Free Dead Tease by Victoria Houston Page B

curved wooden legs. Osborne let himself down onto the small sofa with care, not sure it was sturdy enough to hold them both … but it seemed stable.
    Gladys settled herself and the dog into a large wingchair across from them. To her right was an ornate mahogany library table holding a porcelain table lamp made from a Chinese vase and crowned with a cream-colored fringed shade. The dog gave a yap of protest as Gladys pressed it onto her lap.
    Her blunt, officious manner prompted Osborne to wonder (not for the first time) how such a mean-spirited woman had managed to attract good-natured Marvin, a man with whom Osborne had spent many pleasant hours in the fishing boat back when they were neighbors and shortly after Cynthia had been born.
    Marvin Daniels was the kind of man who would go out of his way to shovel the porch and sidewalk for the elderly couple living next door to them, and would not hesitate to stop by with jumper cables whenever a neighbor’s car battery died in the depths of winter. And it was Marvin who always made sure to buy Girl Scout cookies from the neighbor children—no matter how many knocked on their door.
    The two men had met when Osborne and Mary Lee bought their first home on a side street in Loon Lake. The Daniels family lived on the same block. At the time, it was a neighborhood ritual for the husbands to gather one Thursday evening a month for an evening of beer and poker. Marvin, a manager at the paper mill, was a regular.
    Or he was until the night Gladys barged in, grabbed him by the ear (literally), and hauled him out. Osborne and the other husbands had watched in stunned silence. No excuse was ever given as to what Marvin may have done to precipitate his wife’s anger, but he never showed up for Thursday night poker again.
    That was just the beginning. Next Gladys forced him to resign from the Lions Club; then she put the kibosh on his spending all night at the Flowage followed by pancakes with the guys at Pete’s Place—the annual celebration of opening fishing season. Over the coming years, Marvin did manage to eke out a few days of walleye fishing, but only when Gladys and Cynthia were off shopping in Green Bay.
    In fairness to Gladys, Mary Lee had pointed out that she did approve of golf and their family membership at the Loon Lake Country Club. But when Marvin retired from the paper mill and wanted to learn taxidermy, the hammer came down again. She refused to let him buy the equipment and textbooks he would need.
    That was one of the few times he managed to outwit her. Several of his colleagues at the mill ordered what he needed and made sure a workspace was cleared in one of the warehouses. For two years, Marvin conjured excuses to slip off for a few hours here and there. Eventually, after he sold a deer mount for $750, Gladys relented and let him set up a taxidermy studio in their basement.
    Whatever his frustrations in life with Gladys, Marvin never complained. And he adored their daughter.
    “To answer your question, Chief Ferris,” said Gladys, “yes, I saw a young man hanging around in front of the condos about five fifteen yesterday. I always walk my little munchkin between five and six so I know exactly what time it was.”
    “How young a man?” asked Lew. “Teenager? Someone in their twenties? Or thirties? Can you describe his appearance, please?”
    “I’d put him about twenty years old. Brown hair, nice haircut. He was wearing jeans— clean jeans—and a light blue shirt.” Lew took notes as Gladys spoke.
    “Shoes?”
    “Yes, he wore shoes.”
    “What kind of shoes? Tennis shoes? Hiking boots? Could you see his shoes?”
    “Brown—regular shoes. Like men wear to an office.”
    “So you must have gotten pretty close to have seen all that.”
    “Not real close but I could certainly see him. He turned to look at me, too, because Polly was barking at him.”
    “Oh—so you did see his face?”
    “Oh yes, I did. Nice looking boy. Square-ish head with dark