The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [49]
“Good enough,” I said.
I told Lamar what Phil had said and asked Lamar if he’d like to have lunch at the buffet in the pavilion of the General Beauregard, moored at Frieberg. He declined, but I decided to drive up anyway. Hester Gorse was working the gaming boat up there, and I really wanted to discuss the case with her. I needed an unbiased opinion. I also needed a really good meal, out of the reach and notice of the local media. It was only twenty miles or so.
I called Hester at her office at the boat.
“Houseman, by God! You been busy?”
Just hearing her voice cheered me up. “‘Busy’ ain’t the word for it. Like to do lunch? I can bring you up to date, and see if I can get Art assigned to Minnesota.”
“Yeah,” she said, “I heard. Things okay other than that?”
“Things are interesting. Two corpses, no real suspects. How ‘bout it?”
“Oh, you do know how to convince a girl. Sure. Love to.” I could hear the grin in her voice.
The General Beauregard was moored in the Mississippi River, separated from its associated pavilion by a railroad track and a highway, both of which paralleled the river. The bluffs that formed the prehistoric banks of the river rose to over 100 feet, within a block or two of the boat. It was really a pretty setting. Even with the river frozen over, and the stark black trees outlined against the white snow.
The pavilion was a combination theater, office, and restaurant complex, containing everything to make the boat into a casino, as opposed to a simple floating slot machine. Iowa law forbade gambling on the land, so the boat was more or less a dedicated gambling platform. The pavilion provided the rest of a mini-Las Vegas aspect to the operation. Nice, in a way. Families could use the pavilion facilities without being near gaming, which some seemed to prefer.
Iowa also required that the Division of Criminal Investigation maintain a presence at each and every casino. The legislature neglected to provide any additional agents for that purpose, so General Crim. had to spread itself even thinner than usual to accommodate the mandate. They accomplished that by three-month assigned tours. No exceptions. This was Hester’s turn in an eighteen-month rotation.
I hadn’t seen her for several months, and hadn’t actually worked a case with her for over a year. She was one of the best agents I’d ever worked with, and totally reliable. And very, very smart.
She was also a few years younger, and very fit. Something I tried never to bring into a conversation, and something she brought up every chance she got. She was waiting near the buffet entrance.
“Hi.” She grinned broadly. “Looks like life agrees with you.”
“Everything but work,” I said. “It’s a tough one this time. Great case, though. Fascinating.”
We spent about half an hour in her office, and I ran through the basic details of the double murder. She was into it instantly.
“I don’t think it was Fred, either,” she said, “based on what you’ve given me. Does Art think it was him?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got to understand, he thinks he’s under pressure to produce a conclusion.” She held up her hand, forestalling my protest. “I know, but it’s true. You know him as well as anybody does. He’s always wanted to be the best, and in his mind, the best is also the fastest to get the bad guy.”
I finished up by telling her about everybody assuming that it was a pair of cops who’d been killed.
“That’s what we call a clue, Houseman,” she said, seriously.
We found a table in the main dining room, off in a corner. A couple of people spoke to me as we walked through the place, and a couple more eyed me closely. People I knew. I was with an attractive woman, not my wife. They were checking Hester out, and could be relied upon to keep an eye on