Page 11

The following morning, I filled in both Devon and Rita on my adventures with Marty as we did our opening preparations for the store.

I paused partway through my story to take some ibuprofen because I had a nasty headache, most likely from the bump on my head.

Both Devon and Rita were starting to look bored, but when I got to the part where I saw two glowing eyes rising through the water, I had their undivided attention.

“How exciting!”

Rita said.

“Do you think it was a lake monster?”

“I don’t know what I saw,”

I told them, and Devon’s shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“There are many mysteries in our planet’s watery depths that have yet to be discovered, so who knows? I wish Marty had told me what it was he saw on the sonar.”

“Marty always was a close-to-the-vest kind of guy,”

Rita said with a shrug.

I saw Devon rub his head where the staples—not stitches—were from his encounter.

“Maybe you should take it easy today, Devon,”

I suggested.

“Rest up.

Did the doctor say it was okay for you to come back to work so soon?”

“She didn’t say I couldn’t,”

he said with a shrug.

“Were you able to find anything for me on the two men who died?”

“Nothing yet, but I’m still looking.

They both had extensive social media content.”

“I’ll tell you what.

Why don’t you use my office and spend the day digging around to see what you can find? Rita and I can handle the store for now.

If things get too crazy, we’ll holler at you.”

Devon brightened.

He loved nosing around in people’s lives on the internet and he was quite good at it.

“Happy to help, boss,”

he said with a snappy salute.

He spun around and headed for my office while Rita and I watched him with amusement.

“That boy is a bit odd,”

Rita said.

“He doesn’t seem to have a life outside of this store and whatever it is he does on those computers.”

“That’s why he’s such a good fit here,”

I said with a wink.

“Let’s face it.

This store and its contents are an acquired taste.

Plus, I don’t think you should count him out yet.

I saw something spark between him and that EMT that was here yesterday.

I think Devon’s life might be about to get more interesting.”

“Speaking of sparks,”

Rita said, giving me a sly eye, “is there something going on between you and Flatfoot Flanders?”

“Flatfoot Flanders?”

I said, trying to act indignant, though I couldn’t pull it off.

The best I could manage was to bite back the laugh threatening to burst out of me.

Rita shrugged.

“Well, he is a copper,”

she said as if that was all the explanation needed.

“It’s a rather .

.

.

ubiquitous moniker for someone in his field of work, though perhaps a bit old-fashioned.”

“Ubiquitous moniker,”

I repeated, nodding approvingly.

“You’re on a roll lately.”

“And you’re avoiding my question.”

She arched her eyebrows at me, looking out over the tops of her glasses.

“Chief Flanders and I have a business relationship.”

“Again, avoiding the question.

Looked to me like more than a business relationship.”

“I barely know the man, Rita.

And what do you mean? What did you see that makes you think it’s something more?”

Rita rolled her eyes at me.

“Give me a break, Morgan.

I wasn’t born yesterday.”

With that vague nonexplanation, she wandered off to dust some items on the shelves.

It was a minute before nine o’clock, so I went to unlock the front door, wondering what it was that Rita thought she had seen.

Had it been something in me? Or in him? Was it two-sided? I did think Flanders was a nice-looking fellow and our personalities appeared to mesh well, but it wasn’t like we’d shared any long, heated glances in our few times together.

I was still pondering this issue an hour later when the bell over the door rang and the man in question entered the store.

“Chief Flanders,”

I said, a little rattled by his arrival.

It was as if I’d summoned him with my thoughts.

“What brings you back to my store?”

I saw Rita smirk and shot her a dirty look.

“Please, call me Jon,”

Flanders said.

He proffered a shopping bag he was carrying.

“And I’m here to install some security cameras.”

I gave him an adamant shake of my head.

“I thought I made it clear why I don’t want any cameras in my store.

My customers value their privacy, as do I.”

“Don’t put them in the store,”

Flanders said.

“Put them outside.

One at each entrance.”

I frowned, unconvinced.

“If you value the safety of your staff, it’s a must-have,”

Flanders said, seeing my reluctance.

“Not to mention that you also live here and having a bit of security for your own benefit seems prudent.”

He glanced over at Henry.

“Let’s face it,”

he went on, staring at the corpse.

“Your store is bound to attract some oddballs.”

I probably should have taken offense at that, but he had a point and I’d said the same thing myself to Rita earlier.

Plus, I sensed a dogged determination in the man that told me efforts to refuse would be futile.

“Fine.

You can leave them on the counter over there.

What do I owe you?”

Flanders waved my question away.

“Nothing.

These were some freebies given to me by the company that makes them.

They asked me to install them on my own house and convince a few others to try them out as part of a sales promo.

I put some up at my place and the picture on them is decent.

I just never got around to giving some to anyone else. Until now. They’re good-quality cameras and the service that allows you to save a month’s worth of footage at a time is free for the first year.”

“Then thank you, I guess.”

“Do you have a toolbox?”

“Of course. Why?”

“So I can put them up.

All I really need is a drill and a screwdriver.”

“You don’t need to do that,”

I said, watching as Rita grinned from ear to ear and waggled her eyebrows suggestively behind him.

When she clapped a hand over her heart and fluttered her eyelashes, I vowed to hide her flavored coffee creamer as punishment for her insolence.

“There’s a toolbox in the storage area,”

Rita said, her demeanor returned to normal.

“I’ll show you.”

She steered Flanders toward the back of the store, and after about ten minutes, I heard the whir of a drill biting into wood near the rear entrance.

My feelings regarding the cameras were mixed.

On the one hand, I felt a bit violated by their presence.

They were an invasion of my privacy as well as that of my customers, though the fact that they were only by the doors mitigated this some.

And how much privacy did I really have during store hours anyway? On the other hand, the cameras did offer a certain level of security on the heels of the nastiness that had happened the other day.

While the cameras might not prevent something horrific from happening, they could provide evidence of how it went down. I realized they might also serve as a deterrent, but perhaps to regular customers as well as to potential criminals? Then there was the fact that Flatfoot Flanders apparently cared enough about my welfare to put them up. I was flattered by that, but also mildly discomfited, almost as much as I was by the fact that I now thought of Jon as Flatfoot Flanders.

He and Rita reappeared thirty minutes later and went to the front entrance.

They messed around outside for a while, garnering the curiosity of the handful of customers who came in.

When they returned, the job apparently done, Rita came behind the counter and shooed me away.

“Go to your office.

Flatfoot Flanders wants to show you how to monitor your new cameras.

He said you’ll need your cell phone.”

Devon was in my office using my laptop to do his research, and when he started to leave, I told him to stay.

“Devon is my go-to person when it comes to anything techy,”

I said to Flanders.

“Show him whatever you’re going to show me.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Flanders downloaded the app for the cameras onto both my phone and Devon’s, and then onto my laptop, creating an account for us with a username and password.

Once that was done, the views afforded by both cameras suddenly appeared on my phone.

The rear camera showed the gravel drive out back, my parked car, and the grassy area beyond, but the front one gave us a nice view of the road, the parking lot, and both sides of the main entrance.

We watched as a customer—a regular who lived in Door County and collected oddities of his own—pulled into the lot, got out of his car, and walked into the store.

He didn’t appear to notice the camera at all.

“Okay,”

I said, “I’ll admit this is kind of cool in a creepy, predatory sort of way.”

“Cool?”

Devon scoffed, giving me a doleful shake of his head.

“You need to get with the times, Morgan.

How about ‘dope’ or ‘sick’?”

“I’m an old soul,”

I said with a smile.

“If you’re worried about your customers’ privacy, don’t look at the camera feed unless something happens,”

Flanders said.

“Right.”

I shut down the app, and then, feeling awkward, I hit Devon up for a status update.

“Have you found anything for me yet?”

Devon shook his head, frowning.

“Can I ask what it is you’re looking for?”

Flanders asked.

I liked the fact that he always asked permission rather than behaving all bossy and acting like I owed him something because I was working for him.

I’d had other clients who had done that.

“I asked Devon to dig around online to see what he could find out about the two men who died.

I thought they might share some things in common that would give me a clue as to what happened to them.”

Flanders tilted his head and gave me a curious smile.

“That sounds like an old-fashioned flatfoot approach,”

he said, and I damn near swallowed my own tongue, biting back my laugh.

“I take it you’re coming at this thing from a skeptic’s angle with regard to the idea of a lake monster,”

he went on.

“I’m coming at it from an angle of science,”

I said.

“That and connections.

Things are all connected somehow, some way, and discovering what those connections are will likely get me to the answers I need.”

“That’s basic detecting one-oh-one,”

Flanders said, sounding oddly pleased.

“Well, if there are connections between these two men outside of the obvious ones of dying in a water accident in Door County and having crush injuries that look like a big bite, I can’t find them,”

Devon said.

“There’s got to be some connection,”

I said.

“I’m just not certain what it is yet or how it all ties together.”

“Are you looking at anything else?”

Flanders asked.

“Of course.

I’m exploring several avenues.”

I told him about my excursion the day before with Marty and how I felt certain he’d seen something on the sonar just before the storm forced us in.

“I couldn’t see the screen well, nor could I get him to tell me what he saw, but there was definitely something there.”

I paused, hesitant to say anything more, and then decided to bite the bullet.

“I saw something odd myself.

When I looked over the side, I swear I saw two large glowing eyes rising up through the water toward me.”

Flanders paled. “Really?”

“Do you think we actually have a monster of some sort in the lake?”

Devon asked, wide-eyed.

“Too soon to tell.

What I have so far are bits of data, but I need more.

I’m going to visit Marty again this afternoon and ask him what it was he saw.

I might even ask him to take me out again.”

“Mind if I come with you?”

Flanders asked.

Surely, I had no power to stop him.

Flanders was the police chief on Washington Island and could probably go anywhere he wanted.

Granted, this was the peninsula, and it was ruled by the county sheriffs, but still .

.

.

One wouldn’t think a police chief would need to ask permission. I liked that he had, though.

“I suppose so,”

I said, wondering how welcoming Marty might or might not be.

Flanders glanced at his watch.

“Have you had lunch?”

he asked.

I shook my head.

“How about I buy you lunch and then you can take me to Marty’s place?”

Not only had the color returned to his face; he appeared to be blushing.

“Let’s go Dutch treat,”

I suggested.

“Unless you want me to expense the meal to your account on my final bill?”

“Dutch treat it is,”

he said without hesitation.

“But I get to pick the place. Deal?”

“As long as there’s an outside eating area or we get it to go, because Newt comes with me.”

Newt was lying on the floor at my feet, head resting on his massive front paws.

He looked up at me at the mention of his name and then looked over at Flanders as if he knew his fate was in the man’s hands.

Flanders looked down at the dog, brow furrowed.

“Newt. Right,”

he said, nodding slowly.

“You drive a hard bargain, Morgan Carter.”

“Those are my terms, Chief Flanders.

Take them or leave them.”

He grinned at that.

“Okay.

We’ll make it a threesome.

But in return, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What’s that?”

“Would you please call me Jon instead of Chief Flanders?”

“I think I can manage that,”

I said with a smile.

And then I spent the next ten minutes silently repeating his name over and over like a mantra, hoping it would replace Flatfoot Flanders in my mind before I accidentally blurted it out.