Death at the Door Read online

  “So what’s his issue? He already got what he wanted.”

  “That’s the point. His land was zoned agricultural. He never applied for rezoning,” Skewski said.

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “Said he didn’t know he had to apply. He tried to sue the county saying he had the right to do whatever he wanted with his property. He also tried to sue to get back the money he spent on the ads and the signs.” The sheriff grinned at Joel. “He is, without a doubt, the cheapest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. That’s saying something up here. There’s a lot of folks in Door County who could squeeze a nickel until the buffalo shits.”

  “He said he was in church Sunday morning.”

  “Funniest thing, no one remembers seeing him. His priest doesn’t remember him and he says he usually notices him.”

  “He’d be hard to miss,” Joel said, thinking of Rassmussen’s size and his beard.

  “The priest gave me a list of the parishioners he remembers from church on Sunday. I’ve got one of my deputies interviewing them. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  “The handwriting on the four anonymous letters I found in Larsen’s house matches the handwriting on the letters Rassmussen wrote to the Door County Ledger.”

  “No shit,” Skewski said.

  “Rassmussen is now at the top of my list.” Joel pulled out his wallet. “What about Rassmussen’s wife?”

  “She’s in Chicago visiting her family. If you can believe this, she’s harder to get along with than he is. How they’ve stayed together all these years is beyond me. They should have killed each other decades ago. Must be a standoff. Believe me, no one in Door County would shed a tear if that bastard turned out to be the one.”

  They paid their bill and headed back out into the rain.

  Thursday Afternoon

  May 31—Ephraim, Wisconsin

  Lark was in a black mood as he headed back to Ephraim. The rain and the gray clouds didn’t help. He was disgusted with himself for giving up his vacation to work. Both cases were a mess. Between the sheriff’s department, the state police, and now a private detective working for the insurance company, he wondered if they would ever get things sorted out. He felt like he needed a scorecard to keep everything straight. This mess reminded him of one of the reasons why he had left the Chicago Police Department. His mother’s old phrase, “too many cooks spoil the soup,” floated into his mind.

  He groaned when he thought about Russell O’Flaherty. Russ was a smart guy and had always been a team player when he was FBI. Lark wondered if Russ would work differently now that he was private.

  He’d known Russ for years and could never figure out how he charmed his way into so many women’s underwear. Lark’s mind substituted lingerie for underwear and a smile played across his lips as he thought of Lacey. Russ was tall but he was gangly like a teenager. He still had a full head of reddish blond hair and the freckles across his nose and upper cheeks that went with the complexion of a natural redhead. He had a big goofy smile that was hard for anyone to resist. That, combined with his easygoing nature, made people think he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. That impression was something that Russ often used to his advantage. Lark had seen him sit down at a bar and be initially ignored by a woman who left the place with him an hour later. Lark pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Lacey was no match for him. He’d have to warn her about him.

  He drove around the curve into Ephraim and looked at Eagle Harbor. So much mist was on the water that he couldn’t tell where the water ended and the sky began. Spring in Wisconsin, the rain and mud season, he thought, not allowing himself to remember the six previous gorgeous days.

  He pulled in the Edgewater parking lot and noticed that John and Ann’s car was gone. He pictured them out shopping and again wondered why he had allowed himself to get pulled into this investigation. He trotted up the stairs, shaking those thoughts out of his head. He had work to do.

  When he got to his suite, he was pissed to find that the maid had come in. She had dumped his coffee and washed the pot. Any other day he wouldn’t have thought anything about it, but in his mood, he was looking for anything to be negative about. He made a fresh pot and pulled out the phone book. He called the Door County Chamber of Commerce and slammed the phone back into the cradle when he got a busy signal. He stalked across the living room and went out on his deck to look at the water and get himself under control. He stood at the porch railing for five minutes, breathing in the sweet, moist air and watching the fog get blown gently across the lake. He was oblivious to the occasional car that went by below him on Highway 42.

  When he’d calmed down, he went back inside and redialed the Chamber of Commerce number. A cheerful-sounding woman answered it on the first ring. Lark explained who he was and what he was investigating. She fell all over herself to provide him with help. She agreed to print out a list of businesses that belonged to the Chamber and have it ready for him if he wanted to pick it up or she’d fax it to the sheriff’s office in Sturgeon Bay. He decided to pick it up, thinking that it would be faster. He poured himself a mug of coffee and headed out to make the trip down the peninsula to Sturgeon Bay.

  Lark drove south along the bay side through the rain. The stores along Highway 42 seemed to have picked up business and he wondered if most of the people visiting the peninsula were out shopping because of the rain. Even the bustling town of Sturgeon Bay, the largest city in Door County, population 9,176 according to Rand McNally, seemed busier than it had when they had driven up on Saturday. He pulled into the Chamber parking lot just as the rain began to come down in sheets. He swore, opened his door, and made a run for it. His jacket was soaked by the time he got inside.

  The clerk, a cheerful young woman, was true to her word. She asked to see his ID and told him that she had called the sheriff’s office to confirm that he was indeed working for them. She gave him a computer printout of the business list and he headed back to Ephraim to get to work. The pouring rain continued as he made his way back up the peninsula. He had to resist the urge to stop at the White Gull in Fish Creek to check up on Lacey. That thought made him angry and he fumed the rest of the way back to the Edgewater.

  Lark settled into his suite to review the Chamber list. For a county with only twenty-six thousand residents in it, it sure had a lot of businesses. He booted up his laptop and created a list of all the restaurants, galleries, and antique shops. He also listed their owners and telephone numbers. Once that was completed, he realized that he didn’t have any discs with him. He swore and pulled on his jacket as he went out to buy some. He noticed that the rain had backed off to a mist. He walked past Ann and John’s suite and heard their TV. He looked down at his watch and realized that it was four o’clock. His stomach growled and he decided to check on the Ransons’ dinner plans.

  John answered the door and invited him in. Ann was curled into a corner of the sofa, her feet tucked up under her. She had a large piece of needlepoint in her lap. She turned the volume down on an old episode of Law and Order.

  “Lark, come in. John will get you a glass of wine. It’s made at a local winery. We bought it and some local cheese and sausage.” She held up her plate. “The crackers are the only out-of-state food.”

  Lark hung his coat on the hook by the door and sank into a chair while John poured him a glass of wine. “I can’t stay long. I’ve got to run out and buy some computer discs.”

  “I’ll give you one. I brought a box with me.” Ann got up and went to the kitchen counter. She rummaged around in her computer case until she found some discs.

  “What are you doing for dinner?” she asked as she handed him one.

  “No plans yet. You all want company?” He looked back and forth between them trying to determine if they wanted to be alone for the evening.

  “Lacey just called and asked us the same thing,” Ann said, getting back to her needlepoint. “We’re meeting her and this insurance investigator at Al Johnson’s in Sister
Bay at six-thirty. Wanna come?”

  Lark got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I think I’ll just get a pizza and stay in,” he replied, getting up from his chair.

  Ann held her arm out as if to grab him. “Wait a minute,” she said sternly. “You haven’t even finished your wine.” She pointed to his half-full glass on the coffee table.

  Lark sat back down, his elbows balanced on his knees, his clasped hands pointing down to the floor, the same place he was staring.

  “I asked Lacey about Gene and she said he and Sophie were now an item. She didn’t sound to happy about it.” Ann watched Lark, waiting for a response. He continued to look down at the floor, saying nothing. She reached out and patted his arm. “I’m sorry, Lark, I didn’t mean to pry. I had no idea that Sophie meant that much to you.”

  Lark looked at her and laughed. “Sophie’s an old friend. It’s fine with me if she goes out with Gene. They seem like they’re made for each other. I was thinking about Lacey going out to dinner with Russ O’Flaherty.” He shook his head. “Russell’s a real piece of work where the ladies are concerned.”

  “All the more reason for you to go out to dinner with us.”

  Lark nodded. “I’ll be down here at six-fifteen.” He drank the last of his wine and headed upstairs. His mood was improved and there was a spring in his step.

  Thursday Evening

  May 31—Al Johnson’s Restaurant,

  Sister Bay, Wisconsin

  John, Ann, and Lark pulled into Al Johnson’s parking lot right at 6:30 P.M. They followed two other couples around to the front entrance of the large, dark brown, cedar-chalet-style building. Their walk was slowed because Ann insisted on studying the grass growing on the roof of the restaurant. She was looking for the goats that were usually up there keeping the grass trimmed to the proper length. She was unable to locate a single goat. She asked the first person she saw in the restaurant where they were, only to find out that they didn’t go up on the roof until the first of June.

  They were ushered through a crowd of people to a round table already occupied by Lacey, Joel, and Russ. The waitress gave them their menus and explained how the meals were served. They decided to order full dinners. The waitress immediately brought them large relish and bread trays for starters.

  Al Johnson’s had been an institution in Door County for years. The menu served the usual American fare as well as the traditional Scandinavian food that most people opted for. The waitresses walking around in black dirndl skirts with embroidered aprons, red vests, and clogs heightened the feeling of being in an authentic Scandinavian restaurant. The six of them had a jovial time trying out the different dishes they all ordered. When the meal was finished, the men waited patiently while Ann and Lacey shopped in the Scandinavian store on the premises. While they were shopping, the women decided that it was a good night to go dancing. Lark silently wondered if there were any bad nights for dancing, but he went with the group to the Railhouse.

  The Railhouse was packed. Lark couldn’t figure out what the theme of the evening was. He had groaned when they walked in and heard the twang of country music and saw people line dancing. But, by the time they got seated the DJ was playing a techno dance number from the eighties. The next number was “Twist and Shout” and people his age were out on the dance floor rubbing elbows with people in their twenties. They were all doing their best to imitate Chubby Checker. Lark and Joel were the only people left at their table. They moved into chairs beside each other so they could talk. Lark gave Joel the disc with his database of Door County business owners.

  “I pity the person who has to investigate all these people. There are a couple hundred people on this list and that’s just business owners. It doesn’t include their employees.”

  “I’ll see if we can get it narrowed down,” Joel said as he slid the disc into his pants pocket. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. We’ve got a guy who lied to us about where he was on Sunday morning when Paul Larsen was killed. He said he was at church but we can’t find anyone there who saw him.” Joel waved his bottle at the harried waitress and she nodded.

  “Have you interviewed him?”

  “Once. Skewski and I went looking for him today but he wasn’t home. Skewski has one of his deputies checking out his house every hour so we can re-interview him.”

  “What did you think of him?”

  “He’s an arrogant son of a bitch.” The waitress brought another bottle of Leinenkugel’s for each of them. Joel dropped some bills on her tray and told Lark about Rassmussen.

  “It would be nice if he was your man, but since he says he’s never set foot on a golf course, do you think it’s likely?”

  “Good question,” Joel said, watching the dance floor. “Do you see what I see?”

  Lark twisted around and studied the crowd. He groaned when his eyes settled on Sophie Martinelli dancing with Gene Boskirk. She was wearing the white outfit she’d worn to the Shoreline Restaurant.

  “This can’t be anything but trouble,” Lark said as he watched them fade back into the crowd. “Maybe she won’t notice us and Lacey won’t notice her.” He looked at Joel for support.

  “Yeah, right.” Joel frowned at him. “I’m starting to worry about you. I think you’ve completely lost your senses where women are concerned. You know as well as I do that those two babes have already scoped each other out.”

  Ann and John came back to the table as soon as the song was over. They had stopped at the bar to get a beer and a glass of wine before they’d threaded their way through the crowd to their table.

  “Guess who’s here?” Ann said, grinning across the table at Lark like the cat that ate the canary.

  “Gene and Sophie,” he replied, unable to stop himself from bursting her bubble.

  “You saw them too?” She leaned back in her chair. “Do you want to leave?”

  “Not because of those two.”

  “Think we should get Lacey out of here?”

  “She can take care of herself,” Joel said as his cell phone rang. Joel passed Lacey and Russ coming back to the table. He waved his cell phone at Lacey as he went to take his call in a place where he had some chance of hearing the person on the other end of the line.

  He returned to the table, a look of concern on his face. “We’ve got a report of another burglary. Rose and Daisy’s sister, Lily, just got to her cabin over on Washington Island. The place has been broken into and a bunch of plates were stolen.” He looked down at his notebook. “Twenty-four plates from some place called Majolica. She’s hysterical thinking that the person who shot her sister has been in her house.”

  “I think it was majolica plates not plates from Majolica,” Ann said.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Majolica is a type of brightly colored clay pottery. It’s covered with a tin glaze. Tin-glazed pottery is made all over the world, but the most collectible majolica was made in England in the 1800s.”

  Lacey glanced at her watch. “The last ferry has already gone for the night. We can check it out first thing in the morning. Where was it on Washington Island?” she asked as she waved the waitress down.

  “Old West Harbor Road, the cottage just north of the Horizon Resort,” Joel read from his notebook.

  “What?” Lark and Lacey said in unison.

  Joel looked at their stunned faces. “What’s up?” He waited for one of them to say something.

  Lark glanced over at Lacey. “Uh, we stayed at the Horizon Resort the night we were stranded on the island.”

  “Okay, so you should be able to find the house pretty easily,” Joel replied.

  “We slept out on the beach the night we were there,” Lacey said. Even in the dim light everyone at the table could tell she was blushing.

  “There’s a little more to it.” Lark closed his eyes and shook his head, obviously disgusted with himself.

  “Let’s hear it.” Joel rolled his hand in a get-on-with-it move.

  “We may have seen the robbery
,” Lacey blurted out.

  “You what?” Joel got up from the table and ran right into Sophie.

  “I’m so glad I ran into you guys.” Sophie entwined her arm though Joel’s. “I’ve decided to do a series of reports for WKZ about the robberies and the two attacks.”

  “Aw shit,” Joel said, trying to disengage his arm.

  “Now, Joel.” Sophie patted his arm as she clinched it harder to her side. “There are a lot of people from Chicago who vacation in Door County. Daisy and Paul both had high-profile jobs there. This will be important news to Chicagoans planning to come up here this summer. I’ve also dug up some dirt on a Chicagoan who was having lots of zoning problems with Larsen.”

  Joel shrugged her off. “You can deal with the Door County police. Leave me alone. I have work to do.” He strode away from her, and the rest of the table followed behind him.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here and go somewhere quiet where we can sort this out,” Joel said, once they got outside. Ann and John excused themselves after being assured that Joel would give Lark a ride back to the Edgewater. The rest of the group headed to Lacey’s SUV. Lacey climbed into the driver’s seat and Joel got in beside her. Lark and Russ took the backseat.

  “Tell me what the hell happened,” Joel said as they pulled out of the Railhouse parking lot. He turned sideways in his seat so he could see both Lark and Lacey.

  “Around one A.M. we saw a boat with a light on it come into the pier about where Lily’s cabin is. Someone got out of the boat and walked up to the cabin. They used a flashlight,” Lark said. “We though it was odd that we never saw any lights come on in the house. They left by flashlight about fifteen, twenty minutes later.”

  “Did they leave the same way they came?” Joel asked.

  “By boat back towards the peninsula with one light on.”

  “Why didn’t you do something?” Joel asked. “We could have caught this guy red-handed and been done with the robbery investigation.”