Dead Deceiver (16 page)

So it was that Bruce Peters had never turned down a request from Chief Lewellyn Ferris. She did not ask often but when thwarted by his superiors on critical cases, she knew whom to call.

After giving Bruce a quick overview of the computer issues at the college and the subsequent break-in at the home of the college president, she said, “this is not student vandalism. Someone with a sick agenda rampaged through here. The home office has been damaged and the president’s personal computer completely destroyed.

“Bruce, I’ve seen vandalism by kids and vandalism by ex-wives and I would say this goes beyond either of those. The destruction, the anger, the force used to wreak this havoc—this is the product of a disturbed individual. But he did leave a calling card, which is why I hope you can help us out.

“In the bedroom, after tearing things up—our visitor left a puddle of semen in the couple’s bed—”

“Great,” said Bruce, “and not very smart. We may dealing with an idiot here.”

“Now, Bruce, just so you know, I talked to your boss yesterday and asked for assistance on our investigation at the college and was turned down. But that’s when we thought we had a student hacker. He told me that was a matter for the Feds. I tried them but they blew me off, too, but that’s worked out okay. The college is paying for two consultants, experts in the fields of computer-assisted investigative reporting and digital forensics.”

“Wow, I’d like to know what they know,” said Bruce.

“But I need help with the results of this break-in. The nature of the vandalism makes me concerned for the personal safety of Patience Schumacher, the Wheedon College president.”

Not her husband, noted Osborne. Interesting.

“Chief, I’ll be there first thing in the morning,” said Bruce. “Is the entire house a disaster?”

“No, just those two rooms. I’ve checked.”

“Good. Then here’s what I need you to do. Close down all access and don’t allow anyone to move or touch a thing. I may be able to get some prints. Let the semen stains air dry. If all goes well, I’ll get a DNA report on that ASAP. The good news is the state gave us the money to update our equipment and technology so it shouldn’t take long. And I have a few favors I can call in so we can have the DNA results run through the state and national databases pronto.

“One more thing,” said Bruce. “How difficult would it be for you to get DNA samples from any other males that have access to that home?”

“Would a toothbrush work? The husband is out of town right now—but he left an electric toothbrush behind. Would the brush section off that work?”

“Toothbrush is fine. Meet you at your office at eight tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Oh, Chief, one small favor to ask …”

“Of course, Bruce. Shoot.” Lew grinned at Osborne. She knew this was coming.

“Those Dead Deceivers you showed me last fall? Got any extras I might have? Hope to go north with one of my buddies this spring—fish steelhead.”

“Tied some this winter, kiddo. Half a dozen are yours so long as you promise not to lose them on alder branches.”

“O-o-h,” said Bruce with a wince in his voice, “I’ll do my best.”

“Bruce,” said Lew, her voice serious, “I can’t thank you enough—”

“Chief, you’ll pay,” said Bruce, chortling as he hung up.

Just as Lew tucked her cell phone back into its holster on her hip, Patience entered the bedroom. Her shoulders were slumped and her face tear-stained. “I tried Charles but his phone must be off. I left a message.”

“I don’t want you staying here tonight,” said Lew. “Let’s get you a room at the Loon Lake Motel. I have a forensic expert from the Wausau Crime Lab who will be working here in tomorrow morning. It’s critical that no one disturbs anything in the den or your bedroom until he is finished. Do you have extra clothing in another room, I hope?”

“Yes, I keep my work clothes in the guest room closet. That won’t be a problem. I do think I’ll sleep better at the motel.”

“One more thing,” said Lew. “We’ll be doing some DNA testing on the bedclothes that may help us identify who broke in. But I do need one of your husband’s used toothbrushes. Just a formality to rule him out—”

“What? You can’t be serious.
Charles
is a suspect?”

“Everyone who may have had access to your home is a suspect,” said Lew. “Simply a formality that allows us to rule him out. That’s all.”

But Patience was in tears again.

As they were walking to their cars, Osborne said, “Lew, Ray and I had an encounter today that I need to talk to you about.”

Lew paused, her hand on the door of her cruiser. “Please tell me we have a lead on the Beltner murder.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but we spent time with old Walter Frisch. He’s living in an old shack out near the swamp behind the Merriman Trail. He found a snowshoe in the road by his place that we think is one of Kathy Beltner’s.”

“He found it in the road?” asked Lew, leaning back against the cruiser, her arms crossed and her eyes intent on Osborne’s. “That’s curious. As if it fell off a vehicle, maybe?”

“So we went on down the road and back in to this place I knew as a kid—the old Russian camp. Do you know the place?”

“Never heard of it. Is it like a holdover from the logging days? One of those strange old places you find in the middle of nowhere?”

“Exactly. Only a very surly fellow is squatting in there. No fire number. No mailbox. From the looks of it, he’s been doing a lot of work on the place. But when Ray and I tried to talk to the joker, he ran us off the place. Insisted his property was posted, which it was not.” Osborne felt his anger rising again just thinking about the guy.

“Ray is going to report him to the DNR or the Forestry Service, whichever one has jurisdiction over that land. I think we should have a search warrant to check the place out, Lew. Where he’s living isn’t far from where the old man found the one snowshoe.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“The creep? We tried. Like I said, he literally ran us off the place.”

Lew lowered her head in thought. “It’ll take a little doing with the judge, Doc. Search warrants aren’t easy to come by these days. Living near a crime scene isn’t ‘probable cause,’ I’m afraid. Let me work on it but tomorrow is the earliest I can make the call.”

“I realize that. This may be a long shot but Ray and I both think we should be able to check it out.”

C
HAPTER
22

O
sborne opened the back door to let Mike out one last time.

As he waited for the dog, he checked the barometer on the mudroom wall. The barometric pressure had plummeted, signaling the approach of new snow. Just then the phone in the kitchen rang and Osborne left the inside door open as he went to answer it.

“Doc,” said Lew in a worried voice, “sorry to call so late but have you any idea where Ray and Suzanne might be? It’s after eleven and I know she was planning to drive home early in the morning.”

“Hold on,” said Osborne, “I just let the dog out. I’ll step outside and see if they might be over at his place because I saw lights when I drove in.”

He set the phone down and stepped out into the backyard. Winter stripped the leaves from the oaks and maples that buffered his property, making it easy to see the warm glow from the interior of his neighbor’s house trailer.

Osborne picked up the phone, “Yep, from the looks of it someone’s home. Want me to walk over and see what’s up?”

“Would you please? I’ve tried both their cell phones with no luck. But, Doc, be careful. I don’t want to embarrass either of them if—”

“Lewellyn, I am the father of two daughters who have put me in this position more than once. I can handle it. Call you back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

Osborne hung up with a big grin on his face. He loved it when she called him names.

The night air was invigorating even though he was ready for a good night’s sleep. Looking down the long drive, he was surprised to see lights out on the ice. Oh, come on. Did Ray have Suzanne out ice fishing this late? The poor girl. Osborne shook his head. Honest to Pete—what is the guy thinking?

Hurrying past the trailer home, he aimed his flashlight towards the lights on the lake. A monster bluegill was staring straight at him—bulbous eyes glinting in the moonlight, its jaws wide open to showcase two human beings sitting side by side on folding canvas chairs, their happy faces ruddy in the glow from lanterns set in the snow around the fish.

“Hey, Doc,” Ray stood up, “whaddya think?”

“What on earth?” Osborne looked the fish up and down. It was a round ball about five feet in diameter and painted a dark greenish-blue with darker vertical stripes and a bright orange belly. The back of the gill facing him sported a large black dot.

“I’m entering the ice shanty contest,” said Ray. “Check out the inside. Suzanne helped me make it and we finished just a few minutes ago. Cool, huh?”

“Amazing,” said Osborne. He bent to peer inside. The interior was surprisingly spacious and would certainly hold at least two fishermen seated. A small propane heater sat on a circle of plywood and a lantern hanging off a hook made it feel cozy.

“How did you do this so fast?” asked Osborne.

“Pretty simple, really,” offered Suzanne. “Ray had one of those pop-up portable tents so all we had to do was rig some wire fencing to give it some shape and cover it all with canvas sheeting. I painted the canvas,” said Suzanne with pride. “Nice job, don’t you think?”

“She painted,” said Ray, “I stapled.”

“And managed to avoid stapling himself,” said Suzanne with a laugh. “But I have had to listen to a lot of bad jokes.

“Sit down, Doc, and have a soda with us,” said Ray.

“Thanks but I’m here because it’s after eleven and someone’s mother is worried,” said Osborne. “Let me call your mom so she knows Ray hasn’t gotten you into big trouble.”

“Are you kidding? It’s that late?” said Suzanne. “I had no idea. Tell her I’m on my way.”

“In a minute,” said Ray, pulling her back down in the chair by the sleeve of her jacket. “Let us … bask for another … two minutes … in the beauty of our creation. Then … you can leave.”

“All right, twist my arm,” said Suzanne, slapping her arms with her mitts to keep warm.

“Tell Doc what you’re going to do.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not sure about it yet,” she said, hedging. “Ray’s trying to talk me into a major life change, Doc.”

“If … I win the contest.”

“Right. If he wins the ice shanty contest, then I am supposed to sell my firm and go back to school.”

“That
is
a major life change,” said Osborne. “How did you two come up with that idea?”

“It’s me, really,” said Suzanne. “I was having such a good time doing this today that I told him how much I’ve always loved working making art—design, painting, drawing. I’m good at it, I know.

“But when I was getting out of high school and knew I wanted to be able to make money so I wouldn’t have to dance at places like Thunder Bay—it was my guidance counselor who recommended accounting. He said people always need accountants. And he was right but after twelve years I know it’s not how I want to spend my entire life.”

“So … I told her,” said Ray, raising the index finger he always raised when he was convinced he had a brilliant idea, “that … given all the change in her life because of the divorce—why not apply to a good grad school and get that Master of Fine Arts? Make change work for you. Right, Suzanne?”

She shrugged. “I’m thinking about it. I’ve always dreamed of going to Cranbrook Academy of Art over in Michigan. But I doubt I can get in.”

“Hey, if I win the contest—you’ll have that for your portfolio.”

“Yeah, well … we’ll see.” Suzanne got to her feet. “I gotta get going. You call me if you win, okay?”

“One more joke,” said Ray, “then you can go.”

Suzanne sat down again. “This is the last one and I mean it.” But she smiled and Osborne could see she was reluctant to leave.

“This friend of Doc’s took his wife to a restaurant—”

“Leave me out of this,” said Osborne, raising a hand in resistance. He glanced at Suzanne, “I am not responsible for any of this.” She laughed.

Ray ignored him, saying, “But the husband ordered first. Said he wanted the strip steak, medium rare. The waiter asked him if he was sure: ‘Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?’ he said. ‘Nah,’ said Doc’s friend, ‘she can order for herself.’”

“See what I mean?” said Suzanne, getting to her feet as she punched Ray in the shoulder. “Really bad jokes. Okay, guys, I am out of here.”

“I’ll walk you up to your car,” said Osborne. “Ray, you coming?”

“Okay if I stay here?” asked Ray, looking up at the cloud cover overhead. “I have a couple tip-ups I’d like to keep an eye on for awhile. With that snow coming, I think I got some hungry crappies lurking under the ice, doncha know. Suzanne, I’ll see you when I see you.”

Suzanne leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek. “You be sure to call me, win or lose.”

“Deal.”

As they reached the driveway and Suzanne’s car, Osborne said, “Ray seems in very good spirits. What do you think? Your mother and I were worried that he had started drinking again.”

“He seems okay now,” said Suzanne. “This was a fun day for both of us. You know, Ray is a real sweetheart. But a friend, that’s all.” She smiled as she put the key in the ignition. “A good friend period, Dr. Osborne. I am not stupid.”

“You are your mother’s daughter,” he chuckled.

“At least we don’t have to worry about the hard drive in that computer,” said Beth as she and Bruce Peters picked their way through the jumble of debris, which was all that was left of the Schumacher’s den. Stepping carefully so as not to dislodge anything, Doc and Lew followed behind.

It was Monday morning and Beth had been working in her office when Lew called to see if there had been any new developments

C
HAPTER
23

“A
t least we don’t have to worry about the hard drive in that computer,” said Beth as she and Bruce Peters picked their way through the jumble of debris, which was all that was left of the Schumacher’s den. Stepping carefully so as not to dislodge anything, Doc and Lew followed behind.