Alexei and Dmitry exchanged another glance, this time with an audible sigh of resignation.
“Assuming we find the body,” Dmitry said. “What the hell are we supposed to do with it?”
“Ah, a very good question,” Viktor said. He looked at Nikolai. “Any suggestions?”
“I don’t think we have a lot of choice,” Nikolai said. “We can’t have it discovered. I think we have to bring it back here.”
“But where would we put it?” Viktor questioned. “It’s going to get ripe very quickly if it isn’t already.”
“What about putting it down in the wine cellar?” Nikolai suggested.
“I can’t imagine that is cool enough,” Viktor said with a shake of his head. “And it will start to smell up the entire house.”
“Then I don’t know what we could do with it,” Nikolai said. “But wait! I do have an idea. What about the old icehouse out back? It’s perfect. It’s mostly underground, and it’s got a lockable, formidable door. Most important, I’ve never seen the lawn people or the property management fellows go in there, so it should be secure. Have any of you seen anybody go in?”
All shook their heads.
“The boys could make a run up to the supermarket in Indian River and get some bulk ice to pack around the body,” Nikolai added. “That will help slow any putrefaction, and we can add additional ice over the next few days until we leave.”
Both Alexei and Dmitry stiffened at being called “boys” by Nikolai, but both held their tongues.
“Good idea,” Viktor said with a nod. “That’s the plan unless we come up with something better in the meantime. So, Alexei and Dmitry, you two head out and get the ice while Nikolai and I finish preparing the dinner. By the time you get back, we’ll have it on the table. Then after dinner you two can go get the body. Are you okay not taking a shower until later, Alexei?”
“I suppose,” Alexei said, although he didn’t know why Dmitry couldn’t go to the damn supermarket by himself. He also wondered how easy it was going to be to find Ethan Jameson’s body. The man had been such a pain in the ass when he was alive, Alexei couldn’t help fear he might turn out to be equally difficult in death.
Chapter 12
Wednesday, July 23, 7:35p.m.
Hamilton County, New York
Laurie was driving from the Hiram House to the Nielsons’, mainly because she’d gotten out to the Jeep before Jack. She’d even started the car’s engine before he’d appeared since she was eager to get underway, and it was obvious that they were going to be a bit late. Jack had not gotten back from his basketball playing until after seven, even though they were due at the Nielsons’ at seven thirty. She was a stickler for being on time for social engagements, whereas Jack was a bit loosey-goosey in such circumstances, even though in professional situations he was invariably early.
“Hey, relax,” Jack encouraged, sensing Laurie’s tenseness as she turned east on the road to Indian River and then north on the road to Eastham. “We’re on vacation, and you in particular are on vacation after your coup this morning about the new morgue. I’m sure Bob got home about the same time as I. I wouldn’t be shocked if he was still in the shower when we get there.”
“You’re right,” Laurie admitted and visibly relaxed. “Being accustomed to New York City where everything is convenient, I’m finding it frustrating how far we have to drive to get to a lake only a mile away from ours as the crow flies.”
Jack laughed. “As they say: You can take the girl out of New York but you can’t take New York out of the girl.”
Laurie reached over and playfully swatted Jack’s thigh, and he humorously overreacted.
A few minutes later they pulled up to a snug, two-story, cedar shingled, relatively new, wood-frame house with lots of multipaned windows all attractively shuttered. Emerging from the center of its dormered gambrel roof was a massive fieldstone chimney. What was most impressive to the two urbanites was how close it was built to a lake that was remarkably similar in size and appearance to theirs, except that here there were a number of houses visible along its shoreline. Even from within their car they could see at least a half dozen, each with its own dock.
Laurie switched off the car’s ignition, but for a moment neither she nor Jack moved, taking in the scene. “What a cute house,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “It’s such a different world from ours. It’s so peaceful and clean. On another note, what architectural style would you call it?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Jack said. “But it is cute, although I doubt that ‘cute’ is an architectural term.”
“I’m sure you got that right,” Laurie said with a laugh. “Come on! Let’s go inside. We’re already late.”
As Laurie and Jack exited their respective sides of the Jeep, the home’s distinctive, bright red, high-gloss paneled front door flew open. Bob emerged, holding the door ajar with one hand and waving with the other. “Welcome, folks! Get your butts in here! ChiefHargrove and his wife, Grace, are already here and the barbie is fired up and raring to go.”
“We were both quite taken by your home,” Laurie said as she approached the door Bob was holding open for them. “It’s so charming.”
“Thank you,” Bob said. “We’re happy with it. Carol and I had decided to downsize when our last daughter left for college three years ago, and in preparation we’d spent the prior years designing this house with the help of an architect we’d found over in Saratoga Springs.”
“You guys did a great job,” Laurie said. She paused to gaze more closely at the front façade. “What style would you call it?”
Bob shrugged. “I don’t know if it could be considered any particular style. It’s kind of our fusion of Colonial and Cape Cod. Inside you’ll see it is more Colonial than Cape Cod while out here it is the opposite.
