Death at the Door Read online

  “What about Sheriff Skewski, can’t he get you some help?” Lark asked, shading his eyes to watch a sailboat out in the harbor.

  “He really is underwater. He’s understaffed due to leaves. With summer season starting he has no one to spare. There’s no one extra in the Wausau office, and the Fond du Lac office isn’t in any better shape.” Joel glanced over at Lark and was surprised at how unyielding his face looked. “I guess I’ll call Madison to see if they can spare someone.”

  Joel was one of Lark’s oldest friends and he adored Molly and their kids. Lark couldn’t bear to think about them having troubles because Joel was up to his ears in work. He sighed. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I’m holding my own on the Larsen case, I’m just not turning up much yet. There are a dozen people who got crossways with Larsen at the zoning meetings. I’ve interviewed two guys so far and I’m interviewing another guy tomorrow morning. There are nine more people who have written nasty letters to the Door County Ledger about Larsen. I’m going to keep Lacey focused on the burglaries and I’m going to take the murder. You let me know what hours you’re free each day and I’ll figure out how to use you. I’d like you to assist both of us.”

  “I don’t want to work with Lacey on the burglaries.” Lark got up and walked to the very edge of the pier.

  “Afraid you might get interested in her again?” Joel asked, watching his friend’s shoulder muscles bunch up.

  “No, I just don’t want to waste my time on a string of petty thefts.”

  “You call several hundred thousand dollars of lost property petty theft?”

  Lark turned around to stare at Joel, dumbfounded. “You need more help than me on this kind of a case. Have you thought about the FBI?”

  “Of course, but they aren’t interested. Most of the people who’ve been burglarized aren’t either. They live a pretty low-key life up here and they don’t want to make this any worse than it already is. Their insurance companies may also bring in investigators.”

  “You think this could be an insurance scam?”

  “We haven’t had time to look at all the similarities between the robberies yet, but I don’t think so.”

  “I’d consider working with Lacey on the burglaries if you’ll quit trying to throw us together.” Lark looked as serious as Joel had ever seen him. “No more of your sarcastic comments about us.”

  “All right, all right, whatever you want.” Joel waved his hands in defeat. “But, I just have to say that the old Lark Swenson would have been all over her.”

  “That guy no longer exists.” Lark paced to the other side of the pier.

  “You’ll be forty-three in October. When do you plan on coming back to the real world?”

  “I am in the real world.” Lark sat back down on the bench. “I’m happy with my life right now. This spring has been amazingly calm in Big Oak. Despite all the snow.”

  “Jesus Christ, Lark. Where is the guy I used to know? The one who was the life of the party. You’ve got to get back in the game before life completely passes you by. Maria was wonderful but she’s gone. You’ve got to move on.”

  “This isn’t about moving on.”

  “Then what the hell is it about?”

  Lark stood and headed back up the dock toward the Edgewater Resort. He turned around after a few steps. “I’ll play golf with John tomorrow morning if it isn’t raining and be available to do some work in the afternoon.”

  MONDAY EVENING

  May 28—Shoreline Restaurant,

  Gills Rock, Wisconsin

  “It’s a good thing we made reservations,” Ann said, scanning the packed dining room of the Shoreline Restaurant. They followed the hostess back through the bar to a set of tables that overlooked the great expanse of Lake Michigan.

  “Hope the food’s good here. I’m starving.” Lark gave his drink order to the waitress and began scanning his menu.

  Ann and John ordered drinks and a basket of fried cheese curds. “We can munch on the curds until Lacey and Joel get here,” Ann said. “Gene won’t be coming tonight. Lacey called just before we left and told me he’s been called back to do emergency surgery on a kid in a waterskiing accident.”

  “You didn’t tell me you invited Joel and Lacey,” Lark said.

  “I don’t recall you asking.”

  Lark glared at Ann. He knew she felt his stare but she continued to study her menu. He started to say something, shook his head, and looked back down at his menu. “What’s good here?”

  “I love the whitefish on the rock and I don’t even like fish. Their whitefish is fresh right out of Lake Michigan every day.”

  “She likes whitefish on the rock because it’s smothered in a cheddar-and-cream-cheese sauce,” John said, “I’m having broiled whitefish.”

  “He eats vanilla ice cream too.” Ann patted John’s hand. “Poor thing.”

  Lark couldn’t help but smile. Joel and Lacey came to the table just as the waitress delivered their drinks and cheese curds.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to get these burglaries investigated without more help,” Lacey said, studying the menu. “So far I know that different insurance companies and cleaning services were used by the families, so there isn’t a connection there. That’s as far as I’ve gotten. I got reports of two more summerhouse robberies today, both over on Washington Island.” She sat back so the waitress could deliver their drinks. “I’ll go over to the island and investigate them tomorrow.”

  “I spent the afternoon interviewing the last of the people who were on the golf course Sunday morning,” Joel said. “That hole is very close to Highway 42 and right along the entrance to the golf course. It doesn’t make sense that no one saw a thing.”

  “Get a list of the people you want me to interview ready and I’ll help you as soon as John and I are done with golf tomorrow.” Lark snagged the last cheese curd.

  “I’d rather you go over to Washington Island with Lacey and look into the two new burglaries.”

  Lark said nothing, but his frown was evident as he snapped his menu closed.

  “The sheriff told me one of the things stolen from Washington Island is an original Hockney,” Lacey said.

  “A hockey original,” Joel snorted. “What the hell was it? A frigging autographed hockey stick?”

  Lacey rolled her eyes. “Not hockey, it’s a Hockney, a David Hockney original painting, for God’s sake.”

  “Sorry.” Joel’s eyes bored into hers. “Could you be a little more testy?”

  “Look who’s talking,” Lacey snapped back at him.

  Joel turned to Lark. “I want you focused on these robberies. More houses turn up every day. I’m not sure where this is going to stop. I can handle Larsen’s murder on my own.”

  The waitress brought more drinks and a second round of fried curds and they ordered their dinners. Lark reluctantly agreed to meet Lacey at one o’clock the following day to go over to Washington Island.

  They dipped their curds in marinara sauce and chattered about their day until John noticed Ann staring at the door.

  “What are you looking at?” He twisted around to see for himself. His mouth dropped open in surprise. “My God, is that Sophia Loren?”

  “She’s too young.”

  Their conversation caused everyone to turn toward the door and stare at the striking woman dressed in white.

  “Shit,” said Joel.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Lark’s jaw dropped open. “Hey, Soph,” he yelled as a smile spread across his face. He got up and headed her way.

  Ann watched recognition spread across the woman’s face as Lark approached her. From the kiss and hug she gave him, they were obviously more than casual friends.

  “There goes the neighborhood,” Joel muttered as he watched them walk into the bar.

  The woman looked like a thirtysomething Sophia Loren complete with smoky, deep-brown eyes, masses of dark brown hair curled around her face, full, sensual lips, and what appeared to
be a permanent suntan. She was tall with a body to die for and simply dressed in a white, sleeveless, V-necked T-shirt, and white capri pants. When she leaned forward and bent down to adjust the strap on one of her delicate high-heeled white sandals, all conversation in the bar seemed to come to a halt while the men stared at her cleavage.

  “If she bent over a few more inches, nothing would be left to the imagination,” Joel murmured, his eyes glued to her chest.

  “Those cannot be real,” John said, not taking his eyes off her.

  “Call 1-900-boob-job and you too can have a pair,” Lacey cracked.

  “For God sakes, you guys. This isn’t high school.” Ann slid out of her chair and headed for the bar. John, Joel, and Lacey watched, fascinated as she insinuated herself between Lark and the woman and struck up a conversation with her. A few minutes later the table was rearranged to add another place for the new visitor.

  Soph turned out to be Sophia “Sophie to my friends” Martinelli from Chicago. She had planned to spend a week of vacation with a friend at her house in Baileys Harbor. Her friend had gotten sidetracked at the last minute and she had come up by herself late this afternoon. It turned out she looked familiar to people for more than one reason. In addition to looking like her namesake she was also a coanchor on the Chicago-based WKZ TV news. WKZ was one of the largest Midwest independent television stations.

  The waitress brought their meals and took Sophie’s order in one fell swoop. Then the conversation centered on Joel, Lark, and Sophie. They had known each other in Chicago and talked over top of each other as they caught up.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Sophie told them as she took a sip of the chardonnay the waitress had brought her. “I got in late this afternoon and found out my house had been broken into. The police sent someone to interview me and said the detectives would be out for a more in-depth interview first thing in the morning. They told me there’s been a rash of summerhouse burglaries but no one’s been hurt. Do you guys know anything about this?”

  “We’re helping the Door County Sheriff’s Department with the burglaries,” Lacey said.

  “No kidding. Do you work for the sheriff’s department?” Sophie asked, seeming to notice Lacey for the first time.

  “State police,” Lacey replied, sipping her beer.

  “No kidding, a woman Wisconsin State Police officer.”

  “Detective,” Lacey said.

  “Even better. I’d like to interview you for WKZ. We’re doing a series of interviews about interesting careers for women.”

  “I’m sure you’ve got women working for the Illinois State Police who would make excellent interview subjects.”

  “We probably do but it’s highly unlikely that they could have had a career as a model as well,” Sophie quipped, then turned her attention to Lark. “Do I have anything to worry about if I stay in my house overnight? Do I need to have someone stay over with me?”

  John almost choked on the beer he was drinking.

  “We’re investigating several robberies but so far none have had any violence associated with them, so you’re probably all right staying there by yourself,” Joel interjected. “Lacey will probably be the one to investigate your case tomorrow morning. What did you lose?”

  “About twenty thousand dollars’ worth of stuff. Some art pottery and glass, a couple of paintings, and some silver my grandmother gave me. Lark, do you remember that piece of Galle glass I bought at that auction we went to over New Year’s weekend in Lake Geneva?”

  Lark smiled and nodded.

  “That was stolen. It was one of my favorite pieces.”

  “Why do you keep that kind of stuff up here?” Lacey asked.

  “Why not keep it up here? Until now, it was safer to keep my art in Door County than in Chicago. My Chicago house has been broken into three times in the fifteen years I’ve lived there. They stole all my electronic equipment and smashed some of my glass the last two times. I have a burglar alarm system up here and my insurance rates are lower here than in Chicago. What’s been stolen from the other houses?”

  “Antiques, collectibles, paintings,” Joel replied as he ate the last of his fish. “Anyone want to split dessert?”

  They bought two desserts and split another bottle of wine. They were just getting ready to leave when Gene Boskirk walked into the bar area. His eyes lit on their table and he headed their way.

  “My, my. Who’s that?” Sophie asked, smiling as Gene walked toward them. He had on a tight, light-blue T-shirt tucked into a snug pair of blue jeans.

  “Sorry I missed dinner. It was for a good cause, the kid’s going to be fine.” He walked up behind Lacey’s chair and dropped his hands down on her shoulders. “Would you all like to go dancing? It’s oldies night at the Railhouse.”

  “I’d love to,” Lacey replied, getting up.

  “You look very familiar,” Gene said as he introduced himself to Sophie.

  “Sophie Martinelli, coanchor, WKZ news, Chicago. You’ve probably seen me on TV.”

  Recognition flooded Gene’s eyes. “You coming with us?”

  “I’m game,” Sophie said, getting up as everyone else made their excuses. “Come on old man.” She grabbed Lark’s hand and dragged him up from the table. “You’re a great dancer and I need a partner. We can both use the exercise.”

  Lark reluctantly agreed to go after confirming his 7:30 A.M. tee time at Maxwelton Brae’s with John for the following morning.

  “That woman is a she devil,” Joel said once the group was out of earshot. “‘Oh, Lark, do I need someone to stay with me tonight?’ ‘Oh, Lark, remember that weekend we spent in Lake Geneva?’” Ann was startled at how well he mimicked her voice. “Lark dated her longer than he dated anyone before he met Maria.”

  “He was dating her when he met his wife?” John asked.

  “Yep. He met Maria and dropped Sophia like a hot potato.” Joel waved the waitress down and ordered a cup of coffee.

  “What did Maria look like?” John groaned as Ann elbowed him.

  “Dark hair, dark eyes, incredible smile, very pretty, very independent, and very smart. Lark met her at a wedding and couldn’t stop talking about her. She was a commercial airline pilot so it took him a couple of weeks to line up a date with her. They were inseparable after that.”

  “Sounds like she and Sophie looked alike,” Ann said.

  “They couldn’t have been more different,” Joel replied.

  Tuesday Morning

  May 29—Egg Harbor, Wisconsin

  Joel pulled into the parking lot of Door County Realty in Egg Harbor. He had finally gotten ahold of William Wollenski, one of the twelve men on his rezoning-board-minutes list, after dinner last night. Mr. Wollenski had agreed to meet with him to discuss his interactions with Paul Larsen. For some reason he had insisted on meeting at the real estate office and having a Mrs. Grable, his real estate agent, present for the interview. Joel saw a man and a woman staring at him from just inside the front door of the office. The man he assumed to be William Wollenski stepped out and held open the door for him. Joel noted that the man’s hair, dark brown streaked with gray, was slicked back on his head as if he had just washed it, or else he used an inordinate amount of pomade. He wore jeans and a red-and-navy-plaid flannel shirt and looked like he would be stiflingly hot by noon.

  Mrs. Grable introduced herself as Betty, causing Joel to pause and think about her namesake. She looked to be about forty-five, a good twenty years younger than Mr. Wollenski. They both shook hands with Joel and smiled tentatively before leading the way back to a conference room.

  “Do you think I should have my lawyer present for this interview?” Mrs. Grable asked. “I’ve never been interrogated by a policeman before. The sheriff told me this was just routine, but now that you’re here I’m a little nervous.”

  “You can certainly call your lawyer, but I’m only here to ask Mr. Wollenski some questions about his relationship with Paul Larsen. If you feel like you need representation
, you should certainly have it. Do you want a lawyer present?”

  They looked at each other and then back at him, both shaking their heads no.

  “Okay, that’s settled. I’d like to tape this conversation.” Joel pulled a tape recorder out of his windbreaker pocket and put it in the center of the table.

  Bill and Betty starred at it as if it were a bomb about to explode.

  “I don’t know if I like the idea of a tape recorder,” Bill said.

  “It’s a way for me to get down our exact conversation and have it transcribed for your signature. Otherwise we’re dependent on my notes for accuracy.”

  Bill glanced over at Betty, who nodded. “Go ahead and tape,” he said.

  Joel flipped on the tape recorder. “For starters, Betty, how did you get your name?”

  Betty relaxed and explained that her maiden name had been Smith. She told him she had been very happy to marry Thomas Grable and go from such a common name to sharing one with a famous movie star.

  Joel asked them questions about how long they had lived in Door County. They were both life-long residents and had been married to people whose families had lived in Door County since the early 1900s.

  Bill explained that he now owned one-third of his family’s original nine-hundred-acre farm and orchard. His brother and sister each owned another three hundred acres. His brother farmed three hundred acres and they shared a lease to farm their sister’s three hundred acres. She lived in Milwaukee with her engineer husband and used the house on her property as a weekend getaway.

  Bill had decided to sell sixty acres of his land to a Sturgeon Bay developer to build vacation homes so he could pay off his wife’s medical bills and set up a nest egg for his five children since none of them wanted the farm. The developer had offered him $750,000 for the property since it bordered two paved roads and was high enough to have some lake views. Bill and his brother and sister had agreed that they would keep the rest of the property as farmland for the foreseeable future.

  Paul Larsen had raised major objections to the rezoning and had roused his small group of supporters to come to the zoning commission meetings and write letters to the editor against the zoning change. Because of all the controversy, the zoning board had put off voting on Bill’s request while they did an impact study. The study report was due back in two weeks.