Page 58 of It Happened on the Lake

“Wanna bet?”

“Give it a rest, Gunn.” Brady was still waiting on the coffeemaker as it heated. Empty cup in hand, she asked Rand, “So how’s it going with the Cynthia Hunt case?”

“Looks cut and dried,” Rand said.

The coffeemaker started growling and gurgling, scenting the air with the warm aroma of some kind of roast.

“Ya think?” Gunn said. “Word all over town is about Cynthia Hunt becoming a human torch.”

Rand winced at the description. “We’re still sorting things out.”

Chelle had entered the break room and was slipping coins into the soda vending machine.

“Hi there, cutie!” Gunderson said as she retrieved a bottle of Coke from the machine. “What’s a young thing like you doing working in a place like this?”

“Exactly that. Working,” Chelle shot back, and if looks could kill, Gunderson would already be six feet under, even though he was still chuckling at his time-worn line. She headed for the door, and Gunderson watched her backside as she left.

“Oh, for the love of God, give it up, Gunn! Put your eyes back in their sockets,” his partner said sharply. “No one wants what you’re selling.” The coffeepot gurgled a last gasp.

“You never know.”

“Trust me, I do.” Eleanor poured herself a cup, sat at the table near Gunn, and took a long sip. She sorted through a section of the newspaper, found the page she wanted, and smoothed it onto the table. After retrieving a pen from her pocket, she clicked it and started in on the crossword puzzle.

“In ink?” her partner asked.

“Always.” Then she grinned at him. “What’s a nine-letter word for dick? Oh, I’ve got it. G-U-N-D—”

“Very funny,” Gunderson muttered.

“I thought so.”

Gunderson scoffed and sipped from his cup.

“So what about Cynthia Hunt? What’s going on there?” Brady asked Rand without looking up.

“Couldn’t survive the trauma of the burns, I guess,” Rand replied. “We’ll know more once we see the autopsy.”

“And Harper Reed? She’s okay, right? I heard she was admitted to the hospital but was released and came in and gave a statement.”

“Right.” He didn’t elaborate as he noticed Chelle loitering near the doorway, half hidden by a bank of lockers in the hallway but obviously listening to the conversation. He couldn’t explain why her doggedness concerning Harper’s family bothered him, but it did.

“Bet you had to twist her arm,” Gunn said, not looking up as he scanned the headlines.

“She came of her own volition.”

“Riiiight,” he mocked. “You know that family, they have a habit of getting into trouble and skirting the law.”

“The Reeds?” Eleanor asked.

“Dixons.” Gunderson ran his finger down the sports page, checking scores. “Started with the old man. George. Piece of work, that one. Made his fortune during the Depression selling land to people who couldn’t afford it, taking their money until they ran out, then foreclosed and sold the same piece to the next sucker who came along.”

Rand had heard rumors to the same effect.

Gunderson added, “Old George ended up the richest man in town with a lot of property, including that island. Rumor was that he was some kind of sex freak. Is it okay to say that, or does that offend you?”

Brady scowled. “Get real.”

“Anyway, he was a con man’s con man, if you know what I mean.” Gunn thought for a second, then added, “You know what? I’ll give odds ten to one that his old lady did him in.” Eleanor was about to interrupt, but Gunn said quickly, “Oh, I know all about the results of his autopsy report. That he died from something that gave him a heart attack or whatever. In a car crash. And he did have a bad heart. Once before, an ambulance was called for a heart attack, and the guys who took him to the hospital said his pants were at his ankles and there was—how should I say this? Uh. Evidence. Yeah, there wasevidencethat he’d been jack—” He caught his partner’s sharp stare. “Uh. Pleasuring himself at the time. He survived that, but it was mortifying for his wife, you know. I’m thinking the old lady did something to induce the heart attack. So, later when he did cash in his chips, maybe he was driving and got himself so—uh—excited, you might say—that he gave himself another attack and crashed that fancy car of his.” His lips curved at the thought. “Helluva way to go.”

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