like graduating from Harvard or Yale. With a Ph.D.” Or two. Possibly three.
“I see.” Veronica gave her a dubious look. “Be that as it may, the boy’s not sentimental.”
“He is, however, useful?” Goose treated her to an icepick smile.
“We’ve certainly found him so,” Veronica said calmly.
“Mishkwa can’t afford year-round police,” Bernie told her. “We have Chief May and a couple part-time deputies for the tourist season, but Rush is the nearest thing to law enforcement we have November through April.”
Veronica fixed Goose with those huge eyes again. “Taking care of us is his job,” she said simply.
Goose sincerely doubted Rush’s official duties included de-pesting local gardens but refrained from saying so. “And you’re satisfied with his work?”
Veronica opened her mouth but Bernie laid a hand on her arm. He leaned forward, belly drooping between spread knees, his face open and sincere. “We may be a small town, Agent di Guzman, but we’re not slow. We know Rush isn’t obliged to trot down here with his .22 every time we call him. But he does it. He knows we can’t, and he knows he can. It’s a favor and we’re grateful.”
The burning anger inside Goose fizzled into an indignant puff. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “Are you aware of his affiliation with the Radical Agrarians?”
Bernie frowned. “Is that a rock band?”
“No, a political party.”
“Oh. No.”
“Do you have any reason to believe Ranger Guthrie intends to harm Minnesota’s sitting governor?”
Husband and wife shared a baffled look. “No.”
“Have you noticed anything different about him in the last twelve months? Change in daily habits? An increase in standard of living?”
They gazed at her, nonplussed.
“Has he come into money, bought anything extravagant, taken any vacations? Spent time gambling at any of the local casinos?”
Bernie scratched the back of his neck. “Seen him with a nice Husqvarna last week.”
“Husqvarna?”
“Chain saw,” Veronica supplied.
Bernie rolled his jaw side to side. “Think it belonged to the Park Service, though.”
“Right. Okay.” Goose flipped to a fresh sheet of paper, tapped it with her pen. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
The Samuelssons exchanged another look, one of troubled concern this time. “Um, yes,” Bernie said slowly. “Maybe.”
Goose looked up in polite expectation.
“You’ll pass this on to Rush?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.” Goose had offered confidentiality to a handful of people over the past few days and had received for her trouble some bitter complaints about Rush’s strict enforcement of the no-motorized-vehicle law. He was not a popular man with the snowmobile crowd.
“No, we’d like you to speak to him about this. If you would.”
“Of course.” Goose put her pen to her paper. “Go ahead.”
“Ronnie and I hiked down to the old copper mines last weekend,” Bernie said. “There’s this tincture-of-pyeweed recipe we’ve been working on that we think might benefit from an infusion of copper—”
“The girl doesn’t need our recipe, Bernie,” Ronnie said. “Tell her about the—”
Bernie shot his wife a look that closed her mouth. Goose quietly revised her initial assumption regarding who did the pants wearing in the Samuelssons’ house. “Let’s just say that we saw evidence of activity while we were there.”
“What sort of activity?”
“Been a warm fall. Ferry’s running late this year, which means it’s likely just mainlanders. High school kids doing what high school kids have always done.” Veronica shrugged. “But somebody official needs to check it out. Post some signs or something.”
“We’d just hate for somebody to get hurt,” Bernie said. “Kids are so impulsive, and they get into stuff they have no idea how to control. If you could just, I don’t know.” He spread his hands. “Have Rush look into it?”
“I’ll tell
“I see.” Veronica gave her a dubious look. “Be that as it may, the boy’s not sentimental.”
“He is, however, useful?” Goose treated her to an icepick smile.
“We’ve certainly found him so,” Veronica said calmly.
“Mishkwa can’t afford year-round police,” Bernie told her. “We have Chief May and a couple part-time deputies for the tourist season, but Rush is the nearest thing to law enforcement we have November through April.”
Veronica fixed Goose with those huge eyes again. “Taking care of us is his job,” she said simply.
Goose sincerely doubted Rush’s official duties included de-pesting local gardens but refrained from saying so. “And you’re satisfied with his work?”
Veronica opened her mouth but Bernie laid a hand on her arm. He leaned forward, belly drooping between spread knees, his face open and sincere. “We may be a small town, Agent di Guzman, but we’re not slow. We know Rush isn’t obliged to trot down here with his .22 every time we call him. But he does it. He knows we can’t, and he knows he can. It’s a favor and we’re grateful.”
The burning anger inside Goose fizzled into an indignant puff. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “Are you aware of his affiliation with the Radical Agrarians?”
Bernie frowned. “Is that a rock band?”
“No, a political party.”
“Oh. No.”
“Do you have any reason to believe Ranger Guthrie intends to harm Minnesota’s sitting governor?”
Husband and wife shared a baffled look. “No.”
“Have you noticed anything different about him in the last twelve months? Change in daily habits? An increase in standard of living?”
They gazed at her, nonplussed.
“Has he come into money, bought anything extravagant, taken any vacations? Spent time gambling at any of the local casinos?”
Bernie scratched the back of his neck. “Seen him with a nice Husqvarna last week.”
“Husqvarna?”
“Chain saw,” Veronica supplied.
Bernie rolled his jaw side to side. “Think it belonged to the Park Service, though.”
“Right. Okay.” Goose flipped to a fresh sheet of paper, tapped it with her pen. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
The Samuelssons exchanged another look, one of troubled concern this time. “Um, yes,” Bernie said slowly. “Maybe.”
Goose looked up in polite expectation.
“You’ll pass this on to Rush?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.” Goose had offered confidentiality to a handful of people over the past few days and had received for her trouble some bitter complaints about Rush’s strict enforcement of the no-motorized-vehicle law. He was not a popular man with the snowmobile crowd.
“No, we’d like you to speak to him about this. If you would.”
“Of course.” Goose put her pen to her paper. “Go ahead.”
“Ronnie and I hiked down to the old copper mines last weekend,” Bernie said. “There’s this tincture-of-pyeweed recipe we’ve been working on that we think might benefit from an infusion of copper—”
“The girl doesn’t need our recipe, Bernie,” Ronnie said. “Tell her about the—”
Bernie shot his wife a look that closed her mouth. Goose quietly revised her initial assumption regarding who did the pants wearing in the Samuelssons’ house. “Let’s just say that we saw evidence of activity while we were there.”
“What sort of activity?”
“Been a warm fall. Ferry’s running late this year, which means it’s likely just mainlanders. High school kids doing what high school kids have always done.” Veronica shrugged. “But somebody official needs to check it out. Post some signs or something.”
“We’d just hate for somebody to get hurt,” Bernie said. “Kids are so impulsive, and they get into stuff they have no idea how to control. If you could just, I don’t know.” He spread his hands. “Have Rush look into it?”
“I’ll tell
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