Dead Insider Read Free Page A

McDonald’s coffee crew hasn’t kicked you out yet.”
    “Or you.”
    “And we got our pals in AA. They still let us in the door with the coffee pot on it. We have to be doing something right.”
    “Not sure I equate not drinking with making friends.” Osborne always enjoyed these rallies with Ray. They might be silly, but the younger man was one of the few people who knew his secrets and still liked him.
    “And you’re sure I can bring a … date?”
    “Of course, but I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Who’s the lucky lady?”
    “Girl. She’s a youngster—only twenty-five. Consider her … a surprise,” said Ray with a grin as he chomped on a final piece of bacon. Osborne was finding the grins tedious to say the least. He knew without asking that he’d have to wait until dinner to find out what was behind all this goofiness.
    “Half a cup, Doc?” asked Ray, raising the coffee pot in his right hand. “Yep, this rain just may cool the water and make for some okay fishing this afternoon. If I don’t catch enough, I got two good-sized walleye in the freezer. Four, maybe five pounders.”
    “If you catch enough
without
the ones in the freezer, you’ll be over your limit.”
    “True. You think the warden wants to be on water in this rain? Forecast to get heavier late this afternoon.”
    “Ray … don’t do anything foolish. I’ll have plenty of potato salad, cheese curds, fresh bread from the Loon Lake Market, and one of Lew’s berry pies. You bring what fish you can without getting arrested, and we’ll all be grateful.”
    Osborne
was
grateful. He could think of nothing more delicious than Ray Pradt’s fresh walleye sautéed in butter. “What else is on your agenda today?”
    “Got to get my hat repaired,” said Ray, pointing with his fork toward the couch in the living room where a stuffed trout sat in an open FedEx box. Under the trout, whose head and tail protruded over the wearer’s ears, was a well-worn leather cap with flaps that Ray wore down loose over his ears in the winter and tucked up in the summer. Across its breast, the fish wore a jeweled necklace, an antique wood-and-metal fishing lure that Ray kept polished to a high gleam.
    “What’s wrong with the hat?” asked Osborne.
    “It’s worn right through where the trout is attached. Very wobbly, see?” Ray got up from the table, plucked the hat from the box, and set it on his head. The trout drooped over one ear as its tail stuck straight up over Ray’s head.
    “Ouch, I see,” said Osborne with a chuckle. “Ray, has it occurred to you that, at the age of thirty-two, it may be time to stop wearing a fish on your head?” Trying to repress a laugh, he snorted.
    “Doc,” said Ray, looking hurt. “For heaven’s sake, it’s my trademark, my emblem, my logo. When clients see this hat coming, all they can think is:
Excitement, Romance, and Live Bait: Fishing with Ray
. Doc, the hat is
me
.”
    Osborne was sorry he’d been so blunt. “Okay, you’re right. But it looks to me like the cap needs new leather at the very least. Maybe you should start over with a new cap and have someone anchor the fish on that?”
    “Nope. I know just the expert who can fix it,” said Ray. “She can fix anything. Hell, she makes those vinyl roofs with windows that they use on cabin cruisers. Leather repair? Piece of cake for old Kaye.”
    “You don’t mean Kaye Lund? She butchers my deer every season. I didn’t know she could sew.”
    Ray checked his watch. “Oh boy, I’m due at her place right now. I haven’t been able to reach her on the phone, but I left a voicemail saying I’d stop by this morning. She works part-time as a greeter at Walmart; I’d like to catch her before she leaves for her shift.”
    “Do you think she could fix my shot bag?” asked Osborne. “Mike got hold of it last winter and chewed off the leather reinforcement where the strap attaches.”
    “I’m sure Kaye can handle that. Why don’t you come