“His canary. A sweet little thing. Usually when Steve’s gone, he gives me a key and asks me to feed Binky. Not this time. So I’ve been worried, about him and about Binky.”
“When was the last time you saw Steve?”
“He came back about a week ago from some work he was doing in Wyoming. He stopped by to get his key from me, and he brought me a spoon from Yellowstone to thank me. I collect spoons, you see. He was around that night, but I haven’t seen him since.”
“Have you seen anyone else at his house?”
“No. Well…” One side of her face squeezed up as she considered her next words.
“What?”
“I probably should have called the police or somebody,” she said with obvious regret. “Three, or maybe it was four, nights ago I let Iago out. My cat,” she explained. “It was like eleven o’clock. I wasn’t wearing much, and I turned out all the lights first so nobody would see me in my undies, and then I opened the back door for Iago. He likes to prowl at night. Well, I could have sworn that when I did that, I saw someone slipping inside Steve’s back door. It was dark, so I couldn’t be sure. And I figured it was probably Steve anyway. But I haven’t seen him since he got back from Wyoming so, yesterday I knocked on his door and tried to peek in his windows. I’ve actually been thinking about calling the police or something to make sure he’s okay over there. But he’s a private investigator and all, so I was afraid maybe that would be too nosy, you know?”
“I understand.”
“You’re a friend, right? And a PI?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you could call the police, then?”
“Sure.”
“Will you let me know when you find out what’s going on?”
“I’ll do that. Thank you for your time.”
“He’s such a nice man.”
“Indeed,” Cork said and walked away.
TWENTY-THREE
He’d called Liz Burns on his cell phone, and when he arrived she and Becca Bodine had their jackets on. They went out the back way to a path that wound through a wall of sand to the beach beyond. The sun was out, but they zipped their jackets against the cold wind screaming off the lake. The waves rose like white-maned lions and roared as they came ashore. Burns looked back to where her home was visible above the top of the dunes.
“Far enough?” she asked.
“Let’s keep walking,” Cork said.
“You haven’t explained what this is about.”
“It’s about the noise of the waves and the sound of the wind and how that might keep us from being overheard.”
“By whom?”
“They,” Cork said. “Whoever they are.”
“The ones who killed Sandy?” Becca asked.
“Yes, them. They’ve been very thorough so far. It’s hard to believe they’d be sloppy now. It’s quite possible that they’ve tapped Liz’s phone, maybe bugged her house. Yours, too, for that matter, Becca. Maybe mine by now.”
The sun was at their backs, well into its descent, and it gave no warmth. Beside them, the broad, frigid body of Superior fumed and spit. Ahead, the sandy finger of Park Point stretched beyond the limit of their seeing. They were alone on the beach.
“You said you had a son, Becca. Where is he?” Cork asked.
“With my sister in Hayward.”
“It might be a good idea if he stayed there for a while, and you stayed with Liz.”
“Why?”
“It might keep him from ending up as collateral damage.”
“Do you really think these people would go that far?” Burns asked.
“As nearly as I can tell, they’ve killed seven, maybe eight people already. Why would they stop now?”
“But what are they after?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Cork watched a gull negotiate the bitter wind and alight on the beach a dozen yards away. It snatched something from the sand and took off again. The wind kicked it, but the gull reeled, recovered, and soared away.
“Stilwell went down to Rice Lake to have a look at Sandy’s offices and his records. He called after he’d been to the airport to ask about the VCR at Becca’s place. And after that you didn’t hear from him again. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Burns said.
“Did Stilwell stay in Rice Lake during his investigation?”
Burns nodded. “He told me he’d checked in to a hotel and would probably be there overnight.”
“When you didn’t hear from him, did you call the hotel?”
Becca leaped in. “I called Rolfe Amundsen. He’s the chief of police in Rice Lake. Sandy knew him pretty well. I asked him to look into it. He did and told us that Mr. Stilwell had checked in to the Best Western and checked out the next day.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you think of anything else that might help?”
Both women looked at each other, then at Cork, and it was clear they’d told him everything.
“You’re still going to Rice Lake tomorrow?” Burns said.
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t we bring in the authorities or something?” Becca said.
“And tell them what? Our suspicions? I was a cop for a long time, Becca. Even if they’re sympathetic, there’s nothing at the moment they can do. Truth is, if I were on the other side listening to the story we’d tell, I’d file it away as a good one to share with the rest of the guys at the bar after shift’s over.” Cork stopped and looked at the long thread of empty beach. “Until we have something of substance, we’re on our own.”
Burns turned and looked behind them. “My house might be bugged. I feel like I’ve been violated.”
“Don’t talk about any of this in the house,” Cork cautioned. “Don’t talk on your home phone or your cell about this.”
“How do we communicate with you?” Burns asked.
“I’ll call when I get to Rice Lake to let you know I’m all right. If something’s wrong, I’ll use a code word. Ikode. ”
“Ikode?”
Becca smiled. “It’s Ojibwe. It means ‘fire.’ ”
Cork said, “Do you have a key to Sandy’s airport office, Becca?”
“No, but there’s a set in the top drawer of the desk in his home office. It’s on a key ring marked ‘Hangar.’ ”
“How do I get into your house?”
“There’s a key on a hook under the back steps.”
“Aren’t you concerned about your safety, Cork?” Burns asked.
“Sure. But I have an advantage over Steve Stilwell. I know there’s a bogeyman in the shadows.”
They headed back to Burns’s house, and while she prepared hot coffee for them, Cork took a quick look for listening devices that might have been planted. Considering the care that had been taken in this affair so far, he
