extended his deerskin mitt. Two cigarette butts lay in his palm. “Bruce, let's check these against the ones I gave you earlier—the ones I found near where the car had been parked by the Grizzly Bear Café.”

“Will do,” said Bruce.

“Lew, if you don't need me at the morgue, I'd like Bruce to drive me back to Kenzie and Greg Steidl's home,” said Osborne. “That conversation I overheard between Tim and Vern? I was watching out the kitchen window just as Vern tossed a cigarette into the snow. I think we should try to find that.”

“You'll need an excuse.”

“I'll say I stepped onto the porch to make a call on my cell phone and my car charger fell out of my jacket pocket.”

Greg and Kenzie were mildly surprised to have Osborne and Bruce at their door but happy to let them check the back porch and yard. “I've lost two chargers myself,” said Greg with a sympathetic smile.

The cigarette butt was right where Vern had tossed it. Osborne stood by while Bruce picked it up and slipped it into an evidence bag.

At six the next morning, Osborne walked into McDonald's to have his third cup of coffee. “Hey, youse guys,” he said with a cheery wave to his buddies. “Missed me?”

A round of good-humored putdowns answered him. Sitting down, he was quizzed about the Tomlinson case, but Osborne demurred, saying, “I know what you know from the paper, fellas. We know that Rudd Tomlinson was run over by a logging truck, and the driver insists he saw someone push her. But we have no idea who that might be.”

He didn't say anything about Chip Dietz. That would be Lew's call. He had to wait and see what she would decide to tell the local reporters. At this point, the kid's death had not been on the news. He did decide to share that he had met the Tomlinson family.

“I didn't realize that one of the daughters was married to Greg Steidl,” said Osborne. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“In spite of his old man?” asked Denny Zaremski, a retired insurance agent with whom Osborne had often fished muskie.

“What you mean by that?” asked Osborne, curious to see who shared his negative opinion of the man.

“I probably had three, maybe four, occasions when Vern alleged someone had stolen property off one of his construction sites. He wanted insurance to cover the loss. The second time it happened, I had the company hire a private detective—he found the stolen goods in one of Vern's garages.” Denny took a big sip of coffee.

“That's probably the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Vern. Too bad, too, 'cause he had a good thing going with old man Tomlinson years ago.”

“You mean Philip?” asked Osborne.

“Yeah. Now I know all this because I wrote the homeowner's and other insurance for Phil Tomlinson. At the time, which was about thirty years ago, he had hired Vern as the caretaker for the estate out there—plus, Phil owned quite a bit of land in the area. He paid Vern well and even sold him six lots out on that pond we call Silver Lake.

“That's how Vern got into the construction business—put up a couple spec homes, made a nice piece of change, and today he's doing okay in spite of himself. That kid of his keeps him on the up and up. In my humble opinion.”

“So, what are you implying?” Osborne was used to Denny telling half the story until he was wheedled into revealing the rest: He loved the attention.

“Well now, I shouldn't say anything,” said Denny. “When you sell insurance to people you try to assure them that some things will remain confidential. In Phil Tomlinson's case, he was pathological when it came to news concerning his family. He wanted nothing good or bad getting out.”

“Hell, one year we hunted together and he got a gorgeous twelve-point buck. Wouldn't even let me take a photo to put up on the wall at the hunting shack. That was a disappointment, I tell you—when was the last time
you
got a twelve-pointer?”

By now all five guys around the table were staring at Denny. Bud Vogel took the bait: “Denny . . . finish your damn story. I gotta pick up the old lady by seven. Get her over to Woodruff for a doctor's appointment. So stop beating around the bush, will you?”

Denny chuckled. “Okay, okay. Vern made the mistake of stealing a really nice Lund fishing boat with a brand-new Mercury outboard from Phil. Just took it one day when he knew Phil was gone, hid it, and tried to say some jabone had broken the lock on the boat lift and stolen it.

“That worked fine until a couple guys out fishing on Boom Lake in Rhinelander spotted Phil's kid, Tim, pulling a couple girls on water skis—with that boat. The only reason they recognized it was because one of the guys worked at the marina where Phil had had it serviced. He called Phil to let him know.

“Turns out Vern and the kid were in cahoots and the plan had been to sell the boat and split the difference. But the kid, wanting to impress the girls, had trailered it over to Rhinelander without Vern knowing. Kid wasn't even sixteen at the time. Didn't have a driver's license.

“When Phil found out, he fired Vern. But he never pressed charges. He did not want the attention. Probably thought any news articles would attract more thieves now that they knew how easy it had been for Vern to steal a good-sized boat. But Vern got punished big time anyway.

“He thought he had a deal going with Phil to buy another piece of property, a section of the Tomlinson land that was open field and would have been perfect for commercial development. But that sure wasn't going to happen now. Still, he's survived over the years.”

“And now the Tomlinson Museum is going to be built out there,” said Osborne. “Good thing Vern never got any of that land. It will be an ideal setting for the museum—and a real boon for our tourism here in Loon Lake.”

“Good,” said Denny. “Vern builds crap as it is. Pollutes the skyline, doncha know.”

The five men nodded in agreement. Satisfaction, good coffee, and great gossip all around.

An hour later, Osborne knocked on the door to Lew's office. “Hey, Doc, come in and help yourself to coffee,” she said. “Got Kenzie Steidl arriving any minute, so I'm glad you're here.”

“She's early. It's not even eight o'clock.”

“She called Marlaine, who's on dispatch, half an hour ago and asked if we could meet first thing this morning so she can go ice fishing with Ray and Bruce when they take Judith out.”

“Oh, that's unexpected, don't you think?”

“I don't know. She strikes me as a gregarious person—unlike her siblings. I told Marlaine to send her in the minute she gets here, so help yourself to a cup of coffee while I finish up my notes from yesterday.”

“Lew,” said Osborne as he poured a cup, “at McDonald's this morning Denny Zaremski, who handled the Tomlinson insurance on their properties, said Philip had had a serious falling-out with Vern Steidl years ago involving a stolen boat. He never pressed charges because Tim was in on it with Vern, too.”

“Really. I've already been thinking it might behoove having Dani check the files for me. Any idea what year that might have been?”

“Tim wasn't sixteen yet because he was caught driving without a license, if that helps.”

A knock on the door and Kenzie poked her head in. “Am I too early?” she asked, breathless from the cold.

“No, no, come right in,” said Lew, walking toward her. Kenzie slipped off her heavy sheepskin coat and settled down in the chair next to Osborne, who was sitting in front of Lew's desk.

“Coffee?” asked Osborne, ready to stand up and pour her a cup.

“Gosh, no. I already had a full pot,” she said with a gurgle that sounded like an attempt at a laugh. “I had to get up really, really early this morning.

“I usually sleep pretty late 'cause of my meds, y'know? So I went to bed early last night just so I could go fishing this morning, but I still needed a lot of coffee to clear my head. They say I'm bipolar, but some days I think I'm really just over-caffeinated.”

Again the nervous laugh. She cleared her throat.

“
Are
you bipolar?” asked Lew, her voice sympathetic. “Is that an official diagnosis?”

“Sort of, but there's all kinds of bipolar. At least that's what Dr. O'Hearne says. But . . . I say—
whatever
. If that works for her, fine.” She grinned but Lew did not return the smile.

Kenzie dropped the flip tone. “Okay, yes. I'm bipolar and I take medication for it and, contrary to my idiot father-in-law, I don't forget to take my meds. I don't.” She was so adamant that Osborne asked, “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“He likes to pick on me, especially in front of people. Always has, but most of the time I just ignore him.” Kenzie gave Osborne a sidelong glance. “He knows I know he's not anywhere near as smart as Greg. That makes him mad.

“Here, I brought something,” she said leaning down to reach into the large bag that she had been carrying over one shoulder. She pulled out an iPad, opened the case, and turned it on.

“Before you show us anything, I have questions for you,” said Lew, looking up from her notepad, reading glasses balanced on her nose. Watching Lew, Osborne couldn't help thinking as he often did that she looked her most attractive when she was serious.

“How frequently did you see your stepmother, Kenzie? And did she ever seem frightened or worried? Especially over the last two weeks?”

“Almost every day. I would stop by for coffee in the morning. See . . . ” Kenzie paused to study the tips of her boots before looking up at Lew, “Rudd and I got along.” Dropping her chin, she raised her eyebrows and said in a firm voice, “
In spite of Sloane
.

“Sloane hated that I liked her. But I did. She was always nice to me—bought me this coat for Christmas.” Kenzie pointed to her sheepskin coat. “Cost over a thousand dollars, you know. She was nice to me and wonderful to my dad—she was so good to him and I loved her for that.

“But, um, frightened? Not that I could see. But I'm not sure. She was so excited about the museum—

“Ohmygosh, I didn't tell you—she wanted me to run the gift shop! That would have been so much fun. She's even had me looking for one-of-a-kind things to buy for the store.”

“Like Tim's paintings?” asked Lew.

The eagerness vanished from Kenzie's face. “No. Absolutely not. She never said anything about wanting those stupid paintings of his.” She grimaced. “The only person who ever liked Tim's stuff was our mother. She was ridiculous about it. But, then, he was her favorite, you know.”

“About your mother. Were you home when she had her accident?”

Osborne, sitting beside her, saw Kenzie clench her fists. She held them tight, pressing down on her knees.

“I was there but I wasn't there. I was asleep. I didn't know a thing until the paramedics came.” The answers tumbled out as if rehearsed. Eyes down, Kenzie shook her head once, then again. When she looked up, her face had stiffened. The enthusiasm with which she had entered the room was gone. This was a different person—a sullen, calculating individual.

“If you were asleep, who found her? Who called 911?”

“The cleaning lady. When I heard the sirens is the first I knew something had happened.”

“And who was the cleaning lady? Does she live in Loon Lake or nearby?”

“Catherine Schultz. She's dead. Heart attack a couple years ago. She was an older lady. Can we talk about Rudd?” she begged.

“Sure,” said Lew. “When were you first aware that her cancer was back?”

Kenzie looked from Lew to Osborne. “I had no idea it was back. She didn't say a word about it to me. But now that I think back over the last month, maybe that's why she didn't seem as happy as she had been.

“That's why I brought my iPad. I want to show you what a sweet, beautiful person she was. I'm showing this to Judith later this morning. It's the best picture ever of Rudd and maybe we can use it for the museum. You know, for brochures and stuff.”

Lew got up from her chair and walked around to stand behind Kenzie as she scrolled down the computer screen. “What are we looking at?” As Kenzie's fingers danced on the keys of her tablet, the tension left her face.

A quick knock on the door and Dani opened it a crack. “Chief? Charlene Murphy is here. Mind if we use the computer in the main conference room?”

“Sure, but hold on a moment. I'd like to see Charlene.” Lew got up from her chair and walked over to the door as Dani and a young woman stepped into the room. Kenzie, who had turned around to see who was talking, jumped up saying, “Hey, Charlene. What are you doing here?”

“How do you two know each other?” asked Lew, surprised.

“Charlene is dating one of Greg's good friends,” said Kenzie. “We're on Facebook together. Seriously, girl, why are you at the police station? A little traffic issue?” she teased. “Seat belt violation or DUI?”