Part 12 (1/2)

”Huhn?” Her car had pa.s.sed mine about two sentences back. ”How could they all three be made from the same mold? Big Ole is at least five feet taller than Chief Wenonga.”

”It's all in the legs, sweetie. See for yourself.”

She led me back to Big Ole and showed me where extra length had been added to his calves and thighs. I had always thought it was the skirt that made his legs look unnaturally long, but it had been part of the design. I remembered Brando telling me in the coffee shop that oftentimes in his business one mold was reused, with minor design changes to differentiate one statue from another. And that explained the strange familiarity I had felt when looking at pictures of the Big Ole and Mahatma Gandhi statues. They were Wenonga's brothers, man. ”So why did you steal Big Ole? Why not just get some engineer to check him out?”

”That was the original plan, to get an engineering professor from UWaStevens Point to examine Chief Wenonga. Then he was stolen. I had a hunch it was Brando, and if I let him get Big Ole, there would go any chance of me connecting him to the crime in India. So, I quickly rearranged my plans and paid Mr. Militia here to borrow Big Ole for me until the professor could come and check him out. He's supposed to meet me here today.”

I felt dizzy and realized I still had my hand on Big Ole's thigh. So much information to digest. I went back to the beginning. ”You said you think Brando stole Chief Wenonga.”

”I know he did. I just don't know how to prove it. My best guess is that this Liam Anderson was helping him, but that he has no traceable connections to Brando, and was the only witness to Brando's plan. That man is devious.”

I agreed. I was falling for her story, lock, stock, and barrel, when a realization slapped me across the face like an angry girl. ”You slept with Brando. I saw him leaving your motel room the night before last. Les saw it too.”

Dolly's cheeks reddened. ”I was desperate for information. I figured it'd be easier to sleep with him and find out what he knew than steal Big Ole out of Alexandria. I ended up having to do both.”

There, but for the grace of G.o.d, go I. I could hardly judge the woman, given the loin-rubbing I had done with Brando last night. Speaking of ... I couldn't help myself. ”Was he good?”

Dolly nodded ruefully, her green eyes bright with memory. ”I'm sorry to say he was fantastic. A truly delicious lover.”

f.u.c.kin' A.

”But watch out. He seems stupid and pretty, but he's dangerous. Vindictive, and smart as a snake. Good luck connecting him to any of this. That's why I had to steal Big Ole. I don't know how you're going to get Johnny out of jail.”

”Dolly?”

”Yeah?”

”Did you sleep with Johnny, too?”

At this, she laughed. ”I wish. No, all he wanted to do was talk about Stevens Point and my teaching. At first, I was flattered, but then it got kind of boring.”

”So why did you go to his cabin?”

”How'd you know I was out at his cabin?” Dolly eyed Les suspiciously, maybe wondering if he was working both sides.

”I saw you leaving,” I lied.

”Sat.u.r.day night, after the fireworks? Yeah, I thought I would give it one last shot. Figured I'd try the old, *sneak into his bed' trick. When I got there, though, the door looked broken in and Johnny's car was gone. I left.”

That old ”sneak into his bed” trick. I could scarcely talk to a man I had a crush on, let alone sneak into his bed. You'd think a quality like that would have bred itself out over a generation or two, but here I was. ”Sat.u.r.day night was the only night you were there?”

”Yes. I haven't seen Johnny since.”

That squared with what I knew. Johnny said he had left town after the fireworks, and there would have been no reason for him to go back to his cabin before he did. ”What if I just go to the police and tell them what you told me about the statue?”

”I intend to go myself, as soon as my colleague comes to examine Big Ole. I'll nail Brando for India, that I'm sure of. As far as connecting him to Wenonga and dead Mr. Anderson, I'm afraid that will only ever be speculation, unless you get some divine inspiration. Brando is thorough, he's smart, and he doesn't leave a trail.”

That wasn't good enough. I needed to get Johnny out of jail, the sooner the better. ”When's your engineering professor coming?”

”Within the hour. He's got a Jeep, so he should be able to drive instead of walk. You're welcome to stay and see what he finds.”

”No, I need to find some way to tie all this to Brando. Let me know when he gets busted for the Gandhi statue, though, won't you? I'd love to be there.”

Dolly winked at me. ”It's a date.”

I trudged back the way I came, smarter but no happier. Even the rainbow that I glimpsed through the tops of the glistening pine trees did nothing to lift my spirits. When I made it back to my car, I was hot, wet, and dotted with mosquito bites. I motored back to Battle Lake, so lost in my internal dark cloud that I didn't notice I was on a strange gravel road. I decided to keep going forward-all gravel in Minnesota leads to blacktop eventually-and that's how I happened upon the enormous Virgin Mary on the side of the road.

It was another statue, twenty or so feet tall, and it had a sign in front that read ”Our Lady of the Hills.” I parked my car at the side of the road and got out, half-perturbed (how many frickin' gigantic statues does one county need?) and half-enraptured. The statue was beautiful. Her face was peaceful, and her straight brown hair and long blue robes blended nicely with the green pines she was tucked among. I walked closer and reached a locked box for offerings. This I pa.s.sed and continued to her feet.

The statue was gazing out at a far-off place where there were answers. I pulled myself up onto her base, careful not to disturb her s.p.a.ce, and stood on my tippy-toes to look inside her cupped hands. They were full of water from the rain, but in the palms and dripping down the fingers was a red liquid, as if her hands were bleeding. And that's when I knew how I would nail Brando. Divine inspiration, indeed.

I sped into town with one thought on my mind: I had to find Brando's vehicle, the embarra.s.singly oversized red Humvee. Brando had told me he was leaving town today, but I had a hunch that the missing Big Ole situation was going to keep him around for a little longer than he had originally planned. Our Lady of the Hills had shown me how to connect Brando to Liam Anderson's corpse, but he had to be around for me to do it.

My Toyota was pus.h.i.+ng seventy as I crested the divided road hill heading into Battle Lake. I was too antsy to fiddle with my radio so tried to relax by concentrating on the day. The sky was clearing and the air smelled fresh, clean, and sauna hot. The moisture on the road was starting to evaporate, leaving sluggish worms to fend for themselves. I tried to drive around as many as I could, but the highway was flush with them.

I knew my first stop should be the cabin Brando had stayed at north of town to see if he had extended his stay. I didn't know exactly where north of town, but a little inquiring at the Fortune Cafe told me that he was staying at Nifty Nook Resort on Otter Tail Lake. I buzzed out there and had his cabin pointed out to me by the friendly owners, who I knew from working at the library. They said he had indeed extended his stay but didn't think he was around at the moment.

I walked over to the cabin to be sure. Brando's Humvee wasn't in sight and a quick peek in the building's windows showed me an immaculate if small interior. The kitchen was spotless, with daisy-strewn curtains cutting the sunlight. The main room had a couch, a television, a game table, and a bookshelf, and the bedroom had a bed so tightly made, the spread looked like a tourniquet. My guess was that Brando had been so successful at bed-hopping in Battle Lake that he had never used this cabin.

I listened to the water of Otter Tail Lake lapping onto the sandy beach and considered my next move. Probably, I'd go back to town and ask around to see if anyone had seen Brando. If nothing else, Gina always had her ear to the ground and might be able to tell me whose bed he had ended up in last night. I decided a quick cruise through the back streets of Battle Lake would be a good place to start before going door to door. There were really only seven avenues off of Lake Street anyhow. It was at the third street, in front of Kennie's house, that I stumbled across the parked Humvee. That woman certainly was taking her job as mayor and official welcomer seriously.

I parked my car, scarcely able to contain my excitement, and ran over to the Hummer. It didn't take long crouched down on my hands and knees to find exactly what I was looking for-red paint splashed onto all four wheel wells. The Virgin Mary's stigmata had made me think of it. I hadn't noticed the paint yesterday because of the Humvee's matching color. So it was Brando who had originally broken the balloons when he had gone on Sat.u.r.day night to drop Liam Anderson's dead or dying body into what he a.s.sumed were empty cabins. It was Johnny's poor luck that he had chosen his.

Dolly was surely right that Brando hired Liam Anderson to help him remove the statue, and he must have slipped or something dropped on him in the process and he was hurt. Brando, apparently not one to be too troubled by his heart or conscience, didn't bring Anderson to the hospital. He must have been scouting out a hiding place to unload his hireling when he stumbled across Johnny's cabin. It wasn't teenagers who had been out there spinning s.h.i.+tties on Friday; it was Brando looking for a place to stash the dying man.

What he hadn't planned for was the paint-filled balloons Johnny had secreted under the pile of leaves at the head of the driveway. I had been too fixated on Dolly as the criminal to even check Brando's car before today. Now, I had hard evidence to bring to Gary Wohnt. I could prove that Brando had been to the cabin Sat.u.r.day night, and that would be enough to launch an investigation.

”See anything you like?”

I stood so fast that I sc.r.a.ped my head on the wheel well. I whirled on Brando. ”Not so much. Paying a house call to Kennie?”

”Something like that. What were you doing down there?”

I rubbed the tender spot on my noggin and pulled my hand away. Blood. How ironic. This man was good at separating people from parts of their head. ”I dropped a bracelet.”

Brando leaned into me, oozing s.e.xuality and charm. ”I've never seen you wear a bracelet.” He circled my wrist with his large hand and caressed it. ”You've got beautiful wrists.”

”Thank you. I-” Before I could make my goodbyes, Brando clamped down on my arm and twisted it around and back, forcing me to turn my back to him to keep it from snapping. The pain sent hot mercury streaks up my arm and into my brain.

”I think we need to go for a ride. You'll like riding in the Humvee. You feel on top of the world.”

His left hand opened the driver's side door as his right hand held me effortlessly. He gave my arm an extra twist, and I felt more than heard a pop. My knees buckled and he shoved me up and forward. My arm felt attached to my body by only one stretched sinew and to do anything but go forward would have snapped it free. I had one leg in the car when I spotted the rust-colored stains peeking out under a towel spread on the seat and carpeting.

He caught my gaze. ”Time to get this reupholstered, don't you think? That's for tomorrow. I have a good friend who owes me a favor. For today, I think we'll just take a little joy ride.”