Too Much at Stake (5 page)

"It's a Linberg favorite," Deb said. "It never fails."

"Anyone ready for next course?" Marc asked.

Clearing the table, as his parents had taught him to do with company, Marc then brought in a big bowl of ratatouille and a platter of grilled chicken.

"Oh, Marc, you sure know the way to my heart," Pat sighed. "I just love ratatouille."

"It's not very good this time," Marc apologized. "I had to buy tomatoes and zucchini at the co-op. It's nothing like picking them right from the garden."

"Stop it, you silly boy!" Deb admonished. "Do not apologize for your food—ever!"

"All food is good that someone else cooks, especially when that someone is you," Pat chimed in.

"Mitch did the chicken!" Marc said, trying to deflect attention from his wife's gentle rebuke.

"Grilled to perfection," Deb said.

"He may not be able to cook much, but he sure can do chicken on the grill," Marc agreed.

Mitch blushed at the praise. "Just wait until dessert! I did that, too."

Lifting her glass, Deb toasted, "Here's to the cooks!"

"And here's to a good ending to a very terrible day," Pat added.

"Speaking of that," Marc said sternly, and the lightness of the previous moment suddenly vanished, "you two are going to stay at least a mile away from this thing, right?"

"What do you mean, 'this thing'?" Deb bristled. "You're talking about a dead person, probably a murdered person. You do understand the seriousness of it all, don't you?"

"Isn't that what I've just been telling you?" Marc asked defensively.

"One thing we do hope you are serious about is keeping yourselves safe," Mitch pitched in, looking lovingly at Pat.

Deb smiled as she noticed Mitch admiring Pat's new lithe body.
Married twenty years, and he still has a sparkle in his eye,
Deb thought
.

"Remember what happened the last time you two got caught up in something like this?" Marc lectured. "You almost got killed up in that crazy artist's apartment, remember?"

"Of course we remember!" Pat answered, "
We
were there, remember?"

"Past is not always prologue to the future," Deb said wearily.

Pat turned to Marc. "How long do you think that body was in that barn, anyway?"

"Depends," Marc answered. "If the temperature stays cold, a dead body can be preserved for several months without decomposing. My guess is that it was probably there since last fall."

"Really?" the two women answered in stereo.

"I think it's time for dessert!" Mitch interrupted, trying to escape the unpleasant table talk. "Anyone for ice cream?"

"Sure, I'll have some," Marc eagerly replied. "And then I would love some help getting my boat uncovered so I can give it a bath before we launch it."

Bright and early on Monday morning, Deb took out her German coffee press from the cupboard. She scooped three heaping tablespoons of freshly ground coffee into the bottom and then slowly poured boiling water over the top to the two-cup line of the glass jar. She inserted the mesh plunger over the hot water and slowly pressed the metal toward the bottom of the flask, marveling at how the color of the water quickly changed from clear to deep chocolate. She had learned about coffee presses after visiting her German-exchange daughter's home in Germany a few years before.

Deb kicked off her shoes and made her way to the couch, taking a steaming mug of the freshly brewed Traveler's Blend.
How appropriate,
she thought as she inhaled the fresh aroma. Deb caught her reflection in the hallway mirror and noticed how thin her face looked. Her husband, Marc, was already relaxing in the living room, enjoying a rare moment of quiet, engrossed in a medical mystery novel.

"Hon, can you believe it's been a whole year since Pat and I returned from our trip to Nevis?" she asked dreamily, joining him on the couch.

"Oh, boy. I know that look," Marc replied with a sigh. He put his finger in the book to hold his spot. "You're starting to get that wanderlust again, aren't you?"

Deb felt a stirring of desire deep down in her soul, but it wasn't for carnal pleasure.
God knows I get plenty of that with Marc,
she thought, and she giggled to herself as she sipped her coffee.
Hot!
she thought,
and not just the coffee.
She companionably nudged Marc's shoulder with her own and giggled again as he looked at her quizzically. Her spirit of adventure was churning inside like a funnel, stirring up dust in her life and clouding her view of the present moment.

Marc glanced over at her with a knowing look.

"I am so lucky that you tolerate my wanderlust so well," Deb said gratefully.

"It's only taken me twenty-five years of marriage to l earn certain things," he joked. "You require a certain quota of new sights and travel to old and new places in order to feel complete."

"At least I'm not a travel addict the way our sister-in-law is," Deb retorted. "Your brother's wife doesn't consider it a complete month unless she's going off alone to some exotic locale for a few days. What a life that would be!"

"Where does that travel bug come from, anyway?" Marc wondered aloud.

"For me, it has to be from my great-grandma Agnes McKinney. She's the one who, at thirteen years of age, climbed onto a covered wagon with shirt-tail relatives and made the long and arduous journey from New Jersey to the Kansas prairie in 1809. She was married four times, you know. She lived for a time in a sod house, outlived all of her husbands, and died in her nineties, a content woman," Deb related.

"Here's to Grandma Agnes' spirit!" Marc agreed, raising his can of Mountain Dew. "And to no more husbands!"

Snuggling in on the couch helped Deb to briefly escape her ruminations about finding a dead body. She took stock of the changes that had happened in the past year since her trip to the Caribbean island of Nevis with Pat. Deb reflected that one constant in the past year—other than her marriage to Marc—was the steady presence of Pat, her best friend for thirty-five years. A year before, Pat and Mitchell had decided to have a respite from city life and had purchased an old Victorian, one block away from Deb and Marc.

What fun it's been to walk with Pat to the local Curves each morning,
Deb thought,
and then to the Black Cat Coffeehouse after our workout. Forty pounds lighter and no more achy knees on the stairs! It has been a good thing—a really good thing!

As Marc returned to his reading, Deb's thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of her phone, which that indicated she had a message. Julia had returned from her year's stay in Madrid as an exchange student and was safely enrolled at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. "Hon, it's a message from Julia. She got a ride home from school after finals!" Deb said excitedly to Marc.

"Umm," Marc replied, not really listening. She took another sip of her coffee.

Deb missed having Julia and all her friends in the house. Luckily, their household had been unexpectedly blessed by the arrival of a ray of sunshine from Paraguay, in the form of Bruno, their most recent exchange student. Deb, Marc, and their son, Eric, had chosen Bruno from the biographies sent to them by Ruth Epstein, who also served as regional leader for the local student-exchange program.

Deb and Marc had been fairly certain that Bruno would be a good fit with their family, particularly Eric. After all, Bruno played soccer and tennis, and he was musical, just like Eric.

"Isn't it fun having a persistently happy boy who sings all the time, is helpful to a T, and whose magnetic personality and charisma draw a steady stream of kids here?" Deb asked.

"A lot easier than our own kids," Marc answered from behind his book.

Almost on cue, Deb and Marc's moment of serenity was interrupted by the sound of pounding hooves on the front stairway. Eric and Bruno appeared, looking scruffy and unshaven, clearly relishing their day off school. "Hey, Mom, what's for lunch?" Bruno teased.

"How am I going to survive the rest of this year with a second growing teenage boy in the house?" Deb teased back. "And lunch is whatever you can find in the fridge."

The boys wandered amiably into the kitchen and shut the door behind them, whispering conspiratorially.

"Isn't this a dream come true?" Deb asked Marc for perhaps the hundredth time. "I'm so glad we got to take Bruno to Montana and Washington DC since he's been here. Can you believe that it's already almost time for our annual summer pilgrimage to the Jersey shore?"

"Is this a rhetorical question, or do you really want an answer?" Marc asked good-naturedly, glancing up at her from his book.

"Really, Marc, I'm already dreading his leaving ... although not very much because that would violate my newfound priority of living in the moment." She sighed heavily. "Truth be known, I just don't know how we will survive the parting and the farewell to Bruno at the end of June."

"Just enjoy every minute of what's left," Marc wisely responded. "And make sure that you keep enough Mountain Dew and snacks at home."

"Don't you think Eric just loves having a big brother for the first time in his life? He's my baby, for heaven's sake, and look how mature and responsible he's becoming," Deb sniffed.

"Sure," Marc agreed. "That kid is lucky enough to just float through life with ease."

Deb seemed to be relaxed, sipping her fresh brew, but she suddenly turned to Marc and blurted out, "I want to go to Paraguay!"

"Paraguay?" Marc responded apprehensively, putting down his book.

"It's now at the top of my list of travel destinations. The pull is strong," Deb said dreamily.

"That's not likely to happen any time soon," Marc responded, inserting a tone of realism into Deb's fantasy.

Deb sighed again and put her dream for more travel out to the universe, as she had put so many other dreams and desires of her heart.
It'll happen,
she thought.

Deb glanced down at her watch and jumped up. "I would love to sit here and daydream with you a while longer, but I need to call the office and let them know I probably won't be in today. I have to call Kris and ask her to set up an appointment for me. I have a court trial coming up next week."

"The glamorous life of a divorce lawyer! Not another of those crazy custody battles, is it?" Marc asked sympathetically. "Those drain you so much. I don't know how you keep working with all those broken people."

"Believe it or not, some of my clients are truly interested in improving their lives and receiving good service," Deb responded, "even if many of them seem indifferent or ungrateful or just so beaten down that they can't see their way clear out of the darkness."

"Don't you ever feel like you're wasting your time?"

"Of course I do. That's why I have all this nagging doubt about whether to continue. I just keep trying to be a torch-bearer, but sometimes it's just impossible to lead people who refuse to take off their blinders."

Marc reached over and squeezed her hand. "Go get 'em, my dear light woman!"

Deb walked into the kitchen and dialed the office on her cell phone. "Hi, Kris," she said loudly, over the laughter of teenage boys. "Sorry, but Marc and the boys are home today, and I'm not coming in. You can give out my cell number if someone really needs to reach me. I need a mental-health day. I want you to call the Thompsons and schedule an appointment with them to meet with me."

"Together?"
Kris answered, the surprise clearly audible in her voice.

"Not on your life!" Deb replied. "Be sure that they don't even get a chance to see each other coming and going, either. And thanks. You're a lifesaver."

Deb snapped her phone shut and noticed the
Ashland Daily Press
lying open on the kitchen table. The headline caught her eye:
Death at the Tent.

She continued reading:

Local and regional patrons of Lake Superior Big Top Chautauqua were stunned to learn on Sunday of a grizzly discovery at their beloved Big Top.

The body of an unidentified male was discovered in a roll of canvas on Sunday during the annual tent-raising. Due to inclement weather, the tent-raising had been postponed from Saturday until Sunday.

"We went to lift the roll, found it to be heavy, and out fell a hand," said Phil Anich, operations manager for the Tent.

Neither the name of the deceased nor the manner of death has been released by authorities. Sal Burrows, Bayfield County Sheriff's Department detective, is in charge of the investigation. He had no comment.

"This is a horrible event, no doubt," said Carl Carlson, president of the board of directors for Chautauqua. "But the spirit of Chautauqua is strong. This tent show has endured many other tragedies in the past and will surely survive this one. The show will go on."

Carlson has asked that anyone with any information should contact the Bayfield County Sheriff's Department. "We have no further comment at this time. The Chautauqua organization will fully cooperate with the investigation," Carlson commented.

Lake Superior Big Top Chautauqua produces and presents a summer season of concerts, plays, and lectures, and a highly acclaimed professional local troupe, which performs original multimedia musicals in the Tent and on tour. The three-month summer schedule includes performances by renowned national, regional, and touring musicians. Opening night is scheduled for this Thursday evening.