Tahoe Ice Grave Read online

  “Thos was expanding his business beyond Hawaii?”

  “That’s what Mike says. Further, the American River Winery is north of Placerville, near where the body was found in the sauna.”

  “The vineyards I saw,” Street said.

  I nodded. “Any idea yet on time of death?”

  “No. I may never get an accurate estimate. But the police turned up a witness who saw smoke coming from the sauna chimney, so they have a time when they know there was a fire in the stove. Now they’re doing a test to see how fast the sauna cools. I’ll be getting temp and humidity data during that test. I might have an answer for you in another few days.”

  The waiter came back with our dinners, a filet mignon for Street and salmon for me. The entrees were accompanied by a perfect compliment of vegetables and other treats with fancy names, fancier aromas and flavors so tasty I had to restrain myself from eating as Spot would.

  Street said, “If the body turns out to be Brock, what does that tell you?”

  “Not much. We’d know it wasn’t Brock who shot the valve off the scuba tank. So I’d be considering the Viking or Lynette McCloud, who is one of Brock’s hunting companions. She is rumored to be a crack shot in addition to being a black market broker.”

  I explained how I’d learned about McCloud from the Mark Twain archivist and told Street about my subsequent visit to McCloud at her sugar daddy’s retro castle up on the mountain.

  Street was eating her steak at the same rate she drank her wine. She cut a tiny piece of meat off, switched her fork to her right hand, delicately pulled the beef off with her lips and chewed it thoughtfully. I watched her hands while she was cutting the steak. Then I watched her lips and jaw while she chewed. For a moment I considered grabbing her mid-bite and rushing her home to bed. But I decided I might seem more sophisticated if I waited until after dinner.

  “McCloud,” Street mumbled as she ate, “could have been the one to hire the Viking from the beginning. Maybe Brock never even knew about the manuscript.”

  “But I saw Brock arguing with the Viking. An argument suggests a relationship of some depth.”

  “If Brock hired the Viking to get the manuscript with the intention to resell it to McCloud, then maybe McCloud double-crossed Brock and went around his back to buy it directly from the Viking. McCloud could have killed Brock to keep him silent. And if and when the Viking gets the manuscript to McCloud, maybe she’ll kill him, too.”

  We continued to discuss the victims and suspects while we finished dinner, and we decided I wasn’t much closer to catching the killer than I was when Janeen first called me.

  “Sounds like you’re out of luck,” Street said.

  She sipped her wine. Her delicate throat was beautiful as she swallowed.

  “Not if you allow me a conjugal visit before I go back to the prison of my empty cabin,” I said.

  Street sipped more wine, looking at me over the top of her glass. “Okay, maybe you’re not out of luck,” she said.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  I got up early and found another nine inches of snow on my deck. It was light and easy to shovel. When I was done it started snowing again. In Tahoe, the snow can come down so fast that even four-wheel-drives get stuck. If so, it is good to be prepared. So I fetched my cross-country ski gear and put it in the Jeep, just in case.

  I headed across town to see Jerry about a better description of the Viking. But first, I thought I’d try again to see if Spot could break through the ice with Phillip. Inside the troubled and weary boy was a little kid in a kind of hibernation. If anyone or anything could wake up whatever innocence was left in Phillip, I thought it was Spot.

  This time I decided to take the opposite approach from my earlier efforts.

  I pulled into a foot of fresh snow in Janeen’s driveway and parked. As before, I left the window down for Spot to stick his head out. Phillip was just outside of the kitchen door. He was adjusting a telescoping ski pole of the sort that snowshoers and hikers use for balance and support. I didn’t call out to him, didn’t even say hi, and gave no attention to my dog as I got out of the Jeep.

  I walked up to the front door, knocked and was let in by Janeen.

  “Hi, Janeen. I stopped by to see how you and Phillip are doing.”

  “We’re fine. But things seem tense, somehow. Maybe it’s the snow that keeps falling. The weather man said to expect another three feet in the next two days. Which means we’ll get five feet here under Mt. Tallac. We could be stranded for days.”

  “Do you have extra food and firewood?”

  “Yes, but still it frightens me. Lyla thinks it’s fun to get snowed in, but she hasn’t lived here that long. The school was closed again today and they probably won’t open ‘til next week. So I can’t go to my volunteer work.”

  “Have you had any more signs of the man with the long blond hair?”

  Janeen shook her head. “No. Jerry must have scared him off. The man probably figures that Jerry is up at all hours watching out his window. Now if Jerry left for a few days, then I’d worry. But he says he’s staying put at least until he feels better. Speaking of which, how are you feeling? Your bruises are looking more brown than blue, so I suppose you’re healing.”

  “Yes. I...”

  Janeen had stopped listening to me and was pointing out the window.

  I turned to see Phillip climb off the snow berms and walk down the middle of the driveway toward Spot.

  “Your dog is friendly to children, isn’t he?” Janeen sounded worried. “He’s awfully big.”

  “He’s friendly.”

  Phillip slowed as he approached my Jeep. Spot’s tongue was out, panting.

  “Phillip may not know how to act,” Janeen said. “What if he does something to startle your dog?”

  I turned from the window and looked at Janeen. “You don’t need to worry.” I touched her on the shoulder. “Only his wagging tail could hurt Phillip, and his tail is in the Jeep.” I looked back out the window.

  Phillip took little steps, closer and closer, then reached his mittened hand up toward Spot. His body wasn’t much bigger than Spot’s head and neck.

  Spot sniffed his hand, then nosed it sideways and Phillip jerked back. Eventually, he extended his hand again. Spot pushed it around, left and right, up and down. Phillip’s arm was stiff, his body braced, as Spot bounced his hand around. Soon, Phillip understood that Spot wanted a pet. Phillip touched the top of Spot’s head.

  Spot nosed his hand sideways with such force that Phillip spun a quarter turn in the snow. Spot seized the opportunity to stretch his head out the window and lick Phillip on the side of the neck.

  Phillip’s grin was dramatic.

  Phillip pulled away and raced on his snowshoes back up the snow bank and around to the kitchen door. When he was inside he called out in a whisper. “Nana? Nana!”

  “What, dear?”

  “Nana!” A shouted whisper. “Come here!” the boy said.

  Janeen walked through the doorway. I heard more whispers. After a minute, Janeen returned. “Owen? Phillip wonders if your dog can come out of the car and play.”

  “Of course.” I went outside and walked to the Jeep. Phillip kept well behind. Just because he liked my dog didn’t mean he liked me.

  I opened the car door and Spot bounded out. “Spot, sit.” He took his time, fighting the impulse to run. “Sit,” I said again. Spot did a partial squat, thinking that would appease me. “All the way,” I said, pushing down on his hindquarters.

  “Come on over, Phillip. I want you to meet Spot. Spot? Give our young friend a handshake.”

  Spot lifted a paw. Phillip stayed back. “It’s okay, Phillip. This is how Spot meets people.” Spot’s paw moved up and down through the air. Phillip came slowly. I realized again that it wasn’t Spot, but me, that he was wary of.

  I backed away. Phillip came forward. Their heads were the same height. Phillip took Spot’s paw with both of his mittened hands, held it a moment, then let go.
/>   “Okay, Spot,” I said. “You can run.” Spot jumped up and ran around the plowed drive, inspecting what apparently was a fascinating collection of smells.

  “Phillip,” I said, “Spot is friendly and fun to play with, but I need to warn you about his tail. When he wags, it can hit you and it hurts. So when you see his tail coming, put your arms up like this so it hits your arms instead of your face.” I demonstrated the position, forearms vertical, elbows down, hands up.

  Phillip was busy watching Spot, but I think he got the idea. Then he turned to me. “Will Spot come with me in the woods?” he asked so softly it took me a moment to figure out his words.

  “Yes.” I turned and called out. “Spot. Come.”

  My dog ran over. Excited. He knew we were going to do stuff. Spot was a big fan of doing stuff. I pointed to Phillip. “Spot, go play with Phillip. Stay with him. Do as he says.”

  Phillip’s eyes got wide. “Will he?”

  “Sure. Try it. Tell him to do that thing where he gets his rear end down on the ground.”

  Phillip looked alarmed.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to.”

  “Sit,” Phillip said in a tiny voice.

  “Say it louder. Much louder. And use his name.” I clicked my fingers to get Spot’s attention and pointed toward Phillip.

  “Spot, sit.” Phillip called out, his voice only marginally louder.

  Spot turned toward the little boy and sat. Phillip grinned. He turned and ran as fast as his snowshoes would allow. Spot loped after him. Phillip turned, saw and stopped abruptly, fear in his eyes.

  “He won’t hurt you. He just wants to play with you.”

  Spot made a loop around the kid followed by three trips up and down the drive. He stopped near Phillip, his panting breath making clouds in the winter air. Spot turned toward me, wagging. Phillip immediately put his arms up in front of his face, forearms vertical. My dog’s tail smacked Phillip’s arms. Phillip jerked from the impact, but otherwise didn’t move.

  “You two go play, Phillip, while I talk with Janeen.”

  Phillip ran to the end of the drive and clamored up the snow bank. Spot leaped up after him and the two of them went running out into the forest.

  I rejoined Janeen in the cabin.

  “It’s amazing,” she said. “I watched out the window. It’s as if Phillip has been transformed.”

  “Dogs often do that for kids.”

  She continued to stare where Phillip and Spot had disappeared. “Will your dog run off? I worry that Phillip would try to find him and end up lost.”

  “No, Spot will stay with Phillip. He’s been trained for it. As long as I tell him to stay with someone, he won’t leave. He thinks of it like a duty.”

  “Like a guard dog?”

  “Yes. He will stay with Phillip and protect him until I call him off.”

  “You mean if someone tried to hurt Phillip?”

  “I’m sure that would never happen, but yes. If something threatened Phillip, even a bear, Spot would keep it away. Trained dogs are as enthusiastic about their duty as untrained dogs are about chasing cats.”

  Janeen turned from the window and sat down. She stared off into space. “Maybe I should get Phillip a dog.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “While Spot and Phillip are out in the woods, I thought I’d go check in on Jerry. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I let myself out and walked down the drive toward Jerry Roth’s house.

  I came around the corner formed by the huge snow banks on either side of their driveways and surprised Jerry. He was in his drive, crutch in one hand, snow shovel in the other.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed, with a jerk. “You startled me bloody well, you did. These snow walls are so quiet, a bloke should wear a bell like a cow if you don’t want to give someone a heart attack.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. Shouldn’t you be inside letting your wounds mend? Most docs don’t recommend shoveling snow for therapy.”

  “I know, but the snow has built up so much that the melt just dams up. I thought I could make a channel for it to run off.” He jammed the snow shovel down into the ice where a large pool of water was backing up toward his garage. “You any closer to finding the sod that cut my neck with this shovel?”

  “Possibly,” I said. “Jerry, I wondered if you could give me a better description of him.”

  Jerry frowned. “Well now, like I told the police at the hospital, it was dark and things happened fast. I only had the outdoor lights to see him by.” He pointed toward a fixture next to the door and another down by the garage. “I went out the front door and came down the steps. Of course, I couldn’t exactly be speedy with my bloody foot, but I fairly hopped down the steps toward him. I think he was surprised, if I do say so myself. I barely had time to get a look at him when he grabbed this shovel and had a swing at my head.” Jerry made a little ducking motion at the memory. “I like to think I’m good at faces, but with him trying to decapitate me, I must admit I didn’t get a good look at his face.”

  Jerry paused, shut his eyes and angled his head up toward the sky, no doubt visualizing. “Of course, the main thing I remember was his hair. Lots of it and very long. It shined in the night, almost like he’d just brushed it. And he had a beard. Not blond like his hair, but darker. It was big, came out like this.” Jerry gestured with his hands.

  “As for his looks, well, I don’t really remember. But his eyes were very blue. I could see them clearly in the night.” Jerry narrowed his own blue eyes at the thought.

  “Was there anything else unusual about him? A peculiar characteristic aside from his hair and beard that makes him stand out in your memory?”

  Jerry thought about it. “The funny thing is, he didn’t speak. Not even a grunt swinging the shovel. I guess that’s what stands out. But then that’s no bloody help at all, is it?”

  THIRTY-SIX

  I had Jerry go over the details of the attack once more, but he told me nothing new. Ole Knudson was a phantom, a striking figure that few had seen and no one knew anything about.

  “You think he’s still lurking around here?”

  “I don’t know, Jerry. I think he’s looking for something that Janeen doesn’t have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My best guess is that he thinks Janeen’s son Thos had a valuable object. Knudson might think Thos hid it in Janeen’s house. I made a thorough search and there’s nothing there. But if the man thinks it’s there, he may come back. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an eye out.”

  “You can rely on it, mate. Only, next time I won’t let him catch me off guard like that.”

  “Jerry, if you see him again, I think it would be best if you call the police.”

  “Oh, sure, I’ll get the coppers, but I won’t sit on my ass and let him bother Janeen and Phillip. This time I’ll use something more persuasive than a snow shovel.”

  I looked at Jerry hard, trying to decide if there was anything I could say that would keep him from jumping the Viking and possibly getting himself killed. Nothing came to mind. “Thanks for keeping watch, Jerry,” I said.

  I walked back up to Janeen’s.

  “Phillip is still out with your dog,” Janeen said after she let me into her house. “Do you want me to call him?”

  “Yes, I should get going before the snow gets any worse. I have some driving to do before the day is out.” I glanced out the window toward the forest where Phillip and Spot had run off.

  Janeen opened the kitchen door, reached out and up and pulled on the bell rope. The deep gong of the bell shook the house.

  Janeen and I sat at the kitchen table and waited. “I heard about the woman who died,” she said. “The diver. Was her death connected to Thos?” Janeen’s brow was furrowed.

  “I can’t say for certain, Janeen. Maybe.”

  “Will you tell me honestly if you think you’re going to find the man who killed Thos? Mind
you, I don’t care about your fee. I just see that since I asked you to look into it, Jasper’s nephew John died, the diver died, and you and Jerry Roth have been badly hurt. I wonder if I should have let Thos’s death alone.”

  “No. You haven’t made things worse. And yes, I think I will find Thos’s murderer. The truth is I’ve had no great insights into the case that make me think I’m close to catching the killer. But I have more leads than before and I’m chasing them down.”

  “You are persistent.”

  I nodded just as noises came from outside the door.

  Janeen opened it a crack and looked out.

  Phillip was running toward the house at the same fast speed as when he left. Spot loped alongside. Phillip scooped up a ball of snow and threw it. Spot leaped and caught it.

  When Janeen opened the door wide, Phillip exclaimed, “Nana! Nana! I told Spot to sit and run and he can catch snowballs!” Phillip saw me and stopped talking.

  “What do you say to Mr. McKenna, Phillip?” Janeen said.

  Phillip looked from her to me.

  “Phillip?” Janeen said.

  “I like Spot,” he said.

  “I’m glad,” I said. “I can tell that Spot likes you, too.”

  “Can he come again?”

  “Yes, he will.” I said goodbye to both Janeen and Phillip and left. I had to tug on Spot’s collar to get him to come with me.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  I drove through blowing and drifting snow back across the south end of the lake. Traffic was slowed to a crawl.

  I turned up Kingsbury Grade to my office. I wanted to check email and see if there were any more messages from Hermes or someone who might know his identity.

  Spot came inside with me and trotted up the stairs. There was a pile of mail inside the door. Spot sniffed it, moving envelopes with his nose, while I booted up the computer. Spot lay down on the carpet near the door, then flopped sideways onto the mail, no doubt getting it wet with the melting snow on his fur. Shows how much he respects bills.