Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (8 page)

As she made her way back to the cabin, Starr
decided to have a biscuit with jam on it while she was waiting for
the movers. Although they weren't really regular movers, she
amended. They didn't have enough stuff or money for that. They were
really just people her mother knew who were moving up this way and
who had room in their truck. Which had been really lucky. Starr
just wished she didn't have to wait for them her first day on the
North Shore. On the other hand, she thought happily, she had a jar
of orange marmalade and a bunch of really good biscuits.

When she got back to the cabin, Starr went
straight to her room. She put her camera back into the cubbyhole
and took the jam out of her backpack. She knew if she put the jam
in the kitchen, her mother would want to know where she got it, so
she decided to keep it in one of the desk drawers. She didn't think
her mother would search for anything there, but she figured she'd
at least be safe for a few days until she could find another place
to hide it.

First, though, she got a plate out of the
kitchen and slathered jam all over one of the biscuits. Going out
onto the porch, she slowly munched on the biscuit and looked for
the moving van. She knew her mother had given them very detailed
instructions (her mother was big on detailed instructions), so
Starr had no doubt they'd find the place. She just wished she knew
what time they were coming.

She finished the biscuit and considered
having another one, but wasn't really hungry any more. She hid the
jam in the bottom drawer of the desk and put the backpack in the
closet. Now if the movers came, she was ready for them. If she was
really lucky, maybe she'd have time to explore before lunch.

Starr dragged a chair out onto the porch, but
after a few minutes, she found herself under attack by mosquitoes.
There wasn't any repellant in the bathroom, so she dragged the
chair back into the kitchen and sat on the living room couch for
awhile and stared out the window. She thought she might see some
deer or other animals, but nothing was moving out there right
now.

After what seemed like forever, Starr gave
up. If she couldn't explore Storm Point, she could at least explore
the area around the cabin. She'd be able to hear the truck when it
arrived and maybe she'd find another secret hiding place or a
treasure of some sort.

The idea of another discovery perked her up
and she put on a long sleeved shirt to foil the mosquitoes and went
outside. She wondered if she should lock the door. If she didn't,
her mother was likely to come by to check. But she felt silly
locking it when she was right there. Crossing her fingers, she
decided not to lock it, but put the keys in her pocket so she could
lock up quickly if she had to.

She looked around as she came out onto the
porch, but still didn't see the moving truck. Better yet, she
didn't see her mother charging down the path to check up on
her.

She waited a long moment, but nothing moved.
The air was still and it was almost eerie how quiet it was. Almost
as if the trees were holding their breath. She realized she was
holding her breath as she listened, and now let it out slowly,
gradually feeling safe. She looked up the path one more time and
then stepped off the porch and walked around the side of the
cabin.

As she came around the corner, she saw a
small window high up on the wall and figured it was the one in the
kitchen. Which meant that the next window was to her room. It
looked pretty big from the outside and Starr tried to look in. But
even standing on tiptoe, it was too far off the ground. She backed
up a little to see if she could see anything, but only the light in
the middle of the ceiling was visible from here.

She tried to look under the cabin, but the
walls went all the way down and it looked as if there were concrete
blocks underneath. She already knew there wasn't a basement, so
maybe there was some kind of crawl space. She grinned with sudden
inspiration. Maybe there were even more cubbyholes. She'd have to
look for them later.

Before going around to the back, she listened
carefully, but there was still no sound of the truck. So she
rounded the corner. Her mother's room took up the entire back side
of the cabin and the window was much larger than hers. It was also
much lower. Starr stood on her toes to see if she could see in. As
she leaned forward slightly, she put her hand on the window sill
and felt the screen move.

Surprised, Starr examined the screen and
realized it wasn't really attached to the window. It looked as if
it was just sitting on a couple of nails. She looked up at the top
and realized that the only thing holding the screen in place was
two more nails which had been pounded in at an angle.

She went back around the corner and looked at
her window to see if it was like that, too. But her screen was
screwed into the window frame. She reached up to see if it moved,
but it didn't. That's odd, she thought as she returned to the other
window. Reaching up, she was able to slide the screen out of the
way. If she wanted to, she could easily climb in.

Starr's eyes lit up. This was very handy. If
she lost her key and got locked out, now she'd be able to get back
in. She carefully pulled the screen back into place and stepped
back. Even though she knew where to look, the nails were so well
placed that she couldn't tell that the screen wasn't attached.

Starr knew she was going to have to tell her
mother about it, but for now it was fun just know she had made
another discovery. After that, though, the cabin didn't reveal any
other secrets. As she came around to the front of the cabin, she
heard a door slam and then another one and went to investigate.

It was the two guys who had picked up their
stuff. They were looking around trying to figure out which cabin to
go to. There weren't any numbers on the door and the only way to
tell that this was her cabin was the blue dreamcatcher on the
porch. Starr waved at them and pretty soon their stuff was unloaded
and the moving van was driving away.

Finally, Starr thought. She could go
exploring. She checked her watch and realized it was time for
lunch. Maybe she'd eat first and then explore.

There was plenty of time now.

Fae hauled the boxes out of her car one by
one and put them on the big table in her workroom. It had been
empty since her accident and she hadn't been inside it in months.
When she had walked into the room this morning, the empty shelves
and work table had looked sadly neglected. Even though it had taken
awhile to haul everything in and get it set up, now, as she
surveyed the stack of files and paper, she realized how good it
felt to finally get back to work.

She had set aside the file marked "Unofficial
Notes" when she first started. Now, she made herself comfortable on
the cushioned chair and began reading the file. When she was done,
she had the basic gist of the case and an idea where to start.

Returning to the work table, she sorted the
files by alias and then by date. Then she created a chart with a
column for each alias and entered the information about each known
scam with the victim names and dates. Although she knew not every
victim reported being scammed because of embarrassment or for other
reasons, there was still an impressively long list that gave her a
clear idea of the kind of person the con man was.

"You've been a very busy boy," Fae muttered
as she finished the list.

When that was done, she created a big
calendar on butcher paper which she pinned to the walls. Using the
chart, she colored in the date blocks to match, using a different
color for each alias. When she was done, she had a visual
representation of what the guy was doing and when, as well as which
alias he had used.

She tacked a blown up sketch onto the wall
and then added an old booking photo next to it. He had apparently
done time as David Smith, but it was a long time ago and she
doubted that was his real name. However, she was going to have to
call this guy
something
. Since no one seemed to have any
idea what his real name was and he had done time as David, Fae
decided to call him Devious Dave for now.

As she stood back to get an overview of her
work, she groaned as her back reminded her that she had overdone it
and a pain pill was hours overdue. She closed the door to her
workroom behind her to keep the cats out and made her way to the
living room to get her prescription. She wasn't going to be much
use to Bailey if she didn't moderate her activities a little
better. She swallowed the pill and then went out onto her deck and
lowered herself carefully into the lawn chair she had outfitted
with cushions, blankets and pillows. It was a gorgeous afternoon
and she might as well enjoy it while she waited for the pill to
take effect.

But as she waited, instead of turning off,
her brain sorted through the information she had just reviewed. One
of her strengths was her ability to see patterns, which had been
instrumental in bringing a number of criminals to justice. But so
far nothing had jumped out at her about this guy. The other thing
that bothered her was that there were so many holes in his reported
activities. It was possible those periods were when he was taking
time off or it could mean he was using another, unknown alias.

Fae shifted her legs slightly to find a more
comfortable position as she considered the name issue. Their
biggest handicap was that they weren't sure what the guy's real
name was and what other aliases he might be using. That information
could give her the handle she needed. Especially if he was
operating in this neck of the woods. She could always hope he would
continue using the Ricky Bakken alias, but the files she'd just
read made her fairly certain he mostly used that for some of his
scouting expeditions. Her best guess at this point was that when he
put his latest scam into action, he'd be using one of his other
names.

The other issue she was examining was the
kind of con he might be running up here. The North Shore was a
fairly unusual place to run a major con, so that might limit the
field a bit. She made a mental note to go through the notes on his
typical cons again to see if she could spot something there.

Fae sighed as she thought of all the footwork
she was going to have to do. Up here that mean a lot of driving and
long days. It was good to be working on something again, but she
wished more of it could be done on the phone. Before she could
start feeling really sorry for herself, though, Nutmeg jumped up
onto her lap, turned around a couple of times, then settled in for
a nice afternoon catnap. Fae grinned and stroked the calico cat.
The activity was not only soothing, but helped her get out of her
head for a little while. She looked around for Casanova, but didn't
see the chunky marmalade cat. Probably crouching over a gopher hole
waiting for entertainment and a snack. Knowing him and his sixth
sense, though, he'd probably be along shortly to remind her what
was really important - a full food dish and some lap time.

Diana Marshall's mansion on Summit Avenue in
St. Paul was the epitome of everything Fowler had ever wanted. The
huge rooms with high ceilings. The ornate details and expensive
furnishings. The wide, graceful staircase straight out of Gone with
the Wind. Everything spoke of elegance and wealth. It had been
built over a century earlier and contained all the things that the
nineteenth century robber barons considered essential. Summit
Avenue was where James J. Hill and F. Scott Fitzgerald had once
lived. The governor's mansion was there and scores of millionaires
still made their homes there. It was anchored at the St. Paul end
by the cathedral and on the other by St. Thomas University. And,
although ordinary people lived just a few blocks away, there was
nothing ordinary about Summit Avenue.

These were not just huge homes. They were
truly mansions with all that that implied, with several stories,
numerous rooms, a ballroom, greenhouses and carriage houses. They
didn't have yards, they had grounds. If you could afford to live on
Summit Avenue, you had arrived. Or at least as much as you could
arrive while living in Minnesota.

Just a drive down the street was a voyage
into the opulent past. In the summer, huge old oaks created a
canopy of green across the wide street. In the winter, icicles
hanging from the carved Victorian gingerbread turned the street
into a winter wonderland.

When David Fowler met Diana at a charity
event a year earlier, he had known immediately that she was ripe
for plucking. He was gifted that way, but as he had other projects
going at the time, he had done little to cultivate the relationship
except for a few notes to keep his memory fresh in her mind. Then
he found out about her home on Summit Avenue and immediately
rearranged his schedule and stepped up his campaign. As he did his
research, everything else paled in comparison. He knew that this
was the big one - his chance to score on an entirely new level.

He carefully laid the groundwork, got himself
invited to another charity event she was attending, and managed to
snag a few moments of conversation to whet her interest and
curiosity. A few days later he invited her to the opera. Some
ungodly caterwauling for an unreasonable number of hours. But it
was new, it was at the Ordway and had been the perfect button to
push. It hadn't taken long before she was head over heels.

The wedding this afternoon had been small and
tasteful - perfect given the quick courtship. It didn't hurt that
neither were in their thirties any more and there was no desire for
the big overdone production that young first-timers generally
hankered for. He had suggested an early afternoon wedding with a
nice late lunch reception.