Murder in the Devil's Cauldron
by
Kate Ryan
Smashwords Edition
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PUBLISHED BY:
Kate Ryan on Smashwords
http://www.Smashwords.com/profile/view/KateRyanSuspense
Murder in the Devil's Cauldron
Copyright © 2010 by Kate Ryan
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance whatsoever to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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A few people I’d like to thank
The women of the Santa Rosa Connections who were there when it really counted. In particular, Jan Kucker, Star Dewar, Jessica Malmberg, Suzanne Cochran, and Kathy Nichols.
I'd also like to thank Sherrie Canaga for being a great friend and for being willing to read the first pre-publication version and giving me her input.
Mr. Graham - my 12th grade English teacher who was not only a great teacher, but was the only one not surprised when I told him I wanted to be a writer.
Stephen King - his books got me through one of the most difficult times of my life. Reading Misery over and over (in particular) taught me how to keep going and become Scheherazade to myself.
Susan Boyle - her amazing success and courage gave me the inspiration to keep going, in spite of roadblocks and difficulties.
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MURDER IN THE DEVIL'S CAULDRON
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Prologue
A month before his wedding, David Fowler drove to the North Shore of Lake Superior to find the perfect spot to dispose of his soon-to-be-wife. There had to be some place up there that would work. It was just a matter of finding exactly the right spot.
When Diana accepted his proposal two days ago, she had immediately announced that she wanted to spend their honeymoon at the famous Storm Point Lodge so they could hike and enjoy the great outdoors.
"I've always wanted to explore every one of the state parks," she had gushed. "Wouldn't it be fun to do that on our honeymoon? It'd be so romantic. Really give us time to talk and be together."
Fowler thought it sounded revolting.
As he drove, Fowler shuddered at the thought of all the hiking she wanted to do. What she didn't know (and Fowler had conveniently forgotten to mention), was that he hated hiking and loathed the great outdoors. As far as he was concerned, people who enjoyed climbing over big piles of rocks and getting eaten alive by giant mosquitoes were certifiable. Good god, why on earth would anyone go through all that, plus get sweaty and exhaust themselves into a puddle when they could sit by a nice clean pool or have a civilized drink in air-conditioned comfort? Not to mention the black flies, army worms and a whole host of charming creatures that bit, stung or otherwise proved that there truly was a hell.
Needless to say, he never passed those sentiments onto Diana. Not when it might mean she'd change her mind about getting married. And especially not with millions of dollars at stake.
What he was looking forward to was all the possibilities the location provided. Not only for getting rid of her. But also for getting his hands on her bank account quickly and easily. It was the opportunity he'd been looking for most of his life. Even better, it was her idea in the first place.
It took him three hours to get to Duluth and then another hour on the narrow highway that ran next to Lake Superior all the way up to the Canadian border. Not far from the Storm Point Lodge, he found a cheap motel at a wide spot in the road where he used one of his fake ID's.
Using an alias probably wasn't necessary. The motel had clearly once been one of those stay-every-year kind of places where everyone knew everyone else and everyone came the same time each year like a frickin' high school reunion. But that was clearly in the long-forgotten past. Now it was little more than a run-down hole catering to the just-passing-through crowd who only wanted a few hours of sleep at the lowest possible price. After all, who the hell would stay at a place with a name like the Bide-A-Wee Motel, he thought with more than a little disgust as he drove into the parking lot.
Fowler took one look at the guy who ran the place and knew he could have registered as Peter Pan for all the attention the guy gave him. He'd be willing to bet that the guy's wife had taken off years ago for livelier places and better weather. In fact, Fowler wouldn't be surprised to learn that the guy had stopped caring about who was staying here (or for how long) so far back that he likely couldn't ever remember caring.
Still, using his real name could easily create a major problem, so he got out one of his little used IDs. When Fowler handed him the registration slip and his ID, though, the guy looked at him and grunted.
"You aren't, by any chance, related to Ollie Bakken, are ya?" the guy asked.
Fowler was so surprised, he just stared at the clerk for a moment, then remembered he'd given the guy his ID for Ricky Bakken. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Just a guess," the guy said. "I'm a big hockey fan, ya know? We made it to the state tournament every year, but always got knocked out in the first round by Roseau, ya know? Saw Ollie play a couple of times, including that one-oh game against Johnson. Fact is, I saw him play his first season with the Stars when they were still here."
"Well, I'll be damned," Fowler said. "Never thought I'd run into a fan of Ollie's here after all these years." And that was the truth. The butt end of nowhere and he had to run into someone who'd actually heard of Ollie Bakken.
"You play, too?" the guy asked now.
"Naw," Fowler said. "Ollie got all the hockey genes in our family. Fact is, I can't skate worth a damn."
"Me neither. Only game I really wanted to play and couldn't skate my way across the rink. Let alone get to the puck with a stick." He pushed the room key across the counter. "Here you go. Just drive 'round back. Third one in."
"Thanks." Fowler took the key and returned to his car. As he opened the car door, he looked back at the motel office and saw the clerk just sitting there, looking into space. Fowler shook his head. Guy's mind was probably already on whatever trash talk show was blatting mindlessly away in the next room and hoping he wasn't going to miss any of the juicy details.
Better that, though, than thinking about any connection he might have to Ollie Bakken, Fowler thought. He hesitated, then drove around back where he could get away from the road noise. Not to mention staying invisible. Although the car was rented, it never hurt to be cautious. He knew people sometimes remembered the oddest things. He'd learned a long time ago that paying close attention to seemingly minor details would take him a long way.
The next day he set out early. The North Shore was littered with state parks, cliffs, trails and a plethora of places to hike. All of them provided accident opportunities, but he was looking for the one that would give him the best chance for success.
He started with the most popular parks. While the Enchantment River State Park was practically next door to the Storm Point Lodge, it wasn't that popular as it offered the least amount of challenge for serious hikers. He figured his best chance would be at one of the more popular places, so he started with Gooseberry in the south and worked his way north. Tomorrow, if he hadn't found what he was looking for, he'd start at Cascade in the north and worked his way south.
The locations he saw on the first day gave him several ideas on how to get rid of Diana. Most of them involved the huge cliffs rising up from the lake for miles, edges jagged and disjointed from eons of freeze and thaw. Had he been an art lover, he might have thought the cliffs were Braque paintings come to life. However, he was not an art lover. What he primarily saw was how simple it would be for Diana to fall off a cliff. How easy it would be to have an accident.
When he saw the cliffs at Tettegouche, he exulted. This place was fantastic. This place seemed to have been created for him.
Fowler laughed. He never would have guessed that he'd actually enjoy something about the North Shore. "Thank you, Diana," he said mockingly as he drove back to the motel. Guess she was good for something besides her bank account after all.
On the second day, he went back out even though every muscle in his body protested. He decided that if he didn't find what he was looking for today, he'd call it quits and go with the obvious. Having Diana fall off a cliff had its drawbacks, but he knew he could make it work if that was his only choice. However, as there were still a few unexplored locations, he figured he'd check them all out and then decide.
At first, he found pretty much more of the same. Lots of cliffs. Lots of places to fall or something equally prosaic. And then, late in the afternoon, he stopped at the Enchantment River State Park. At this point he wasn't really in the mood. His feet ached, his back was killing him and dreams of Chivas in a tumbler crowded out just about everything. But he'd seen an intriguing note in one of the brochures he'd picked up, so he made the sacrifice and pulled in.
And there he found exactly what he was looking for.
The Devil's Cauldron.
It was even better than he expected or could have come up with on his own. It was beyond perfect. Fowler stood at the edge for a long time and knew that this was going to be the most spectacular con he had ever run.
* * * * *
Part 1
Three weeks later
Chapter 1
It was just two weeks after Starr Nelson's twelfth birthday and she felt as if she was turning into a fried mushroom.
After five hours in an old Ford Escort Wagon with faded red paint, hard seats and no air-conditioning, all she really wanted was to get where they were going. The lack of air-conditioning might not have been so bad had it not been 96 degrees with 90 percent humidity most of the way. Not only were her legs stuck to the seat, but her mother snapped at her every time she tried to get unstuck.
"Can't you sit still for a few hours, for god's sake?" she'd demanded, her face tight.
The first time she said it, Starr had foolishly replied. "I was just trying to get comfortable."
"Then figure it out and stop squirming," her mother said. "I agreed you could come if you behaved yourself. Don't make me regret it."
Starr made a face, but not before she had turned towards the window and the miles and miles of pine trees that lined I-35. The next few times her mother snapped at her, Starr didn't say anything.
She wasn't trying to be a pain. It was just that she would start thinking about the way she would photograph a stand of trees they were passing or what exposure she would use to shoot the river they had just crossed. And then, despite all her intentions to not move a muscle, her body would try to unstick itself and she'd be in trouble again.
Another part of the problem was that her mother hated it if Starr talked when she was driving. If that hadn't been the case, Starr would've asked her all kinds of questions about where they were going, but so far that was one mistake she hadn't made. Of course, her mother hated it when Starr said anything, but Starr decided not to dwell on that. She knew how her mother felt about a lot of things and knew the advantages of not getting into it. Not to mention the disadvantages of bringing any of them up.
When she first found out where they were going, Starr figured out how far it was and how long it would take and then devised things to do. She thought she had come up with a pretty good plan. However, not only was it nearly too hot to breathe, the trip felt as if it was taking what seemed like forever. Starr had long since finished counting license plates and checking off all the places they passed on the map. Once they left Duluth behind, pretty much the only thing left to do was look at the scenery. She didn't mind the pine trees and glimpses of Lake Superior flashing past. But she was hot and sticky and ready to get on solid ground again.
Before they left Minneapolis she had read about the North Shore and figured it would be a lot better than where they'd been living, but she hadn't expected what greeted her when they finally arrived at Storm Point.
It wasn't so much the cool fresh air, or the smell of real pine trees, or the damp smell of the earth as if it had just rained. It wasn't even completely the fir trees towering overhead like silent feathery giants or the silence punctuated by occasional chirps and scuttlings in the brush. It was all those things, but what put it over the top was the glimpse through the trees of the glittering expanse of Lake Superior.
She kicked the car door open as they pulled up. It had a tendency to stick and needed an encouraging boost. "Can I go look?"
When her mother hesitated, Starr added quickly, "Just a quick look. I'll be right back."
Her mother sighed. Starr figured the only reason her mother agreed at that point was because she was still too hot and sticky to refuse. "No more than five minutes," she said. "We have a lot to do."
With that, Starr was gone. Finding the way through the woods to the lake was easy. Paths were everywhere and she charged down the first one that went in the right direction and soon was standing on the edge of what felt like forever.
The land ended abruptly in a cliff high above the surface of the water. Starr ignored the signs warning her to stay back and got as close as she could. Peering down, she saw columns of jagged rock with jumbled piles of huge boulders at the bottom, as if giants had been playing with blocks and had tossed them casually aside when they were done. Waves pounded over the boulders, sending up huge plumes that fell with a splat to be obliterated seconds later by the next incoming wave. Cliffs stretched along the lake on both sides of her and the roaring waves sounded like thousands of caged lions. Beyond, Lake Superior glistened in the afternoon sun all the way to the horizon and beyond. From here, Starr couldn't see the other side and it looked as if it went on forever.
The wind whipped her long red hair every which way and she kept pushing it back from her face so she could see. In all her imaginings, she had never guessed it would be like this. She had never conceived of anything so wild or vast. It made her feel as if anything was possible in this place.
Starr's grin nearly split her face as she took it all in. And then she was laughing and dancing in circles. She would have continued for hours except the glorious moment was quickly shattered.
"Starr!"
Her mother's voice carried over the sound of the waves, bringing Starr to a standstill. She wasn't ready to go back. Not yet. "Just a minute," she yelled back and closed her eyes, trying to memorize the sound and the feel of the wind. Just a little longer. A few more minutes so she could take it all in.
"Starr!"
She sighed. It was too soon. She never wanted this moment to end. It was more than perfect and she knew she would never forget this moment as long as she lived.
"Right now, Stella!"
Her mother's voice was stronger now and Starr looked back over her shoulder. Her mother was standing halfway between the woods and the lake, her hands on her hips with that you're-in-big-trouble look that Starr was much too familiar with. Starr groaned, gave the lake one last look and then headed back. We're here to stay, she reminded herself as she trudged reluctantly through the trees. There will be time to look later. There will be days and days and days. With that thought, she hugged herself and danced in a quick little circle one more time before emerging from the trees and returning to the car.
* * * * *
Chapter 2
At the Bide-A-Wee motel, Harry Peterson stared at the copy he'd made of the registration slip for probably the twentieth time that day. He still wasn't sure what to do. He knew the guy was a phony, but Harry had been brought up to mind his own business. On the other hand, he had also been brought up to do the right thing. On top of that, he'd gone to school with Ollie Bakken and had liked him. So if someone was going to do something and blame it on the Bakken family, that bothered Harry. A lot.
He scratched the back of his head and looked at the phone. He'd written the number of the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension next to it, but hadn't been able to make the call. He didn't want to cause trouble for someone if he wasn't really doing anything. Maybe the guy's name really was Ricky Bakken and he was just making up a relationship with Ollie to make himself seem more important by pretending he was related to the great hockey goalie.
But what if it was more than that? Harry could see a several huge pine trees just outside his window and he stared at them now, as if he would see the answer to his dilemma in the branches still dripping from last night's downpour. The needles were starting to glisten, which meant the sky was finally clearing. It also meant the humidity was going to make an appearance, followed by hordes of blood-sucking, hungry mosquitoes. Harry sighed. There were a lot of things he liked about Minnesota. Humidity and mosquitoes weren't on that list.
After the guy who said his name was Ricky Bakken had left, Harry had made a copy of the registration slip and put it on the wall over the phone where he could see it. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what the problem was, which is why he'd held off making the call. If he could figure out what the guy was up to, then he'd know what to do. But it had now been nearly three weeks and winter was a heck of a lot closer than the solution.
He made a face and looked back at the phone number. Part of his brain heard his wife come in, but he was still mesmerized by the sight of the registration slip and didn't look up.
"Is that damn thing still hanging there?" she asked.
As if she couldn't see it taped to the wall just about as obvious as the chair under his butt.
"No honey," he said, still not looking at her. "You're seeing things now. Guess that's what comes from spending time in California. Next time you come back maybe you'll see the flying saucer hovering off Storm Point looking for sunken treasure."
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes he had to be careful when he made cracks like that. Most of the time it was fine and she took it the way it was meant. But on occasion, like those once a month occasions, her temper skated a bit closer to the edge and she'd get all pissy on him. And one thing Harry didn't enjoy experiencing even a little bit was Molly going all icy like a Minnesota winter storm.
He was in luck, thought. She merely swatted him with her towel.
"More likely, you've been seeing that UFO while I've been gone," she retorted. "Likely along with one of those few beers you keep having up to the Lodge."
"Could be," he said, returning his attention to the slip. "So what do you think? Should I or shouldn't I?"
She looked at the slip and then back at him. "Well, hon," she said finally. "You already know what I think. Piss or get off the pot."
He nodded. He'd known that was coming. Couldn't be married to her for all this time without knowing that.
"Yeah," he said, but still looking at the slip. Knowing darn well what was coming next.
"For pete's sake," she added, her voice exasperated now. "Don't just sit there like a turd on a log. Make the call or I'm going to toss the damn thing." She stopped in the doorway. "Once you make that call, you could go look for flying saucers out at the Point. Beats looking at that damn thing all day."
With that, she was gone and Harry smiled slightly, one side of his mouth lifting at the jibe. One thing he could count on from his wife was a nice pail of cold water when he needed it. In any event, he figured she was right. It was long since time for him to do something. Either make the call or toss the slip.
He sighed again, wishing someone would drive up. At least then he'd have an excuse for putting off the decision until later. But, of course, no one did. The only time a customer seemed to show up was when he was either on the pot or in the middle of a Twin's game. It never happened when it was convenient.
Harry sighed one last time. A big long one designed to let the powers that be know how put-upon he felt about right now. Then he picked up the phone and dialed the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension.
"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing here," he said when he finally got to a real person. "But a guy came to my motel recently and I think he used a phony name. I only know 'cause he claimed to be the brother of a friend of mine and I know for a fact that the guy doesn't have a brother. Now I don't know that he's up to something, but figured I'd better make the call just in case he is, ya know?"
He held while he was transferred, gave the particulars and hung up.
After staring at the phone for another long minute, Harry decided he felt a bit better. At least he didn't have to think about it any more. He put the copy of the registration slip in the desk drawer just in case the BCA was interested.
That done, he checked the time. Maybe he would just pop on down to the bar at the Lodge. They'd have the Twins game on and he was pretty sure they were up against Oakland tonight. Now that might be a good one. One of the few times he'd gone to a live game at the Humpty Dome, he'd seen the two go head to head in a nail biter that went fourteen innings. Best game he'd ever seen. Probably not going to happen again tonight, he thought morosely, but then you never know.
He ambled back to the living room that was just behind the registration desk, told Molly where he was going and headed out the door before a customer drove in. He supposed he should be grateful for the business, but there were some things that just weren't easy to give up.
* * * * *
Chapter 3
The climb from the parking area to the stop of the Enger Tower was steep.
Having grown wise in the way of things since her accident, Fae O'Neill started slow and stopped frequently. Halfway up she remembered why she had stopped coming here. And that had been years before she had broken her back. She could feel the dull ache starting to grind into the lower part of her back and begin attacking her hips. Soon it would begin its climb up her spine and make her wish for a long soak in a hot tub with a bottle of something stronger than orange juice. Instead, she reached into her bag for the ever-present pain medication and water bottle. It wouldn't take hold for awhile yet, but with any luck it would do its magic before she felt like screaming.
She checked her watch and resumed her climb. Her obsession with being on time meant she was usually ungodly early. It was a habit she didn't think about much any more - hadn't in so long she would've had to think about it had anyone asked. Over time it had become one of those ingrained habits from years of practice. Sort of like brushing her teeth or putting on clothes before leaving the house. For some reason, it irritated the people who knew her, but it kept her stress down and gave her a chance to think or, even better, sneak a chapter or two of the latest Stephen King novel before life reared its head with demands, obligations and the unexpected.
Now that it took her four times longer to do everything, the habit ensured that she still managed to be on time. She stopped once again and looked at the last step. They were wide enough and railroad ties made them strong and sturdy. But whoever had designed the stairway had apparently assumed people foolish enough to climb up to the Enger Tower were in good condition. At least bodily. They were higher than regular stairs and it took strong legs to get the lift needed for each one.
Maybe it was time to be a little easier on herself and pick meeting places on the same level as her car. Still, it was worth the effort, assuming she could make it the whole way. Especially these days.
The climb reminded Fae of her senior class trip in high school when they had gone to the Washington monument and she and two others had dared each other to climb all the way to the top. They had finally made it, but missed the bus back to the hotel and had had to find a cab. Heady stuff for three kids from Minnesota who had never been anywhere before. They had been stiff and sore for the rest of the trip and Fae had sworn to take an elevator for anything more than three floors after that.
Not that the climb up this hill was anything like the Washington Monument. But since the accident that had cracked her spine in several places and left her unable to walk for months, anything over five steps felt as if it was the Washington Monument all over again. On the other hand, the view at the top of the monument had been worth the climb. Not to mention the bragging rights. Now, although she could only brag to her cats when she returned home, Fae was determined to get back to normal life as soon as possible. And climbing this hill again was not only part of that, it was a minor victory considering she had been unable to walk just six months ago.
When she finally reached the top, Fae found an empty bench with a good view of the Duluth Harbor. She pulled her inflatable donut out of her bag, placed it on the bench and then sat on it. It wasn't elegant, but made sitting on hard surfaces a little easier. Besides, she'd gotten over elegant a long time ago. She carried all her necessities in a canvas bag that read "Well behaved women seldom make history" and which made her smile every time she looked at it.
A few minutes later, she saw Bailey reach the top of the steps and stop to catch his breath. His jacket was off and his tie had been loosened so much that the knot barely kept it from flying away. He mopped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and then looked around. Fae grinned. At least she wasn't the only one who was out of shape. He returned her smile as he came over and plopped down on the bench next to her.
"Good god, Fae," he said. "Why the hell did you want to meet up here? Are you trying to kill me?"
"It'll do you good," she replied tartly. "You get less exercise than my cat."
"How the hell did you get up here?" he asked, looking at her sharply. "There's no way you climbed that hill."
"Oh yes I did. What you don't see is all the drugs I took to make it possible." She grimaced. "Probably wasn't a good idea. But you know me. I always think I can do more than is possible and then live to wish I hadn't."
"Hah." He shook his head. "Tomorrow I'll probably wish I hadn't agreed to meet up here. I'm too old for this."
"When's the last time you were up here?"
"God." He looked at the horizon, thinking. "Had to have been when I was a kid and we came up for a camping trip. My folks were always going somewhere in a car full of kids, a tent and camping gear tied to the roof. I probably thought it was fun then."
"Funny how things change when you get old and stiff," Fae grinned. "But if it makes you feel any better, I'm already wishing for a nice long soak in a very hot tub."
"Serve you right, too." He looked out over the harbor. "Still, it's a great view once you survive the climb."
"It certainly is. And it's unlikely anyone we know will see us here, either."
He nodded. "There is that. And if anyone does, all they have to do is look at that get-up you're in, and they'll think anything but investigator."
Fae grinned. She had deliberately worn her wildest outfit to this meeting. Partly because of Bailey's request for secrecy, but partly for sheer fun. It was comfortable, but more importantly, it was who she was when she wasn't working. After the accident, somehow that had become a lot more important than before.
"So what's this all about?" Fae asked. "It's a bit cloak and dagger, even for you."
He sighed. "How possible would it be for you to do a very quiet investigation for me."
"As in ..."
"You report only to me. You don't talk to anyone else in the office about it. And are you up to returning to work?"
She looked at him hard, then back at the view. "I can probably manage it. The pain gets pretty bad sometimes, but I can work around it. Especially if it's important. But why don't you want anyone else to know?"
"I don't know if this guy has ESP, he's as lucky as hell, or if there's a leak," Bailey told her. "Every time we've gotten close to him, he turns into smoke and we have to start over. Now it looks like he's resurfaced and I'd very much like to nail his ass to the barn door with a very long spike."
"Very bad guy then."
"Very. But not the way you probably think." His expression was speculative. "Did you ever see The Sting?"
"The movie?"
"Yeah."
"Who didn't."
"Like it?"
"Loved it. Saw it three or four times and bought a copy. It's great."
"Liked the characters?"
"You mean Newman and Redford?"
"They played a couple of con men," Bailey said. "Newman played Henry Gondorf. Who was real, by the way. Redford's character was fictional. Both very likeable. Loveable even. Ran a con against a bad guy. A really bad guy. So everyone cheered for the con men. Great ending. Won a bunch of awards. Great picture."
Fae looked at him, suspicious. "So why do I get this very odd feeling that you have a slightly different view?"
"Because everyone liked the con men," he said flatly. "Likeable. No one got hurt except the bad guy who deserved it." He was quiet for a long time. "People have this perception that con men are fun and no one gets hurt. After all, that's how it is in the movies and on TV. Problem is, con men are despicable. No. More than that. They're scum. People do get hurt. In a way, it's almost worse than murder, because the victims have to live with the betrayal, the violation, and years of aggravation. Cons destroy faith and trust. The cynicism and distrust they create is worse for our society than just about anything. Killers have their guns in plain sight. But con men? They smile in your face and stab you in the back. They're sneaks, cowards and prey on the goodness of other people. They're like a social form of AIDS. And when they go after old people who are sitting ducks for their scams, it makes me want to skin them alive."
Fae stared at him, stunned at the venom in his voice. "I guess I never thought about it like that," she said finally.
"Who does?" he said bitterly. "Until someone you know gets fleeced and their lives are destroyed. Then suddenly you get a different perspective. But how many people are close to a victim of a con man? Not to mention the people who were taken and are too ashamed to tell anyone."
"Who did you know?" she asked.
"An elderly couple in Anoka. George and Angela Williams. Took them for everything they had. Which wasn't much. They were old school people, you know? Believed in the goodness of other people. Believed in old fashioned values like trust and decency. Bottom line? They were in their eighties. Worked hard their entire lives and should have been enjoying their retirement and their grandchildren. Then this guy came along and destroyed them." He turned to face Fae. "And all because they wanted to help him."
Fae waited as Bailey stared out over Lake Superior.
"I grew up just a few doors down the street," he said finally. "Mowed their lawn. Hung out with their kids. The nicest people you'd ever want to meet. Mrs. Williams always seemed to have fresh baked cookies and Mr. Williams always had time to explain things or just plain listen. The original Minnesota Nice."
He stared down at his hands. "They killed themselves. Couldn't live with the disgrace. What they didn't expect was that their eight year old granddaughter would find them first."
"Oh geez." Fae felt as if all her breath had been knocked out of her. "So who is this guy and what do you want me to do?"
"We're not sure what his real name is, but he has a number of aliases we've tied together. One of them is Ricky Bakken."
"As in Ollie? The goalie?"
He snorted. "Can you believe that? And he used it at a motel on the North Shore."
"Ahh, I'm beginning to get a glimmer."
"Stayed at the Bide-A-Wee a few weeks ago. Harry Peterson's the owner and went to school with Ollie. Knew Ollie didn't have a brother."
"I can't believe he'd use that name up here."
"Thank god he did. It's his first real slip and may help us catch him finally."
"So you want me to talk to Harry. Maybe nose around. See if maybe this guy is up to something in my neck of the woods?"
"Exactly."
"Why me?" she asked.
He shrugged. "It's your neck of the woods."
Fae wasn't fooled. "And?"
He gave her a humorless smile. "He doesn't know you. He doesn't even know about you. Also, you're still officially on leave. At this point, only one other person even knows about the tip. So no one even knows we might be onto him. If someone at the BCA is leaking information, they'll have nothing to leak. So the chances are good you'll be able to get somewhere without him tipping to it."
"I see."
"Just remember, this guy is very smart," Bailey said. "More importantly, he has street smarts and seems to be able to smell us coming. I'm hoping that this time we may be able to circumvent that just a little."
"So how do I get the file?"
"I have them in my car."
She laughed. "Of course you do. Why am I not surprised?" She thought about it for a few minutes. She hadn't thought seriously about a case since the accident and still felt as if her brain had turned to cottage cheese. "So what's not in the file?"
"I put a folder with my notes in there for you. It's not official and has nothing to do with evidence or admissibility or anything we can actually use. It's mostly observations, suspicions, rumors and that sort of thing. Some of it may be helpful." He stood up and held out his hand.
Fae took it and lurched to her feet. "It takes a minute to get moving again," she told him as she packed up her cushion.
"How long's it going to take?" he asked.
"Before I'm back to normal?"
He nodded.
"Maybe never," she said. "But now that I'm starting to get around on my own steam, I figure I'll be pretty close in a few months. Given everything, I'm pretty happy with that."
"Need any help down?"
"I won't say no to a strong arm," she smiled. "Those stairs are a bitch."
Once they reached the bottom, Fae opened the trunk of her hatchback while Bailey carted over several boxes. Once everything was transferred, he handed her his card.
"My home number is on the back and I think you have my direct line."
"I do."
"Any time," he said. "I don't care if it's three a.m. If you have anything, even if it's just a question, I want you to call me."
"What's why you're the boss and they pay you the big bucks," she joked.
He laughed. "Right."
* * * * *
Chapter 4
Starr couldn't believe how quickly they got everything out of their car and into the cabin. When they were packing it back in Minneapolis, it had felt like she had made at least a million trips to the car with boxes and shopping bags full of what her mother considered the essentials until their old station wagon had been crammed to the breaking point. Yet once they started taking things out, it had emptied quickly and, as Starr carried the last suitcase in, the cabin still seemed nearly empty, as if they hadn't brought anything at all.
She dragged the suitcase into her room and put it down on her bed, only then allowing herself to look around, still unable to believe this was all hers. She'd had to sleep on the living room couch at their last two places because a two bedroom apartment was way out of their budget, so having her own room, let alone something like this, felt as if she had just won first prize at the State Fair for her photography.
Starr looked over her shoulder at the doorway just to make sure her mom wasn't there, then walked over to the window to see what was out there. She knew she was supposed to be unpacking, but reasoned that she was just going to take a minute to look first. Just one minute. What could that hurt? But as she peered out the window, she heard her mother calling her.
"Oh pooh," she muttered as she turned away from the window.
"Stella!"
Starr rolled her eyes and went into the living room. It was dim in here because the trees around the cabin blocked out most of the sun. She stopped briefly while her eyes adjusted and it was a minute before she saw her mother standing on the little porch out front.
"My name is Starr," she reminded her mother as she came out onto the porch.
"Stella is a perfectly good name," her mother said. "It was my aunt's name and her aunt's name."
"Yeah, but I'll bet they didn't have all the kids at school bellowing it like they're all Brando wannabees, either."
"Then maybe you should come when I call you the first time," her mother spat. "You're just like your father. God knows you're just as stubborn and contrary." She stepped off the porch. "I have to go up to the Lodge for a bit. Finish unpacking while I'm gone. I'll come get you for dinner. If you're done before I get back you can explore, but stay away from the guests. I don't want to hear you've been bothering them." She glared at Starr, eyes narrowing. "Probably better if you don't go far. If you go anywhere, be back before five."
"OK."
"And another thing." She paused, massaging her forehead as if she had a headache. "Make sure you lock the door. I don't want to come back and find out any yahoo off the street can just step on in. I don't care if we're not in the Cities any more. You never can tell who will pull in off the highway and just decide to come on in. You got that?"
Starr nodded. "I will."
"Be sure you do," her mother added. "I don't want any problems here. Especially for the next few months." She glared at Starr just long enough to make her uncomfortable, then strode up the path towards Storm Point Lodge.
Starr watched her mother walk away, waiting until she was sure she was gone before looking around. It was the first chance she'd had to see her new neighborhood. In the past, it hadn't mattered a whole lot because each new place was pretty much like the last. All of them ugly and not very interesting.
This place, though, was so different from anything she had ever experienced that Starr couldn't figure out where to start. The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. She could sort of hear cars driving past on the highway. But it was a far away sound from the other side of the trees and a big hill and was more like a quiet swoosh, swoosh, brrrr. Most of what she could hear were things that didn't even exist in Minneapolis. Scratching sounds in the trees and the rolling sound of the lake were just some of the new noises. Plus there were other sounds she couldn't even begin to identify yet.
Then there were the different smells. What she noticed most was the scent of wood burning from someone's fireplace or campfire. Under that, and much fainter, was something moist and earthy. And mixed in to all that was a faint smell of pine like it was Christmas.
This place didn't even remotely look like anywhere she had ever been. Instead of cheek by jowl apartment buildings and convenience stores, Starr saw hints of other cabins nearby, but they were each surrounded by trees so they were barely visible. It felt weird not to see another house right next to hers, but in a nice way. It was almost as if no one else lived here. Starr knew getting to live in the cabin was one of the reasons her mother had accepted the job here. It had been hard to find a job and place to live after Starr's father had taken off three years earlier. Most of the apartments had been in neighborhoods where walking to the corner, let alone all the way to school, was a major challenge. Even taking the bus was fraught with danger and she always breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to her destination without being accosted.
On the other hand, she had discovered that she could run really fast. No matter how big the kid was who wanted to snatch her backpack, take her lunch or beat her up, she was able to outrun them. There might be things here she wasn't wild about, but she sure as heck wasn't going to miss running the gauntlet several times a day.
She looked at the other cabins and wondered about the other people who were going to be their neighbors. Wouldn't it be great if another girl her age lived here and they could be friends?
Even though it wasn't dark yet and the stars hadn't come out, Starr took a deep breath, closed her eyes and wished. Please let this work out. Please let us stay here.
She stood as still as she could for a long time, eyes closed and fingers crossed as she waited for her wish to take hold, hoping that if she concentrated extra hard for a really long time, maybe it would work even without a star. Finally, afraid her mother might come back while she was still standing there, Starr opened her eyes. The stars still weren't out and it wasn't dark yet, so she didn't know if it had worked. She gave a last look around and then went back inside. She'd get holy hell if the unpacking wasn't done by the time her mother came back, so she'd better take care of that. She could always try her wish again later.
It didn't take long to put everything in the kitchen away, so Starr tackled the suitcases in her room next. She loved her new bedroom. It was the nicest one she had ever had. Instead of carpeting, the floor was wide planks of dark wood that gleamed in the late afternoon light. It was large and had room for a real bed, a desk and - thrill of all thrills - a big bookcase. The closet was kind of small, but considering she didn't have a lot to put in there, it was more than enough. As she put away her t-shirts, Starr realized she wouldn't have to run any more unless she wanted to. The reality of leaving her old way of living behind was finally beginning to sink in and she pushed the dresser drawer closed slowly. She went back to the window. Her smile was sudden and wide and nearly lit up the room with joy.
She put the suitcase in the far corner of the closet and checked her watch. There might be time to explore, but she decided to wait until later. There wasn't that much time and it would be really easy to lose track of time, especially when there was so much to see. Then she'd be late and Starr knew that wouldn't be a good idea on her first day here.
Instead, she went through the cabin to make sure she hadn't missed anything and saw her duffel bag still sitting on the living room couch. She kicked around the idea of letting it wait until later, then thought about what her mother would say if she came back and saw it wasn't done. Starr sighed and decided to empty it now. No point giving her mother something else to get upset about.
She hadn't really packed the duffel bag carefully. It had simply been a handy place to toss all the small stuff and last minute things. So now she simply tipped the bag out onto the bed so she could sort through everything. Only then did she remember she had tossed her jar of coins in there. She dropped the bag immediately, but it was too late. The jar hit the bed and money scattered everywhere - under the bed, the desk and into the closet.
"Rats!"
She checked the time. Maybe if she worked really fast, she could have it all picked up before her mother returned. Hoping she wouldn't come back early, Starr began by dragging the desk away from the wall and scooped up several quarters and dimes. Then she pulled the bookcase away from the wall and picked up the coins that had hidden there. However, when she tried to move the bed, it was too heavy. Getting down on her hands and knees, she peered underneath and saw glints of silver just out of reach. She flattened herself onto her tummy and wriggled under the bed. It was a bit of a stretch, but she finally managed to snag everything. As she started wriggling back out, she heard her mother's voice screeching at her.
"What in the hell have you been doing!"
Startled, Starr bumped her head. She hadn't had time to put everything back yet and as she emerged from under the bed, she realized it looked as if a mini tornado had ripped through her room.
"I dropped my coin jar," she said as she sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. "I'll put everything back."
"Jesus Christ." Her mother put one hand up, covering her eyes. She sighed and then looked at Starr. "Honestly, Stella. I can't even leave you alone for an hour. You're a disaster waiting to happen. God!" She looked at her watch and sighed again. "Jesus! Get washed up. You'll have to take care of all this after dinner."
Chastened, Starr washed her hands and followed her mother up to the Lodge. Now that it was getting dark, little solar powered lights were coming on to mark the way. As they came around a bend, Starr saw that the Lodge was outlined with strands of fairy lights that made it look like it was floating on a dark sea like a castle out of a story.
The entry door was carved and heavy and she half expected it to creak madly when her mother pulled it open, but it swung open quietly, exposing dark wooden beams and thick oriental rugs that made it feel even more like a castle. Overwhelmed, Starr tried to look everywhere at the same time, but there was too much to see and all she really got was an impression of elegance and size.
She could see the dining room straight ahead, but her mother led her down a hallway next to the front desk. Starr could hear the rattle of pans as they passed a set of double doors and several waiters came bursting out carrying huge platters, crossed the hall and then went into what she figured out was probably the main dining room. At the end of the hallway, Starr saw a small room with a buffet.
"This is where you'll pick up your meals," her mother told her. "You need to pay attention because you'll be on your own for breakfast and lunch."
She opened a door across from the end of the buffet line and Starr saw a small area with tables. Beyond it she could see the main dining room. "This is the only place you're allowed to sit," her mother said. "I don't ever want to catch you in the big dining room. That's only for guests."
There weren't very many tables and Starr looked at them doubtfully. "What if all the tables are full?" she asked.
"Then take your tray back to the cabin and eat there. We'll eat here tonight, but most of the time we'll bring dinner back to the cabin."
"Why don't we eat dinner here, too?" Starr asked. She liked the cozy tables and homey atmosphere. Plus, eating dinner with her mother was like trying to walk through her old neighborhood without getting beaten up. It would be a lot nicer to eat all their meals here.
"Because I need to get away sometimes," her mother snapped. "I won't get a lot of time off. Especially at the beginning. So I expect you to meet me here on time."
Starr hid her feelings behind the blank expression she had gotten very good at putting on. "I was just asking."
"Well now you know. Don't make me sorry I brought you with me."
Starr didn't respond. She knew her mother hadn't had a choice, but wasn't going to mention that at this point. She just followed her mother's example and took a plate, carefully selecting items from the buffet and then carried her tray over to the table her mother selected. Although she was glad she'd be on her own during the day, she wished she could do the same for dinner. Back in Minneapolis, she'd managed to see very little of her mother and knew that was the way her mother wanted it, as well. She didn't understand why they had to eat dinner together now. But Starr knew better than to ask. Fortunately, dinner was over quickly and Starr was released to return to the cabin.
"Make sure you clean up your mess before you go to bed," her mother reminded her as she showed Starr where to put the dishes when they were done. "I'll be here until late and I don't want to have to deal with that when I get back."
"I'll do it right away," Starr promised.
While her mother didn't say anything, her face spoke volumes and Starr hurried back to the cabin. She'd been trying so hard to do everything right, but had already managed to mess up. For a moment she wanted to cry. She just wished it wasn't so hard to get everything right.
Then she perked up. Maybe when she got her room put back together she'd have time to check things out. And it was always possible her mother would relax the dinner idea after they had been here for awhile. The thought made Starr feel better.
Normally she would have done a little exploring on her way back, but figured that since she didn't actually know when her mother would return, it might be safer to get back right away and finish up. There would be plenty of time to look around later.
She followed the path back to the cabin. All the fairy lights were on now and the woods had taken on an enchanted glow. As she came around a bend in the trees, she saw the cabin with the blue dreamcatcher hanging on the porch. She stopped and put a hand to her mouth in surprise and recognition.
That's where I live now, she thought with delight. I have a porch and a dreamcatcher and live in a cabin in the woods.
She hugged herself happily and then skipped the rest of the way, feeling as if she was going to burst with joy.
* * * * *
Chapter 5
By the time Fae pulled into her yard, her back was radiating spikes of pain and it hurt to even think. Wearily she turned off the ignition and closed her eyes for a long moment, summoning the energy to at least get out of the car. The boxes Bailey had given her were safe in the car for tonight, so all she had to do now was get herself into the house, but the thirty feet or so from the car to the door felt as if it was more like thirty miles.
Reaching into her purse, Fae groped for the prescription bottle. Fortunately it was large and she found it immediately. She pulled it out, pried off the top and took out two pills. The water bottle had rolled under the seat, but she soon had it in hand and washed the pills down. She pulled the lever on her seat and pushed it back until she was nearly reclining.
While the pain didn't immediately disappear, taking the weight off her low back brought a certain measure of relief and she closed her eyes gratefully. Concentrating on her breathing, she waited for the pain medication to take effect.
She should have taken them before she left Duluth, she thought, but hadn't wanted to chance it. Besides, she knew Bailey would have reconsidered his request if he knew how difficult things still were and she didn't want that. She was tired of sitting around (well, lying around would be closer to the truth, if she was going to be totally honest) contemplating the lake, the cats and the ceiling. Working a case would give her mind something to do. She'd figure out how to manage the physical side effects as she went along.
Fae considered the room she used as her office, thinking about how she could reconfigure it so she could either sit or recline most of the time. It shouldn't be that hard to set it up. She thought about how she would organize the files and how she wanted to work the case.
By the time she got around to thinking about the conversation she'd have with Harry at the Bide-A-Wee Motel, the pain had dimmed and she finally felt able to walk into the house.
Before she even had the door unlocked, she remembered that her pantry was pretty close to empty and her frig contained little more than a spoonful of rice and some nearly dead carrots. She sighed, wishing she had thought of it sooner. She could have stopped at the store in Silver Bay on the way back. She looked at her watch and knew that the little store in Ruby Cove would be closed by now. So if she wanted a decent meal, she was either going to have to drive all the way to Grand Marais or eat at Storm Point Lodge.
Fae groaned. She really didn't feel like dealing with the Lodge, but knew she wasn't up to going all the way to Grand Marais.
Once in the house, she went straight to the phone and dialed the Lodge from memory.
"Hi, Donna. Is Jessica there?"
Jessica came on the line a minute later and Fae ordered dinner. "I'll be there in about ten minutes. That okay?"