Death Stalks Door County by Patricia Skalka

time. But Les, you remember?”
    Caruthers bobbed obligingly, a minnow gumming the bait.
    â€œIt’s probably the same kind of thing that killed those two,” Beck went on. “Someone’s idea of a practical joke. Only it went tragically wrong.”
    â€œThat’s a big assumption,” Bathard interjected.
    â€œBut a legitimate one nonetheless.” Beck pulled at his cuffs. When he spoke again his tone was deliberately light. “Like I said before, people go on vacation, they put their brains on hold, don’t think things through. Leo’s got several men combing the campgrounds now, asking questions. This’ll all be cleared up by evening. Tomorrow at the latest.”
    There was a strained silence.
    Beck looked directly at Bathard. “Well? Do you agree or disagree?”
    The coroner stood. He had the advantage of age, height, and dignity and brought all to bear in his response. “I will say for the record that I disagree. I would even go so far as to suggest we consider calling in the FBI if it seems necessary.” At the mention of the agency, panicked looks flew back and forth across the table. Bathard went on unperturbed. “I also acknowledge that, unfortunately, my suggestions most likely will not make any difference.”
    Beck smiled. “Of course, if it seems necessary we will consider all options, no matter how extreme they might be.”
    â€œI say we stay the course.” Caruthers cast his vote with his usual smug bravado.
    â€œYes. We have many other guests. We must not forget our obligation to them,” the gentleman from Fish Creek said.
    Ephraim’s administrator concurred. “The best approach is to continue as usual.”
    The Sturgeon Bay mayor, a man handpicked for the office by Beck, voiced his assent.
    As Bathard sat down again, Ruby Schumacher raised a hand. “I vote with the majority but only with the understanding that adequate steps are being taken to ensure the safety of both guests and residents alike. You have taken precautions?” she said to Beck.
    â€œYes, of course,” he said impatiently. “Leo’s deputized twelve extra men to monitor festival activities, and I’ve got a half-dozen private security guards coming in from Milwaukee. They’ll be in plainclothes with orders to blend in with the crowds and keep a careful watch on things.”
    â€œGood,” Ruby said and sat back in her chair.
    â€œAnd you? What’s your take on all this?” The chief cheerleader bounced the ball across the room to Cubiak, turning all heads in his direction.
    The ranger raised both hands in a mock gesture of helplessness. He would not be drawn in to their argument.
    â€œFloyd?”
    â€œNever give in to terrorists,” the newsman blurted. Beck hesitated only as long as it took for Touhy’s meaning to sink in. He wasn’t going to argue with a non sequitur that bolstered the tally in his favor.
    â€œLeo?”
    To Cubiak’s surprise, the sheriff didn’t seem eager for the spotlight.
    â€œI’m not real sure about the nature of the deaths,” Halverson said, directing his attention to a picture of Sitting Bull. A row of perspiration formed across his brow. He cracked his knuckles. “I mean, I’m sure you’re right about keeping the park open. Just not the reason.” The sheriff grimaced and chanced a fleeting glance at the kingpin of Door County. “I mean, I think there’s another explanation and that we can get at it probably by the end of the day.”
    â€œGo on.” Beck’s voice was barbed ice.
    â€œI think it’s more of Petey’s buddies. Reinforcements, like. I spotted a gang of them this morning on their bikes—big fucking Harleys and such—maybe ten or twelve guys roaring toward the park. I know how these punks think. They figure if someone gets killed while Petey’s in jail, then he’s in the clear. So