Blood Hollow

33

Cork felt a little slimy in the way he’d used Borkmann. On the other hand, he got what he was looking for. He knew now that the sheriff’s people had no more information on Fletcher and Glory Kane than he had. That meant there was a lot of digging to be done.

During a lull in the rush at Sam’s Place that afternoon, he stepped into the back section of the Quonset hut, called directory assistance, and got the number for the Worthington Clinic in Pomona. When he telephoned, the automated system told him the hours were 8:00 A.M. until 5:00 P.M. Monday through Friday. If it was an emergency, there was a number to call. He was free to leave a message that would be returned as soon as possible.

Cork left a message.

“This is Sheriff Corcoran O’Connor calling from Tamarack County, Minnesota. I’d appreciate talking with someone there about Dr. Fletcher Kane. This is in relation to a homicide investigation.” He left his telephone number, said thank you, and hung up.

He knew he’d have to be careful about the sheriff part.

When he returned to the serving area, he saw Deputy Randy Gooding at one of the windows talking with Annie, both of them laughing. Gooding signaled him over. Annie stepped back toward the griddle, smiling happily.

“Cy sent me over, Cork. He thought you might want to know that we finally tracked down Grover Buck,” Gooding said. “Duluth P.D. is holding him.”

“For what?”

“Soliciting the services of a woman he thought was a prostitute, but who was really part of a sting. I’d contacted them earlier, when Buck suddenly dropped out of sight right after his miraculous healing. They promised to watch for him.”

“Did he drive himself to Duluth, now that the Lord has opened his eyes?”

“Yeah, right. His nephew. Same one who helped him count out the five hundred dollars he got for faking his healing.”

“Who paid him?”

“Swears he never got the man’s name. But get this. The guy paid him off in bogus bills, counterfeit C-notes, while the nephew’s standing there, watching. What does a sixteen-year-old kid know about counterfeit bills?”

“What about Marge Schembeckler and her arthritis?”

“I talked to her a couple of days ago. She admitted she was back in her wheelchair the same afternoon she was healed. Stayed in her house after that. Ashamed, she says. Doesn’t seem to be any connection between her and the guy who paid off Buck. I figure she just got caught up in the moment and willed herself to walk. At least for a little while.”

“So the blanket…”

“Wasn’t anything special after all.”

Although he couldn’t have said why, Cork felt a little sad that the hands behind the miracles had been revealed.

“Anybody else know this?”

“Not yet, but they will soon enough. Borkmann’s giving a statement to the media.”

“A shame in a way. All those folks who wanted to believe so badly.”

Gooding leaned close through the window. “Cy told me about the discussion you two had in his office. I got to tell you, I think you’re way off base about Dr. Kane.”

Cork shook his head. “There’s too much about him that when you try to add it up just doesn’t total.”

“Mostly, he’s just a man who’s suffered a lot and wants his privacy, I think.”

Cork thought different, but he didn’t want to argue the point. “How about a chocolate malt?” he said. “On the house.”

At dusk, Jenny turned from her serving window and said, “Dad, there’s something going on at the dock. Doesn’t look good.”

Cork stripped off his apron and headed out the door of the Quonset hut. As he approached the dock, he could see clearly what was happening. A couple of young men with a big new boat had tied up at the landing. They weren’t locals and Cork didn’t know them. They were sunburned and drunk. Cork figured they’d spent the day on the lake, drinking and trolling. On the water, they’d been trying for walleyes, but when they tied up at the dock, they went fishing for something else-a couple of local teenage girls who’d also tied up there. The women wanted none of it and were just trying to get up to Sam’s Place, but the men had cut them off.

“Evening, Susan,” Cork said as he stepped onto the dock. “Hey, Donna.”

The men turned at the sound of his voice, unhappy with his interruption.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said. “Got a couple of regular customers here. I always give them first-class treatment.”

He stepped between the two men, forcing them to the edges of the dock, and he offered his hand to Donna Payne.

“Well hey, Pops, that’s what we had in mind, too,” one of the men said, grinning. He had blond hair made stiff by the sun and the wind.

“I think I know what you had in mind,” Cork said. “And first-class, it wasn’t.”

As the girls passed between the two men, the guy with the stiff blond hair grabbed Donna by the arm. “How about dinner on us?”

“How about a cold one on me?” Cork said. He shoved the man into the water, and with a quick turn, did the same to his companion.

“Go on up to Sam’s Place,” Cork told the young women. “Jenny will take care of you.”

The two men sputtered and flailed in the water and grabbed at the dock. Cork stood looking down on them.

“I’d stay in that water a little longer if I were you. It’ll help you sober up. Then you take your boat and you get out of here. This is my property, and as of five minutes from now, I’ll consider you trespassing and call the cops. Believe me, they’ll love hauling you in. They like giving fines to strangers with expensive boats.”

Cork left the men treading water and headed back to Sam’s Place.

The two girls stood at the window.

“Thanks, Mr. O’Connor,” Donna said.

“You’re welcome.”

Inside Sam’s Place, Annie said, “You got a strange call while you were out at the dock, Dad. He asked for Sheriff O’Connor.”

“Damn. What did you tell him?”

“I said you were busy breaking up a fight.”

“Did you tell him I wasn’t sheriff?”

“No. I took a message for you though.” She had a piece of paper in her hand. “It was a Mr. Steven Hadlestadt from the Worthington Clinic returning your call. He said you wanted to talk to him about a homicide investigation involving Fletcher Kane. I told him you were actually investigating the murder of Dr. Kane’s daughter, Charlotte. He seemed really confused. He said ‘Charlotte?’ I said yes, Charlotte Kane. And he said something really strange, Dad. He said, ‘I thought they closed the book on that murder investigation four years ago.’ ”