Cold Hunter's Moon Page 8

  “Sure thing. Hope Robbie’s OK,” she said, glancing over at Lark. “Can your dispatcher find me a place to stay?”

  “She’ll try, but it may be a lost cause,” Lark said, smiling at her. “You’re more than welcome to stay at my place. I’ve got room, and I can assure you I’m harmless.”

  “Harmless, my ass,” Joel said, smirking at Lark. “I remember when you were single.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Lark said, turning away to replenish his coffee.

  Joel took the hint and changed the subject. “As far as we can tell, the rest of the Ransons’ marsh looks clean. We didn’t go over every square inch, but I think we would have found another body unless it’s been buried. If that’s the case, we won’t find it until spring, if ever.”

  “We didn’t find the missing hand from Jane Doe Two, but there’s a lot of wildlife in those woods. If it’s been out there a couple of years, it could be anywhere,” Lacey said. “We should search the woods on each side of the marsh tomorrow and call it good unless we find something.”

  Lark filled them in on his day, including the possible identification of Red Boot. He promised he’d call Joel at home as soon as he knew something and told him to watch the ten o’clock news. Joel left Big Oak a little after five.

  Lark went over his progress on the list comparisons with Lacey and updated her on his trip to Rhinelander, planned for later that night. Flo wasn’t able to find a motel room and they decided that Lacey would stay with him. He was just starting to write a press release on the two bodies when Jim and Paul staggered in. Between helping with the search and dealing with routine calls, they were exhausted.

  Jim came into Lark’s office to give an update on the abandoned car he’d investigated earlier that morning. “It’s a 1998 gray Taurus registered to Lippert Motors from Wausau. Someone ditched it in the parking lot at Grezetski’s Market.” He flipped through his notebook. “I called Lippert’s and, would you believe, they didn’t have any idea they had a car missing.”

  “You’re kidding.” Lark said, leaning across his desk. “Was it hotwired?”

  “Nope. We found the ignition and trunk keys under the front passenger seat. They were on one of those generic key chains with nothing else on it. There were lots of fingerprints on the car, but all the areas of high use. The door handles, steering wheel, instrument panel, and radio controls were smudged out, probably from someone wearing gloves. The woman who reported the car said it had been parked in the lot since Sunday morning. No one had any idea how it got there.” Jim flipped his notebook shut and frowned at Lark. “I had the car towed to Tetzloff’s garage until we decide what to do with it.”

  “Good work,” Lark said, patting him on the back as they walked out of the office. “I’ll drop by and take a look at it in the morning.”

  Jim and Paul clocked out, making plans to meet at the Pine View for dinner on Jim’s family. Lark wished he was as carefree as they appeared to be. Flo clocked out and waved good-bye with a flash of her turkey decals. The decals reminded him that tomorrow was Thanksgiving and he had nothing to feed his houseguest; one more item on his endless to-do list.

  By six-thirty the press release was ready for Mary Lou, the night dispatcher, to fax out. Lark gave her instructions on how to respond to any calls about the case. His stomach growled as he updated her on his trip to Rhinelander. He went in search of Lacey and found her asleep in the workroom. As he was debating whether to wake her up, she opened her eyes and yawned.

  “Why don’t we get the hell out of here and grab something to eat?”

  Yawning again, Lacey dragged herself up out of the chair. “All that work outside seems to have worn me out.”

  Lark watched her shrug into her coat. The dark circles under her eyes stood out against her pale face. “On second thought, why don’t we go home and I’ll fix us something to eat. Then you can go to bed and I’ll run over to Rhinelander.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Lacey said, heading for the door. “Why don’t I take a quick nap while you eat something light to take the edge off your hunger. Then I’ll ride to Rhinelander with you and we can have dinner in a great restaurant I know there. That way neither of us will be alone tonight.”

  “Deal,” Lark said, glancing at his watch. “This doesn’t give you much time for a nap. We’ve got to be on the road by eight.”

  “I can sleep in the car. God knows, I’ve slept in worse places.”

  Lacey dozed on the drive to Lark’s house and went directly upstairs, asking him to wake her up thirty minutes before they were supposed to leave.

  Lark rummaged around in the refrigerator, finally settling on a glass of milk and the last of a bunch of grapes to snack on. He settled into his favorite chair in the family room and fast-forwarded through the tape of the Wausau Channel Nine news, stopping to view all coverage of the murders. There was nothing new or particularly harmful, although he winced as he saw the amount of photo coverage on the Ransons’ property. He trotted upstairs to get the tape he’d set for Channel Twelve out of Rhinelander. It was pretty much the same. He made a mental note to watch the coverage of Channel Thirteen out of Eau Claire as soon as he got back to the office. He popped both tapes back in the VCRs and set them to record the ten o’clock news.

  Lark took a shower and threw on gray pants and a light gray cashmere sweater Maria had given him. He spent the time before they had to leave reading a few pages of the latest Dick Francis.

  WEDNESDAY EVENING

  NOVEMBER 22—SWENSON

  Miraculously, Lacey was ready to go in under thirty minutes. She looked spectacular in a long, forest green knit skirt and sweater. She had washed her auburn hair and left it hanging long. It was drying in curls around her face. She came flying down the stairs carrying a tall pair of black boots with her huge black purse slung over her shoulder. Lark noticed that the nap, or a good makeup job, had returned the color to her face. She dropped her boots and purse in the foyer and gratefully accepted the coffee mug he handed her. She repeated her routine of inhaling and sipping and Lark was once again fascinated. He shook off his thoughts as they got into their winter gear.

  The phone rang as they were walking out the door. “Shit. This had better be important,” Lark said, trotting into the kitchen.

  He picked up the phone and Joel’s voice boomed across the wires. “Glad I caught you. Our guys positively identified Red Boot as Gemma Patterson. The University police are faxing a copy of their investigation notes to you. I just got my copy.”

  “Give me the condensed version. Lacey and I’ll read the report on our way to Rhinelander.”

  “Ah, so you’re taking the lovely Lacey with you. Kind of like a date. Is she staying at Casa Swenson?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter and back on the report, Grenfurth.”

  “Put him on speakerphone, that’ll shut him up,” Lacey said.

  Just as Lark turned to see her leaning up against the snack bar, she hit the speaker button.

  “You’re on speaker, Joel. Give us a quick overview so we can get the hell out of here,” Lacey said, all business.

  “Yes, ma’am. Gemma Patterson’s old fractures positively match the old fractures on Red Boot. Her dental records are also a match. She was last seen leaving the UW-Madison campus on Tuesday, November twenty-fifth, in’ninety-seven. She left her mother a phone message saying she was on her way home and was going to stay over Tuesday, and maybe Wednesday night, at a friend’s house. She never made it home to Wayzata, Minnesota.” They could hear Joel flipping through his papers.

  “The kid’s message said she would call later but her parents never heard from her. They didn’t have any idea who the friend was. People from Big Oak as well as Marshfield, Wausau, and Eau Claire knew her and were questioned. She was born September twenty-seventh, nineteen-seventy-eight, so she had just turned nineteen. She was a sophomore majoring in business and talking about going to law school. One of our officers worked on the case with the Minnesota Stat
e Police and the Feds.”

  “At least we know who she was and how she died. Now all we have to do is figure out who killed her,” Lacey said. “We’ve got to get going or we’ll never get to Rhinelander, let alone get dinner. Who knows about this ID? Have you told the Pattersons?”

  “Not yet,” Joel said, papers rustling in the background. “Lacey, the University police are willing to transfer this case to us since the state police were already involved. I think we should take it. Lark, we’ll work together on this as well as Yellow Mitten. I’ll be back up Friday unless something happens before then.” He stopped talking and a child cried in the background.

  “Sounds like my idea of a good time.” Lacey giggled.

  “Someday you’ll get yours,” Joel said, the energy draining out of his voice. “When you’re both up to your asses in dirty diapers, I’ll be there to say I told you so. Take a hint from me and don’t have kids. God knows, I love the ones I have, but if I knew then what I know now, I’d have stayed away from parenthood. Chicken pox, four kids, in-laws, and Thanksgiving all at one time is not a pretty sight.”

  “My heart bleeds for you, Joel,” Lacey said, laughing.

  “We’ll call you if we find out anything new,” Lark interjected, putting on his coat. “Will this identification be out in time for the ten o’clock news or can we wait until tomorrow?”

  “We won’t announce the name until we notify the Pattersons, but we’ll probably have to say that we’ve identified one of the bodies,” Joel said, his voice picking up energy now that his child was no longer crying.

  Joel wished them a happy Thanksgiving and signed off with a reminder for them not to do anything he wouldn’t do. When Lark and Lacey finally left they were behind, but decided to stop at the station to pick up the fax. Lark stayed outside and kept the motor running while Lacey ran in to get it.

  So far, the weather was cutting them a break. Although the sky was starless, it wasn’t snowing. According to the radio, it was seventeen below zero and falling, with more snow expected during the night. Lark marveled at the resilience of the people living in the northwoods. They seemed to take the weather in stride; many even seemed to like it. While he waited for Lacey, he cracked the car window. The air was redolent with wood smoke and the cool, crisp smell of winter. He was startled out of his reverie when the car door opened and Lacey climbed in the Jeep.

  “Your dispatcher says the fax machine has been used more today than it has in the entire two years since they got it,” Lacey said, slamming the passenger door shut. “Modern police work comes to Mason County. How about if I read the report out loud while you drive?”

  “Good idea.” He pulled onto south Highway 13 and turned on the dome light.

  “No need for that.” Lacey motioned up at the light and began digging through her shoulder bag. “I’ve got a flashlight in here somewhere.”

  “Christ, you could have half the state of Rhode Island in there,” Lark said, glancing back and forth between the road and her search. First came a set of car keys followed by: a hair pick; billfold; coin purse; checkbook; three tubes of lipstick; a couple of small, frayed notebooks; a jar of Carmex; a pair of black leather gloves; a bottle of aspirin; two Hershey bars; a compact; a handful of pens; two bottles of nail polish; a nail file; a couple of small pouches; and another key ring with a beat-up rabbit’s foot on the end.

  “Finally,” Lacey said, pulling out a small flashlight. “I thought I was going to have to pour everything out to find the damn thing.”

  “That purse isn’t empty?” Lark asked, watching her scoot the pile back in her bag.

  “Almost. I didn’t bother to pull out the kitchen sink I keep in here for emergencies,” she said, smirking at him. “I also didn’t pull out the really personal things that might embarrass you.” She zipped her purse closed and dropped it on the floor.

  As they sped south towards Highway 70, Lacey read large sections of the report out loud. Gemma had lived her entire life in Wayzata until she went to college in Madison. Her parents owned a marina on Lake Wayzata. She had planned to major in business and come back and help run the marina with her older brother, also a University of Wisconsin grad. Her grades were excellent and she was never in trouble with the police in Wayzata or Madison.

  Gemma appeared to have adjusted well to college and seemed to have lots of friends. She had done a little dating but had not been serious about anyone. She’d last been heard from when she’d called her parents from her dorm room. The police tracked down a gasoline credit card charge in Marshfield on Tuesday afternoon, the same day she’d left, and another one in Eau Claire around 2 A.M. on Wednesday morning. Her car was found in a shopping mall parking lot in Eau Claire on Sunday, November 30, 1997. No one knew how long it had been there. One witness remembered seeing it on Saturday night.

  Fingerprints from the car weren’t any help, which wasn’t surprising since most people wore gloves for driving that time of year. No traces of blood were found, although human hairs and clothing fibers had been found in the trunk. The hairs matched those found on Gemma’s clothes in her dorm room. All the evidence was stored at the state police lab in Madison.

  “Wonder how her body ended up here and her car ended up in Eau Claire?” Lacey mused, taking a break from reading the report while they navigated through Park Falls.

  “Car trouble? Hitchhiker? Maybe she brought someone with her from Madison.”

  “I can’t believe a girl that smart would pick up a hitchhiker. The car was running fine and had a full tank of gas when they found it in Eau Claire.”

  “It doesn’t sound right to me either, but stranger things have happened. Look at the women Ted Bundy was able to fool.”

  Their conversation drifted to a general discussion of crime and serial killers in particular. As they turned east on Highway 70, a light snow began to fall. Lacey leaned forward and glared out the windshield. “Will this stuff ever let up? I like snow but this is just plain ridiculous.” She slouched down in her seat and stared out the window.

  “I’ve been told that we’re in for the winter of our lives,” Lark said, glancing over at her. “Before we start on the file again, tell me where we’re going to eat. I’m starving and it’ll help my stomach to know that there really is food in its future.”

  “Depends on what you want. I’m in the mood for Italian. What’s your pleasure?”

  “Italian’s good.”

  “Well, then there’s only one place. The Sportsman’s Inn. It’s on Highway 8 as you get into Rhinelander.”

  “What if I wanted a steak?”

  “I’d suggest we go to the Sportsman’s.”

  “What if I said seafood?”

  “We’d go to the Sportsman’s,” they said in unison, laughing.

  “It took me forever to get used to the lack of variety up here,” Lark said.

  “What about theaters? I used to love to go to the movies. When I see a movie in Wausau, everyone knows the details of my social life the next day. There isn’t any privacy.”

  “Tell me about it,” Lark said. “I made the mistake of going to a movie in Park Falls by myself one night. It was right after I moved and I still haven’t heard the end of it. For a couple weeks afterwards, everyone kept trying to fix me up. I haven’t done that again.”

  “I do believe it’s a mortal sin to go to the movies alone up here. The same thing happened to me. You can imagine how a bunch of macho cops reacted. I could have retired for life if I was into sexual harassment lawsuits.” Lacey snapped her flashlight back on. “We’d better get back to this report if we’re going to get through it before we get to the Sportsman’s.” She sorted through the papers, finding where she had left off.

  “The remainder of the report summarizes the interviews of people who knew Gemma. The state and university police interviewed over a hundred people. Her roommates were all interviewed. They had solid alibis. They did interview a few people from Big Oak. Do you want me to go over their statements?” Lacey asked,
flipping through the pages.

  “Who’d they interviewed from Big Oak?”

  “Let’s see.” More pages rattled. “They interviewed David Banski from Chicago, who summered in the area. Is his name familiar?”

  “Yep. He must be the son, or maybe grandson, of the people who own Banski’s, a restaurant over on Pine Lake. Nice people, this isn’t going to be pleasant.”

  Lacey turned more pages. “It looks like they interviewed two kids named Lowery, Katey and Matt.”

  “The Lowerys are a prominent family in Mason County.”

  “There are also two Waltner kids listed here. Does that name ring a bell?”

  “Yep.” Lark said as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “This only gets worse. Their parents own the Waltner Marina and Waltner Hardware and Sporting Goods in Big Oak. Their father is on the village board and their mother is on everything else. Although they publicly act like they couldn’t be happier, Steve is rumored to be having an affair with his assistant. I think Sara’s on the make for anything in pants, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Shelley Marten, looks like she was from Cedarburg but summered up here. Does she ring a bell?”

  “There’s a new physician in town named Linc Marten. They live across the lake from the Ransons. Now that I think about it, the Lowerys live right next door to the Ransons and the Banskis live just down the road.”

  “What about the Waltners?”

  “I can’t recall where they live, just where their businesses are.”

  “My faith in male law enforcement officers is renewed just knowing that you don’t know the address of Mason County’s Miss Hot to Trot.”

  “I’m happy if you’re happy,” Lark replied, his tone scathing.

  “Back to the suspects list,” Lacey said. “Here’s one you won’t like—Jim Kryjack. He’s one of the nicest people I’ve met up here, I can’t believe he’d ever hurt anyone. In fact, he’s too nice to be a police officer.”