Victoria Houston - Loon Lake 14 - Dead Lil' Hustler by Victoria Houston Page A
Authors: Victoria Houston
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Osborne.
“Small children,” said Ray. “Just kidding.”
Lew’s cell phone rang. As she glanced down at the number on the screen, Osborne and Ray got out of cruiser. “It’s the dispatch center,” said Lew before Osborne shut the door. “Something must be up. Dani has instructions not to call me unless it’s an emergency Officer Donovan can’t handle or if it’s Bruce checking in. Excuse me while I take this call.”
As the screen door to Ray’s trailer banged shut behind them, Ray said, “Wait here, Doc. I’ll be right back.” He walked through the small kitchen and down the narrow hall to his bedroom. A minute later he returned with a book in his hands. Thrusting it at Osborne, he said, “Here, give this to the little guy. Tell him it’s my favorite book and when he feels better I’ll take him out for muskies.”
Osborne looked down at a worn copy of
Lunkers Love Nightcrawlers
. “Gee, Ray, thank you but I’m not sure Cody reads at this level. He’s only seven.”
“If that’s the case, how… ’bout… you…” Ray pointed an index finger at Osborne, “read it to him.”
“That’s an idea. Good idea. I’ll give it a try.”
Osborne knew better than to let skepticism dampen his friend’s heartfelt intention. He would indeed give
Lunkers
a try. The promise of fishing with Ray would thrill Cody. The youngster adored his grandfather’s friend, to the point that at times Osborne felt more than a little jealous of his neighbor.
After a quick flip through the pages of the book, Osborne grinned at Ray who smiled back in silent agreement. Now Cody
had
to get better—not only did he have Ray’s favorite book to read but a date to go after muskies!
Holding the screen door open, Lew leaned into the room. “Hey, you two. I’m expecting a visitor any minute—a man from Chicago who called the dispatch center early this morning. Said he was driving up and asked to meet with me when he got to town. I assumed he would call before he arrived and I’d told Dani to forward the call if I wasn’t back. But he was just at the station and she misunderstood my message. She thought I meant for her to ‘forward’ him so he’s on his way out here.”
“Anything serious?” asked Osborne.
“Not sure. Worried about his son. Apparently the kid is a college student, a summer intern, and has gone missing from the Bass Lake Natural Resources Center. The folks at the center aren’t too worried—students have a habit of going camping and forgetting to tell the office staff that they’ll be gone for a few days. But this boy’s father is pretty upset.”
“Sounds like a good time for me to head home,” said Osborne, getting to his feet.
“And I have a ton of gear I need to set up for three clients I’m taking on the Rainbow Flowage tonight,” said Ray.
“Too late,” said Lew, her eyebrows raised in apology at the sound of tires outside the trailer.
A black Lincoln Navigator had pulled up behind Lew’s cruiser. A tall man dressed for a day at the office got out of the car and looked around. Without saying a word, he took in the sight of the battered house trailer adorned with the gaping jaws of the lurid green muskie, the gleaming new pontoon tied to the dock and bouncing lightly on the water, Lew in her khaki police uniform walking toward him and, right behind Lew, Osborne in dark slacks and a blue-and-white-check button-down shirt open at the neck. Even at the sight of Ray in camouflage shorts and a bright green T-shirt emblazoned with
Fishing With Ray: Excitement, Romance, and Live Bait
, the visitor still said nothing.
Watching the newcomer in the clearing, Osborne was relieved that Ray had not insisted on wearing his beloved fishing hat—the one with the stuffed trout sewn on top and positioned so that the head and tail stuck out over his ears. He had reached to put it on before leaving the trailer only to catch a stern look from Osborne. Much as Ray hated missing an opportunity to make
“Small children,” said Ray. “Just kidding.”
Lew’s cell phone rang. As she glanced down at the number on the screen, Osborne and Ray got out of cruiser. “It’s the dispatch center,” said Lew before Osborne shut the door. “Something must be up. Dani has instructions not to call me unless it’s an emergency Officer Donovan can’t handle or if it’s Bruce checking in. Excuse me while I take this call.”
As the screen door to Ray’s trailer banged shut behind them, Ray said, “Wait here, Doc. I’ll be right back.” He walked through the small kitchen and down the narrow hall to his bedroom. A minute later he returned with a book in his hands. Thrusting it at Osborne, he said, “Here, give this to the little guy. Tell him it’s my favorite book and when he feels better I’ll take him out for muskies.”
Osborne looked down at a worn copy of
Lunkers Love Nightcrawlers
. “Gee, Ray, thank you but I’m not sure Cody reads at this level. He’s only seven.”
“If that’s the case, how… ’bout… you…” Ray pointed an index finger at Osborne, “read it to him.”
“That’s an idea. Good idea. I’ll give it a try.”
Osborne knew better than to let skepticism dampen his friend’s heartfelt intention. He would indeed give
Lunkers
a try. The promise of fishing with Ray would thrill Cody. The youngster adored his grandfather’s friend, to the point that at times Osborne felt more than a little jealous of his neighbor.
After a quick flip through the pages of the book, Osborne grinned at Ray who smiled back in silent agreement. Now Cody
had
to get better—not only did he have Ray’s favorite book to read but a date to go after muskies!
Holding the screen door open, Lew leaned into the room. “Hey, you two. I’m expecting a visitor any minute—a man from Chicago who called the dispatch center early this morning. Said he was driving up and asked to meet with me when he got to town. I assumed he would call before he arrived and I’d told Dani to forward the call if I wasn’t back. But he was just at the station and she misunderstood my message. She thought I meant for her to ‘forward’ him so he’s on his way out here.”
“Anything serious?” asked Osborne.
“Not sure. Worried about his son. Apparently the kid is a college student, a summer intern, and has gone missing from the Bass Lake Natural Resources Center. The folks at the center aren’t too worried—students have a habit of going camping and forgetting to tell the office staff that they’ll be gone for a few days. But this boy’s father is pretty upset.”
“Sounds like a good time for me to head home,” said Osborne, getting to his feet.
“And I have a ton of gear I need to set up for three clients I’m taking on the Rainbow Flowage tonight,” said Ray.
“Too late,” said Lew, her eyebrows raised in apology at the sound of tires outside the trailer.
A black Lincoln Navigator had pulled up behind Lew’s cruiser. A tall man dressed for a day at the office got out of the car and looked around. Without saying a word, he took in the sight of the battered house trailer adorned with the gaping jaws of the lurid green muskie, the gleaming new pontoon tied to the dock and bouncing lightly on the water, Lew in her khaki police uniform walking toward him and, right behind Lew, Osborne in dark slacks and a blue-and-white-check button-down shirt open at the neck. Even at the sight of Ray in camouflage shorts and a bright green T-shirt emblazoned with
Fishing With Ray: Excitement, Romance, and Live Bait
, the visitor still said nothing.
Watching the newcomer in the clearing, Osborne was relieved that Ray had not insisted on wearing his beloved fishing hat—the one with the stuffed trout sewn on top and positioned so that the head and tail stuck out over his ears. He had reached to put it on before leaving the trailer only to catch a stern look from Osborne. Much as Ray hated missing an opportunity to make
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