Death Stalks Door County: A Dave Cubiak Door County Mystery

15. Thursday Morning

157 15 Thurs­ day Morn­ ing Cu­ biak found a note from Ruta on his desk. “Beck’s house 11.” What the hell? Cu­ biak ­ thought. There ­ hadn’t been time at ­ Ruby’s open­ ing for him to tell Beck about the Con­ ser­ va­ tion ­ League meet­ ing, but he ­ couldn’t im­ a­ gine that with the fes­ ti­ val mov­ ing into its sec­ ond day, he’d be sum­ moned to the house for that. Heavy traf­ fic made him late and ill tem­ pered. ­ Poised for a ­ face-toface en­ coun­ ter with Beck, he rang the bell and was sur­ prised when a­ middle-aged woman ­ opened the door. She wore a black dress and the un­ mis­ tak­ able ­ white-lace apron of a maid. She ­ looked dis­ ap­ prov­ ing. “I’m ex­ pected,” Cu­ biak said. “Yes.” The hired help led him ­ through the liv­ ing room and down the rear hall to the fam­ ily room where he’d first met Cate. The view by day was as im­ pres­ sive as by night. “Where’s Beck?” “Please.” The maid in­ di­ cated a small sofa near the win­ dow and dis­ ap­ peared. Ig­ nor­ ing the couch, Cu­ biak ap­ proached the glass wall, aware of the thick car­ pet under­ foot and an in­ tense over­ bear­ ing still­ ness. The air in­ side the house was ­ chilly. 158 “I’m sorry, but ­ Beck’s not here.” A woman stood in the door­ way, di­ min­ u­ tive and over­ dressed, her parch­ ment com­ plex­ ion un­ seemly in a re­ sort com­ mu­ nity that wor­ shiped sun and ­ placed a pre­ mium on ­ healthy out­ door ac­ tiv­ ity. She ­ floated ­ across the room and ex­ tended her hand. “We’ve met, ­ haven’t we? I’m ­ Eloise Beck.” Cu­ biak re­ mem­ bered her from ­ Beck’s pre­ sea­ son party. She’d been tipsy and in­ sou­ ciant that eve­ ning. “We have. I have an ap­ point­ ment with your hus­ band. Where is he?” Cu­ biak said. “Who knows?” ­ Eloise eased into a chair. “Please, sit down. I in­ sist. I get so few vis­ i­ tors, ­ though ­ you’re the sec­ ond today.” She ­ raised her eye­ brows at Cu­ biak, in­ vit­ ing his cu­ ri­ os­ ity, but he ig­ nored the hint. He ­ wasn’t in the mood to play games or fill out her so­ cial cal­ en­ dar. “I told you, I came to see Beck, but I can come back an­ other time,” he said, turn­ ing to leave. “No, wait. ­ Please. I sent for you, not Beck,” ­ Eloise said. “You? Why?” She ­ pointed to a fac­ ing chair. “I ­ thought it was im­ por­ tant. There are­ things you need to know if ­ you’re going to work for my hus­ band.” “I don’t work for Beck.”­ Eloise ran her hands up and down the arm­ rests. “Every­ one works for Beck. ­ You’re work­ ing for him now, ­ aren’t you?” Cu­ biak hes­ i­ tated. “More like a favor.” “I see. And just how do you think you got the job at the park in the first place? Beck ­ pulled a lot of ­ strings to get you up here. He ob­ vi­ ously did it for a rea­ son.” Cu­ biak sat down. “You got ten min­ utes,” he said. “My hus­ band is an am­ bi­ tious bas­ tard. He’s good with plans and mak­ ing ­ things hap­ pen. He lets noth­ ing stand in his way, and he’ll do any­ thing that gives him an ad­ van­ tage. He mar­ ried me, a girl from the wrong side of town who ­ worked in one of his fac­ to­ ries, be­ cause he­ thought he could mold me into the per­ fect dot­ ing wife. ­ Didn’t quite work out that way. He was des­ per­ ate for a son but what he ­ really ­ wanted 159 was a clone. In­ stead he got Barry, our ­ late-stage mir­ a­ cle baby, who was more me than him. The kid never had a ­ chance.” Cu­ biak ­ glanced at his watch. “Sorry, ­ that’s of no inter­ est to me.” “Just wait. It gets bet­ ter. You know Alice Jones, the girl who was­ killed...