Death at the Door Page 6

  Joel made a note to reread the letters to the editor and find the names of Larsen’s supporters. He asked Bill where he was Sunday morning. Bill and Betty glanced at each other and Bill began to fidget. He stated that he had gone to Madison for the weekend and had not gotten home until late Sunday night. As he listened to Bill talk, Joel watched the two of them. A blind man would have picked up on the tension between them.

  Bill described his stay at the Concourse Hotel, including a Saturday-morning walk around the Madison farmers’ market and Sunday brunch at the Nau-Ti-Gal Restaurant. He pulled out his wallet and handed Joel his receipts from the weekend. Joel noticed that the brunch receipt was for two meals. He asked Bill for the name of his companion. Betty’s face turned flame red as Bill told Joel that was confidential. When Joel pressed him for the information, he said he spent the weekend with a female friend. Since he was still married, he did not want to embarrass the woman, who was a widow.

  Bill explained that he’d had a very happy marriage until three years ago when his wife became ill. His wife was now in a nursing home with advanced Alzheimer’s disease.

  Joel told them he would check out Bill’s alibi and get back to them if he had any further questions. He asked for a copy of Bills driver’s license, and Betty escaped to the other room to make him a copy.

  After his interview he headed south to Chicago to search Larsen’s office and home. He hoped to make the five-hour drive down and get his business done in time to get back to Wausau and spend some of the night with Molly. He made a quick stop at the Door County Ledger’s office to get the copies Lucille had made for him.

  Tuesday Afternoon

  May 29—Washington Island Ferry Line,

  Northport, Wisconsin

  Lark and Lacey pulled into the parking area of the Washington Island ferry a few minutes after 1 P.M. They decided to take Lacey’s car and pulled it into the ferry line. They barely had time to take turns running up to the Northport Pier Restaurant for a bathroom and refreshment break before the ferry started loading. Neither of them had taken time for lunch. They were guided onto the ferry to a spot right behind a cart loaded down with Federal Express boxes and mailbags.

  “I can’t imagine what it would be like to live on an island,” Lacey said as she snugged her Grand Cherokee up to the back of the mail cart under the watchful eyes of one of the ferry workers. “Everything must come over on this ferry. Wonder how they manage in the winter when the lake is frozen over?”

  “It would sure teach you how to plan ahead,” Lark said as he watched a cart full of lumber and plywood being pulled up beside them. It had Lampert Lumber and Building Materials, Washington Island, written on the side of it. “It’s probably nice and calm over there. Not too many surprises.”

  “Nice and boring is more like it,” Lacey replied, watching him lounge back in the seat. “Late night?”

  “No later than yours. We all left about the same time.” Lark flicked his eyes over at her. “I was on the golf course at seven-thirty A.M. What time did you get up?”

  “I woke your friend Sophie up when I got to her house at nine A.M. She didn’t look like she got much sleep last night.”

  “What did you think of her place?”

  “Pretty nice, secluded back in all those woods. Great beach frontage. She has a wonderful view of the Cana Island Lighthouse. She lost all her expensive art glass, three pieces of Galle, and some Rookwood pottery. She lost two paintings by a local artist, Robert Pence, and a service for twelve of Tiffany silver her grandmother gave her. Once again, someone only took the good stuff.”

  “How’d they get in?” Lark asked as he gazed out at the fog-covered water.

  “No signs of a break-in but the security system was off. She said she thought she turned it on before she left, but she wasn’t sure. She thought maybe the cleaning people didn’t reset it. No footprints around the house or down on the beach, but with all the rain Door County has been getting, those would be long gone. Sophie hasn’t been in the house since Easter weekend, and she only has someone come in and clean right after she leaves. She said her furniture was still covered when she got there. There wasn’t any sign that anyone had been inside after the cleaning woman. The vacuum cleaner tracks were still in the living room carpet right in front of the corner cabinet where she kept many pieces of the glass that were stolen.”

  “Very neat burglar.”

  “It’s got to be someone who knows antiques.”

  “I’m sure there’s no shortage of suspects up here.” Lark paused as the ferry began to pull away from shore. “Let’s get out and watch the ferry leave.”

  They pulled on their jackets and got out of the Jeep. Most people left their cars and went up to the enclosed sitting area on the next level of the ferry. Lark and Lacey went to the rear of the ferry to watch their departure from Northport. The dock and the restaurant quickly faded from view in the dense fog. The choppy, gray expanse of water known as Death’s Door to the Indians surrounded them. The French explorers called the strait of water between the tip of Door County and Washington Island Porte des Morts, which literally meant Door of the Dead. An apropos name for a body of water that had swallowed up many ships and people in its unpredictable waters.

  Lacey did not doubt either name as she watched the foam-capped waves swirl and splash around the ferry. “I can’t imagine this in winter,” she said as she zipped up her jacket and pulled her wild hair back into a ponytail.

  “Me either. You look cold.” Lark unzipped his jacket and dropped it over her shoulders. They walked back to the car as she protested that she was fine. Once she was settled, Lark ran upstairs to get them some coffee.

  Lacey’s thoughts drifted back to last night. She had seen a new side of Lark. The four of them had met at the Railhouse. Sophie and Gene insisted that they sit together since the room was packed and tables were at a premium. It was obvious that Lark and Sophie knew each other well. Their conversation and their behavior implied an intimate knowledge of each other that made Lacey uneasy. Sophie cajoled Lark into dancing, and by the end of the evening he was smiling and relaxed in a way that Lacey had never seen him. She wondered if they had gone back to Sophie’s place together last night, although Sophie hadn’t given her any inkling of that this morning.

  “This makes Big Oak and Wausau look like a piece of cake, doesn’t it?” Lark said as he climbed back in the Cherokee bringing a gust of cold wind and steaming cups of coffee with him. He handed her a pamphlet about the ferry. “This ferry runs every day, summer and winter. It’s an ice cutter so it can chop a path over to Washington Island. There’s six miles of water between Northport and the island. Can you imagine being on this baby when it’s cutting through six miles of ice?”

  “Makes me want to move to Arizona.” Lacey sniffed the coffee and sighed with pleasure before taking a sip.

  “What do you know about the two robberies over here?” Lark asked, trying to take his mind off how sexy she was when she drank coffee.

  “One family came over Saturday night and noticed that their collection of old toys and a very old Noah’s Ark set were missing, and the other guy came over early Sunday morning and found that his coin collection and a painting were gone.”

  “Coins, that’s a new one.”

  “One other robbery in Rowleys Bay involved coins; a bunch of twenty-dollar gold pieces. This guy said only a few close friends know about his coin stash over here. He’s just gone through a divorce. He got the Washington Island cabin and all its contents.”

  “Didn’t want the wife to know what he had so he brought it over to the cabin,” Lark said. “Wonder if she knew about his coin stash?”

  “One more thing we’ll have to check out.” Lacey settled back in her seat.

  They made small talk until the dock on Washington Island came into view. The next few hours passed rapidly as they met with the two families.

  The Sternhagen family from Madison, Wisconsin, had lost a large collection of cast-iron toy soldie
rs with an estimated value of $14,500 and a carved wooden Noah’s Ark that had been in their family for at least five generations. The Ark and its seventy-four pairs of animals had been appraised for insurance purposes at $8,200. The soldiers and the Noah’s Ark had been on display in the great room and study of their summerhouse for years. Once again, the most valuable things in the house had been stolen.

  Their house showed no signs of a break-in. The Sternhagens had a cleaning service that closed the house for them when they left the island. They hadn’t been on the island since the Christmas holidays and claimed that everything was intact and the house was locked when they got there. They laughed when asked if they had a burglar alarm and told Lark and Lacey that they had believed, until then, that Washington Island was the safest place in the world.

  Mr. Gorean, a retiree from Racine, Wisconsin, who spent his summers on Washington Island, had indeed lost a large collection of American coins. Prior to his divorce he had brought the majority of his collection up to the cottage on the island that he had inherited from his grandparents. According to him, his wife had always thought his coin collection was a waste of money until he decided he wanted a divorce. She then became fascinated with every one of their assets including his coins. His entire $32,000 collection had been stolen.

  He was furious at his wife, claiming that she had come to the cabin, a place she hated and rarely came to during their marriage, and secreted away his beloved coins. His claim was bolstered by the fact that he had kept the majority of his collection in a section of one of his bookcases that he had personally created to hide his coins. He was an active member of the Numismatic Societies in Door County and Racine and admitted that other coin collectors in both communities knew of his collection. He claimed that no one but his wife knew where it was hidden in the cabin. He had last been at the cabin the first weekend in May.

  Lark and Lacey both agreed that he must have loved his coins because he had cataloged each one including grade and value. He had also photographed his more valuable coins. He provided them with a copy of his list and photographs as well as his insurance appraisal. Fortunately, he had recently insured his collection.

  His painting by Hockney was also insured. He gave them a photograph of the colorful abstract and explained that although he had never much liked the painting, it had been one of his wife’s favorite art objects. An expression of satisfaction spread across his face as he explained how he had won it in the divorce. When Lacey commented that it seemed a little out of place in the northwoods decor of the cabin, he told her that he had been planning on selling it and didn’t care if he ever got it back as long as he got the insurance money for it.

  Mr. Gorean denied using a cleaning service, stating that he did not like having strangers in his house and that he was perfectly capable of picking up after himself after living for years with his slovenly ex-wife. He did not have a security system but did keep his house locked at all times. He said that he had no idea anyone had been in his house until he went to get out his coin collection the morning after he had arrived and discovered it was gone. The painting had been sitting in a corner of the cottage guest room. He had discovered that it was missing while doing a search of the cabin after discovering the theft of the coins.

  Lark and Lacey checked out the interior and the grounds of both houses and found nothing out of place. Both homes were situated down winding drives and shrouded by evergreens and underbrush that made them hard to see from the road. Both homes were on the shore of Lake Michigan, and each had a pier and a dock for the owner’s boat. Mr. Gorean also had an old ramshackle barn on his property. They walked through the barn and found nothing of interest. They scheduled times for the evidence techs to go over both houses and headed back to the dock to catch the ferry.

  Tuesday Afternoon

  May 29—Washinton Island, Wisconsin

  Lark and Lacey pulled up to the dock and stared at the white-capped waves the ferry was leaving in its wake as it chugged out into the lake.

  “Dammit, Lark. I told you we were going to be late, but, nooo, you had to take your sweet time checking out that barn, and what did we find? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Now we’re going to be stuck here all night.” She slumped forward and rested her head against the steering wheel. “I should have never taken my overnight bag out of the car. It was in here for months after that two weeks I spent in Big Oak. Why me?” she moaned.

  “You seem a little upset about missing the ferry.” Lark reached over and patted her shoulder. “I’m sure lover boy can get along by himself for one night.”

  “You bastard.” Lacey slapped his hand away and started the car. “Where to now?”

  “Why don’t we see if the ferry will make one more run tonight?” Lark got out of the car and headed for the ferry office. Lacey sighed and followed him. The office was dark and the door was locked.

  “That went well,” Lacey snapped as they headed back to the car.

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Let’s go find some toiletries and a place to stay. Then let’s get some dinner. I want to go to bed early so we can be on the first ferry in the morning.”

  They left the parking lot and drove out to Mann’s Mercantile, where they bought the necessities of life—toothbrush, toothpaste, beer, potato chips, and a Washington Island sleep shirt for Lacey. The clerk cheerfully recommended the Horizon Resort on the west side of the island and offered to call for reservations. Lacey got directions and insisted that they drive there instead. It took less than five minutes to get to the hotel named the Horizon for the breathtaking westward view of Lake Michigan.

  “I swear, if they don’t have two rooms, I’m sleeping on the damn beach.” Lacey got out of the car and headed for the office.

  “If they don’t have two rooms, I’ll sleep in the car and you can have the bed.” Lark opened the office door for her.

  They were quickly put out of their misery when the clerk assured them that he had two no-smoking rooms available. They dumped their meager belongings in their rooms and headed back up the road to eat dinner.

  “We could always eat there.” Lark pointed at the crowded drive-in called the Albatross. The gravel parking lot was full of cars. Adults stood in line to place their orders and kibitzed at the picnic tables. A large sandbox and a swing set were overrun with kids.

  “You’re not serious,” Lacey said as she drove slowly past the drive-in.

  Lark’s eyes twinkled. “Looks like fun. I spent a lot of time at places like this when I was a kid.”

  “Not on your life. I want to go to that place across from the Mercantile, the one with the ‘lawyers’ sign in the window.”

  “Wonder what that’s about?”

  “Damn if I know,” Lacey replied as they pulled into the parking lot. She started laughing as they walked up to the restaurant. She pointed at the red neon sign in the window that screamed, “We serve fresh lawyers daily.”

  “Before we leave here I have to get a picture of that. I’ve got several lawyer friends I want to have it framed for.” They went across the street to the mercantile, got a disposable camera, and snapped the pictures before they sat down to dinner.

  Fresh lawyers turned out to be a whitefish caught daily in Lake Michigan and known locally as a burbot. They needed little persuasion to order it complete with potatoes, coleslaw, and cherry pie. They agreed to split an order of fried cheese curds while they drank Leinenkugel’s and waited for their dinner.

  “I’m going to get as big as a house if I don’t stop eating these curds,” Lacey said as she popped one of the golden morsels in her mouth.

  “Dancing is great exercise. Keep it up and you can eat all the fried curds you want.”

  “Shit.” Lacey rummaged through her bag.

  “What’s wrong,” Lark asked, alarmed by her tone of voice and the mound of items she was removing from her purse.

  “I was supposed to meet Gene at the Railhouse. It’s swing night.” She pulled her cell phone out of her
purse and dialed. “Dammit, he’s not there.”

  She called his pager number and left a message. Five minutes later her phone rang. It was a nurse telling her that Dr. Boskirk was in surgery. She asked the nurse to tell Gene that she was stuck on Washington Island for the night and would call him when she got back in the morning.

  When she finished talking, Lark was on his phone. She couldn’t help but listen as he made a dinner date with Sophie for the following night.

  “So how is America’s Italian sex goddess?” Lacey asked when Lark got off the phone.

  He grinned as he picked up the last cheese curd. “This is a side of you I would never have expected to see.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Lacey Smith being catty.”

  “Catty,” Lacey snapped. “Spare me.”

  “The two of you have a lot in common.”

  “Oh, please,” Lacey sputtered. “We have nothing in common.”

  “You’re both smart, beautiful, independent women with exciting jobs. Some women are initially put off by Sophie, but once they get to know her, they usually like her. Maria did.”

  “How nice that your ex-lover and your deceased wife could forge a friendship.”

  Lark tipped up his bottle to drink the last of his beer. He carefully set it down on the table. “That was uncalled for. I have two sisters so I’m familiar with bitchy women. I’m going to the bar to get myself another beer. When I get back, I’d like to start this conversation over again.” He strode away from the table.

  Lacey mentally kicked her own ass all over the restaurant. She squared her shoulders and got ready to make amends as Lark approached the table.