Dead Tease (16 page)

“Look, folks,” said Lew. “Doc and Ray and I will walk your property and check your boathouse before we leave. I’ll also call the sheriff’s department and see if they had an officer patrolling the county roads tonight who might swing by and take a look every half hour between now and dawn. Think you can get some rest?”

Leigh and Jim nodded. “I will,” said Jim.

“I’ll do my best,” said Leigh. “Thank you, everyone.”

Outside minutes later, Ray pointed to footprints in the mulch around the hydrangea bush under the kitchen window. “Look awful similar to the ones we found in the mud on the dryer. I’ll run Bruce out when the sun’s up and we’ll get a cast.”

“Good,” said Lew.

They checked the exterior of the boathouse, turned on the interior light, and gave the rowboat and the speedboat a good look. Nothing.

“I’d call this a yacht not a speedboat,” said Ray leaning into the cabin of the speedboat. “You can sleep four in here. Wonder what this sucker cost? Fifty thousand buckaroos if it cost a dime. Wonder if he takes it out much?”

“Enough boat talk,” said Lew. “Not much else we can do right now.”

“I agree,” said Osborne. “If there was someone on the property, they are long gone now. Bedtime, Lewellyn.”

“Gosh, yes, Doc. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Not to keep any one a minute longer,” said Ray, “but I am hosting Bruce to dinner tomorrow. That halibut I got from my clients who were up in Alaska. Any takers among the jabones standing here?”

“You betcha,” said Lew and Osborne in concert.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A wash of apricot softened the evening sky. Straight out from Ray’s dock the setting sun left a trail of diamonds glittering as if lighting the way for a fairy princess. To judge from the expression on Ray’s face as he passed a plate of sautéed walleye cheeks to his female guests: that fairy princess might be Leigh.

Nor did she appear to mind the attention.

“Got one more person coming,” Ray had announced when Lew and Doc strolled down his sandy drive from Doc’s house.

“Bruce?” said Osborne. “You said you were inviting him.”

“Well, actually, Leigh called with a question on the webcam and I invited her, too.”

“Oh, and Jim?” Lew had grimaced and caught Osborne’s eye. An evening with friends was beginning to sound like work.

“No, Leigh said he has a business dinner tonight. After that he’s taking the group for a cruise on that boat of his. I could tell she was feeling left out so—”

Lew raised a hand, “Rescuing a damsel in distress.” She turned to Doc, “Haven’t we heard this one before?”

And so Ray’s halibut picnic had turned into a gathering of five: Bruce, Lew, Doc, Ray, and Leigh. It was a happy, relaxed group as everyone appeared to have decided to set the real world aside and relish the evening.

Standing with a plate of walleye cheeks in one hand and a bottle of Spotted Cow beer in the other, Leigh Richards was peppering Bruce with questions on his work at the crime lab. Nearby, listening as the two spoke, Ray hovered over his charcoal grill with its foil-wrapped slabs of halibut.

Every few minutes, Ray would interrupt with a question of his own. Seated by Ray’s fire pit in a pair of green plastic Adirondack chairs, Lew and Doc sat listening to the threesome’s easy banter.

Osborne was relieved to see Lew relax at last. She had said little about her conversation with Chet Tillman. If the evening continued to go this well, maybe he could get her to open up. He knew from his own experience sometimes just talking things over made them much less disturbing.

“You’ve been watching too much television
,
” said Bruce with a snort after one of Leigh’s more egregious assumptions of how DNA technology worked. “That’s not real life. That’s Hollywood’s idea of DNA analysis. Day-to-day lab work is much more mundane. Trust me, DNA analysis does not happen in thirty minutes.”

“Really?” asked Leigh. It was Osborne’s turn to catch Lew’s eye: they could see Leigh was tickled by the attention she was getting. She turned to them, “Chief Ferris, I didn’t see the news today—do we know who killed that young woman from the clinic?”

“Still working on it,” said Lew in a matter-of-fact tone designed to put an end to that discussion.

“Oh, sorry I brought it up,” said Leigh, “you’re off duty and I should know better.”

“That reminds me,” said Bruce beckoning to Lew with a wave. “Chief, something I should share with you. I’m hoping to hear from a buddy of mine working at the lab tonight.” He walked over, leaving Leigh to focus on Ray. “Do you mind? Just take a minute.”

“C’mon, what did I just say about work?” said Lew, getting to her feet with a chuckle and following him a short distance up the drive.

Bruce spoke quietly as he said, “I found an envelope on the floor of the stolen pickup and I hope you don’t mind that I sent it off for a detailed DNA analysis. It didn’t fit with everything else I found in the truck.

“I had fingerprints all over the vehicle that belong to the owner and plenty on the gear shift and steering wheel matching Alvin Marski. But the envelope was light blue and made from a heavier stock like you would find with expensive stationery. It was clean, too, so it hadn’t been there long.”

Lew studied Bruce’s face. “Are you thinking that’s the kind of envelope that a woman might use?”

“It reminded me of my mom’s stationery,” said Bruce. “And it appeared to have been sealed. If we’re lucky we may get DNA off the saliva.”

“I’m glad you sent it off. Certainly worth checking into,” said Lew. “Any news from the pathologist handling the autopsy on Jennifer Williams?”

“Nothing yet. I’m expecting a report first thing Monday. The knife has been sent down to the lab, and Ray and I took photos and a casting of the footprints at the McNeil house this morning.”

“When are you heading back to Wausau?”

“Tomorrow, but I’ll be back up Tuesday. Taking the day off to try out that fishing kayak of Ray’s.”

“Oh no, he’s roped you into that, too?” Lew laughed. At that moment her cell phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. “Excuse me, Bruce,” she said, “tell the group I’ll be right back as soon as I get rid of this call.”

“Don’t keep the halibut waiting,” said Bruce, shaking a warning finger.

“Chief Ferris here,” said Lew as he walked off.

“Chief Ferris, this is Kerry Schultz—from the clinic. Sorry to call you on a Sunday—”

“That’s okay, Kerry. What’s up?”

Lew listened to the woman’s story and when she had finished, said, “This is very helpful. I’m glad you called. Are you confident all this is true?”

Kerry’s answer prompted a nod from Lew. “Good. I appreciate your telling me this, Kerry. If it turns out to have a bearing on the case, are you prepared to testify?” Again she listened. “Thank you, Kerry. After I write up everything you’ve told me, I’d like to run it by you for accuracy. I’ll be in touch first thing in the morning.”

Lew walked down to the picnic table where Ray was in the midst of serving the halibut, French fries, and a plate of sliced homegrown tomatoes. Leigh heaped her plate high and giggled at some remark from Ray. It was a happy look that would be short-lived.

Lew glanced over to see Osborne watching her with concerned eyes. She gave a slight nod and voiced the word “Later.”

“Kerry Schultz, the nurse from the clinic who was Jennifer’s close friend, called while I was talking to Bruce,” said Lew in a low voice as she and Osborne stood on Ray’s dock watching the sun disappear behind the pines on the far shore.

From the house trailer up behind them came the sounds of Bruce’s hearty laughter mingled with Leigh’s bubbly chatter as the two helped Ray clean up the dinner dishes.

Osborne waited, aware that Lew’s face said it all: Kerry had delivered disturbing news.

“Jim McNeil has been having an affair with Cynthia Daniels,” said Lew. “For at least six months that Kerry is aware of. He tried breaking it off a month ago.”

“Hmm,” said Osborne. He recalled Cynthia’s anger in McNeil’s office. “Why am I not surprised?”

“He’d been sleeping with Jennifer Williams these last few weeks. Kerry said she felt awful telling me something her friend had told her in strictest confidence, but she can’t help thinking Cynthia’s behavior these last few weeks might be tied to Jennifer’s death. Called Cynthia a pathological liar.”

“A family tradition,” said Osborne. “What do you plan to do?”

“Nothing tonight,” said Lew. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.” She turned toward the sounds of hilarity coming out of Ray’s trailer. “I wonder how much Leigh knows about her husband.”

“She can’t be too stupid,” said Osborne.

“O-o-o-h, I don’t know about that, Doc. We can all be as stupid as we need to….”

And don’t I know that
, thought Osborne.

Half an hour later as they were sitting around the bonfire toasting marshmallows, Leigh’s cell phone rang. She spoke into it briefly then hung up. “Jim’s not taking the boat out after all. They’re all having one more nightcap at the club.”

“Looks like I’m going home to an empty house,” she said, sounding like a little girl.

“I’ll follow you,” said Bruce, “make sure you get in okay.”

“No, I’ll follow her,” said Ray. “Gives me a chance to check those webcams, make sure they’re working.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

As Leigh pulled her car into the garage, Ray noticed Jim’s vehicle was not there yet. Good, hardly a burden to keep her company for another thirty minutes or so. Ray pulled past the garage to park in the far corner so his pickup would not be in the way.

Getting out of the truck and looking past the house down toward the lake, he saw a light on in the boathouse.

“Leigh,” said Ray, stopping her as she started to open the front door. “Your husband may be back—I see lights on in the boathouse.”

“But his car isn’t here,” said Leigh. She finished opening the door, set her purse on a table in the foyer, and walked back out to stand next to Ray. Her shoulder brushed his and he didn’t move away.

“Hey, you’re right,” she said, starting down the lawn with Ray behind her. “But I tried him on his cell phone a few minutes ago and he didn’t answer. Maybe he turned it off by accident?”

As they got closer, Ray heard a grinding noise as if a motor was turning over and over and not catching. It didn’t sound right. “Someone’s having trouble with the inboard?” he asked as Leigh opened the door.

“Oh God,” she backed away both hands to her face. “Oh God.”

Ray pushed past her through the open door. To the far right against the wall, the cabin cruiser was tilting at an odd angle while the gears for the boatlift struggled to mesh. Caught in the gears was something black and red: something no longer human.

Ray dashed across the deck, past the dangling boat to the switch on the wall behind the boat. He flipped it down and all was quiet. With a soft plop, something fell into the water. The water turned crimson.

Osborne and Lew arrived within minutes, an ambulance with three EMTs close behind. As the EMTs raised the bloody mass entangled in shreds of dark cotton, they watched, hoping to identify the victim. No luck. The gears had been churning long enough to eradicate any human features. It was impossible at this point to tell if it was a man or woman.

“Only thing I’ve ever seen like this,” said one of the EMTs, “is that guy who fell in a wood chipper a few years back.” One by one the EMTs took turns stepping outside for a breath of fresh air or to vomit.

After calling Todd and Roger for help searching the area for any sign of who the victim might be—and calling in support from the sheriff’s office—it was a sheriff’s deputy who located the car.

It had been parked on an access road used by the power and light company to service a transmitter for the neighborhood. The road ran along the far side of the McNeil property and was hidden behind a grove of spruce trees. A woman’s purse and a set of keys lay on the front seat of the unlocked car. In the purse was a Wisconsin driver’s license issued to a thirty-seven-year-old female: Cynthia Daniels, M.D.

Meanwhile, calls to Jim McNeil’s cell phone continued to go unanswered. The bartender at the country club said that he had left an hour earlier with several other men. As it was, he didn’t arrive home until after the EMTs had left with the corpse.

“What the hell?” he asked, running down to the boathouse, which was now well lit both inside and out. Police and sheriff’s vehicles clogged his driveway, including a van from the television station.

“Please stand back, Jim,” said Lew as he came running at her. “We have an accident victim, maybe a crime scene. Please, you can’t go there—let everyone do their jobs—”

“Leigh? Is Leigh all right?”

“She’s up in the house. She’s been trying to reach you.”

“Sorry. I just realized my phone was turned off—been that way since a meeting late this afternoon. I am so sorry about that.”

Lew waved off the apology. “You and I need to talk,” she said, “in private. Let’s take some time up there on the patio.”

“Right now? Can it wait?”

“No.”

At that moment Lew’s cell phone rang. The switchboard operator for the sheriff’s department had official confirmation from the DOT that the car parked on the access road was licensed to Cynthia Daniels.

“Excuse me, Chief Ferris,” said a woman’s voice from behind Lew as she ended the phone call. “I want to hear what Jim has to say, too.”

Lew whirled around. She hadn’t heard anyone coming. “Leigh, no. I have questions for your husband—not you. We’ll talk later.”

“Please,” said Leigh. “This is a horrible accident that has happened on our property—property that belongs to me, too. I want to hear everything and I want to hear it now.”

Lew gave her a long, hard look. “My questions are not all about this accident.”

As if a heavy weight had been lifted, the woman’s shoulders straightened. “I know that,” said Leigh in a soft tone. “I’ve known for a long time that things are not right here. Please….”

“Jim?” Lew looked over at McNeil. “Do I have your permission to include your wife in this discussion?”