Dead Tease (5 page)

The only thing Lew hadn’t influenced Dani to change was her hair: the girl had a head of the most explosive curls Osborne had ever seen.

“What time do we start?”

“I’d like to be at the clinic when they open at eight.”

Osborne checked his watch, “We should go up. You must be exhausted.”

“Maybe.”

He loved that.

Chapter Seven

Osborne hurried to keep up with Lew as she headed down the hall leading to the administrative offices of the Northwoods Medical Clinic. A brass plate on the first door to the left announced it was the one she was looking for: “James McNeil, Chief Executive Officer.” The door was closed.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, Lew heard a sound and paused. She turned toward Osborne, a question in her eyes. Only moments ago the receptionist at the front desk had checked with McNeil before directing them toward his office saying that the CEO was expecting them and to “go right in.”

“No!” The command was sharp, the speaker was female, and the voice came from behind McNeil’s closed door. Osborne wondered if there might be a misbehaving Labrador retriever in the vicinity.

“Don’t tell me that, Jim,” said the same voice, volume escalating. “You can’t mean that. What? What? I don’t believe you!”

“Whoa,” said Lew under her breath. “We better wait a minute.” She backed into the hall as if the emotion on the other side of the door might blow through.

If the woman sounded distraught, it was a distress tempered with belligerence. The low murmur of a male voice had followed each outcry but Osborne couldn’t make out the words. Reassurance perhaps? Placating?

The woman’s demanding tone sounded all too familiar to Osborne, prompting a flashback of his late wife. Mary Lee had excelled at confrontation: a stew of wounded pouts and accusing shrieks spiked with intervals of sobbing until he would feel so beaten down he would acquiesce just to shut her up.

That was why he had retired before he wanted to, why he had spent too much money on landscaping for a lake house already cosseted by elegant pines, why he had known better than to spend a dime doing something he wanted and she didn’t—such as exploring the world of fly fishing—which he did not dare to do until she was gone.

The voice behind McNeil’s door hurt his stomach.

The office door slammed open and a flurry of orange and black barreled toward them like a sedan with all four doors open. The woman was tall, wide shouldered, and buxom. Her dark auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, exposing a fleshy face splotched red—though it was the black V-neck top over the dizzily patterned long skirt that left the most distinct impression. Or was it the bouncing body parts exposed by the V?

“What—” Angry eyes raked Lew and Osborne up and down. “What the hell do
you
want?” As Osborne and Lew stood stunned, she whipped around and, high heels clicking a fierce staccato on the marble floor, disappeared down the hallway.

“Oh, golly, folks, sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting Dr. Daniels,” said the man whose tall, lean frame, emphasized by a well-fitting pinstripe business suit, now filled the doorway. He met their stare with his eyebrows lifted and head down as if ducking a flying object. “Human behavior in organizations—one of the pleasures of management.”

McNeil had an open friendly face, well tanned under a youthful shock of shiny black hair slightly graying along the sideburns. And he was tall, very tall. Maybe six five, thought Osborne.

Grinning in apology as he thrust a welcoming hand toward each of them, he said, “Chief Ferris and Dr. Osborne, I’m Jim McNeil. Pleased to meet you—were you waiting long?” He gave a wan smile as if he wished he could recoup the previous few minutes and probably wondered how much they had heard.

“No, not really,” said Lew.

“Well, good.” McNeil did not sound convinced that his “good” was the right word. “Come in, come in. Please,” he said, gesturing for each of them to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I want to know what I can do. Jen was one of our best and we are all of us shocked to hear this terrible news. Tell you the truth, after watching the news last night, I didn’t get much sleep.”

As he spoke, the color had drained from his face and he reached for a pen, which he tapped on the desk. Tapped and tapped again. A darkness hiding behind the friendly eyes told Osborne the feelings were genuine. The man was stricken: by grief or by fear.

Jim McNeil was someone Osborne knew by sight only. According to the McDonald’s crowd, the relatively new CEO was in his early forties and building a good reputation among the residents of Loon Lake. The Midwest clinic was a sprawling medical center that had been completed five years earlier and was designed to replace the aging St. Mary’s Hospital, whose buildings dated back to 1903. The clinic was a lifesaver for the little town of Loon Lake, as it drew patients from all across northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, which helped to offset the slow seasons when tourism dropped.

“I appreciate your time so early this morning, Mr. McNeil,” said Lew, pulling out her notepad.

“Jim,” McNeil corrected her. “Dr. Osborne—have we met? Your name sounds familiar.”

“I don’t believe so,” said Osborne, “I’m retired from a dental practice here in town.”

“
That’s
how I heard your name,” said McNeil with a smile. “You retired too soon. When my wife and I learned we were moving up here, our dentist in Milwaukee gave you a glowing recommendation.”

“Well, wasn’t that nice,” said Osborne, embarrassed but pleased. He did his best to avoid puffing up like a self-important ruffed grouse.

“My department is fortunate,” said Lew, sounding anxious to get down to business. “Dr. Osborne is more than generous with his time. Since we have no forensic odontologist in the region even, Dr. Osborne pinch-hits as deputy coroner when I need help. The Wausau Crime Lab leans on him once in a while, too.

“Right now, with yesterday’s tragedy on top of this being the height of the tourist season and all the problems that brings—I’ve deputized Dr. Osborne to assist with the investigation.” She gave a slight smile and said, “Loon Lake is a small town and I am chronically short-staffed.”

“I kno-o-w the feeling,” said McNeil. Another ingratiating grin.

He’s a charmer, thought Osborne. Good people person. Glancing around the room, Osborne noted McNeil had a pronounced masculine taste—or the clinic’s decorator did: the walls hung with framed prints of ducks flying, deer in snowdrifts, and an etching of a black bear. Along the east side of the room, a wall of windows looked out over the grounds of the clinic and the rear parking lot used by employees.

“I must tell you I still cannot get over the fact that Jen has been …” said McNeil, his voice trailing off before he said, “do you have any idea—”

“Not yet,” said Lew, stepping on his words. “That’s why we’re here. I’m hoping someone she worked with may know something that could help us. How familiar were
you
with Jennifer if I might ask?”

“Well, I certainly knew her,” said McNeil. “She ran our graphics department—did a swell job with brochures, newsletters, special publications. She was an artist. In fact, we were just at a marketing conference in Madison and the collateral materials she designed for our clinic were every bit as good as what the big boys have. Jennifer was a real pro.”

“What about her personality? Did she get along with people?” asked Lew.

“That I can’t answer. We had a supervisory relationship and you know how that goes—people are always on their best behavior with the boss.”

The smile this time seemed a little tight to Osborne. He made an “x” on his notepad and wrote the word “smile” with a question mark alongside.

“I’ve made up a list of people with whom we would like to talk this morning if possible,” said Lew, handing over a sheet of paper. “Jennifer’s mother, Bonnie, made these suggestions.”

McNeil studied the handwritten list of names.

“I would add a few,” he said. “Jen was good at connecting with all the department chairs and their staff. I suggest you check with several people whom I know have worked with her recently. Let me give this some thought then I’ll have my secretary call you if that’s okay? She can reach you faster than I can. Too many meetings.”

“I would appreciate that,” said Lew. “The first person I would like to question is Kerry Schultz, one of your nurses.”

“Of course,” said McNeil. “I see you have her on your list. But Dr. Daniels?” he asked. “Jen had minimal interaction with Cynthia Daniels—that I’m aware of.”

“Oh, you know,” said Lew, waving one hand airily, “that’s a name her mom mentioned. Just touching base with everyone. You never know, you know.”

“I doubt Dr. Daniels has time unless you insist. She’s a surgeon in our trauma center. One of our emergency medicine specialists. That’s one hardworking specialty—often on call, they work nights. As far as the rest of these, if you’ll hold on, I’ll have my secretary arrange a conference room for you and get folks organized so you can see everyone today if possible.”

“Thank you, Mr. McNeil,” said Lew, rising from her chair.

“Jim,” said McNeil, pumping her hand with enthusiasm and handing her a business card. “Call me, Jim, please, Chief Ferris. And do not hesitate to touch base if you have more questions—easiest to reach me after hours.”

Lew glanced down at the card he handed her. “Is this your home phone number?” She sounded surprised. “Your wife isn’t Leigh Richards by any chance?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I thought your phone number looked familiar. She has called nine-one-one twice in the last few weeks to report a prowler on your property. I’ve had my officers assigned to drive past your home during their night patrols but they haven’t reported seeing anyone. Have you had any more disturbances?”

Inflating his cheeks with a deep exhale, McNeil said, “I’ll check that out with Leigh. Again. She insists someone is coming on our property but I haven’t seen anyone. Believe me, you would hear from me, too, if I did. Of course, each time this has happened, I have been away on a business trip so it’s possible….”

He hesitated then said, “My wife is a lovely, wonderful woman but she gets lonely and, frankly, hears bumps in the night. Know what I mean? I will remind her that your police officers are keeping an eye out for us. That is sure to relieve her worries.”

He walked them toward his office door. “My secretary, Amy, is right around the corner, Chief Ferris. If you will stop by her desk, she’ll set things up for you and Dr. Osborne. Again, please call me if you have any more questions, need anything—if there is any way myself or the clinic can help, I want to be sure we do so.”

“Nice man,” said Lew as they walked toward the secretary’s office.

“Worried man,” said Osborne. “Very … worried … man.”

“Really?” Lew turned puzzled eyes on him. “That’s why I like having you along, Doc. You hear things I don’t.”

Chapter Eight

“Oh, yes, Jen and I’ve been buds since she started working here,” said Kerry Schultz in answer to a question from Lew. Her voice grew hoarse as she tried to speak saying, “We … um … we worked out at the Y together three times a week.”

She wiped at a tear and tried to smile. “We joked that neither one of us could do the elliptical if we were alone—we needed gossip to take our minds off the damn thing.” She hesitated, “Jen was in much better shape than me. You know, Jen … oh …”

It was a losing battle. Tears filled her eyes and she reached for a Kleenex from a box on her desk in the cubicle provided for the head of the surgical nursing team. Lew and Osborne sat quietly as she tried to compose herself.

Kerry was petite, small-boned, and, if you believed the crisp, green scrubs she was wearing, which did not compliment her waistline—plump around the edges. Her cap of wispy yolk-yellow hair gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the clinic windows. When she lifted her face from the Kleenex, almond-shaped hazel eyes set off an expanse of lightly-tanned skin scattered with freckles and devoid of makeup.

It was a face that reminded Osborne of a field of prairie grasses: wide open, dappled, and refreshingly plain. A face that encouraged him to trust what she might say.

“Was she dating anyone?” asked Lew.

“Umm … not really,” said Kerry. Her eyes darted off for a second as if she was rethinking that answer. “No, no, she wasn’t … dating … any one.”

Lew waited for a long moment, then said, “Is there anything you would add to that?”

Kerry shook her head as she blinked hard to hold back tears. She blew her nose. The cubicle was quiet.

“I see,” said Lew, “actually, I’m surprised. I’m under the impression Jen was quite an attractive young woman—”

“So am I,” said Kerry with an apologetic little grin. “And I’m not dating anyone either. Hard to meet guys in Loon Lake—even Rhinelander is barren territory. Half the time you grew up with them and know they’re total razzbonyas or they’re new in town and already attached.” She sniffed.

None of this was news to Osborne—he’d heard plenty on the subject of men and dating from Erin and Mallory.

“Well, in that case,” said Lew, “what can you tell us about Jennifer’s outside interests? Away from the clinic and besides working out at the Y? Other people she did things with? Other close friends?”

“I think I was her best friend,” said Kerry. “We’d go to movies together. Kayak on the weekends if the weather was nice, maybe go for a swim at my folks’ place. That was pretty much it. Oh, well, we did drive down to Wausau for shopping a couple times, and on the Fourth of July we hosted a pontoon party together.”

Kerry managed a smile. “That got kind of wild. The party, I mean. Not our fault—one of the guys at the party had too much to drink, went overboard, and passed out. I did CPR, but we had to call nine-one-one—just to be sure he was okay. I’m sure the EMTs thought we were all plowed but I wasn’t. Jen wasn’t either. Still, the story got around town….” She glanced at Lew, “I imagine you heard the worst?”

“That one escaped me,” said Lew with an easy grin. “The Fourth is one of our busiest holidays of the year. More serious shenanigans to worry about than over-served partygoers. Back to Jennifer—you’re saying there were no men in her life?”