The deck was protected and Cork hardly felt the wind at all.
“I don’t think about dying too much,” Schanno said, looking away from Cork toward the lake. “Not if I can help it. But, you know, all I’ve been thinking today is that when I die, I want someone to feel sad about it.” Schanno sipped his coffee. “Find out anything from Wanda Manydeeds?”
“She knows more than she’s telling. They’re afraid of something, Darla and her. Maybe Joe John and Paul, too, and that’s why they’re hiding.”
Schanno leaned against the railing and shook his head. “I still think it’s a domestic dispute, Cork. They’re Ojibwe. I don’t blame ’em one bit for not wanting the law to get involved.”
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Cork said. “Somebody broke into Sam’s Place.”
Schanno abruptly straightened up. “Burglary?”
“They tore the place up, but nothing seemed to have been taken. Another thing, I think somebody’s been in the house on Gooseberry Lane, too.”
“Maybe I should send a man over to dust for prints.”
“I don’t think dusting would turn up anything useful. And I don’t want to scare my family.”
“What were they after, Cork?”
“If I knew that, I might know who they are.”
Schanno sipped his coffee. Cork smoked his cigarette. The wind shifted a little and began to move snow across the deck. Cork was feeling chilled.
“Maybe there’s something I ought to tell you,” Schanno said.
“I’m listening.”
“I had a visit from the ATF recently. Couple of agents stopped by my office. They’re interested in the Minnesota Civilian Brigade.”
“I covered the same territory with the FBI when I was sheriff. They didn’t seem too concerned.”
“The ATF is. Seems that somebody’s been pumping money into the group. The brigade’s better organized than it was before. The ATF’s afraid they may be arming themselves pretty heavily.”
“Where’s the money coming from?”
“That’s what the agents wanted to know.” Schanno looked at Cork with a curious expression. “You know, Cork, strange things have been going on around here, starting with the judge’s death. You were alone in the judge’s house a long time before me and my men got there.”
“I was there awhile. Why?”
“I’m just wondering if maybe somebody thinks you took something. I’m wondering if they think you’ve got something that belonged to the judge.”
“Are you wondering if I took something, Wally?”
“I didn’t say that. But maybe somebody-maybe the brigade, for example-thinks you did. And if what they think you took has anything to do with the judge being dead-” Schanno turned his hard gray eyes on Cork.
The door onto the deck opened, and Arletta Schanno stepped out.
“How do you do,” she said politely to Cork, as if he were a stranger.
“Arletta.” Cork smiled back.
“Wally, dear, I think we should go home soon. The children.”
“The children are all right,” Schanno said without a hint of annoyance. “They’re not home.”
Arletta gave him a distressed look. “Maybe I should call.”
“No.” Schanno put his arm around her and drew her close to keep her warm. “No, it’s time we left anyway.” He glanced at Cork. “I’m thinking this is a thing you need to stay way clear of. For your family’s sake, you understand? But if you hear anything about Joe John or the boy, you let me know.”
Cork nodded. “You look lovely, Arletta. ’Night.”
He stayed on the deck awhile, finishing his cigarette. He was just about to head back in when Jo came out.
“Cork, Rose is on the telephone for you.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. She wants to talk to you.”
He took the call in the kitchen, where the caterers were working on trays of food.
“What is it, Rose?”
She spoke in a hush. “Harlan Lytton called. He wants you to call him as soon as you can.”
“Did he say why?”
“No. But he sounded scary, Cork. And he didn’t sound sober.”
“Thanks, Rose. Is everything okay there? The kids?”
“Fine. Everything here’s fine. I’ve made sure the doors are locked.”
“Good. I’ll call Harlan. And, Rose?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
Lytton answered right away, as if he’d been watching the phone and waiting to pounce.
“O’Connor. It’s about time. Listen, I got something you want to see.”
Lytton had a raspy voice. Drunk, it was like splinters.
“What is it?” Cork asked.
“Not over the phone. Get your ass out here.”
“It’s late, Harlan. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“O’Connor, you fuck, get over here. What I got to show you, you’ll want to see.”
“All right, Harlan. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Jo and Sandy Parrant were standing together in the living room talking quietly.
“I’ve got to go,” Cork told her.
“Everything’s okay at home?” Jo asked.
“Everything’s fine. I’m going out to see Harlan Lytton.”
“Lytton?” Parrant said. “Why on earth do you want to see him?”
“He says he’s got something to show me. I can take you home first, Jo.”
“I’m not ready yet,” she said.
“I’ll see she gets home,” Parrant assured Cork.
Cork shook his hand. “Nice memorial for your father.”
“He was a good man,” Parrant said. “He deserved it.”
Sure, Cork thought. And monkeys fly out my butt.
21
The wind had turned fierce, a bitter southern wind. It made the trees sway and the loose snow rise up, so that occasionally the road was lost in brief ground blizzards. On his way to Lytton’s, Cork heard the forecast. More snow. Plunging temperatures.
He parked on the road. Lytton hadn’t yet plowed himself out, and the lane leading to his cabin was heavily drifted over. Cork had stopped by the house on Gooseberry Lane to change his clothes and to strap on his belt and holster and his. 38. He doublechecked the cylinder, snapped it back in place, and got out of the Bronco. What Lytton had in mind, he couldn’t even guess at, but things were strange in Aurora these days, and he didn’t want to be caught unprepared.
Even in the shelter of the woods, the branches of the trees whipped about wildly. The trunks of the birch and tamarack moaned as they twisted and strained. The wind slapped his face. Little crystals of ice hit him like needles and made his eyes water. The sound of the wind through the trees swallowed every other noise. In the lane, Cork felt vulnerable. But the woods were full of bogs, and he didn’t want to leave the certainty of the solid ground. He unbuttoned his coat and reached in to be sure he could get to his revolver quickly. He watched the woods carefully as he crept toward Lytton’s cabin.
Three-quarters of the way in, the clear crack of a high powered rifle from the direction of Lytton’s place made
