Dead Deceiver

by Victoria Houston

“Doc,” said Lew, “I just walked in and was told that an old guy stopped by early this morning with a note for Ray. Looks to be from his friend, Walter Frisch, who wants him to stop by his place. Said he found what Ray has been looking for.”

  “Really? Did he say anything else?” asked Osborne.

  A moment’s silence, than Lew said, “If I can read his scrawl, I’ll give you the exact message, which is and I quote: “C’mon out—found what you’re looking for—in the garage.’”

  “I’ll get Ray and we’ll drive out there right away. If we’re lucky, he found the other snowshoe.”

  Osborne drove through town and up the north side to Squirrel Lake where the fishing tournament was underway. He paused at the top of a hill to look down at the huge tents that had been set up along the shoreline to house the vendors and the events. Trucks bearing the names of the participating teams filled the parking lot near the tents.

  Out on the lake, he could see the colorful teams of fishermen hovering over holes in the ice. Each team had been assigned a specific location and clusters of bystanders huddled at polite distances to watch the jigging. Looking off to his right, he saw that the ice shanties for the contest had been set up a good half mile from the fishing area so as not to disturb the hungry residents beneath the ice.

  Overhead, the late afternoon sun was turning the sky a faint lavender that highlighted a scattering of flat granite clouds: a squadron of flying saucers. Gazing down on the scene before him, Osborne felt a sudden ache for summer. He was ready to trade the flat, grey-white slab stretching to the far shore for diamond-dusted ripples over azure waters under a setting August sun. But that was months away.

  Putting his car into four-wheel drive, he tackled the temporary roadway that had been plowed along the shoreline towards the ice shanties. Over two dozen huts had been set up and the décor reflected their owner’s passions or sense of humor. Colorful shanties heralded the Green Bay Packers and Harley-Davidson while others pretended to be mock outhouses. At least three were pricey mini-mansions sporting satellite television dishes. And then—like a visitor from another planet—was the big, fat bug-eyed bluegill with the orange belly.

  “Ray?” called Osborne through the open flap that passed for an entrance.

  “Yeah, Doc, what’s up?” hollered Ray from inside.

  “You got a message from Walter that he found what we’ve been looking for. We need to get out to his place. Let’s go.”

  “Hold on. I’ve got to finish setting up. The contest starts at four and I want to be ready for the judges. Hey, I’m calling my shanty ‘Benny the Bluegill.’ Like it?”

  “Do you have to be here when they come through?” Osborne checked his watch. It was only three o’clock.

  “Yep. We’ll drive out after that.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go on ahead. You could be here for awhile.”

  Osborne did not want to wait around. Ever since Lew gave him the message, a sense of urgency had been building in his gut. It had already been hours since the old man had stopped by the station. Or maybe it was remembering the expression of defeat on Lew’s face when she thought of Kathy Beltner.

  “Go ahead, Doc. After you talk to Walter, give me a call. Let me know what he found.”

  In less than twenty minutes, Osborne had reached the logging lane that Walter used to get to his shack. He drove slowly in the fading light, the sides of his car scraped by crystalline branches of barren ghost trees. He was relieved that this trip out to Walter’s was much easier than when he and Ray had parked on the other road and walked in.

  It was dark by four-thirty and Osborne prayed for an early moon as he parked alongside Walter’s pick-up. He opened the glove compartment to grab a flashlight then got out of the car, keeping the beam of the flashlight on the ground at his feet to avoid slipping on the icy patches dotting the walkway up to the cabin.

  Twenty feet from the door, Osborne paused. He ran the beam of the flashlight across the front of the little hut. The door was ajar with no light coming from inside. Strange. He couldn’t imagine the old man out walking so late in the day when it becomes difficult to see even if you have young eyes and Walter’s were definitely not young.

  “Walter?” He pushed the door open further and waited. No sound. “Hello, Walter—it’s Doc Osborne. Ray Pradt’s friend. We got your message.”

  Osborne ran the light around the room. The room was empty. In the shadows, he could see that the daybed had been pushed away from the wall and jutted into the room at angle. On the floor at one end of the bed was a small black area rug bunched up. No sign of the old man.

  But his truck was here. He had to be somewhere. Of course, thought Osborne, I’ll bet he’s out back cooking on that little grill of his. Walter’s hearing wasn’t the best and he probably hadn’t heard Osborne drive up. “Walter!” he called loudly as he walked back past the lean-to with the empty water jugs and around to the rear of the shack where Walter had his tiny Weber grill. No sign of the man.

  Osborne stood, pondering. He went back to the front of the shack. Again he pushed the door open and checked the room. The angle of the daybed worried him, now that he looked more closely. He ran the beam of the flashlight over the little rug. It shone wet under the light. Osborne leaned down to touch it: blood.

  As he knelt, he spotted a figure on the floor wedged into the space behind the daybed. Walter had fallen behind the bed and likely cracked his skull on the small table alongside the bed.

  Moving quickly, Osborne pulled the bed away and reached for one of the old man’s arms to check for a pulse. As Walter’s body rolled back with the tug, Osborne’s flashlight caught the damage done to the old man’s head: his face was gone. But enough of the crown of his bald head remained—proof that this was the old man who had made it to the age of ninety-two.

  Osborne pushed the bed back further as if to make Walter Frisch as comfortable as possible. Now he could see that blood was seeping through the floorboards of the old shack. A sudden chill passed across his shoulders—was the killer still here?

  Hustling to his feet, Osborne ran for his car, jumped in and locked all the doors. Breathing heavily he waited, watching. But there was no one close. Hands shaking, he called Lew.

  Leaning back relaxed in her chair, Lew listened to Beth and Dani who were sitting across from her in her office. “I will be working up until five thirty and Dani will take over at that time,” said Beth. “Okay with you, Dani?”

  Dani’s cheery moonface nodded. “Sure. I love this search engine stuff. That’s how I found out my stepdad was married twice before he married my mom. Cool stuff.”

  “Chief Ferris, we have a pattern of the spammer entering the system as early as eight o’clock in the evening and as late as midnight,” said Beth. “Now, we are agreed—and Dani, please listen hard—that a Loon Lake officer is the only person allowed to approach a person using a campus computer. Correct?”

  “Correct,” said Dani, with a look that reminded Lew of a kid who promises not to lick the frosting on the cake. “I know this is serious but it has been kind of fun.”

  “Fun, how?” asked Lew. “Is the technology enough to lure you away from life as a cosmetician?”

  Dani giggled. “Maybe. But working late like this, I’ve gotten to know one of the janitors.” She gave a sheepish grin. “He’s really nice and a funny guy. He bought me coffee during my break. Who knows,” she said with a shake of her shoulders, “I might score another cup tonight. Hope so anyway.”

  “That’s nice,” said Lew, aware that any attention from a guy would make Dani happy. She had to have some reason to spend hours curling all that hair.

  As Dani burbled on, Lew saw Beth check her watch. Clearly Beth was not the type to make time for girlish chat. “Yeah,” said Dani, “I told him he’s too old for me but I might let him take me snowmobiling …”

  “Dani—” Lew interrupted, “I’ll be at the college tonight by six at the latest. If you spot any activity before then, ca
ll my cell phone. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” said Dani, her giddiness in check.

  “We haven’t seen anything that early,” said Beth.

  “Ok, ladies, we’re set for this evening. See you later, Dani,” said Lew, walking them to the door.

  After they left, Lew sat down at her desk. She smiled to herself. As stressful as the days were right now, getting to know Beth and effervescent Dani—and observing the power of technology to extend an investigation in ways that could never have happened even ten years ago—made her work so much more interesting. She would have to keep her eyes open and watch for ways the three of them might work together again. If Dani could be persuaded against a career in cosmetology.

  She was still smiling when her cell phone rang. “Lew!” said Doc, trying hard not to sound frightened.

  CHAPTER 25

  Within half an hour of Osborne’s call, Lew arrived at Walter’s place with the ambulance crew right behind her. After establishing a single entrance and exit route to keep the paramedics from disturbing any possible tracks, she was about to enter Walter’s shack when Ray called to say he was half a mile away.

  “We’ll wait for you before we move the body,” said Lew. Putting her cell phone away, she turned to Osborne. “I wonder if the victim has any family?” she asked. “I’ve always thought of him as the old hermit who lived out there on the lake road all alone. I never even knew his name until this happened.”

  “Yes, he has family—a niece and nephews, I believe,” said Osborne. “The niece owns that property where you used to see Walter, though she doesn’t live up here. I’ll stop by a neighbor’s place and see if they have any contact information.”

  Osborne turned as he was talking to see Ray’s pick-up pull in behind his car. Ray leapt from his truck and headed straight for the shack. Lew held the door open with a gloved hand and stepped back to let him in. “Take your time,” she said, “but don’t touch anything, okay?”

  Ray nodded and went inside. Waiting just outside the door, Osborne watched as Ray knelt to study the old man’s body where it lay wedged between the daybed and the wall. Then he stood and walked outside to join Lew and Osborne, shaking his head as he said, “Damn it, I wish I had checked the front desk at the station this morning but it didn’t even occur to me. If I hadn’t been so busy screwing around with that goddamn stupid ice shanty this wouldn’t have happened. This is my fault.”

  “No, Ray,” said Osborne in a low, measured tone. “If we had both been thinking when we were first here, we would have encouraged Walter to call one or the other of us.”

  “He doesn’t have a phone!” Ray’s eyes were glassy with emotion.

  “Wal-Mart has a pay phone,” said Osborne. “Look, you can’t blame yourself for this. The old man wasn’t stupid. He knew what we were looking for and why. If he had felt any urgency, he would have asked Marlaine on the front desk to get the message to you right away. He didn’t.”

  Ray was quiet. “You’re right, I suppose, but still …” Osborne rubbed his shoulder in sympathy.

  “Tough to be accurate on time of death due to these very cold temperatures, which delay rigor,” said Osborne, “and that the propane heater appears to have been turned off—but enough rigor has set in that I’m pretty sure he’s been dead since before noon today.”

  “That bullet in his forehead,” said Ray, “he was executed. Wait ‘til I meet the joker who did that. Just wait.”

  “Ray, I had no idea you knew this man so well,” said Lew.

  “I’ve known him since I was a kid. We were all kind of scared of him. One day I stopped by on my bike and we got to talking. Turned out he wasn’t an ogre after all. A friendly old soul he is … was. Hell, I put him at the top of my fish list. I was planning to drop by with my catch of the day at least once a week.”

  And make sure he was okay, thought Osborne. Ray had a list of folks like Walter—elderly and infirm—whom he would check on and expect nothing in return. It was one reason Osborne and some of his other coffee buddies put up with the lousy jokes. When it came to good souls, Ray had one.

  “The door was open when Doc got here so I’m thinking Walter must have let in someone he knew,” said Lew.

  “I doubt the lock on that door would keep anyone out regardless,” said Ray in a grim tone, hands on his hips. “What about the garage?” he asked. “The note said he found something in the garage. Have you checked?” he asked Osborne.

  “Right away,” said Osborne. “I looked around while I waited for Lew to get here. All I could see was that pile of empty water jugs. Nothing unusual in the cabin either as far as I can tell. The old guy only had a few clothes and packages of cookies and stuff. Everything is stacked as neat as it was when we were here. But you should check, too.”

  Ray walked around to the side of the shed and stood surveying the contents. “Right, Doc. I don’t see anything different.”

  “After they move the body, the place will be gone over very carefully,” said Lew. “I’m going to have Todd handle the crime scene. Be nice to find that bullet casing. He should be out here shortly—and we’ll decide if we need to include the Wausau boys on this.”

  “Count on me to be here looking for tracks first thing in the morning, Chief,” said Ray. “We haven’t had any new snow in the last few days so I might have some luck, especially if the person who did this parked elsewhere and walked in.”

  “Good,” said Lew.

  Later that evening, shortly after seven, after dropping Osborne off at her office to complete Walter’s death certificate, Lew drove out to the college. Even though she had called from the crime scene to let Dani know she would be late, she was worried that some activity might have occurred with the spammer. Just to be sure, she had admonished Dani for the umpteenth time not to pursue checking the location of any computer that might be in use. “Oh, I know,” said Dani, sounding as if Chief Ferris was making a big deal over nothing.

  “Dani?” said Lew on her cell phone as she drove, “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Everything okay?”

  “Yes indeed,” said Dani. “I started to find some really, really good stuff so I called Professor Hellenbrand. She just got here and boy—oh, hold on, she wants to speak to you …”

  “Chief Ferris?” said Beth. “You will be very interested in what Dani has discovered. Things are under control at my house so I decided to drive over. We aren’t finished yet either. Glad you’re gonna make it.”

  “Be there shortly,” said Lew. Both Beth and Dani sounded so excited, they must be on to something. Lew pressed harder on the accelerator.

  “So sorry to be late,” said Lew, entering the office where Dani and Beth sat eyes glued to a computer monitor. “We have another homicide on our hands.”

  “Oh no,” said Beth, getting to her feet from where she had been sitting beside Dani who was working the keyboard. “No one I know I hope.”

  “I doubt it and I can’t share the victim’s name until we reach the family,” said Lew, “but it may be related to the death of your friend. Same general area—out near the ski trails. Impossible to say if the same weapon was used but the victim was shot. Pretty sad, too. An old man who managed to reach the age of ninety-two only to have some jabone put a bullet through his brain.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Chief,” said Beth, beckoning for Lew to take her place in the chair beside Dani.” But we have some good news if that would help. Good news for us at least—not so great for Dr. Schumacher, I’m afraid.”

  “If it has to do with our fraudster out here, I sure could use a break,” said Lew.

  “Our public records search on Charles F. Mason has yielded some ve-r-r-y interesting information,” said Beth, her face the most animated Lew had ever seen it. “First, my search of national databases showed about four thousand Charles Masons but only three with the middle initial “F.” Next I went into LexusNexus and got it narrowed to a former resident of Minneapolis. That seemed promising. That’s when I turned it over to Dani.
I had to get home, get the kids some dinner. Dani, tell Chief Ferris what you found.”

  Dani pushed her curls behind her ears and looked up at Lew as she spoke.

  “So cool, Chief Ferris. I found notices of three divorce hearings and several liens against someone named Charles F. Mason. Since a lawyer’s name was attached to the most recent divorce notice, I emailed that person, who happened to be online at the time, and said we might be researching the same guy. That’s when I called Professor Hellenbrand for the first time.

  “Yes,” said Beth, “Dani called a little over an hour ago with the lawyer’s email address so I emailed that photo that I took this morning. Gosh,” said Beth with a sudden pained look, “I hope that was okay.”

  “Fine,” said Lew.

  Dani and Beth exchanged glances as if to relish the moment. Then Beth said in a determined tone, “He’s our man. He’s the same man that Dr. Schumacher married. You can see for yourself.” She pointed to the computer screen where Beth’s photo was displayed alongside a photo of five people in a meeting in the divorce lawyer’s office. The only difference was that Charles F. Mason on that day was wearing a white shirt open at the neck under a navy blue blazer. More businessman than artist.

  “Divorced three times?” asked Lew. “Over what period of time are we talking?”

  “Fifteen years or so,” said Beth. “Divorced twice. We aren’t sure but he may still be married to Number Three.”

  “And to Patience Schumacher?” Lew rolled her eyes at the two women.

  “The lawyer said he had been looking for Mr. Mason for over a year,” said Dani. “But he retired last fall and turned the divorce case over to a partner in his former firm.”

  “Right,” interjected Beth. “I called him on the phone when I got here to be sure we, you know, weren’t jumping to conclusions. He’s checking the status of the case tomorrow.

  “He’s doubtful that the divorce has gone through because the woman involved wanted a hundred thousand dollars paid back. The law office did a money search but found nothing. That’s why he said he doubts Charles Mason has that kind of money and Wife Number Three wasn’t going to let him off the hook until she was paid.”