Read Online Dead Rapunzel by Victoria Houston - Free Book Online

it does. And in the event that you . . . are a connoisseur of hats, you might like to know . . . I have a summer trout hat and this . . . is my winter trout hat,” said Ray, tipping the hat over so she could see the snaps attaching furred earflaps that were nearly hidden by the brim of the worn leather cap holding the fish.
    â€œAnd this . . . ” he said, laying a delicate finger on a shiny fishing lure hanging from the neck of the fish, “this . . . is a memento of a fifty-two-inch muskie I caught years ago.”
    â€œFifty-two inches! I don’t know much about muskie fishing, but I do know that would be one large fish.” As Judith spoke, Osborne could see the sadness that had creased her face all afternoon lighten a bit.
    â€œYes, it is. But much as I had hoped that fish was a record—it wasn’t. What happened was . . . ” said Ray, raising an instructive index finger, “I was casting when a family of ducklings swam near my boat and whomp! One disappeared . . . Sure sign of a monster lunker down below.”
    â€œPoor little duck,” said Judith, hooked. Osborne threw a glance at Lew, who gave a shrug of resignation and motioned for the two of them to keep quiet.
    â€œWell . . . yes and no,” said Ray. “But I knew what to do next . . . I reached into my tackle box for a lure that looked just like a duckling—one with treble hooks on it—and cast it in the direction of the lunker . . . Wham! That fish hit hard. Gotta tell ya . . . I was sure I had a record.”
    â€œMy gosh, I’ll bet,” said Judith, her eyes wide with admiration.
    â€œBut when I weighed that big girl . . . ” longer pause now, “she came in at . . . four pounds.”
    â€œWhat on earth?” asked Judith. “How could that be?”
    â€œShe was full of feathers.”
    A moment of silence then Judith shook her head with a rueful laugh. “Okay, what else can you sell me?”
    With a smile of satisfaction at having bamboozled his new friend, Ray crossed his arms and, looking straight at Judith, wriggled his ears. She looked down at the stuffed trout sitting on the table, then back at Ray. He wriggled his ears again.
    â€œGive me a break—how do you do that?” she asked, sounding as delighted as a five-year-old at Christmas.
    Before he could answer, Lew, anxious to get down to business, interrupted saying, “Ray, you called to say that you have something for me?”
    â€œYes, I do,” said Ray, slipping out of his snowmobile parka and reaching into the top pocket of the insulated overalls he wore under the heavy jacket. He pulled out a long white envelope.
    â€œPhotos already?” said Lew. “Great, thank you.”
    As she opened the envelope, she said to Judith, “He may tell ridiculous jokes, but I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have Ray—and Doc—to help out when unpleasant things happen. Between a three-man police force and the Wausau boys, who run a dysfunctional crime lab, I would be stuck. I doubt I’d ever solve a crime.”
    â€œNow, Chief, I appreciate the compliment, but don’t forget our man Bruce” said Ray. “There’s one of the Wausau boys I think you’re going to need ASAP.”
    â€œReally?” asked Lew, sounding preoccupied as she slid the series of black-and-white photos from the envelope and leaned over to study the first.
    What Lew did not mention was that Ray, aside from being an excellent photographer and fishing guide, was also a skilled tracker whom she would deputize when a crime scene needed the eye of an eagle—deputize in spite of his active misdemeanor file. While Ray was faithful in joining Osborne at the weekly AA meetings behind the door with the coffee pot etched on the window, he refused to give up one remaining vice: He was unequalled in his ability to track down inexpensive sources of marijuana.
    But Lew had learned early on