Dead Hot Shot

by Victoria Houston

  “As deputy coroner, my role is to confirm that a death has occurred, state whether it is natural or unnatural, and note the apparent circumstances. With your help, I’ll complete an initial draft of the death certificate that will be finalized following the autopsy. And I believe,” he turned to Lew, “that Chief Ferris has arranged for the autopsy.”

  Lew nodded, “Yes, Mr. Reece is aware I’ve made those arrangements.” Again the look of caution directed at Osborne.

  “Please, please, Chief Ferris, Dr. Osborne, the name is Andy.” Reece raised his voice to the booming level as he said, “The formality of ‘Mr. Reece’ is just … unsettling. No one who knows our family calls me ‘Mr. Reece.’“ He pushed at his glasses, jammed both fists into his pockets, and swayed back and forth on his sandals.

  “Right, right, I’m sorry … Andy it is,” said Lew with a quick, tight smile as she jotted a note into the narrow reporter’s notebook that spent calmer days in her back pocket. “Andy. Blue,” Lew nodded towards each of them as she spoke, “once Dr. Osborne has examined the victim, the EMTs will handle the transport to St. Mary’s. The deceased will be kept in the hospital morgue and I am sorry but you won’t be allowed access until the pathologist has completed the autopsy.” “How soon will that be?” said Andy.

  “Today’s a national holiday, which delays things a bit, but I’m hoping to have it completed sometime tomorrow,” said Lew. “When we’ll have the results depends on the nature of any tests they may have to run.” As she spoke, Osborne realized the reason for her cautionary looks: she did not want to disclose that the pathologist she had requested perform the autopsy was not one affiliated with the hospital but an expert from the Wausau Crime Lab.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as Mrs. Reece can be released to the funeral home. Will you be taking the remains back to Illinois?” Lew’s pen was poised over her notebook.

  Andy Reece looked at his daughter with a blank expression on his face. Again the push on the glasses. “What do you think, Blue?”

  “Dad, she would hate that. We better wait and see if she put anything in her will about it. You know if we do it wrong.” Blue paused. Osborne couldn’t help but think she had caught herself about to say that if they didn’t follow orders, her mother would rise up in anger and rejoin the living. Blue’s words hung in the air.

  “Well, let me get started here—you people have waited long enough,” said Osborne in a tone identical to the one he used to alert patients they would feel a slight prick as he injected a local anesthetic.

  “Very good,” said Lew. “Now, Andy and Blue, would you please wait for us up in the house? Don’t anyone leave or come down here until we’ve finished. This shouldn’t take long and then Dr. Osborne and I will come up and go over—”

  “So you still need to talk to us even though we’ve told Chief Ferris everything?” said Blue, looking at Osborne.

  “Yes, I will need information for the death certificate,” said Osborne, “your mother’s age, last birthday, place of residence and a list of her first-degree surviving relatives.”

  “And after Dr. Osborne completes his exam, I may have more questions for each of you as well,” said Lew.

  “I see,” said Andy. “Blue, I’ll need your help locating our family records in your mother’s files—may have to call Vern Pokorny for some of that information.”

  “You mean Vern Pokorny here in Loon Lake?” said Osborne, surprised at the mention of a familiar name but also at the fact that Andy might not have the most basic information about Nolan right at hand. Were they not husband and wife?

  “Vern handles all my wife’s affairs locally and he’s in touch with her legal team in Chicago, too,” said Andy. “Certainly the news of her death—he needs to be told ASAP. This could affect the company stock price, you know. She may have sold the company but as a major shareholder …”

  “I’d like you to hold off making that call,” said Lew. “We don’t need reporters out here.”

  “But it’s only an accident,” said Blue. “Why would they be interested?”

  “Two reasons, Blue. Not only is your mother a prominent figure, but in a small town like Loon Lake even accidents are news,” said Lew. “And for the record, young lady, we don’t yet know how your mother died.”

  Blue looked from her father to Lew to Osborne. “But Dad said lightning.”

  “We don’t know anything for sure,” said Lew.

  Blue stared at her, then asked, “Should we be afraid?”

  “I can’t answer that,” said Lew. “Please, go up with your father and let us do our work here.”

  As Blue turned towards the stone stairs leading up to the house, she glanced past Osborne. A stunned look crossed her face. With a yelp, she bolted across the deck.

  CHAPTER 9

  A pair of very long legs in blaze orange hunting pants appeared to flicker as they descended the steep drive in quick, skidding steps. It was Ray at last, his six-feet-six inches advancing in a loopy rhythm: the lower half arriving split seconds ahead of the upper half.

  It was the latter—the late half—that Blue clutched, burying her head in the collar of the green and rust plaid shirt as she broke into sobs. Wrapping his arms around her, Ray pulled the girl close. As they stood together, both so tall, so lanky, they struck Osborne as an unlikely but interesting duo.

  Ray’s deep tan along with his full head of auburn curls and beard (trimmed to what he called his “winter mode”—a modest four inches of more auburn curls, these laced with grey) contrasted with the girl’s pale, lightly freckled face and the fawn-colored spikes gracing her head. Their age difference, which had to be at least ten years, wasn’t easily apparent.

  “Now how the hell?” Lew turned to Osborne in amazement. He shrugged. He had no idea how Ray might know the girl. Ray had certainly never mentioned her over morning coffee or during one of their lazy evenings in the boat that summer.

  As they watched, Ray tipped his head close to Blue’s right ear, murmuring words they couldn’t hear. Wiping at her tears, the girl nodded as if to agree to whatever it was he’d said. Her father,

  observing the scenario in silence, pushed at his glasses, moved closer to Lew and Osborne and murmured, “I don’t know that man, do you?”

  “Yes, we do,” they answered simultaneously, not taking their eyes off the couple as Ray gave the girl a hug, then released her with a pat on the back. Lew glanced over at Andy and said, “That’s Ray Pradt, the deputy I hire to shoot photos for incident reports. What I’m wondering is how he knows your daughter.”

  As Lew spoke, Blue turned towards them in silence, waved to her father and hurried across the drive to the stone stairway leading up to the big house. Andy ran after her.

  “Okay, fella, before you get started, I want to know how it is you know that young woman,” said Lew, keeping her voice low as Ray walked up. In addition to his hunting pants and canvas vest, he wore a square camera pack slung across his chest. A smaller camera was attached to his belt. Ray gave a slow smile but said nothing, taking his time to remove the larger camera from its case.

  One of Pecore’s official duties as coroner was to photograph crime scenes, accidents and any other sites involved in an unnatural death. Osborne could handle the photography if pressed but it was Ray whose keen eyes complemented the camera lens in ways that had helped the Loon Lake Police find incriminating evidence in tire tracks and footprints that might have otherwise gone unnoticed.

  But it was nature photography where he excelled and that he loved. He took pride in having shot photos good enough to be featured in a local insurance agency’s annual calendar and, more recently, purchased by Ralph’s Sporting Goods for use on their website. His series of Great Blue Heron photos often went for as much as ten bucks each on eBay!

  As a result of Ray’s modest commercial success and also due to the fact that Pecore refused to learn to use a digital camera, Lew now leaned on Osborne’s neighbor to shoot crime and accident scenes even when Pecore was a
vailable. “He tracks with that lens just as he does with his eyes,” she would say when challenged on the extra expense. More than once she had urged Ray to take up photography as a profession but he always had the same answer: “Nah, that would mean a full-time job. No way!”

  “How do I know Miss Reece—is that what you want to know, Chief?” said Ray. “Oh … well.” He paused, tipped his head to one side and raised an authoritative index finger. A bad sign: a signal that he was about to launch a lengthy discourse.

  “Short version,” said Lew, “we’re running out of time. Be dark in a few hours.” Osborne had to resist a grin. Good luck. Given the slightest opportunity to be the center of attention, Ray could stretch out his words and pepper his sentences with long pauses—excruciating for a listener in a hurry. But Lew, hands on her hips, eyes black with impatience, was not up for wasting one more minute.

  “I hear ya, Chief. Fact is … the old lady hired me to guide them on that fancy pontoon of theirs,” he gestured towards a pontoon boat barely visible in the boathouse off to the right. “I took ‘em out a couple times this past summer. Blue’s a sweet kid, but her mother. just obnoxious. Last time we went out she kept insisting that I wasn’t taking them to spots that looked ‘fishy’ enough. I tried explaining structure and that the surface can be, y’know. misleading—but she wouldn’t listen.

  “Next she decides they have to switch over to fly rods ‘cause the spinning rods aren’t happening—some idiot told her she could catch muskies easier on a fly rod, and we know who that was, don’t we.”

  “Ralph,” said Lew, trying to hurry the story along.

  “Yeah, well, now. she makes me tie on these purplish blue Hotshots because the color matches the damn boat. Do we catch fish? N-o-o-o. So then. she pays me half what she owes b-e-e-e-cause her idea of a good day’s fishing is an outrageous number of fish caught versus … my belief—”

  “Romance, excitement and live bait—get it all fishing with Ray,” said Lew, jumping in to finish his sentence.

  “Oh, have I said that before?”

  “Many times—you know that.”

  “Later, I took Blue out on her own—no charge—so she could experience a fine day’s fishing without. the old lady interfering. Blue’s okay, she’s a good kid.”

  “All right, that makes sense,” said Lew. “Now that I know your connection to the family can we get started here? I need you to shoot everything before anyone other than the three of us enters this area extending from the boathouse to both property lines.”

  “You got it,” said Ray. Then, assured that Lew was satisfied with his answer, he turned sideways and shot Osborne a look, serious and sad, that said it all: Of course, that’s not how he knows Blue Reece. But the rule is that only Blue can tell Lewellyn Ferris or anyone else how it is they know one another.

  “Well, the mother happens to be problematic today, too,” said Lew, stepping back to point towards the dark figure on the shore behind her.

  “No-o-o.” The surprise on Ray’s face was genuine. “You’re kidding. That’s Nolan Reece?”

  “Jeez Louise, this gal kinda exceeds the design specs, doesn’t she,” said Ray as he helped Lew and Osborne gently roll the woman’s body onto its back before taking more photos. “They’re gonna need a custom cabinet for her.”

  He had a point. Not even the black of her clothing could diminish the woman’s heft. Nolan Reece had carried her weight in her torso, which measured almost two feet from back to front. It wasn’t that the woman was fat so much as big. Large-boned and fleshy as happens to affluent people who dine too well and savor the expensive in wine and spirits. Osborne had only ever glimpsed her from a distance, but enough to recognize that alive she had been an imposing figure.

  “Well-dressed, wouldn’t you say, Lew?” he asked, noting the victim’s jacket, which was heavily embroidered and ruffled at the cuffs. One foot still wore a black flat shoe, shiny with sequins—the other was bare. Oddly, the clothing—both jacket and pants—was snagged in multiple places, leaving tiny, loose threads to wave in the breeze. Having seen wrinkled linens and crushed skirts in his daughters’ wardrobes, Osborne wondered if snagged fabric was some current fashion statement.

  “I’m sure it’s very expensive clothing, Doc,” said Lew. “The party the family gave last night was to announce the engagement of their daughter to a young man from Chicago. So everyone was celebrating until late. That’s why Andy thought his wife had left the party and gone to bed, which she’s been known to do after having a little too much to drink. He alleges that because they have separate bedrooms, he wasn’t aware that she’d left the house.

  “So, Doc, would you go ahead with the dental exam before the EMTs move the body, please?”

  “Certainly. I wasn’t sure you needed it given the family has identified—”

  “I need it and I’ll tell you why afterwards.”

  As Osborne reached for his instrument bag, Ray moved back and

  out of the way. “This should only take a few minutes,” said Osborne, slipping on a pair of Nitrile gloves. He knelt beside the body and reached to brush aside clumps of wet hair obscuring the face.

  Death had left the eyes open and dull, the mouth gaping. Down the left side of Nolan Reece’s head, starting above the temple, crossing the cheekbone and extending beyond the lower jaw was a reddish brown abrasion. Osborne felt along the outside of the jaw then slipped his fingers inside the open mouth. Where he expected to find teeth, he didn’t. Where he did find teeth, they were loose. Too loose.

  “Lew,” said Osborne, his voice tense with concern, “you called Wausau, right?”

  “Sure did. Why?”

  “This is very strange.” He looked up from where he was hunched over the still form and gestured as he spoke. “On this side of the jaw, the teeth have been loosened. Recently. I’ll bet you the autopsy will show that happened before she died. See the length and general appearance of this abrasion? I think she was slugged with something long and hard like a bat, but with an edge to it.”

  “Not a lightning strike?”

  “Lightning has nothing to do with what I see here. This injury is similar to what I’ve treated in hockey players who’ve taken a puck in the mouth. For the players, the good news was I could usually push those teeth back in so they wouldn’t lose them.

  “But that’s not all. On the right side of her upper jaw, there’s a large gap where a fixed bridge should be. We both know this is not a woman who would have been entertaining guests without her teeth. So my question is—where is her bridge?”

  “Right,” said Lew, satisfaction spreading across her face. “I’ll show you where it is and now you’ll know why I called you and

  Ray—why I went out on a limb to call the Wausau Crime Lab on a national holiday.” She stepped up onto the dock and motioned for Osborne and Ray to follow.

  “Holy cow,” said Ray as they walked out along the dock. They passed the shore station holding the bassboat, its hull sparkling in the sunlight. The boat was suspended so high over the water that it might have been resting on stilts. “Man, is this lake down! They must have to row out quite a ways before starting that big outboard. You unwind that shore station and you’re practically on sand. Wow.”

  Osborne wasn’t surprised. A two-year drought across the northwoods had left many of the lakes down. Only those that were spring-fed and not linked to a river system were at normal levels. Loon Lake was also down but not quite as bad off as this.

  “See that?” said Lew, pointing to something in the water just to the north of the dock. Osborne’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark water but then he saw the object, the silver bands gleaming as they caught sunlight: a fixed bridge with, he guessed, at least three teeth attached.

  “Ray, can you get a photo before we retrieve that?” said Lew.

  “Sure, Chief. But I’ve got a question for you first.” He pointed to the shoreline above the spot where the bridge rested. “Are those your footprints all through that
area? Did you or Todd walk from the deck over to the boathouse along the shoreline there?”

  “No. I didn’t let Andy and Blue walk around there, either—though who knows what people did before I got here. For the record, gentlemen, the family doesn’t know I spotted that bridge. Since Andy swears he found her body on the other side of the dock.”

  “Chief,” said Ray, “if it’s okay with you, I’ll shoot everything in color but let’s do black and white around those footprints—you’ll get stronger definition in case you need to identify shoe or boot marks.”

  “Good. And if those tracks lead further back—” “I’ll stay with them?”

  “As best you can, Ray.” Lew cupped her hands to her mouth, “Officer Martin!” She waved at the young policeman who was still chatting with the EMTs. He hurried over.

  “Todd, without question we have a crime scene here so will you please follow procedures? I don’t expect Wausau to make it up here today, maybe not until morning. Sorry to ruin your holiday but we need to keep the area secured overnight, too. I’ll check with the sheriff and see if I can get you a relief. But, please, let’s be very careful to maintain the integrity of the site as well as the transport of the victim.”

  Todd nodded. “Not to worry, Chief. I know the drill. And the guys on duty today,” he nodded towards the ambulance, “they know what they’re doing. We’ve worked together before. They understand ‘chain of custody’ on crime scenes.”

  “Good. Doc and I will be with the family up at the house if you have questions.”

  Lew and Osborne walked back over to the body. Osborne paused to let his eyes travel the length and width of Nolan Reece. Torn flesh on the one hand that lay palm down caught his eye. He knelt to check the right hand, then the left.

  “Lewellyn—take a look at this.”

  Lew dropped down beside him and leaned forward to closely examine the hands. The fourth finger on the left hand wore a large diamond ring but the nails on all five fingers, even the thumb, were ripped and torn. Same on the right hand: the fourth finger wore a large red stone in a gold setting but again, on every finger, the nails were torn.