Bones and Brew Page 5

  “Me neither,” Rachel seconded.

  Louise made a scoffing noise. “You two act like I’m a helpless invalid.”

  “No, we don’t,” Milt shot back. “Regardless of one’s age and physical condition, it’s not wise to work alone in an area where there’s no cell phone reception. What if something happened?”

  “Ben would go for help,” Louise answered, not joking.

  Rachel frowned. “Aunt Lou, I know you and Ben are connected in a special way, but he’s a dog.”

  Louise cocked her head to the right and thrust her left hand on her hip. “And your point is…?”

  Rachel glanced down at the ground then back up, the sheen of tears glazing her eyes. “We love you. You’re more like a mother than an aunt to me. I want you to be safe and—”

  “I love you and your concern, but you should know I’m a tough old broad.” She swung her arm, making a karate chop in the air.

  Rachel shook her head and grinned.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Louise conceded, “I’ll call you when I leave the house to head to the cabins. And I’ll call when I return. I should be home long before Stella comes in to relieve you at one o’clock. Deal?”

  “It’s better than nothing,” Milt answered, though she wasn’t talking to him.

  Louise rolled her eyes.

  Rachel cupped her hand over her mouth and giggled.

  “Don’t be getting any ideas about utilizing Sanders,” Milt called out.

  Louise gaped her mouth. No one was supposed to know about the drone yet. Especially not Rachel.

  “Sanders?” Puzzlement contorted Rachel’s pretty face.

  “Okay, Rachel, I’m out of here.”

  “Wait a minute, who’s Sanders?” Rachel pressed.

  “Shhh.” Louise tapped the side of her index finger against her lips.”

  Rachel widened her eyes and nodded.

  Louise could only imagine what Rachel might be thinking about the identity of Sanders but was confident she would never guess it was a drone. “I leave the store in your capable hands and thank you for covering my shift.” She strolled to the front of the store and opened the door.

  TING-A-LING.

  Halfway out the door, she paused and turned to Rachel. “Let’s have a contest to name the paper. I’ll give the winner a gift certificate to the trading post for a hundred dollars. You decide the entry rules, deadlines for submissions, and how to pick the winner.”

  “Awesome!” Rachel squealed and clapped like a schoolgirl.

  A genuine smile blossomed on Louise’s face. The day was starting out better than she planned, even with Jason gone. Strolling across the boardwalk, her shoes clip-clopping against the wooden slats with each step, she spoke aloud to herself. “Ben and I will do the cabin checks and be home around one or so. Then I’ll call James Hiler for the legal side of running a newspaper.”

  About to turn the corner to the side of the store where her Cadillac Escalade was parked, she stopped at the sight of Porter Barr’s truck pulling in. “I can give him Dot’s hat,” she whispered to herself. She watched him wheel his heavy-duty pickup into two parking spaces in front of the trading post.

  “Porter…” Louise called out and waved to attract his attention. She jogged over to the truck and approached the driver side window.

  Porter’s extreme body odor wafted through the air.

  “Miss Louise!” Porter beamed like a smitten schoolboy, as he always did when seeing Louise.

  Likewise, as Louise always did when within scent range of Porter, she ceased breathing through her nose.

  “Miss Louise, you’re looking extra fetching this morning.” He slid out of the truck, slammed the door, and analyzed her from head to toe. “Those pink streaks in your hair are growing on me. They’re fun, like you.”

  Yeah, yeah. And remind you of your carnival days as a kid. Louise feigned a smile. “How’s Dot liking her vacation? I thought I’d see her around but—”

  “I’ve been pondering your medication issue and decided to brew a virgin beer in your honor. I haven’t perfected the formula, but I’d sure appreciate your opinion when I do.”

  “Ben found a California Raisin cap at the lake the other day, and I thought Dot might have lost hers.” Louise pointed with her thumb at the store. “I cleaned it up and stashed it behind the counter, hoping to give it to her, or you, the next time I saw either of you. Do you mind giving that hat to her?”

  “Why don’t you come up to the house and give it to her yourself?”

  “I could swing by this weekend.” She consulted her wristwatch. “But right now, I’m late for an appointment,” she fibbed. “Take care, Porter.” About to turn and walk to her SUV, she noticed his truck was no longer sagging and the tarp was gone, revealing an empty bed. Curiosity getting the best of her, she engaged in a bit more conversation. “The other day I noticed your pickup was really loaded down.” She hammed up a laugh. “You must have had quite a pile of rocks in there.”

  “Nuts.”

  Louise felt her brows disappear under her bangs. “Nuts? Your truck was loaded down with nuts? What kind of nuts?”

  “Macadamias. They’re one of the most expensive nuts in the world.” Porter strolled up onto the boardwalk and stood less than an arm’s length in front of Louise. He leaned in closer and whispered, “And I finagled a lucrative deal to package my beer with macadamia nuts.” He tapped his grimy index finger over his wormy red lips and grinned. “Shhh. That’s our secret for now.”

  “Rachel’s starting a monthly local newspaper soon. When you’re ready to unveil your venture, I’m sure she’d be happy to do an article on your new business.”

  Porter arched his back and puffed out his chest. “Miss Louise, you’re beautiful inside and out.”

  “Oh, Porter, you’re such a flirt.” Louise flashed a genuine smile. “I have to get going. Enjoy the rest of this beautiful June day.”

  “Same to you, Miss Louise, and I hope your appointment is a good one.”

  Chapter Ten

  Another Treasure Discovered

  “Woowf-woowf.” Ben stomped his front paws in the mud at the water’s edge. His attention shifted between Louise and the middle of the lake.

  Parked next to the Eagle’s Nest clubhouse, she removed a case of toilet paper from the back of her Escalade. “We haven’t been here five minutes, and you’re already distracting me.”

  Not that she minded. Cabin checks, as she called the task, involved inspecting the cabins and clubhouse. Renters had to leave the property clean and tidy to receive their cleaning deposit refund.

  But managing the rustic resort she owned also mandated a variety of less-than-glamorous duties. Filling toilet paper holders, stocking split logs for the firepit, and emptying garbage receptacles were among the more mundane chores. Whereas ensuring the safe condition of the rowboats, oars, and life jackets took more time and attention.

  Cabin checks were among the least favorite of her business-related chores. Unless Jason offered to assist, then the four-hour task became a fun-filled adventure. But the fun would be limited today. Jason was away attending a three-day accounting conference in Tumble City.

  Ben upped the volume and frequency of his barks.

  “What kind of an important treasure do you think you discovered this time?” Louise abandoned the toilet paper on the flagstone patio of the Eagle’s Nest and strode the thirty feet to the shoreline.

  The mid-morning sun reflected like a mirror across the still water.

  She created a visor with her hand and poked her head forward, straining to see what had excited Ben.

  At first, she saw nothing but glistening water. About to return to the clubhouse, something bobbing around in the water caught her attention. “That looks like a bright red basketball. Or the swim cap of a swimmer in trouble,” she added though hoping it was nothing that serious.

  Ben paced back and forth in front of her, continuing to bark up a storm.

  “Okay, you w
in,” she conceded, having become a bit curious herself. “I assume it’s that round red thing out there that’s got you worked up. My guess is, this last group of weekend warriors had played some kind of game in the water and forgot to clean up after themselves. So we’ll check it out.”

  Not knowing what to expect or what might be needed once out on the lake, she jogged back to the Escalade. “You’re always thinking, Milt,” she praised, pulling out the duffle bag he insisted she kept in her vehicle.

  The bag was chock-full of emergency supplies. A tow rope. Flashlight that floated. First aid kit. Matches in a waterproof container. Compass. Folding shovel. Swiss army knife. Flare kit with a launching gun. And a bag of Jolly Ranchers hard candy Milt assured would never go bad. More importantly, at least for this jaunt, it contained Ben’s life jacket. Also a waterproof, floating pouch for her cell phone, not that she’d likely acquire any bars to use it.

  MINUTES LATER

  Louise fitted Ben and herself with life vests, loaded the emergency kit onto the rowboat, and boarded the vessel designed to carry up to four adults. As she rowed toward the floating ball in the middle of the lake, Ben stood at the bow. His head held high and chest puffed out, he appeared to reenact the king of the world scene from the movie, Titanic.

  The metal rowlocks creaked and groaned with each stroke of the oars. Water gently lapped against the side of the boat as it cut through the otherwise tranquil lake. The chatter of crows drowned out the melody of songbirds.

  Sitting with her back to the bow, Louise glanced over her shoulder every so often to track her progress.

  Breathing hard, thigh muscles burning, sweat beading on her forehead, she confessed, “I’m out of practice, Ben. I haven’t rowed a boat in over a year.” So far this summer, Jason had done the rowing when they ventured out on the lake.

  Within about ten feet of the red ball, she ceased rowing to let the boat drift closer. She cocked her head and smiled at her dog. “Well, I was wrong about it being a basketball and, thankfully, also about it being a swim cap. As for you, Ben, you got all excited over a plastic gallon milk jug someone painted red and anchored to something in the lake.”

  Ben stomped his front feet and barked at the jug.

  “What?” She laughed and shook her head. “It looks like a fisherman marked his favorite hole. That’s all.”

  The dog continued to bark and dance about.

  “Well, Ben, thanks to this wild goose chase you sent me on, it reminded me I’m out of shape and need to row more often.”

  Unrelenting, Ben barked at the water.

  It was then that a pink swimming pool noodle lingering about a foot beneath the surface of the water made her do a double-take. “Is that what has you all excited, Ben?”

  The long foam tubes were designed to float. Kids played with the buoyant cylinders in pools, while adults often used them in aquatic exercise classes.

  “That’s definitely something you don’t see every day and since we’re already here, we might as well take a closer look.” Rather than heading back to shore, she maneuvered the boat nearer to the floating red jug.

  Ben whined as he gazed over the edge of the boat into the water.

  “The milk jug’s attached to the noodle,” she told Ben. “Now my curiosity’s piqued. What’s holding the noodle down?” She released her grip of the oars and let them rest in the rowlocks.

  “Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s some sort of illegal fishing trap.” She frowned, thinking of several of the survivalist-types who owned property in the area. Specifically, the Barr family who were among the most vocal and defiant of laws. “There’s only one way to find out for sure.”

  Kneeling on the seat, she hung on to the side of the boat with one hand while reaching into the water with the other. “Here goes nothing.” She plunged her hand into the chilly lake water.

  The green water smelled of trout. Pond-skating bugs skittered across the surface.

  With her arm submerged past her elbow, she hooked her fingers around the noodle and yanked, attempting to bring it to the surface. But the pink noodle remained steadfast.

  Ben’s barking escalated to a frenzied mode.

  “Don’t worry. We’ve come this far. I’m not giving up now.” Letting go of the side of the boat, she reached into the water, latched on to the noodle with both hands, and lurched her entire body backward as if reeling in a monster fish.

  The noodle broke.

  “Ahhh!” Louise shrieked as she fell backward, landing hard on her butt.

  The boat violently rocked back and forth but didn’t tip over.

  Ben leaped from the bow to her side.

  Collapsing her back against the seat at the stern, the red milk jug attached to a piece of a wet pink noodle in her hand, and Ben licking her face, she erupted into laughter.

  After spending a moment to gain composure, Louise pushed herself into a kneeling position. She peered over the edge of the boat into the lake where the jug and noodle had been stuck.

  A patch of light-colored thin strands floated near the surface. Seconds ago, those lacy fibers hadn’t been there.

  “What the heck is that?” Had the noodle been anchored to submerged vegetation she uprooted? Or had a ball of fishing line discarded into the water by a careless fisherman been set afloat when she pulled up the noodle?

  Louise removed one of the oars from the rowlock. Turning the oar upside down, she poked the handle into the strands, drawing in the floating mass.

  The clump was more substantial than she anticipated and required more muscle to drag it closer.

  Ben continued barking like crazy.

  “Hair,” Louise whispered, dread welling up in her stomach. “This can’t be a body. Can’t be…” She gulped hard and drew the oar upward, pulling the blonde tresses closer to the surface.

  Sure enough, the hair was attached to the top of a head. A human head!

  On the off chance the person was still alive, she pushed the handle deeper into the water until she felt it make contact with something hard … presumably the person.

  Thrusting the handle of the oar skyward, she lifted, allowing the natural buoyancy properties of the water to assist bringing the body to the surface.

  The person bobbed to the top, facedown.

  She angled the oar handle to slide between the person’s upper arm and torso. With a dynamic upward motion, she rolled the body over.

  The victim’s face was blue and bloated. Clearly, the person—a woman—was dead.

  Louise leaned closer for a better look of the woman’s face. She gasped, recoiled, and tapped her hand over her lips. “I knew something terrible had happened to—”

  “Grrrrrrr.”

  The deep rumble of Ben’s growl froze her. She looked in the direction of the dog’s focus.

  At the shoreline by her cabins, a figure stood staring her way. Was someone looking for her?

  No one, except Rachel and Milt, knew she was at the cabins. A smile skipped across Louise’s face. “Then again, if Rachel knows, the whole town knows.”

  Too far away to identify the person, based on the size and build, she assumed it was a man. She hoped it was Jason and that the accounting conference in Tumble City had been canceled.

  But she nixed her wishful thinking right away. “Jason’s a presenter and the keynote speaker Friday night. No way was the conference canceled. Who could be looking for me, and why?”

  She inserted the oar into the rowlock and positioned herself on the seat, preparing to row. About to turn the boat around to head back to shore, that feeling of dread once again rushed over her.

  Unsure why, although a dead woman floating in the water might have had something to do with it, she decided to linger a moment longer. Do what any responsible citizen would do. “Take pictures to document the scene, then call the police as soon as possible.”

  Retrieving her cell phone from the waterproof case on the lanyard around her neck, she snapped several shots. First of the body, then of the surro
unding shoreline as reference for the recovery team.

  BOOM!

  The loud report of a hunting rifle discharging caused Louise to about jump out of her skin. Her attention was immediately drawn to the shoreline where she had seen the man.

  Ben snarled, the hair on the back of his neck raised as he, too, gazed at the shore.

  BOOM! BLOP!

  A spray of water splashed up as the bullet hit mere inches from the side of Louise’s rowboat.

  “He’s shooting at us!”

  “Woowf.” Ben nuzzled his snout under Louise’s armpit.

  “No time for loves now.” She pushed the dog aside, slapped the oars into the water, and gripped the handles. Rowing as if their lives depended on it, she propelled the boat toward the other side of the lake. The side opposite her cabins where she had parked her SUV.

  Louise knew the way back to town should she and Ben have to hoof the eight to ten miles through the woods.

  That was the good news.

  The bad news, cell phone reception sucked around the lake. Or was nonexistent, which meant there was no way to call for help.

  Leg muscles burning, lungs aching, sweat rolling into her eyes, Louise rowed hard. So hard, she was running out of steam. Fast.

  Just when she thought their situation couldn’t get worse, the shooter climbed into one of the rowboats she kept at the cabin for renters. “He’s coming after us,” she shrieked, fear skyrocketing to panic.

  Ben nudged his nose against the back of her arm. “Woowf,” he softly barked, consoling her.

  Louise instantly calmed down, at least a tad, which was all she needed to keep her head on straight. “Thanks, Buddy. I needed that.”

  Though not formally trained, Ben could double as her emotional support animal. He had the innate ability to sense her emotions and provide the necessary comfort precisely when needed.

  Ben’s nose-poke charged her energy. She picked up speed, rowing harder. Faster.

  The shooter kept pace.

  After what seemed an eternity, the boat jolted to a stop as it hit the shallow water, a stone’s throw from the shore.