Dead Renegade (19 page)

“Do I assume the deer stand is further back along that snowmobile trail that runs over the railroad trestle where the bucket was hanging?” asked Lew.

“Yep. ‘Bout a mile in. That’s paper mill land. They let anyone who wants hunt there. Ron’s had that deer stand for years. So he put Bobby’s head in a pail? Weird, huh? You know,” said Kenny, comfortable now, “Ron was right about one thing. If he could’ve got Bobby buried, who was going to worry about the guy? I mean, other than their mother, and she might forget he was even home. Who would care?”

“Kenny, does the name Abe Conjurski mean anything to you?”

“Sure. His wife was a friend of my mom’s. They ran the Bobcat Inn, right? My folks and I ate there lots. Why?”

“Bobby worked there for awhile,” said Lew. “Did he ever mention that?”

“My mom sure did, and I kinda remember the story. It was right after Mrs. Conjurski died and Abe was having a hard time. He was trying to run the restaurant but the help kept quitting because of his drinking. He got the county jail to let him hire some of the work release guys and Bobby was one of ‘em, so that’s how come he was washing dishes there. One night the gal who was waiting tables accused Bobby of stealing her tips. He had been clearing tables so she figured it had to be him.

“Mr. Conjurski kept an eye out and he saw Bobby slip some tips into his pocket. Confronted him right away. But he was good about it. He told Bobby if he returned the money, he could keep his job. My folks thought that was a mistake.”

“Sounds like Abe to keep him on,” said Osborne. “He was a nice man.”

“I think it was because he had enough problems already. He couldn’t afford to lose a dishwasher. Then he got robbed—course it was Bobby who robbed him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Hell, Bobby bragged about it. Thing about Bobby—couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Kenny laughed a dry laugh. “Bragged about everything. Said he made sure Abe would never turn him in, too.”

Kenny looked up at the ceiling. “Now all that was a while ago and you can bet your ass I didn’t ask any questions. Put it this way: when Bobby talked I tried not to listen. Guy was dangerous. Just being around Bobby Schradtke could creep you out.”

“Kenny,” said Lew, setting her pen down and looking at the injured man, “this brings me back to why Ron would have severed his brother’s head. Why put it in a minnow bucket? Has Ron always been that nuts?”

Kenny’s good hand twisted the blanket. “Some things you don’t forget from when you were a kid, and maybe this means something. When Ron and I were in second grade and made our First Communion, Ron’s grandmother gave him a kitten. A real cute little kitty—all black with these tiny white paws. He loved that little guy. Named him ‘Rambo.’ One day we come home from school, stop by Ron’s house and there’s his kitten in the front yard … with his head chopped off Bobby done it.”

“Last question,” said Lew, “why did Ron shoot at
you?
You’re his best friend.”

“I dunno—except maybe he was losing me, too? I wanted out of there, man.”

CHAPTER
26

L
ew put down the phone, leaned back against her chair and gazed across her desk at Osborne, who had just walked in. “Not a bad start to the week, Doc. That was Bruce Peters. They found a toothpick stuck in the rug holding Abe Conjurski’s remains. Since we sent Bobby’s remains down to Wausau along with the chain saw to confirm that’s what was used on him, they have plenty to work with to see if they can match the DNA from the toothpick to Bobby.”

“Any news on how he might have killed poor Abe?”

“Still working on it. Summer holidays, they’re a little backed up down there. Could be a few weeks until we have all the details.”

“My other call was from the FBI agent who is dropping by Curt Calverson’s this morning. Have you heard how C.J. is doing? I’m worried about her. She’s about to get some bad news on that husband of hers. They froze his assets, they have a search warrant for both their houses, and they shut down his Illinois office over the weekend.”

“Guess that explains why Curt was so slow to open the door when you sent Ray out to check on him Saturday night—think he was expecting the FBI?”

“Might have been. He should have greeted Ray with open arms. Given the rampage Ron Schradtke was on, he’s lucky to be alive. Instead, it’s poor C.J. who got the worst of it.”

“I have a status report on C.J. Ray stopped by my place late last night after he had been in to see her. She regained consciousness yesterday morning and the swelling is going down. Her doctors are optimistic she can be released before the end of the week. Ray’s over there with her right now.”

“I know we have a fishing date with a certain young lady at ten this morning, Doc,” said Lew with a wink, “but let’s drop by the hospital first and see when would be a good time to talk to C.J. I don’t want her blindsided.”

“Guess who’s sitting up,” said Ray, meeting Lew and Osborne outside C.J.’s room. “I just dropped by to let C.J. know Nick’s team made the semi-finals in the tournament. If she’ll get better fast, I promised I’d take her to watch the finals on the Fourth.”

“She’s doing that well?” Osborne was surprised.

“CJ.,” said Ray, opening the door, “are you up to more company? Chief Ferris and Doc are here.”

“Sure, if they don’t mind a girl with two black eyes.” Her voice sounded strong.

“Really,” said Lew, stepping into the hospital room behind Ray. “We don’t want to tire you out.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said C.J. If it hadn’t been for the brave, sweet smile she managed as they walked in, Osborne would have thought he was meeting a human raccoon: two black eyes and a band of dark purple bruising across the forehead masked C.J.’s face. “And I already heard about Curt, so you aren’t going to upset me,” she said.

“How did that happen?” asked Lew, “I told the agents that you were in serious condition and not to approach you—”

“They didn’t. My mom called from Chicago because she heard it on the news. I have to say I’m not surprised—I knew he was up to something. Always very secretive, and he would never tell me anything about his business.”

She looked over at Osborne and Lew, who had seated themselves in the chairs at the end of her bed. “I know you must wonder why I married Curt—the age difference and …”

“Only if you feel like talking about it,” said Lew, “we all have our reasons for doing things others don’t understand.”

“I don’t mind, really. He was a client of mine at the fitness center I ran in Evanston. He was single, well-to-do and—I know you won’t believe this—he courted me. He was so attentive and gave me lots of gifts. But right after we married—boom! It was over. He stopped talking to me, looked annoyed when I spoke up. I felt like I was his secretary or driver or … or … “

“So maybe what’s happening isn’t all bad,” said Osborne.

“Not at all,” said C.J. “A relief—gives me a good reason to move on.”

“The bad news is that they’re arresting your husband on a variety of charges including bank fraud and bribery of state officials. I’m afraid they are freezing all his assets. You won’t have access to any bank accounts, the homes.”

C.J. smiled. “I’m going to be okay, Chief Ferris. That was all dirty money anyway. Who wants it?”

“But what will you do?”

“My folks will tide me over for a few months. I’ll open another fitness center. I’m a big girl.”

“You can’t do that until you’ve finished your casting lessons,” said Osborne.

“Oh, hey, Nick and I have plans for you,” said Ray. “Do you need a place to stay? I’ve got an extra bedroom. Might have a job for you, too. I got that audition for
Ice Men
next week? Nick’s going to help me with equipment but I sure could use a woman’s eye to help me look good—”

“Ray,” laughed C.J., “let me recover and then we’ll talk. Okay?” She looked around the room at the three people gathered there. “With friends like you,” she said, her eyes on Ray, “I’m not worried about things. Right now, I just want to be beautiful again.”

“But you are beautiful,” said Ray, kissing her on the forehead.

“Doc,” Lew thrust a thumb towards the door, “time to go. We’ve got a date, remember?”

CHAPTER
27

“S
o, Mason,” said Lew as she watched Mason thread a night crawler onto her hook. “Your grandfather and I wanted you to see all the new fencing that was put up to keep people off the island.”

“Yeah,” said Mason as she cast her line into the shallow waters of the Kiddie Fishpond.

“We found out who that boy was who scared you. Right after you told your grandfather about him, Officer Roger was able to catch him scaring some other children. I talked to his parents and I don’t think he’ll be bothering anyone here again.”

“Yeah,” said Mason. She nodded but kept her eyes on her bobber.

“Sweetie, Chief Ferris and I want you to feel safe here,” said Osborne, putting his hand on Mason’s shoulder.

She looked up at him, “I do, Grandpa.”

“But, honey,” said Lew, placing a hand on her other shoulder, “we want to keep everyone safe and the only way we can do that is for you to tell us if you see something you think isn’t right. Don’t hesitate. And if you are worried someone might hurt you for doing that—just call 911 or the police—and tell them what you see. You don’t even have to tell them your name. So promise me you will be a brave girl and do that next time?

“Yeah,” said Mason. This time she met Lew’s eyes with a shy smile. “I promise. Oh! Oh! Oh! I have a bite!”

“Thank you, Lewellyn,” said Osborne after they dropped Mason off at her house—with a string of four nice crappies, “you gave her a way to protect herself. I didn’t know a person can call the police like that—report something happening and not give your name.”

“Happens all the time, Doc. Just last week we had a call from a worried mother. An older kid on the block was frightening her children with a deer rifle. Other parents in the neighborhood refused to report it out of fear of the family who owned the gun. The father has been arrested for domestic abuse. All we needed was the call. She didn’t have to identify herself and we were able to get a dangerous situation under control.

“Lewellyn,” said Osborne, whispering in Lew’s ear as she lay beside him later that night, “Thursday is the Fourth of July—think you can take the day off?” Her face was luminous in the moonlight. She smiled.

“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

“How ‘bout those bluegills that are still waiting for us?”

“I’d rather not go up that same creek for a while. Crime scenes are like ex-husbands—I prefer to avoid them.”

“Sorry. Forget the bluegills, let’s take some streamers and go after muskies. I know,” Osborne’s voice rose with excitement, “I’ll show you my secret muskie hole up on the Pelican River. Not even Ray knows it.

“Oh, and you know what else? I was looking in my fly boxes the other day and I have this Yellow Striped Marabou Pike Deceiver that Erin’s kids gave me for Father’s Day. That might be perfect in this weather for muskies. Size four, six inches long—”

“Doc? Doc.”

“What?”

“Do you always talk fishing when you have a woman in your bed with no clothes on?”