“Well, no. Not during the winter.”

“So, he scans the environment and says to his old friend, the mailman, ‘Hey Herb, anyone new living along the shore on West Bay or up there on the hill?’ And Herb says something like, ‘No one permanent I’m delivering to.’ So Sabotny asks, ‘You haven’t heard about anyone new, maybe a woman in one of those expensive lakefront properties?’ And Herb thinks for a moment or two and says, ‘Well my brother-in-law put a dish on one of those trophy houses for some single woman. Says she must have big bucks.’”

“Ken Lee, that’s all just fantasy. You have a great imagination.”

“Yeah, that’s fantasy, but that’s the way things go down. Sabotny’s probably got a network of friends among the locals. Right now he’s looking in every direction. For Sabotny, this is a life-or-death situation. He’s on full alert. You’ve been so totally fixated on him, you haven’t seen anyone else, but lots of people have seen you.”

“So what do you think I should do?”

“You know what I think. You reject that straight up. So I want you to go on full alert. Make sure your security system is working and always turned on. Keep weapons within easy reach when you’re at home. Any time you leave the house, go fully armed. Don’t be surprised if someone tries to run you off the road. Watch out for a car jacking. Carry that satellite uplink on you at all times so I know where you are. Hit the panic button if you’re in trouble.”

“How can I go to yoga?”

“You know the answer.”

“So now I’m a captive?”

“The game totally changed Saturday night. Maybe it isn’t a checkmate, but it’s close. You’re going to have to figure out how to escape.”

“What would you do?”

“Exactly what I’ve been saying over and over. Pull you, and put three big, ugly ex-Seals in your place. Figure out a way to put some heat on Sabotny. Get him to do something desperate and stupid, then figure out how to get justice for your brother.”

44

Simone walked into Ray’s office, the end of her leash in her mouth, the remainder dragging behind. Sue followed, armed with a folder and her ubiquitous coffee mug. Ray spent several moments attending to Simone, collecting enthusiastic kisses as he scratched the ears of the wiggling terrier.

“How did your weekend work out?”

“We sort of had dates around the edges of my work. He took me out for dinner Saturday, then we went to a movie. I don’t think I made it past the opening credits. Sunday morning I took him for a forced walk across the top of Sleeping Bear before I went back to the Moarse place.”

“It was raining cats and dogs all morning,” said Ray.

“Yup, but he didn’t complain too much. And I made him a special dinner Sunday night.”

“Yes?”

“Stuff you taught me. Salmon with a caper sauce. I cooked the fish on the grill just like you do. And I served salad with a baguette that I resuscitated with a few minutes in the oven. I had a good bottle of Vouvray chilled, and topped the meal off with thimbleberry jam on Ben & Jerry’s vanilla, sort of an up-north touch.”

“The jam or the Ben….”

“Here, check this out,” said Sue, sliding a plastic bag containing a rectangular object the size of a cigarette pack in his direction.

“What is it?” He held the bag up to his face and inspected the device, olive drab in color with a hard plastic exterior.

“It’s the phantom phone,” said Sue.

“Really? I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Neither have I. But I verified that it’s the source of the 911 signal.” She put her finger on the bag. “Notice there are two buttons on the front. You have to push them in sequence to turn the thing on, the small one first and the large one next. It looks as if it was designed so it couldn’t be accidentally activated.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Behind a pile of firewood next to the sauna.”

“Why would anyone go to all that trouble to have a device like this fabricated when old cell phones are a dime a dozen?”

“My question, exactly,” said Sue. “I sent photos to a guy I’ve taken workshops from at the Bureau. I asked the same question.”

“Any response?”

“Well, yes, I also phoned. I wanted to make sure he still remembered me. So, Nigel, that’s the guy, English sounding name, but I don’t think he is, or at least he doesn’t sound like it, said that’s a new one on him, and he’s a specialist in this kind of exotic stuff. He wants me to send it on to him when we’re done so he can have a look. His speculation is that someone built a super 911 phone with quality components to make sure it did what was needed. He said it probably has an excellent GPS function and a high output cell signal. He really liked the two button arrangement.”

“Any prints?”

“No, and I didn’t expect any, either.”

“We’ve talked about this already, but what’s going on here?” asked Ray.

“Seems pretty clear that the person who put the phone in place was either watching Moarse or the perp who did him.”

“Or perhaps, both,” said Ray.

“There’s that.”

“Did this Nigel have any idea about the source? Maybe we could trace it to the person that way.”

“He said this kind of device comes out of boutique shops, ones that build specialty equipment for corporate security. They do one-offs and small production runs. He said you won’t find this on the Internet. Someone probably dropped a few K or more to get a product with this kind of functionality.” Sue looked across at Ray. “And I take it no one has come forward looking for their non-phone?”

“No.”

“How about the press?”

“I did a briefing this morning. No one showed. Here’s the release I put out,” he passed her a single piece of paper.

“So Moarse died under suspicious circumstances, and his name is being withheld pending notification of kin. How are you doing on that?”

“Everything I’ve done is in the file,” Ray tapped the aluminum cover of his laptop. “I have yet to find any relatives. Moarse has no outstanding warrants. We’ve talked about his priors—nothing recent. He’s got a number of civil actions pending against him. Property tax is a year in arrears. We need to do a lot more digging.”

“Maybe you just need to get the name out there. Make an appeal to the community for help. We might get lucky.”

“Yes,” agreed Ray. “Will you have the scene processed by tomorrow? The two of us need to…”

“No way, it will take a month of Sundays to sort through that mess. But your first charge to me was to definitely connect Moarse to Vincent Fox’s death. I’ve got that. The tires on the Jeep match the casts I made at Fox’s house. More importantly,” she said, pushing a photo across to Ray, “look what I found in the back of the Jeep under the passenger seat.”

“The boot, the missing right boot. Did it look like it had been hidden?”

“No, it was just lying there. My guess is Fox’s body was thrown in and his boot caught and was left behind when the body was tossed in the ditch. Moarse didn’t seem to be too good with the details, even something that could send him to prison for the rest of his life.”

“How about the burned skin on the sauna stove?”

“I’m still trying to figure out how to do that. The guys at the State Police lab are helping me.”

“What did you find in the house?” asked Ray.

“A couple of things. First, I found a copy of Fox’s book.”

“Where?”

“It was in the bathroom under a copy of the Northern Express. You’re smiling.”

“Yes, but I won’t comment. Prints?”

“Not yet, Ray. I haven’t processed them. Tomorrow.”

“What else?”

“This is even more interesting than the phantom cell.” She set a plastic bag containing a worn leather wallet in front of Ray, then two additional plastic bags, one containing a few small denomination bills, the other containing several $100 bills.