Free Dead Angler by Victoria Houston Page B

beneath the mirror as she seated herself opposite them in a dark green wing chair, “everyone sit down.”
    “We won’t know exactly what happened until after the autopsy,” said Lew with quiet authority as she opened her briefcase to pull out a narrow reporter’s notepad and a ballpoint pen. She flipped the notebook open as she talked, her eyes on Alicia’s face.
    “We found her body in the Prairie River around eleven this evening. Doctor Osborne and I were fishing. It appears she was fishing, too. She was wearing waders and a fishing vest but no sign of her rod and reel. Yet, that is. I’ve got a good thousand yards or more of the river roped off so I expect we’ll find her equipment in the brush along the banks at some point.”
    “My sister was an expert fly-fisherman,” said Alicia, with careful emphasis on her last word. “She studied with Joan Wulff on the east coast. The famous Joan Wulff—the champion caster,
the
foremost expert on fly-fishing.” She spoke in a blatantly patronizing tone as if fly-fishing alone would be news to Lew.
    Osborne shifted his position on the sofa. He would be surprised if Lew didn’t knew exactly who Joan Wulff was—even he knew that. He found it interesting she said nothing to counter Alicia’s condescension. Having seen Alicia go after many unsuspecting, kind-hearted females in years past, Osborne found himself not unhappy that she might be picking on the wrong one this time.
    “That’s one of the reasons she moved back here. She was fanatic about fly-fishing. I warned her about fishing the Prairie at night. I told her that was very, very foolish.”
    As she spoke, Alicia had carefully arranged her gown over her knees, then propped her right elbow on one arm to rest her chin in her hand as she leaned towards them, an expression of intense concentration on her face.
    “Uh huh,” said Lew, making a note. “Why else did she move back here?”
    “What time did she drown?” Alicia ignored the question.
    Lew ignored the rudeness. “Well … at first, we thought she drowned, of course, but Dr. Osborne’s initial exam showed her head was quite battered. That and a few more details—”
    “Like what details?”
    “We found very few bruises on the rest of her body. If she had been in the current for any length of time, there should be significantly more bruising to match the head.”
    “That’s it?” Alicia’s tone was ever so slightly scornful.
    “Yes,” said Lew. “Anything you wish to add, Doctor?” Lew gave Osborne a look that indicated she did not want to share the details of the missing fillings.
    “Paul—how on earth did you get involved with this?” demanded Alicia. “You’re not a coroner.”
    “Doctor Osborne is deputized to help me with forensic dental exams when Doctor Pecore is tied up,” said Lew matter-of-factly—as if they had been working together for years, not hours.
    “Alicia, I did some forensic work during the Korean War though I’m certainly no expert,” said Osborne, “Like she said, I just help Chief Ferris on an as-need basis. But I can tell you, Alicia, this was no drowning. Chief Ferris sees at least one drowning a season out of rivers like the Prairie, and those bodies exhibit stresses on all extremities not just—”
    “Well—you’re both wrong,” said Alicia, waving her hand and a snide tone of dismissal in her voice. “Everyone knows the nightmare currents of the Prairie River. No one in their right mind fishes that river in weather like we had here tonight. Don’t you think Meredith might have slipped and fallen and hit her head on one of those submerged boulders? I mean, really. I fly-fish, Mrs. Ferris, I know how dangerous a rushing river can be.”
    Osborne caught her deliberate refusal to use Lew’s official title. Classic Alicia, he thought, still nasty after all these years.
    “There is something else,” said Lew, reluctantly. “Please keep this confidential?”
    “Absolutely,” said Alicia, leaning