teeth that looked as though it might swallow Ray—boat and all.
Then it was gone—the line snapped and the blue Boogie on its way to a place dark, deep, and out of the reach of humans.
All was quiet on the Loon River.
“I do believe that was a sign,” said Ray, watching the last ripple fade into the night. “I do believe my friend is safe.”
fourteen
In the morning be first up, and in the evening last to go to bed, for they that sleep catch no fish.
—English proverb
“C’mon , now,” said Osborne, backing away from the open refrigerator with raspberries in one hand and cream in the other, “Erin and the kids picked these this morning—no one leaves until they’re gone.”
He got no argument from the two people seated at his kitchen table. Not even when he insisted they use cream and a dusting of sugar.
“Umm …” said Lew, savoring her first spoonful, “life doesn’t get much better than this.” She looked more relaxed than she had all day.
It helped that once they were through the last channel back to Loon Lake and out of the sheltering pines, she was able to pick up a voice mail on her cell phone from Peg Garmin’s brother-in-law. He left a message that he could be reached at a number in Boulder Junction. Returning the call immediately, Lew made arrangements to meet with the couple, Joan and Parker Nehlson, at nine the next morning.
“He said his wife was too upset to make the call herself even though, given Peg’s history, they always expected something like this might happen.” Lew spoke between mouthfuls. “These are delicious, Doc, thank you.”
“Oh, so it’s Peg’s fault she was murdered,” said Ray. “I like these people already.”
“Ray, that is exactly what I don’t want to hear from you,” said Lew, shaking her spoon at him. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I got enough trouble with Roger on that score.”
“Sorry,” said Ray. “I guess … I can understand how they might feel that way.” Osborne and Lew stared at him. “No, I do. Really.”
“Interesting they called from Boulder Junction,” said Lew as she finished the last of her raspberries and held the bowl out for more. “Must be a second home. Ray, see an Illinois address for them? Any names in there look familiar to you?”
Ray had been eating berries with one hand and paging through Peg’s address book with the other. “The Nehlsons have an address in Kenilworth—but nothing in Boulder Junction. Maybe they’re staying at a resort or with friends. This book is pretty dog-eared. Quite a few names are crossed out.”
“Anyone named Christopher?”
“Not yet. Y’know,” said Ray, looking up, “you should turn this over to Gina—she can track these people down.”
With an approving shake of her head since she had a mouthful of berries and cream, Lew waved her spoon at Ray, “Did Doc tell you what he saw this afternoon—after you left?”
“Oh right, Ray? Maybe you noticed this, too,” said Osborne. “I decided to take the south route down the old highway when I was ready to head back to town, and less than a quarter of a mile from where Peg’s car was found, the road takes a sharp ninety-degree turn. I drove back and forth a couple times and I have to tell you—I think someone intended for that car to go straight into the pines at the curve. I don’t think it was supposed to roll the way it did.”
Ray looked at him dumbfounded. “I know exactly where you mean, Doc. Never dawned on me but that makes sense. Be interesting to see what Robbie Mikkleson and his buddy turn up when they check the data recorder from the car.”
Lew got up to set her bowl in the sink. She turned to face Osborne and Ray. Leaning back against the counter, she crossed her arms as she said, “About tomorrow. Doc, would you call Dr. Westbrook and see how soon you can meet with him?”
Before Osborne could answer, Ray looked up as he turned the last page of the address book. “Just so you know—Harold
Then it was gone—the line snapped and the blue Boogie on its way to a place dark, deep, and out of the reach of humans.
All was quiet on the Loon River.
“I do believe that was a sign,” said Ray, watching the last ripple fade into the night. “I do believe my friend is safe.”
fourteen
In the morning be first up, and in the evening last to go to bed, for they that sleep catch no fish.
—English proverb
“C’mon , now,” said Osborne, backing away from the open refrigerator with raspberries in one hand and cream in the other, “Erin and the kids picked these this morning—no one leaves until they’re gone.”
He got no argument from the two people seated at his kitchen table. Not even when he insisted they use cream and a dusting of sugar.
“Umm …” said Lew, savoring her first spoonful, “life doesn’t get much better than this.” She looked more relaxed than she had all day.
It helped that once they were through the last channel back to Loon Lake and out of the sheltering pines, she was able to pick up a voice mail on her cell phone from Peg Garmin’s brother-in-law. He left a message that he could be reached at a number in Boulder Junction. Returning the call immediately, Lew made arrangements to meet with the couple, Joan and Parker Nehlson, at nine the next morning.
“He said his wife was too upset to make the call herself even though, given Peg’s history, they always expected something like this might happen.” Lew spoke between mouthfuls. “These are delicious, Doc, thank you.”
“Oh, so it’s Peg’s fault she was murdered,” said Ray. “I like these people already.”
“Ray, that is exactly what I don’t want to hear from you,” said Lew, shaking her spoon at him. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I got enough trouble with Roger on that score.”
“Sorry,” said Ray. “I guess … I can understand how they might feel that way.” Osborne and Lew stared at him. “No, I do. Really.”
“Interesting they called from Boulder Junction,” said Lew as she finished the last of her raspberries and held the bowl out for more. “Must be a second home. Ray, see an Illinois address for them? Any names in there look familiar to you?”
Ray had been eating berries with one hand and paging through Peg’s address book with the other. “The Nehlsons have an address in Kenilworth—but nothing in Boulder Junction. Maybe they’re staying at a resort or with friends. This book is pretty dog-eared. Quite a few names are crossed out.”
“Anyone named Christopher?”
“Not yet. Y’know,” said Ray, looking up, “you should turn this over to Gina—she can track these people down.”
With an approving shake of her head since she had a mouthful of berries and cream, Lew waved her spoon at Ray, “Did Doc tell you what he saw this afternoon—after you left?”
“Oh right, Ray? Maybe you noticed this, too,” said Osborne. “I decided to take the south route down the old highway when I was ready to head back to town, and less than a quarter of a mile from where Peg’s car was found, the road takes a sharp ninety-degree turn. I drove back and forth a couple times and I have to tell you—I think someone intended for that car to go straight into the pines at the curve. I don’t think it was supposed to roll the way it did.”
Ray looked at him dumbfounded. “I know exactly where you mean, Doc. Never dawned on me but that makes sense. Be interesting to see what Robbie Mikkleson and his buddy turn up when they check the data recorder from the car.”
Lew got up to set her bowl in the sink. She turned to face Osborne and Ray. Leaning back against the counter, she crossed her arms as she said, “About tomorrow. Doc, would you call Dr. Westbrook and see how soon you can meet with him?”
Before Osborne could answer, Ray looked up as he turned the last page of the address book. “Just so you know—Harold
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