Death's Door Page 13

  “One question first,” I said. “Do you remember trying to tell me something when you were lying on the floor? I leaned in close and it sounded like you said she.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember anything, Spencer.”

  “Nothing about the person who shot you?”

  “Already went over this with the captain. Last thing I remember is the doorbell ringing. But I do remember whupping your butt at gin.”

  I sighed. “You’re right. You don’t remember anything.”

  He stood, and Rosie put her arm around his waist. “I’ll walk over with you.”

  I watched until Stosh had closed the door. It was a moment I’d remember. Rosie stood looking at the closed door for what seemed like ten minutes before she came back. Her hair shone in the sun, a fitting frame for the happy look on her face. She stepped up onto the deck and walked toward me.

  “You’re not going to hit me again, are you?”

  She smiled and put her arms around me. I returned the favor.

  The hug was broken by the phone. It was Iverson giving us instructions for the evening. We were to stop at the ranger headquarters at the west entrance to the park and pick up a radio. He asked us to park in the lot next to the lighthouse and do whatever came naturally. He figured we wouldn’t have any problem. He asked if I had a camera. I did. Our instructions were to call if we saw anything suspicious and not to try and apprehend. Seemed like an interesting way to spend a Saturday night, and it was certainly a cheap date.

  As we were about to hang up he told me to hang on, and I heard his radio crackling. He was back in less than a minute.

  “There’s a fire. Shipwrecked Brew Pub in Egg Harbor. See you later.”

  I told Rosie and suggested we head over there. Egg Harbor was one town south of the park, and we could eat somewhere on that side of the peninsula. I told Stosh what we were doing, and we headed out.

  Chapter 21

  As we made the twenty-minute trip across the peninsula, I told Rosie about the brew pub.

  “It was built in the 1880s as a saloon and is one of the oldest buildings in the county. Not long after that, guest rooms and a dining room were added. It’s currently an inn and the only microbrewery in the county.”

  “What a shame, Spencer. I hope everyone got out. I’m assuming the fire departments up here are volunteer.”

  “For the most part. There are paid full-time positions, but most are paid volunteers… they’re paid when they respond. Aunt Rose is good friends with one of the volunteers in Ephraim.”

  “Does each town have a department?”

  “All the bigger ones… Sister Bay, Ephraim, Fish Creek, Egg Harbor, Baileys Harbor, and Sturgeon Bay. There’s a joint response if needed.”

  As we passed a cherry orchard she asked what the population of the county was.

  “It’s about twenty thousand. But during the summer these towns are wall to wall people.”

  I pointed to a cloud of black smoke above the trees, and as we turned south on 42 we could hear sirens. As we got closer to town, traffic was stopped. Two engines passed the line of cars in the northbound lane. I pulled into a parking lot next to an antique store, and we walked.

  I counted engines from six departments and heard more sirens in the distance. Ladder trucks were pouring water on flames coming from second-floor windows and on the neighboring house to the north. As we watched, flames broke through the roof. It was obvious the fire had started on the second floor, and if they could confine it to that they could keep it from becoming an inferno. The wooden frame building was a tinder box. If they couldn’t, the neighbor’s house would go too. The water damage would make the brewpub a total loss.

  The corner building was painted light blue, almost the same shade as my Mustang, with white trim. It was a typical nineteenth century building with a white picket fence that still had a peaceful, quaint charm. But the orange flames, black smoke, and the yellow and red engines certainly intruded on the charm.

  We joined the crowd and watched. There were three ambulances parked outside of the engines, but the responders were just standing by. Everyone must have gotten out. Ten minutes later the black smoke had turned to gray and the flames were out. They kept up the water for another twenty minutes, but firefighters had started to recover hoses. I touched Rosie’s arm and pointed to Iverson standing next to one of the yellow engines talking with another man. When the man walked away, Iverson saw us and waved us over. We were stopped by a woman wearing an orange safety vest, but after we explained and Iverson waved again, she let us through.

  “Hey, Manning… Detective.”

  I nodded. “Did everyone get out?” I asked.

  “Yes. A maid discovered the fire in one of the upstairs rooms. A couch was on fire, and the flames were spreading up the wall. There was only one person in the rooms upstairs, and she and everyone downstairs got out quickly.”

  “They did a good job containing it,” Rosie said.

  “They did. We were worried about the building next door. Luckily there’s no wind. Let’s get away from the trucks.” We walked across the street and sat in front of a café.

  “That was Chief Bank I was talking to, the police chief in Egg Harbor. He has the guest register. We were trying to talk with guests. There are four rooms upstairs… two of them are a total loss. One of those is registered to V. Petrace.”

  I’m sure I didn’t hide my surprise. “Really.”

  “Yes.”

  “What are the odds there are two V. Petraces?”

  “Pretty slim, but not zero. As you two know, this is a pretty good place to disappear. Nobody bothers anybody else, and everyone minds their own business.”

  “But why would she use her real name?”

  “Criminals don’t think they’ll get caught,” said Rosie. “Luckily for us most aren’t real bright.”

  “But some of them have more than their share of luck. As soon as I saw the name I put a car on the highway north of the canal as a roadblock. That’s the only road out of here. If she didn’t leave too long ago, we’ll get her. I’ll leave a car there around the clock until we find her elsewhere.”

  I nodded. “Good. Call me if you do. Have you questioned the manager?” I asked.

  “I’ve been waiting… he’s been a little busy. I was just going to do that when I saw you. Let’s go.”

  Iverson walked up to a man talking with the fire chief near the front of the building next to a red engine from Sister Bay. He introduced us to the manager, Jim Wells, and Chief Cascade. “Any idea what started it, Chief?”

  “My early guess is electrical. Know more in the next few days.”

  “Nice job containing it. Can it be saved?”

  “Thanks. With all the water we poured in there, I don’t think so.”

  He put his hand on the manager’s shoulder. “Sorry, Jim.”

  Wells looked devastated. “Yeah, it’s awful, but at least no one was hurt. Might have been different had it happened at night.”

  “Let me know when you have a minute,” said Iverson.

  “Any more questions, Chief?” Wells asked Cascade.

  “Not at the moment. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay. What’s on your mind, Chief?”

  “We’re looking into a murder and another shooting that happened in Illinois. You just became a part of it.”

  He didn’t try to hide his look of shock. “I did?”

  Iverson laughed. “Well, not you personally, but the pub.” He gave Wells the short version of the story and explained about the name in his register. “Do you see Petrace around here? The register shows she checked in on Monday.”

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what she looks like. I deal with very few of the guests directly… usually only when there’s a problem. Let me get my desk clerk.” He looked around and said he’d be right back. He was back in less than a minute with a girl who looked like she was a teenager and introduced us to Marty.

  The fire truck engine
started with a loud rumble, and we walked back to give it room.

  “Marty, these people are looking for V. Petrace. Our register shows she checked in on Monday. Do you see her?”

  Marty looked around. “No.”

  “Can you tell us anything about her?” I asked. “A description would help.”

  She shrugged. “I never talked to her, but I know who she is. Pretty short, I’d say a little more than five foot, short brown hair, round face. We could check with the other clerks when they come in.”

  “Well,” said Wells, “they won’t be coming in, but I’ll give you their names and numbers, Chief.”

  Marty looked embarrassed.

  “Thanks.”

  I took the register from Iverson. “This shows she has a white Volkswagen. Do you have a parking lot?”

  “Yeah, around back. Let’s go look. Thanks, Marty. We’ll have a meeting tomorrow or Tuesday. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay, Mr. Wells. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, Marty.”

  Her car wasn’t in the lot.

  “Well, we almost got her,” said Rosie.

  “Yeah, the almosts are pretty frustrating,” said Iverson. “Back to wondering where she is.”

  Three more trucks left the site.

  “I think we can narrow it down to her house and the remaining targets. We need to update the other departments,” I said. “Carol will make the calls.”

  “I’ll call Snark,” said Iverson. “You get the others.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  ***

  It took us ten minutes to walk back to the Mustang. I handed Rosie the keys. “You drive… I’ll make the phone call.”

  “You hungry?”

  “Yup.”

  “Where do you want to eat?”

  “I can’t come up here without going to the Greenwood Supper Club. There are several good places for a steak, but not quite that good. Go back the way we came. After about fifteen minutes on EE you’ll come to A. Turn left and you’ll find it up the road a bit. I’ll help you watch for A.”

  While we were waiting for our steaks, we talked about the plan for Monday over Guinness. The Bells were the only couple we hadn’t talked to. Perhaps they’d have some new information.

  ***

  We pulled into the park at dusk, picked up the radio, and headed for the Eagle Bluff lighthouse at the northern tip of the park. I parked where we could see the entrance to the lot and Shore Road in both directions, but we would be pretty well hidden from someone pulling in until they got into the lot. The lighthouse was a small, two-story building made of beige-colored bricks with a steeply pitched, red-shingled roof. The light was only forty-three feet above the ground, but the bluff was over a hundred feet high so the light was well above the water. The sky was clear… a great night for looking at stars, or doing whatever came naturally.

  We walked around to the lake side of the lighthouse, and Rosie peered in the windows. As it was dark, there wasn’t much to see. But the view out over the water was impressive with islands dotting the bay. The park included eight miles of shoreline on Green Bay. Another couple was reading the information board when we got back to the front, but they didn’t look sinister. We said hello as they passed us heading to the lighthouse.

  We got in the car, and I mentioned the only disadvantage to my sky-blue Mustang. It was going to be hard to be too friendly with a stick shift between us. But I told her I’d do my best. By ten, three cars had driven past the lighthouse. None had stopped. But at 10:20 one did slow down but kept going. I reported it. The park gates closed at eleven. We had the windows rolled down, listening to the crickets and holding hands. But when Rosie got bit by a mosquito we rolled the windows up. The night air had cooled considerably so that wasn’t a bad thing. I started the car and ran the heater for a few minutes.

  “Looks like we picked the wrong night,” said Rosie.

  “Or the wrong spot. There’s plenty of other places to meet.”

  “I wonder how Iverson picked the lighthouse.”

  “Reverse psychology. He figured the logical spot for someone to have a clandestine meeting would be in an out of the way spot away from visitors. And if someone was figuring that was what he’d be figuring, they’d meet at a popular spot… like the lighthouse.”

  She turned toward me and laughed. “That’s a lot of figuring. I’m figuring Iverson’s the only one doing all the figuring.”

  “Probably, but I’m just following orders, which by the way were to do what comes naturally.” I leaned over and kissed her.

  As she put her arms around my neck, she said, “The world sure looks different with Stosh still in it.”

  “It sure does.”

  “You must have been devastated sitting there in his doorway waiting for help.”

  “I don’t remember much about that, Rosie.” I let out a deep breath. “I guess shock takes over. I did what I could and then just had to wait.”

  She took my hand in both of hers. “That’s such a helpless feeling… waiting.”

  As I agreed, a car pulled into the lot and parked across the lot from us. The timing was perfect. From their car, it would sure look like we were two lovers taking advantage of the empty lot. The headlights went out, and a couple of teenagers got out and walked toward the bluff, disappearing past the lighthouse.

  “Is the lighthouse ever open?” Rosie asked.

  “Yes, every day during the summer. They’ve done a nice job of making a museum out of it… lots of period displays.”

  “Can you get up in the tower?”

  “Yup. It’s a gorgeous view.”

  “We should come back.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The couple came back at a quarter to eleven and pulled away. Five minutes later so did we. Halfway back to the headquarters we passed a car pulled over on the side of the road. The flashers were on and the hood was up. I stopped alongside the car, a Chevy Impala, for a closer look. There was no one with the car. I jotted down the license number and told Rosie they had probably walked to the headquarters building to get help.

  “That’s a long walk,” she said. “I hope someone picked them up.”

  “They probably would, but there isn’t much traffic this late.”

  We didn’t pass anyone on the way back. I stopped at the headquarters and dropped off the radio. I told him about the car, gave him the license number, and asked if anyone had shown up. They hadn’t. The ranger told me it had been a quiet night and said he’d have someone check on the car. I told him I’d call Iverson… maybe we could try again Sunday.

  ***

  We sat on the cottage deck listening to a distant loon.

  “There’s that sad cry,” said Rosie.

  “Hence the stories.”

  We both got bit within seconds of each other and decided it was time to turn in. I hadn’t heard from Iverson. Victoria had either left an hour before the fire and driven out before the car was posted, or she was still on the peninsula. If she was, Iverson would eventually get her, but as he said, this was a pretty good place to hide. But you can’t hide forever. If she had made it out we were back to square one.

  Chapter 22

  We drove back to Green Bay just after lunch on Sunday. We had taken Stosh out to a diner on 51, about halfway up to the north tip of the peninsula, and told him about Petrace. He was looking and feeling good. But he wanted to do something… said he was getting stir crazy confined to the cottage.

  I laughed. “You have a chance to relax and do nothing in one of the most beautiful spots in Wisconsin, and you’re stir crazy?”

  He shrugged as he took a bite of eggs. “I miss the sounds of the city.”

  “Yeah, hard to get to sleep without the gunshots.”

  He just glared at me.

  “Even if you weren’t under doctor’s orders to do nothing, the plan is to keep out of sight.”

  “I get it, but it ain’t easy. I haven’t noticed you doing nothing very often.”r />
  “I’m not the one who had two bullets in him.”

  He ate the last bite, wiped his mouth, and looked disgusted.

  “Well, I feel fine so if there’s anything I can do…”

  “Okay, but you were the one yesterday who needed a nap.”

  He didn’t respond.

  ***

  We were sitting on the balcony watching the boat traffic on the river when the phone rang at 2:40. It was Paul. He had checked into the room across the hall. I invited him over.

  Standing on the balcony admiring the view, he said, “Nice being the boss. I’ve got a view of the buildings across the street.”

  “And who’s paying for that?” I said with a smile.

  “There is that.”

  We all sat, and Rosie and I told him about the case. On the drive from the cottage we had a discussion about whether or not to tell Paul that Stosh was alive. She said no… I thought it didn’t matter, and he might as well know. She won with the caveat that if it mattered I’d tell him. He was watching the boats, but I knew he was listening. He didn’t ask any questions until we got to the end. I also knew he’d remember everything I had said. I finished by telling him we’d take a drive to the agency this afternoon so he would know the neighborhood.

  “So you have no specific purpose for me watching the office, no one in particular I’m looking for?”

  “Correct,” I said. “Take pictures of everyone who comes. There’s a photo store a block from here. We’ll drive by it on the way over there. If you get any pictures, stop and have the film developed on your way back here. Wait for it. If anything happens you think I need to know about, call me.” I wrote down my three numbers.

  He nodded. “What are you two going to be doing?”

  “I want to have a chat with the Bells.”

  “You don’t think your detective friend asked any questions?”

  “I don’t think my detective friend can tie his own shoes. He’s not going to go out of his way to do anything more than what the chief asks. And the chief’s not too thrilled about this either.”