First Frost

by A Lyrical Press Anthology

  Around dinnertime, we finally pried ourselves out of bed, and I settled onto the couch with my laptop and cell phone so I could set up a remote hotspot and get online. Seth stretched out next to me and put his feet in my lap.

  “That is not helpful,” I said.

  “Suck it up, you love me.” He smirked and started to play a game on his phone.

  He had a point. I wasn't inclined to argue, so I worked around him and used the photos to run Mason's license plate, which gave me enough personal information to run background checks on both him and his wife. I also ran credit reports and opened a file on my computer to log some notes just in case. Then I checked my email and shut down. I nudged Seth to make him move and went to pour a cup of coffee.

  “What did you find out, Kojak?” he asked, sitting up.

  I leaned against the counter and took a sip. “They are Derek and Candace Mason, of Green Bay, Wisconsin. She's twenty-eight, he's thirty-one, they have no kids. Neither one has a criminal record, although she's prone to speeding. He works at Menards, which I gather is like Home Depot, and she's a hairdresser. As you can imagine, they don't make a ton of money. In fact, they have a mortgage, a car loan and a couple of maxed-out credit cards. Earlier this year, her grandfather died and they inherited the cabin from him. His name was Einar Wilcox. The taxes on the place aren't cheap, so maybe they've been trying to wreck the property value.”

  “That is a scary lot of information to get off a laptop in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Well”—I shrugged—“if you're willing to pay for access to some of the sites and services I do, there's not a lot you can't find out.”

  “Have I ever told you this PI stuff is a total turn-on?” He came into the kitchen and kissed me. Then he started poking around in the fridge. “So what now?”

  “Nothing. Like I said, I just wanted to know who they were. They don't seem like much of a threat as long as we stick to our side of the lake.”

  He snorted. “No problem.”

  Chapter 3

  The next day was Fall Fest. Honey had given us the lowdown on what should and shouldn't be missed. First on our agenda was a pumpkin-pecan pancake breakfast at the community center, which she had assured us was worth getting out of bed for.

  “Wow,” Seth said after he swallowed a huge bite of pancakes smothered with real maple syrup. “I think if autumn had a flavor, this would be it. You don't usually taste anything like this in Florida.”

  I reached out and swiped a drop of syrup off his lip with my thumb. “They're not bad, maybe a little sweet for my taste, but they definitely fit the season.”

  He ate all of his and half of mine, and then we struck out to explore the town of Samoset. Most places had flyers advertising the schedule of events, so I snagged a couple and handed one to Seth, who studied it as we strolled down the sidewalk.

  “Nice.” He smirked. “Fire extinguisher demonstrations sponsored by the Namakagon Fire Department. Now you know you're in a really small town.”

  “I'm okay if we skip that,” I said. “Looks like there's a lot of live music during the day, though. I wouldn't mind hanging out to hear some.”

  We spent the morning milling around the street vendors and people-watching. Then we went to the food trucks and got hot dogs for lunch, which we ate while listening to a couple of folksingers. Afterward, we bought big plastic cups full of pumpkin ale and wandered down a side street hosting a classic car show.

  “Now we're talking,” I said.

  Seth lit up and bounced on his heels.

  We're both classic car buffs. Seth is partial to the muscle cars of the Sixties and Seventies, but my favorites are the Fifties and Sixties era cars with their amazing stylistic details and pure romance. I drove a burgundy 1966 Ford Mustang named Matilda because her white rag top made her look like the little old ladies in Florida. Restoring her had been one of the things that cemented my friendship with Seth early on, and I wouldn't have minded doing another one. In fact, we'd been on the lookout for a car for Seth and had been considering a '72 Chevelle that was going cheap and needed a complete engine overhaul.

  We stayed there the better part of the afternoon, poking our way from one end of the street to the other, admiring cars and talking to old guys who had driven these things when they were brand new. An especially nice '58 Fury caught my eye and I bent down to look inside.

  I was distracted, however, when a hand grazed lightly across my ass. I straightened to say something pointed to Seth, and found myself face to face with a young blonde woman who blinked coyly and gave me a flirtatious smile. From the pictures I'd seen during my background search, I knew this was Candace Mason.

  “Hi there, handsome,” she said. “Have we met? I swear you look familiar.”

  “I'm pretty sure not. You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

  “I don't think so.” She reached up to play with my collar, letting her thumb accidentally brush my skin. “You're staying out on Cable Lake, aren't you?”

  Yeah, okay. Clearly this was no coincidence or random meeting. She'd probably seen me taking pictures of their car.

  “Yeah, I'm on vacation with a friend of mine.” I glanced around for Seth. He was two cars away, eyeing us with a cocked head. I moved to put a little distance between Candace and me, but she followed, keeping right in my face until my back hit a tree and I had nowhere else to go.

  “Oh, really,” she said. “Where from?”

  “We live down in Florida.”

  “Nice. And what do you do for a living, Mister...” She was fishing for information and not doing a very subtle job of it. It was quite likely she'd been notified when her credit report was run, and if she had seen me the day before, she'd have a pretty good idea who’d done it. Even if she hadn't, I'm sure her husband had gotten a decent look at me while pelting us with rocks.

  “My name is Dino,” I said, swallowing hard as she trailed her fingers down my chest to the button of my jeans. If she got any bolder, I was in trouble. “Do you have a cabin on the lake?”

  Seth walked up behind her and sipped his beer, but didn't say anything.

  I gave him a look I was sure said, Help me, and he shot one back which just as clearly said, What, and miss all the fun?

  “Yes, I do,” she purred. “I could come over and we can get to know each other better. What did you say your job was?”

  “I'm a mechanic,” I lied, and Seth rolled his eyes. “And, you know, there's a guy waiting on me down there. He wants me to give him some advice on replacing an alternator. I probably shouldn't keep him waiting.”

  “Aw, come on,” she said with a pout. “They're just a bunch of stupid old cars, they can sit a while longer. Who cares?”

  Seth scowled and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, babe. Scram. We got work to do. Go play somewhere else.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “A guy who needs a mechanic. Take off, will ya?”

  Before she could protest, he grabbed the shoulder of my jacket and hauled me out of there, dragging me through the crowd until we were about halfway down the street.

  “Absolutely pathetic,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “She couldn't have been more obvious if she tried.”

  He stopped short and turned to face me. “I'm talking about you, moron.”

  “Me?”

  “You got a hot babe throwing herself at you, and there you are, all mashed up against a tree like there's a spider on the floor.” He planted his hands on his hips. “It's no fucking wonder you never dated before we hooked up.”

  “Yeah, you know that's not true. I did just fi—”

  “Nope,” he said, holding a hand out to block me. “Don't even try to defend yourself. You're only gonna make it worse. Let's go buy you another beer, put a little hair on that girly chest of yours. How come nobody ever flirts with me on the job?”

  “Ah, you know, if chest hair is our measure of manliness, I think I got you beat.”
>
  “Shut up, Sally, just keep walking.”

  I checked my watch. We had a little over an hour before the all-you-can-eat corn and pig roast, which was where we planned to eat dinner.

  “You get the beer and meet me over there,” I said, pointing to a park bench that was off to the side and deserted. “I want to make a phone call.”

  “Yeah, sure. What's up?”

  “Candace Mason was trying to pump me for information. They definitely have something to hide, and I want to see what else I can find out.”

  As I walked over and sat down, I dialed Ruth's number. She answered on the fifth ring, sounding breathless. “Dino, hello, I was just working in the garden with Della. How's your vacation going? Have you found everything you need?”

  “It's great, Ruth, this is exactly what we needed. Haven't caught any fish yet, though.”

  “Hold on a minute, Della would like to say hello.”

  Della was another of my neighbors, a flashy, saucy, seventy-something former southern belle. There was a brief pause, and then Della came on the line, gushing as usual. “Dino, darling, I hope you're having a marvelous time. Has Seth let you out of the cabin at all? Not that I would have, of course, and he does seem to share my enthusiasm for indoor sports, so I'm guessing you're just plum tuckered out.”

  My face flushed hot, and I knew I blushed because Seth walked over and handed me a beer, saying, “And you must talking to Della.”

  “Yes, we're having a good time,” I told her. “It's really pretty here. I'll see if I can bring you a present.”

  “Thank you, sugar. Enjoy the rest of your vacation. Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” she sang.

  Ruth came back on and said, “You didn't think you could get away from her by going across the country did you?”

  “Nope, and I would never try. Listen, I called because I wanted to ask you about something. What can you tell me about Einar Wilcox?”

  “Well, I heard he passed away this spring. Why do you want to know about Einar?”

  “His grandkids have inherited the place, and they're not exactly making themselves very welcome in the community. I wasn't going to get involved, but he sort of involved me, so I thought I would see what I could find out.”

  “Mmm. Honey mentioned they weren't too friendly,” she said. “Einar was quite a character. I spent my summers there when I was a teenager, and we were all a little frightened of him. There was a rumor going around that he robbed banks in the Forties, but no one could ever prove it. It's my understanding it was quite the scandal back in the day, and the stories carried on for a long time. I haven't heard anyone talk about it in ages, though. I don't think there are too many of us left who were around back then and would remember.”

  “Do you know if the bank robberies were ever solved?” I asked.

  “I don't really know. I don't think so, but then we were only ever interested in the part of the story that was scary and exciting.”

  “Okay, well thanks. I don't know if it helps, but it's nice to have a little insight. It seems like if people stay away from them, there shouldn't be much of a problem.”

  “It's a shame,” Ruth said, “but I guess neighborhoods change, don't they?”

  “Thanks again for letting us use the cabin. I owe you one.”

  “It's no problem, Dino. Anytime.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I slipped my phone into my pocket.

  Seth raised an eyebrow and said, “The plot thickens. What's this about bank robberies?”

  I took a sip of my beer, and leaned back. “The guy that used to live in the Masons’ cabin was suspected of a bunch of bank robberies, and Ruth doesn't think they were ever solved.”

  “Whoa. Why didn't anyone mention this before?”

  “I don't think anyone around the lake knows. Ruth said they were very old rumors that just kind of died out, and it's only people her age who are likely to remember them at all.”

  “I'm betting the Masons know about them.” Seth smirked and took a drink of beer. “Do you think they're out there searching for some old coot's long lost bank haul?”

  “It would explain a lot. The digging, tearing apart the cabin, trying to keep everyone away from there. It especially makes sense if they think there's some question over who would legally be entitled to any money they found.”

  “Who would be?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know. I'd have to look it up. But if nobody knows about it, then no one would question it, and they wouldn't have to worry.”

  “I gotta say, I think flinging rocks off your dock and screaming at people is about the worst way I can think of to keep people from noticing what you're doing.”

  “One thing I've learned on my job is that money makes people incredibly stupid.”

  * * * *

  Dinner at the corn and pig roast was excellent, and Seth put the all-you-can-eat aspect to the test. A local brewery had a bunch of great beer for sale, and in one corner of the tent, a band played live music the whole time. On our way out, we ran into Honey and Fred. They offered to buy us a drink at the Corner Bar, so named because it stood at the corner of Main Street and the highway, only half a block away from where we were.

  We followed them into a bar that was about three quarters full, and looked like most of the other bars I'd seen in Wisconsin. Lots of wood, lots of beer signs, sports on at least two TVs, black bar stools with cracked vinyl and at least one stuffed fish or deer head.

  The mood was festive, and we found an open table. Fred took everyone's order and muscled his way to the bar. After he left, Honey turned to Seth and said, “Did you take my advice on the breakfast?”

  “We did,” he said. “It was great.”

  “And you've been partaking of our local customs since?”

  “Ah, we've had a very interesting day. I think you're gonna love this.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yep. Mason's wife is a slut, and we think they're digging for buried treasure.”

  “They're what?” Fred asked, putting four beers on the table and settling onto his stool.

  “Well, I can't be totally sure,” I said, reaching for my drink. “But Ruth says the old guy was supposedly a bank robber, and I'm sure that story got passed down to his grandkids, even if you two might not remember hearing about it.”

  “Wow,” Honey said. “And here I thought our family had some skeletons because Ruth and her teenaged gang painted people's cats with iodine and stole lumber to make a homecoming float back in the day.”

  I choked on a mouthful of beer and said, “My Ruth?”

  “Yeah. She seems all mild mannered and crunchy granola now, but she used to be a real hell raiser, I guess.”

  Seth smirked and said, “No wonder she gets along with Della so well.”

  “Ask her about Ichabod some time.”

  “Who's Ichabod?” I took a sip of my beer.

  “Her car,” Honey said. “An old beat-up 1928 Hupmobile she used to tool around in when they were here in the summers. I think I have a picture of it somewhere.”

  Seth grinned. “Ruth drove a classic before that was even a thing.”

  Honey paused with her bottle halfway to her mouth, and her eyes widened with shock. I asked what was wrong, but someone grabbed the back of my collar and dragged me off the barstool. I got slammed against the wall before I could scramble to my feet, and Derek Mason punched me right in the mouth. Fortunately, the kind of guy who would throw rocks at someone is also the kind of guy who throws a weak punch, so while it hurt, it wasn't a real big deal. Seth's sister had nailed me worse by accident.

  I shoved back at him and said, “What the fuck is your problem, Jack?”

  “I saw you hitting on my wife today,” he hollered, grabbing my shirt front and throwing me against the bar this time. People scattered out of the way. “I don't know who you think you are, but you're not getting away with it.”

  “Whoa. You got the wrong idea, pal.” I fended off a couple ineffectual blows. “Sh
e was hitting on me. I didn't want to have anything to do with her.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I do,” Seth said, stepping between us, and folding his arms across his chest.

  I sighed and pressed my head into the wood behind me. This was not going to be pretty.

  “And who the fuck are you?” Mason was red faced, seething and, by the way he swayed on his feet, clearly drunk.

  “I'm his boyfriend.” Seth gave him a satisfied smirk. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept your grubby mitts off my date."

  "Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me."

  "I mean, I get it," Seth said. "You have that little spark of curiosity naggin' at you, and then you see a hot guy in a bar..."

  Mason turned full-on crimson and lunged at Seth. Right on cue. Seth hauled off and slugged him square in the gut, and then shoved him for good measure. I pulled myself to my feet, intending to intervene. Mason was apparently not as far gone as I'd thought, because he righted himself and tackled Seth before I could do a thing. I wasn't especially worried about Seth, but getting arrested was not in my plans.

  Seth got Mason pinned on his back and punched him again, just as a woman shrieked from somewhere near the door. I turned to look, and Candace flew past me in a blur of red fingernails and very unladylike speech. Fantastic.

  She swung her purse at Seth's head as he was standing up, and screamed, "You asshole! What do you think you're doing?" The crowd was damn near frozen. "You have a lot of nerve coming around here and stirring up shit."

  "Oh, that's rich. Listen, lady," Seth lunged forward, but I caught him with an arm around his waist, and clamped my free hand over his mouth. I was no idiot. He struggled, but managed to get the sentiment out loud and clear, even without the benefit of actual words.

  "Cool it, Red," I muttered near his ear. "You are truly my knight in shining armor, now can we get the fuck out of here?"

  Fortunately, Candace was more concerned with her husband, and everyone else was content to enjoy the show, so things settled down pretty fast. After a few deep breaths, even Seth was safe to release.