Death in Cold Water by Patricia Skalka Page B

down.”
    â€œWhere were you before that?”
    â€œInside, watching a movie.”
    â€œDid you hear anything? See anyone?”
    Andrew shook his head.
    â€œWhy’d you send the deputy to the store?”
    â€œI was hungry.”
    â€œHe could have gone to the little shop in town. Why all the way to Gills Rock?”
    â€œI had a taste for smoked whitefish,” Andrew said. He spoke like a spoiled, petulant child who was used to getting his way.
    â€œFrom now on, the deputy stays put unless I say otherwise. You got that?”
    â€œYeah.” It was more a mumble than a word.
    Andrew exhaled. “There’s more,” he said and heaved to his feet. “I don’t know what made me look here,” he continued as he headed toward the gazebo on the other side of the lawn.
    Overhead two hawks rode the currents back and forth. Silent hunters in the sky.
    The gazebo was built of the same brownstone as the house. The mansion was large enough to accommodate the bulk of the large stones, but the gazebo seemed overwhelmed, as if the great weight of the material was dragging it into the earth. When he reached the base of the entrance, Andrew hesitated and stepped off the path. Cubiak moved past him and climbed the three steps. The gazebo was empty except for a white wooden crate that sat in the middle beneath the vaulted ceiling. The box was covered with a large piece of cardboard with a note taped to it. You know what this means , it read.
    Cubiak pushed the cardboard aside with his foot, revealing the wire screen that had been nailed over the top of the box. Inside, there were dozens more snakes. Cubiak felt his stomach clench. Like the hawks that rode the wind, signaling their menace by their mere presence, the heap of slithering snakes hinted at unseen danger. There were brown snakes and garters in the mix but others, too, that he didn’t recognize. Unexpectedly, a snake tail emerged from the quivering morass and rattled. The sheriff jumped away. Jesus, no wonder Andrew is freaked, he thought. Cubiak could tolerate one or two snakes at a time and even the truncated alphabet on the dock didn’t bother him, but there was something about this tangle of cold-blooded reptiles with their hooded eyes and sinuous movement that left him cold.
    â€œGod, I hate snakes. Give you the creeps, don’t they,” Andrew said, still standing at the base of the stairs.
    If it were up to Cubiak, he’d shoot the snakes on the spot, but the feds needed to see the spectacle, and the crate had to be checked for prints.
    â€œProbably harmless,” the sheriff said, hoping Andrew hadn’t seen him shudder.
    I nside the guest house, Cubiak fixed a small pot of tea. Andrew was still so shaken, it took him three tries to get the cup to his mouth.
    Cubiak waited for him to drink it half down. “You tell Moore about this?” he asked finally.
    Andrew shook his head. “I know I have to, but not yet.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œAfter talking to that woman agent yesterday, I know her boss as much suspects me as anyone,” Andrew said, playing with the sugar bowl.
    â€œWhy would he do that?”
    Andrew grimaced and gave a nervous laugh. “The usual, you know. Gambling debts. I’m pretty much a regular at the casinos in Green Bay and Milwaukee.”
    Cubiak knew the type. “A regular loser.”
    Andrew laughed again, but it was a sound of bitterness, not mirth. “Yeah, something like that, I guess. Anyway, I owe enough that I guess it wouldn’t be hard for the feds to imagine me staging this to get the money. That woman Harrison kept giving me a look.”
    â€œYou couldn’t have borrowed against your inheritance or your allowance or just asked your father to help you out?”
    Andrew colored. “I’ve already used up those options.”
    â€œAnd you’re here?”
    â€œHuh? Yeah, I’m here, so what?”
    â€œYou have