Half an hour later, they were on the
road to the Northwoods Family Grill. Another half hour and they pulled into the
parking lot that served the cafe and surrounding businesses.
“It was just over there,” Cadotte said,
pointing at a parking area fifty feet away. “That’s where he got out of his car
and we talked.”
Barely acknowledging what she had pointed out,
Mancoat said, “I’ll head on in to the cafe and get us a table.”
Cadotte pivoted, “Right behind you,
Earl.” Hodges fell in line.
Mancoat entered and beamed. The
restaurant was more stylish than he had thought it would be. The place was
busy, but an unoccupied table was available; he strode to it and sat down. The
other two joined him, ordered coffee, and then perused the menu. When the
waitress returned, Cadotte struck up a conversation about the previous day,
asking her if she remembered an older gentlemen who had come into the
restaurant the same day.
“Honey, we get a lot of old men in here
every day. Now I do remember that I sent you to see Becky Jaakola. Say, did you
ever find her? I know the directions I gave you were a little discombobulated,
so I’d get it if you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did, but I needed a little help
with them so I talked to an older gentleman in the parking lot who cleared up
everything for me. He was a nice fella,
wore a Fedora…”
“Now I know who you mean, Peter Karonen,
he comes in here a couple times a week for the specials. He’s a good guy—lives
by Finland and takes care of his daughter. She had a terrible accident a few
years ago—prescription drug overdose—oxycodone, I think.”
Cadotte stayed under control, although
her insides were bursting with excitement. Hodges and Mancoat sipped their
coffees.
“You said the older man’s name is Peter
Karonen?” Cadotte stifled a nervous laugh before she said, “You wouldn’t be
able to give me directions to his house would you? No offense to you, but he
saved my day. My editor would have flayed me if I didn’t get that interview
with Ms. Jaakola.”
“After your last experience with my
directions, you want more?” The waitress chuckled. “Tell ya what, I’ll look up
his address and write it down, then you’d have better luck GPSing it. Sound
okay?”
“That’d be wonderful! Thank you so
much.”
When the waitress left, Hodges said in a
low tone, “Well done, Sheila. You ever thought of a career in law enforcement?
You certainly know how to get information in a nonthreatening manner.”
Cadotte feigned humility, “Every good
reporter knows how to do what I did. It’s an everyday part of the job.”
Their breakfasts arrived along with the
address and all three scarfed them down. They didn’t linger when they finished,
paid the bill and hurried back to Cadotte’s Lexus. After punching the address
into her cell, she placed it on the dash and followed the directions toward
Karonen’s house.
They followed the directions on faith a
fair distance out in the country. Mancoat expressed his distrust of GPS devices
as they switched from one-gravel drive to another, finally turning into what
appeared to be a long driveway up a significant incline. A two-story house
sided with cedar shanks stood in front of them. It seemed like it was built
into the 400-foot tall hill behind it.
Hodges didn’t notice any vehicles parked
in the driveway, although a dilapidated, detached garage sat near the house and
could have hidden one.
“Well, shall we?” Hodges motioned toward
the house. They vacated the Lexus and walked to the front door.
Cadotte took the lead and knocked three
times. Mancoat started whistling the old Tony Orlando and Dawn song, ‘Knock
Three Times’. Hodges motioned him to stop. They waited a respectful amount of
time with no one answering. She knocked three more times, but significantly
louder this time. Still no answer came.
Mancoat stepped away from the porch,
scanned the yard, and then walked to one side of the house. Hodges walked to
the other side and looked around back, noticing the house was built into the
hill. Interesting design, he thought. Mancoat noticed the same thing
while a nervous Cadotte stayed put at the front door.
Cadotte started to walk away when the
door opened and Karonen appeared.
“I’m sorry, I was in my daughter’s room
reading to her, and didn’t hear anything until I finished.” He looked in
surprise from one side to the other as Mancoat and Hodges converged on the
porch from opposite sides of the house.
He stammered a little, “Forgive me, I
don’t get many visitors out here. I’m pretty isolated. Is there something I can
help you with.”
“We apologize for disturbing you, sir,
but we’re lost and need some guidance. We’re looking for Lax Lake, and somehow
ended up here,” Hodges lied.
“You really aren’t that far off,”
Karonen said. “You need to turn right out of my driveway, follow the gravel
road for, oh, about two miles until you come to the first intersecting
blacktop. Turn right again and that will take you right past the lake.”
“That’s twice you’ve helped me, sir. I
was in the parking lot in Silver Bay the other day where you gave me directions
to Becky Jaakola’s house.”
Karonen gave her a puzzled look, but
then smiled in recognition and slapped his hands together. “I recognize you now! Yes, of course, someone
had written awful directions and you were having trouble figuring them out. You
just needed a little clarification.” He performed an exaggerated bow. “I’m
always happy to assist a beautiful woman in her time of need.” He pivoted, but
caught himself in mid-turn. “I, I’d invite you into the house for drinks, but
the place is a mess and I wouldn’t want you to see it like that.” He shook his
head and uttered something unintelligible.
Mancoat responded quickly, “That
wouldn’t bother us. Jasper and I are not the greatest of housekeepers so it
would probably even be an upgrade from what we’re used to.”
Karonen lifted an eyebrow when he looked
at the men. “Are… you two partners?”
“Yeah,” Mancoat responded before getting
the drift of what Karonen was asking.
“Uh, I mean, no, no, not partners in
that sense. We don’t live together, we’re separate, uh we both like the
opposite sex.” Digging himself in deeper, Mancoat continued, “We’re partners in
the respect that we sometimes work together, uh, like Cagney and Lacy, Abbott
and Costello… Bogart and Bacall.” He added emphasis when he repeated the line,
“We work together.”
Hodges took a breath and rolled his
eyes. Cadotte, embarrassed, looked away.
Karonen’s jaw was open and his brow was
furrowed as he tried to process Mancoat’s explanation.
Several moments passed before Cadotte
finally said, “Well, we should be leaving. Thank you again for being my savior
and helping us find our way.”
She shook Karonen’s hand and they left.
“What the hell was all that bullshit,
Bogart and Bacall, Abbott and Costello?” Cadotte asked.
“I, I, I was stuck. I kept on talking
when I should have shut the hell up, okay?”
They carried on.
Tired of the back and forth, Hodges shushed them. “The
question is, what do we do from here?” 