The muskie is one fish that is hard to catch, whether you are rich or poor. It makes fools out of professional muskie fisherman as well as novices.
Tony Rizzo, Secrets of a Muskie Guide
It was three-thirty the next morning when Osborne found himself ecstatic that the Loon Lake Pub was open twenty-four hours, seven days a week. He’d never been so hungry in his life. From the looks on the faces of Ray, Julie, and Lew, the sentiment was exactly the same.
“Poor Sloan’s not doing well at all,” said Lew as she got out of Osborne’s car after he’d parked at the curb outside the pub. “I checked with the nurses while you were in the emergency room with the baby.”
They had just dropped Erin and the baby at the hospital for twenty-four hours of observation. Mark was there to meet them. Osborne wasn’t too worried. The prognosis from the two physicians who examined them were excellent. Though the baby had slipped into unconsciousness, he revived quickly under treatment for hypothermia.
“If he had to suffer a trauma,” said the pediatrician who’d rushed to the emergency room to meet Erin, the baby, and Julie, “this is the one to choose. The lower temperatures are the least likely to cause brain damage, and I see no evidence of frostbite. He’s still chubby enough with baby fat that his appendages aren’t long enough to be endangered. Nothing on his little body is too far from his heart.”
Erin herself was still shaken, but she’d be okay. Osborne was worried she might have frostbite on her fingers and toes, but the trauma doc told Osborne she looked pretty good. The adrenaline rush spurred by her determination to save herself and her baby had kept the blood flowing in spite of the freezing temperatures. Once she had warmed up, the numbness in her fingers and toes was gone. They checked her over carefully to be sure she might not have a late reaction and slip into shock, but she had calmed down after finally getting to nurse the baby.
Lew had gone straight to the police department where she taped statements from Julie, Ray, and Marie. Then she’d hurried over to the emergency room to see how the baby and Erin were doing. She told Osborne that Ray and Julie had gone ahead to hold a table for them at the pub while she ran by John Sloan’s room for a quick check on her ex-boss.
“If he hadn’t smoked so heavily all these years, he’d have been out in a few days, but this pneumonia is hanging on. The nurse said he still has fluid on the lungs.”
“I’m glad,” said Osborne. “I mean, I’m not glad the poor man is so ill, but I’m glad that we were able to do what we did. I’m not sure we’d have had the same results if John had been around. He would have made it difficult to include Ray.”
“Yep, Ray forces you to play your hunches, y’know, Doc,” said Lew briskly. She looked up at him as he held the door to the pub open for her. Their glance held for an instant. Long enough for Osborne to make up his mind.
Ray and Julie had snagged a comfortable booth for the foursome. “I can’t believe how busy this place is,” said Julie as a harried waitress arrived with glasses of water.
“The bars just closed,” said Ray. “The tradition around here, if you’ve closed down the bar, is to hit the Loon Lake Pub for a double cheeseburger, fries, and a root beer float.”
“Or a bowl of Marilyn’s homemade chicken noodle soup,” added Lew with one of her few quick smiles.
“I’ll take both,” said Julie. “I can’t remember the last time I ate!” She turned to the waitress and gave her order.
“Save room for their lemon meringue pie,” said Osborne. “Joanne from Eagle River makes it—may be the best you’ll ever eat. Lew said Sloan’s not looking so good,” he added, handing the menus around the table.
“Speaking of looking good,” said Ray, “I’m still trying to figure out why Judith Benjamin decked herself out like a man. I mean, what difference would it have made? I don’t think the woman is gay or a closet transsexual, do you?”
“Insurance,” said Lew. “Marie said she’s got Robert Bowers’s passport on her. The facial resemblance is close enough, given how bad those passport photos are.”
“But her height and weight?”
“Doubtful they’d even check that,” said Lew. “She probably wouldn’t have needed the disguise, anyway. She and Brad had done this many times before. They had their contacts—and their bribes—all in place. But if anything happened to upset the timing, if just one official asked any questions, she would be covered. She could pass for Bowers, and even if they ran a check on the artworks, everything was registered in his name. She had a fail-safe setup. Now, if only our friend Doc here hadn’t jumped the gun on opening day for muskie fishing …”
“Now, Lew, I was scouting. Just scouting.”
“And if you believe that one …” said Ray. Osborne kicked him under the table.
“Right,” said Lew. She opened her menu, looked quickly, and closed it, putting it down on her plate. Then she leaned forward and crossed her arms on the table in front of her. The swelling on her lower lip was barely noticeable, and she had the no-nonsense, intense look on her face that Osborne now knew meant business. She did not look like a person who’d gone too many hours without sleep. Osborne wondered where on earth she found the energy. But she did, and she made him feel wide awake and twenty years younger, too.
“Y’know, Ray, try taking it easy on the controlled substances, if you would. Because if and when I have an opening—and I know I will eventually—I would like to talk to you and the good dentist here about working together in the future—on a project-by-project basis maybe?”
Osborne looked over at Ray. He liked the sound of that. He liked the idea of working around Lew. And life was always interesting around Ray.
“I’d like to keep my family out of it, but I could handle a career change,” said Osborne.
“Yeah,” said Ray, “I’ll have to run it by Shanley and make sure he has no problems with that, but our project is pretty low-key with a five-year timeline on it. I can probably work something out.”
“When did you start working with Shanley?”
“Oh … right around two years ago.”
“Is that why you went into rehab?”
“No.” Ray sat up straight and reached for his cup of coffee. Now it was his turn to lean forward and look around the table. His eyes stopped at Julie. “These folks know that I was a serious pothead and an alcoholic up until—well, two years ago. I always had problems measuring up in a family where all my siblings became doctors and lawyers and I just wanted to go fishin'. To make a long story short, I hit bottom just after I turned thirty-five. Donna found me unconscious one day and drove me to the mental health ward at the hospital and checked me in. I was up there, still resisting, when my good buddy, Dick Harvey, lost his oldest son in a freak accident.”
“I remember that,” said Lew. “He was terrific kid. Dropped dead from a heart attack playing soccer. He was only thirteen years old.”
“Right,” said Ray. “It happened in the morning, and that afternoon Dick came to see me at the hospital and demanded that they let him in. You know how many rules they have over there. But he found me and he grabbed me and he looked me in the eye and he said, ‘Ray, you gotta help me. You’re the only one that can help me.’ Well …” Ray looked around the booth at Lew and Osborne and Julie. “I never thought I had anything to give to anybody up to that moment.”
“What did you do?” asked Julie softly.
“Not much, really. I put my arms around him and I said, ‘Dick, what’s God gonna do? He needs a new angel.’ “ Ray took another slow sip of his coffee. “That’s all. But it helped. So when I learned Rick Shanley’s group was looking for someone to do this, I gave them a call. The money’s not great, but it gets me through the slow season.”
“And you’re doing something pretty darn important,” said Julie. She reached over and squeezed Ray’s arm.
Ray put his hand over hers and kept it there. “Thanks.”
“Is that why you put in your septic system?” asked Osborne.
Julie and Lew swung their heads toward Osborne in disbelief.
“Hey!” Osborne put his hands up defensively. “He was piping his raw sewage into my rose garden,” said Osborne. “I never did know why he stopped.”
“Actually, Doc, you nailed it,” said Ray. “The institute crowd made me do it. They went over my record and inspected my trailer. They want to make sure you aren’t violating any codes or stuff if you’re working for them. Their inspector caught that, and he helped me get a good deal on a septic. I didn’t mention it because my deal with Shanley is confidential.”
“How’s Marie?” Osborne asked.
Ray had dropped him at the hospital to check on Erin and the baby immediately after the powerful spotlights on the police boat confirmed that the plane was in seven feet of ice-cold water with Judith Benjamin strapped tightly into the pilot’s seat. Not only did the spots pick up the plane, but it had sunk at an angle so they could make out Judith’s head against the window. Her head was tipped back and up, the eyes open. Even in death she appeared to be casting a baleful stare at the crowd.
Marie’s gunfire had scored twice, hitting the plane’s engine and also shattering the door on the pilot’s side. A bullet may have hit Judith, but no one knew for sure. A crew would raise the plane sometime the next day.
Meanwhile, Marie assured everyone, the precious paintings still on board were quite safe. Airtight and watertight. No moisture was going to seep onto those canvases. Judith had insisted on special packing, concerned that the freight compartments on the international flight might not allow for the necessary humidity control. Little did she suspect why Marie had followed instructions so carefully this time.
“Marie seems okay,” said Ray. “Lew had me take her to the station for a statement. I asked her to join us here, but she wanted to get home to Herman.”
“You gave her a ride?”
“Nope. Wouldn’t take one. She had that old truck of Herman’s, and she insisted on getting herself back. They’re very close, those two.”
Just then their waitress reappeared with a full tray of soup and burgers and began to set steaming bowls in front of each of them. Then she crowded plates of burgers and fries between the bowls as they all watched in hungry silence.
“Marie sure can pick and choose who she wants to do carpentry for from now on,” added Julie between bites.
“How so?” asked Lew, when the waitress had left.
“She’s Robert Bowers’s next of kin,” said Julie, her eyes smiling mischievously over her cheeseburger.
“My God, I forgot about that,” said Ray. He set his burger down and wiped his lips and beard carefully with his napkin. “How much is she worth?”
“Close to a billion dollars, counting the insurance on Robert that gets paid now that we know how he died,” said Julie. “That oughta rock this town.”
Osborne raised his eyebrows and glanced up to see Lew doing the same.
“Whoa, that’ll buy her a good lawyer if she needs one,” said Ray, and they were all quiet for solemn moment. “Does she know it yet?”
“I thought I’d stop out to Herman’s place sometime later today—after I get some sleep—and have a little chat with her,” said Julie. She looked at Ray, and it was a look both questioning and ever so slightly demure. “I was wondering if you’d go with me.”
“Sure. Let me take you up the Loon Lake Chain afterward. In my boat. We’ll get that fishing lesson in before you have to go back to Kansas City….”
“I was thinking of staying an extra day or two,” said Julie, her eyes on Ray.
“That would be loverly,” said Ray, his eyes on Julie. “And perhaps I can recommend a rod or two—in case this becomes a habit?”
Before Julie could answer, Lew interrupted. “Oh—Ray. I almost forgot.” She unzipped the small black leather bag she wore strapped to her waist near her revolver and pulled out the muskie lure that had once graced Ray’s hat.
“We’ve got your hat at the station, but I was afraid this might get lost. You may want it as a souvenir.”
“Thank you, Lew.” Ray reached out his hand.
“Have you ever caught anything with that or you just wear it on your hat?” asked Lew with a dubious tone in her voice.
“I know you don’t believe in surface lures,” said Ray, his eyes earnest and persuasive as he looked at Lew, “but I’ve caught four big ones with this lure and raised, maybe, fifteen or twenty more over the past few years.”
“Me, too,” said Osborne. “That surface mud puppy is one of the best damn lures.”
“I dunno,” said Lew in disbelief. “I like the deep-water lure myself. I really believe you’ve got a better shot fishing the thermocline. Over the last ten years, I’ve hooked three big ones fishing deep with a Striker. Granted, I’ve only gotten three, but they’re plenty big fish, guys.”
“What is everyone talking about?” asked Julie. “This sounds too technical for so early in the morning.”
“Dueling muskie hunters,” said Ray with a grin. “This debate could go on for hours. Once you start to fish muskie, you have to commit—deep water or surface—there’s no middle ground.”
“Sure there is,” said Osborne. “She can fish her side of the boat and I’ll fish mine. But Lew,” said Osborne, setting his fork carefully into his slice of lemon meringue pie, then raising his eyes to hers, “have you ever given the surface mud puppy a chance?”
“No.”
Osborne sensed a challenge. He was more than up to the effort. He knew this woman’s habits in the stream-beds, in the rivers—he would like to know her better on the lake. “Perhaps it’s time.”
“Doc, are you finally inviting me to share your boat?” Lew chuckled. God, he loved her laugh.
“What do you mean ‘finally,’ “ said Osborne. “I’ve been trying to get you on the lake for months. You just refuse to let go of that damn fly rod of yours. Of course, now Ray tells me you’re an expert with a spinning rod, too.” He was very surprised to feel his heart pounding. He also caught a flash of amusement between Julie and Ray. He felt a little foolish.
“O-o-h, I doubt that,” said Lew. She gave him a sideways look. “I’m sure there’s a lot I can learn from you.”
“I didn’t hear that,” said Ray, winking at Julie.
“You bet you didn’t.” Osborne waved a fork at Ray. “You keep your big mouth shut.” That was hopeless. He knew Ray would be regaling the McDonald’s crowd with every detail of his love life. But for some reason, he just didn’t care.
“Doc …” Lew looked down at her plate and neatly set her fork to wedge out a small bite of pie, then she looked up at him. “I’ll try the mud puppy if you’ll try my Striker.” Her alert, good-natured eyes held his.
“On one condition,” said Osborne. “You let me take you to dinner afterward.”
She never flinched, and he realized she’d been waiting. “Deal.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Lew.”
Lew looked at him in surprise. Her eyes softened, and she reached over to lay her hand on his. “I’m glad you’re okay, Doc.” Ray and Julie were suddenly very busy chewing.
Osborne savored the last lemony bite of his pie. Some days life just didn’t get much better.