Dead Boogie by Victoria Houston Read Free Book Online Page A

you need? I’ll get ‘em developed right away. Should have them for you later this evening.”
    “Thank you, Ray,” said Lew. “Oh, man,” she said as they trudged toward their vehicles, “at least we’ve got a start on this.”
    “Feeling a little overwhelmed?” said Osborne, putting a hand on her shoulder.
    “More than a little.” Lew gave a pained laugh. “Forget the razzbonyas at Country Fest. Now I’ve got three murder victims and where do I go from here? Do I assume they all died for the same reason? Or was one the target and the others in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
    “Peg was the target,” said Ray, his voice flat.
    “C’mon, Ray.” said Lew. “We don’t know that. Just because she was who she was, doesn’t mean a thing. We have no proof why any of the three died. Which …” Fatigue washed across her face as she paused then said, “Which is why there will be no fishing tonight, tomorrow night—maybe not even the next night. I have to talk to those families —the sooner I know more, the better.” She looked hard at Ray.
    His features tightened as he said, “I knew Peg—not the family.” Slipping into his pickup, he drove off.
    Turning the police cruiser around to head back up the road, Lew glanced at Osborne. “Doc, I am so short of manpower—I need Ray’s help, but not if he’s going to leap to conclusions that could damage the investigation. Until we know what was going on in each one of the women’s lives, how can we possibly know why they were murdered?”
    “He’ll come around,” said Osborne. “Right now he’s upset.”
    “You think he’s upset,” said Lew. “I know a few folks who’ll be plenty worried when they hear Peg Garmin is dead.”
    “Oh yes,” said Osborne. He could name a few himself. And that wasn’t counting the wives.
    Lew slowed as they neared the site of the wreck. Ray was already out of his truck and walking toward the area where the bodies were being readied for transport. On seeing his camera, the EMTs backed away. Ray moved slowly around each of the victims, leaving Peg for last. Osborne stood by in case he needed help.
    After shooting several photos from a standing position, Ray knelt over Peg’s body, camera in his right hand. He brushed the hair back from her face. Startled, he stared down. Then, turning his head to one side, he pressed the fingers of his left hand against his eyelids. The gesture seemed to work: He inhaled deeply and turned back to shoot the close-ups.
    When he had finished, he let the camera swing from the strap around his neck and, sitting back on his heels, covered his face with both hands. He stayed there, not moving. Just as Osborne started forward, anxious to help, Ray stood, gave a slight wave to the EMTs, and walked off. He couldn’t have gone ten feet when a cloud appeared on the crest of the hill: the van from Channel 12.
    Pulling up behind one of the two ambulances parked in front of the tow truck, a stocky figure in tan slacks and a short-sleeved green plaid shirt jumped out, flung open the side door of the van, and leaned in to reach for his equipment. Dave Schoeneck, red-haired and raspy-voiced, worked for a TV station out of Rhinelander that was so small he had to function as cameraman, sound tech and reporter—simultaneously.
    He spent so many hours covering high school sports and local social events that anything smacking of real news was heartily appreciated, which explained his behavior at the moment. Arms and elbows flashing, he rushed to load himself down with equipment and sprint across the gravel road, face flushed from the heat.
    “Sorry, Dave,” said Lew, moving to block his way before he could get past the ambulance. “Until I have a chance to notify the families, I cannot allow the press anywhere near the scene of the accident.”
    “Oh, so it’s an accident?” Dave shouldered the camera as he reached for the switch on his battery pack. He thrust a mike at Lew. “Chief Ferris,