Read Dead Water for Free Online Page B

lip and let go with a bird trill that brought the other six people in the room to their knees in hysterics. That’s when Osborne knew for sure he could change his life. He went home happy for the first time in years.
    “Years?” Lew had asked him as he finished his story.
    “You betcha.” He was happy that night, too, that he was alive to hear the ripples of the river and see the glow of the moonlight in those dark eyes.
    Yep, he owed Ray more than the loan of a gun.
    Lew’s radio hummed suddenly: “Chief Ferris?”
    “Lucy.” Lew grabbed the handset. “What’s up? I’ve got Doc Osborne in the car, and we’re heading over to a logging road that’ll put us close to the victim. Looks like it’s about a third of a mile past Fire Number Forty thirty-nine. I’ll call in after I see exactly what we’ve got.”
    “Fine, but a call just came in from some folks over in Pine Lake, Chief. They found a fatality on the road to their house about half an hour ago. Looks like some woman was out jogging and had a heart attack or something. Wait—hold on a minute, the emergency line is ringing …
    As Lew pulled off the county highway and continued down the dirt road, she held the microphone open, waiting for Lucy.
    “That was them again,” said the switchboard operator. “Not a heart attack. They looked closer and … well, they sound pretty upset. Apparently someone out there thinks she was shot.”
    “Oh for God’s sake,” said Lew, “will you please tell them not to touch a damn thing.”
    “I did, Chief,” said Lucy. “Do you want me to get Roger out there?”
    “Yes, please, and tell him not to touch a damn thing.”
    “Okay,” said Lucy.
    “Anything else?”
    “Hank Kendrickson called. Wants to know if you can go to dinner and fly-fishing with him tonight. Or fly-fishing and dinner, whichever, depending on your schedule.”
    Osborne froze. Kendrickson was fairly new in Loon Lake, a well-to-do businessman, who appeared to be in his late forties and who Osborne had met only once. Osborne relied on his cronies at McDonald’s, with whom he had coffee most mornings at seven, to update him on local gossip. But when it came to Kendrickson, all anyone had gleaned to date was that the man had plenty of money, drove a Range Rover, and had bought the game preserve over in Hazelhurst with money he made in the stock market. Osborne hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip. He sure would now.
    “What did you tell him?”
    “I said you were booked pretty solid with two murders and a bat loose in a house over on Lincoln Street.”
    Lew snorted.
    “I said you’d get back to him,” said Lucy. She was an older woman, kind of a blowsy blond with penetrating blue eyes, early wrinkles from smoking too much, and a no-nonsense attitude she applied to shield her boss from the ridiculous: the missing pets, angry mothers-in-law, and late trash pickups. Right now, she was doing her best to keep the tension level under control, given that she was well aware that two deaths in one morning was a very serious matter for Lew.
    “Jeez,” said Lew. “Why does everything happen at once? Lucy, would you mind calling Hank back? Tell him we’ll do it sometime next week.”
    A few more back-and-forths with Lucy, and Lew was able to set the handset back on its hook. “That woman’s a pro, Doc. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”
    “So, how did you meet Hank Kendrickson?” asked Osborne in what he hoped was a carefree tone of voice.
    “Jerry Redfield put us in touch,” said Lew, referring to an elderly man considered the guru of fly-fishing. Lew had learned much of what she knew from old Jerry. “He’s learning to fly-fish and asked me if I had time to help him out … like I do with you.”
    She looked over at Osborne, and he thought he caught a sly twinkle in her eye. “Of course, I’m not getting a thousand bucks a day. Just a dinner every now and then.”
    “Oh?” He hoped he sounded a lot more nonchalant than