Dead Madonna (9 page)

They rounded a corner to enter a large open area that featured walls bare to the original brick; a ceiling open to HVAC ducts; and a long room divided so that one side held workstations with computers and phones and the other a conference area defined with a dark green rug boasting the Loon Lake logo. Six chairs crowded around a pine table. Two of the chairs were occupied.

“Paul, sorry to see you under these circumstances,” said Anita Rasmussen as she got to her feet. She was a tall, large-boned woman with short, blond hair streaked gray, a gray that matched her tailored pants suit. Anita had run the Chamber for years and served on the St. Mary’s School Board with Osborne when they both had children in school. He knew her to be a careful, detail-driven manager. DeeDee’s organizational skills would have appealed to Anita.

“I’d like you to meet Hugh Curry,” said Anita, turning to a heavy-set man squeezed into the chair beside her. “Hugh, this is Dr. Paul Osborne—he is the deputy coroner for the Loon Lake Police Department and assisting with the investigation of DeeDee’s … um … death.”

“Mr. Curry,” said Osborne with a handshake, “I heard your name from DeeDee Kurlander’s roommates. “I understand she’d been assisting you as part of her responsibilities here at the Chamber?”

“That’s correct,” said Curry, pumping Osborne’s hand. Anita nodded in agreement. Like Anita, Curry was dressed for business in dark slacks, a light blue sport coat and a red tie that Osborne couldn’t help but notice held a large grease spot.

“These are sad and terrible circumstances,” said Curry, holding tight to Osborne’s hand. “She was a fine young woman and I just can’t imagine how such an awful, awful thing could happen.” In spite of his size, Curry had a thin, wheezy voice. He spoke slowly, enunciating each word as he continued to shake Osborne’s hand. It wasn’t until he had finished every word that Curry let go. Osborne was thankful he hadn’t asked the guy to recite the Gettysburg Address.

Anita sat back down and Osborne took the chair next to her. She waved at Ryan, who was on his way out of the room. “Tell you what, Ryan—since you and DeeDee were such pals, why don’t you sit in on this with us. Speak up if you think of anything you can add.”

Though he seemed relieved to be included, the boy had a tense, worried look on his face. He pulled a chair out and sideways to make room for his long legs. After sitting down, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and proceeded to bounce one fist against the other—right against left, then left against right.

“I’m sorry,” said Curry, twisting to face the boy, “would you stop that? You’re driving me nuts.” Anita shot Ryan a sympathetic look and nodded at him to do as requested.

Defiance flashed across Ryan’s face and told Osborne everything he needed to know about the relationship between the boy and the older man. Offices, thought Osborne, as dysfunctional as families.

“I asked Hugh to make a special trip into town to meet with us,” said Anita. “DeeDee has been working closely with his company to set up three of six job fairs over the last two months and I thought Hugh or some of his people might have some insights or information could help the investigation. Hugh?”

“Gee, Anita, ever since you called I have racked my brain and I can’t think of a thing,” said Hugh, a tremor in his hand as he reached for his cup of coffee. He picked up the cup, noticed the shaking and set it down without taking a drink.

“I was hoping—did you check with your staff?” said Anita.

Curry ignored the question. “That young woman was just a super, super gal. Like I said before, I can’t imagine … I mean—who on earth would do such a thing? I have to tell you the news sure came as a shock to me and to …” His voice trailed off.

“And to whom?” said Osborne, reminding himself to be sure to get the names and phone numbers of people working for Curry who would have known DeeDee.

“Well, my wife, of course. She worked closely with DeeDee. If I can say anything, I would like to repeat what I was telling Anita before you arrived—that girl was so diligent. She made sure all the rentals arrived on time, that everyone signed in correctly, that coffee and donuts were on hand …

“You know—” He turned to Anita. “I just thought of something—could she have irritated one of our vendors?”

“That they would bludgeon her to death?” asked Anita, looking at him askance. “That’s a stretch, Hugh.” Her tone told Osborne everything he needed to know about Anita’s opinion of the man. He was beginning to wonder if DeeDee was the only one who’d gotten along with the guy.

Osborne checked him over more closely. The man wasn’t just heavy-set, he was bordering on fat. His attempt to hide incipient jowls behind a well-trimmed moustache didn’t work, nor could he hide the double chin—or the sweat beading across his forehead. And his skin was winter white—in the middle of July? He was one of those men that Ray would describe as “smells like indoors.”

“Hugh,” said Anita, tapping her ballpoint pen on the blank pad of paper on the table in front of her, “what about all those people attending the job fairs? You have applications from the participants that Dr. Osborne and Chief Ferris could use if they needed to reach any that might be of interest, correct?”

“Yes, I have that information but never, not once, did I see any inappropriate behavior during our events. I would discourage you going in that direction, Mrs. Rasmussen.”

“But how can you be so sure?” said Osborne, interested in Anita’s point. “A pretty, blond girl as outgoing and attractive as DeeDee would naturally attract more than a few men of her age—I would think.” Even as he spoke, Osborne was thinking “men of any age.” “I agree with Anita,” he said, “we should look into the attendees.

“In fact,” said Osborne, hitching his chair forward, “we could start by comparing any incoming phone calls that DeeDee may have received with phone numbers on those applications. That wouldn’t take long. Then—”

A clacking across the wooden floor behind them caused Osborne to pause and glance back towards the reception area. Heading their way was an Idaho potato suspended on two toothpicks. At least that was Osborne’s first impression—and one of which he was not proud.

Though she appeared to be of average size from the waist up, the woman boasted a horizontal expanse of derriere that was remarkable: high, wide and measuring more than a foot from front to back. Perhaps it was the black leggings and heeled sandals she was wearing that accentuated her rear end—not to mention the legs that appeared too thin to support all that weight. Or maybe it was the shirt: a close-fitting purple pullover with a V-neck exposing more cleavage than Osborne wished to see.

He concentrated on keeping his eyes glued to her face, which was definitely her best feature. Round and full-cheeked with flawless pale white skin and lips outlined in scarlet, she had the eyes of a chipmunk: black and tiny and gleaming with intelligence. Her hair was a shiny black bowl cut to the line of her jaw. If he made an effort not to look down, she reminded Osborne of a porcelain figurine from the Orient.

“Hello, everyone!” boomed the woman over the chatter of her heels. Her deep, cigarette-cured voice filled the long, high-ceilinged room. “Sorry I’m late—had to pick the dog up at the vet’s.”

“My wife, Gwen,” said Curry, half rising to his feet, his voice a wheeze against his spouse’s baritone.

“Hah—don’t anyone dare stand,” said Gwen with a bark intended to be a laugh. Though for what reason she would laugh, Osborne hadn’t a clue.

Mrs. Curry plunked herself down next to her husband, set one hand over his and peered around the table before saying, “May I speak for Hugh and myself—as a family business, we are
devastated.
Poor, poor DeeDee. You have
got
to let us know what we can do. This is a tragedy. An absolute tragedy.”

Osborne stared down at Gwen Curry’s hand. Every finger, except her thumb, featured a ring. Each ring held a precious stone in an ornate setting—a diamond, an emerald, a garnet and maybe (Osborne wasn’t positive) a sapphire? Gwen caught his eye and said, “Antique jewelry—I sell on eBay.” An officious tone coupled with the arch of her right eyebrow implied retail success.

“My wife is a power seller,” said Curry with pride. He gave Gwen a fond look. Anita looked at her, too, but with exasperation. This meeting was not about Gwen.

“Platinum
power seller,” said Gwen with another hoarse bark before Anita could speak. “There is a difference, you know.”

“I—we weren’t expecting you, Gwen,” said Anita, frustration creeping into her voice. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll continue our discussion here. Hugh and I were updating Dr. Osborne on DeeDee’s activities over the last few days—”

“Well … you want the truth?” The woman’s eyes darted around the table to be sure everyone was listening.

“Of course,” said Anita. “That’s why we’re here.”

“That girl did her job just fine until a week ago when she let it all go to hell,” said Gwen.

“Gwen, hold on now,” said Hugh.

“You
hold on,” said Gwen. “That old saying you don’t speak ill of the dead—I don’t believe in it. And these people should know the girl was a flirt out looking for a sugar daddy and things like this are
exactly
what happens when you’re not careful.”

Anita looked stunned.

Hugh stared down at the table. “I think that’s a little too strong, Gwennie. She did a very, very good job for us—” A crafty look stole across his face. Osborne got the distinct impression that he was happy to shift blame towards his wife.

“You better believe she did,” said Anita. “Your attendance for the job fairs that DeeDee worked was double what we expected—more than the tech college gets!”

“Until Hugh gave her that outrageous bonus and she stopped making the effort.”

“Is that true, Hugh?” said Anita.

“I hate to say it, but Gwen’s got a point. It did seem like once she had everything she needed from us, she dropped the ball. I didn’t want to say anything because we were winding up our events here in northern Wisconsin, so what good would it do.”

“Yes, that’s what I told Hugh: what good would it do,” said Gwen, a smug look on her face. “She would just make up some goddamn lame excuse.”

“I’m sorry,” said Osborne, anxious to defuse the situation. “I missed something here. Would you folks mind taking a minute to walk me through the basics? Exactly what does your firm do and how many people are on your staff?”

“Seven full-time employees, including Hugh,” said Gwen.

“Just my wife and I,” said Hugh.

Anita looked from one to the other. “Which is it?”

“Oh—hah,” said Gwen with a bark, “you mean just Hugh’s operation? Running the Curry Job Fairs takes just the two of us. But me—I employ six people. Power selling requires manpower.”

“Really,” said Anita. “Mr. Curry, when you approached us in February, I distinctly recall you telling me you had a Minneapolis-based recruiting firm employing one hundred fifty people. Did that change?”

“Oh, that,” said Curry, “you misunderstood. That’s the franchise main office.” He looked over at Osborne. “We hold job fairs all over the country and I own the upper Midwest franchise.”

“I see.” Anita tapped her pen. She caught Osborne’s eye: She did not misunderstand; she was lied to.

Gwen glanced at her watch. “I have an auction in thirty minutes, people. If you don’t mind, Hugh and I have to leave. Any more questions—just give us a call.”

“Dr. Osborne, do you have any questions?” said Anita.

“Yes, I do, thank you, Anita. Hugh, I know Chief Ferris would appreciate copies of all the registrations, applications—whatever it is that people filled out at those job fairs. We can’t eliminate anyone who may have spoken with DeeDee these past few weeks.”

“Or had intercourse with her,” said Gwen, muttering under her breath.

“Excuse me,” said Anita, standing to tower over Gwen and making no effort to hide her anger, “that is enough. You are out of line, Mrs. Curry. Way out of line. I am ready for you to leave this office.” She pointed towards the front entrance.

“All right, all right—I take it back,” said Gwen, “but you didn’t see what I saw.”

“Well, I’m not interested in what you
think
you saw. Now Dr. Osborne has made a request that requires an answer.” Anita was vibrating.

Still hoping to curb the tension, Osborne repeated his question to Hugh, “How soon can you get those to us?”

“If you mean the applications, that’s a problem,” said Gwen.

“Dr. Osborne didn’t ask you, he asked your husband,” said Anita.

“We’re partners in the business,” said Gwen, fixing her tiny eyes on Anita.

“I don’t understand. What could be the problem?” said Osborne.

“We promise confidentiality to our attendees,” said Hugh. “Tell you what, I’ll give our lawyer a call and I’m sure I can get those to you in a few days.”

“Tomorrow morning is when they’re needed,” said Osborne. “As early as possible. Chief Ferris will be in her office by seven.”

“We’ll see,” said Gwen.

“Well, if I were you,” said Osborne—in the tone he had perfected for use on obnoxious patients when recommending they seek the services of a dentist other than himself—”I wouldn’t want to be accused of withholding information critical to a homicide investigation.”

With a pout-like thrust of her chin, Gwen got to her feet, waited for her husband to fight his way out of his chair and took the lead leaving the room. As she walked away, Osborne was surprised to see that the seat of her leggings was white with dog hair. Or was it cat hair? Whichever, the woman was a mess.

When the front door had slammed behind them, Anita raised both hands, saying, “Oh, how I detest those people. They’ve been nothing but trouble for us all spring. DeeDee worked so hard to keep them happy. That woman—talk about
demanding.

“And that man—do you know how many times I’ve driven past here late at night and seen him in this office with all the lights on? When I ask him why, he’s very evasive. He lies—certainly lied to me about the size of his firm. Yes, sirree, that guy’s up to something. It doesn’t take twelve hours to print out the job fair handouts. Yuck,” she shivered, “I can’t wait to get those two out of here.”