"But Theo…"

"I don't want to hear it. People have taken advantage of me all my life. I'm sick of it. My wife and her children lived beyond our means and expected me to cover their debts. I was forced to do it so I wouldn't become the joke of the judicial system.” Stabbing the air with his finger Theo said, “I lived nine years of pure hell because of those bastards."

"Can't you draw up another will and back date it? I'll take it to your attorney. He won't know the difference. As long as your signature's on it, it's valid."

"Sadie. Shame on you.” Theo grinned. “I could do that, but I won't."

"You can't cash them in the parallel world."

"Do you know that for a fact?” Theo asked. “Nevertheless, my satisfaction lies in the knowledge my wife won't get her hands on the money. My will stipulates I bequeath the balance of my holdings to my wife. When she finds out there are no holdings left, my revenge will be complete. All that spending will come back and bite her in her greedy Gucci pocketbook."

A crooked smile formed on Theo's lips before he broke into a broad grin. “I think I'll compose a letter telling her I've hidden the money in one of my law books. I'm gambling she got rid of them. She hated that library. We had many a squabble over the hours I spent in there."

"That's downright mean,” Sadie said.

"It is, isn't it? Let them pine over the missing money.” Patting his briefcase he said, “These gems are going with me."

17

Carl and Paul leaned against the hood of the patrol car. Waves of heat emanated from the vehicle, adding to the discomfort of the humid summer afternoon. Carl pointed at the marker indicating the resort's boundary line and fanned his arm the entire length of the beachfront. “Then starting right there, the next hundred feet of shoreline belongs to the mortuary. When Judge Kimmer rules in my favor, I'll own that, too.” Carl rubbed his hands together. “It can't happen soon enough for me."

A green Buick slowed to a stop. The driver leaned out and asked for directions to the lodge. “Make a right at the next driveway. You can't miss it. Enjoy your stay, it's a great place,” Carl said.

Paul elbowed Carl. “Now that's good marketing. A thumbs-up from a man in uniform should bring them back next summer."

"You know that book you told me about? I bought it last week. I can sum it up in two words."

"Two?” Paul asked. “That's all you got out of it was two words?"

"Kiss butt. Customer service means kissing your customers’ butts and doing it with a smile."

"I suppose you could look at it that way. Your customer is your meal ticket. Don't ever forget that. The resort business is a service industry and your customers expect to be waited on."

"Bull,” Carl spat. “My staff is going to do the butt-kissing. I'm going to sit behind that big oak desk and give orders."

A truck towing a boat trailer edged its way to the far side of the parking lot before backing down the access ramp. The passenger got out and gestured directions to the driver. As Carl approached the truck, the driver shouted, “Are they bitin'?"

The passenger tugged on the boat to loosen it from the trailer. He guided the boat toward the dock.

Carl reached out and flagged his hand, indicating he wanted the man to throw him the rope. He pulled the boat to the dock and secured the rope.

"I saw some big fillets coming out of the cleaning shack,” Carl said. “Some of the biggest I've seen this summer."

"Hot damn. We drove all the way up from Minneapolis. Them babies better be hoppin’ in the boat."

Carl pointed to one of the two large, red tackle boxes sitting on the boat's floor. “With that gear, you won't have any problem."

"We're not coming in till we catch our limit,” the man shouted over the roar of the motor. He fastened his life jacket, pushed the lever forward and glided past a row of yellow boundary floats.

"Good luck,” Paul shouted, joining Carl at the end of the dock.

Paul pointed at the sign over the marina. “The first thing you need to do is get rid of that sign."

"Why? I like it."

"'EAT, GET GAS AND WORMS’ isn't exactly a great endorsement. I'm surprised anyone dares stop."

"It's a landmark. It's been there since I can remember,” Carl said.

"Who do you want to cater to, the pro fisherman or the rednecks?"

"It doesn't matter as long as they've got money. Speaking of money, I need a business manager like your partner. Too bad he kicked the bucket."

"I still can't believe he's gone,” Paul said. “Have you heard any more on the investigation?"

"Nah. I'm guessing Lon dropped it. He must have realized he'd be a bigger ass than he already is if anyone got wind of his suspicions."

"Let me know if you hear any more,” Paul said.

"Quit worrying. Lon's a dufus. Besides, I've got more important things on my mind. I need to plan the eviction. I want to evict the Witt sisters the day I win the lawsuit."

Paul grabbed Carl's arm, his eyes brimming with annoyance. “Haven't you listened to anything I've said? If you evict them right before the election, you won't stand a chance. People respect the Witt sisters. You need to wait until after you've been declared the winner."

"Paul,” Carl whined, “you're ruining my day."

"If you don't start using common sense, you'll lose everything.” Paul threw his hands up in the air. “You're hopeless."

The two men turned to walk back to shore. Carl tripped over a red tackle box and fell to his knees. Tackle rattled as the case tipped sideways and skittered to the edge of the dock. Paul scrambled to keep the box from falling into the lake.

"What the hell?” Carl looked out into the bay. “Isn't that one of the tackle boxes they had in their boat?” Carl scanned the horizon for the boat.

"That's what I wondered,” Paul said. “How'd it get here? Maybe I should get one of the dock boys to take it out to them?"

"Nah,” Carl said. “If they're that dumb, that's their problem. Besides, as soon as they realize it's missing, they'll come looking for it. We'll leave it on the dock."

A deer bounded out of the woods and skidded on the tarred access ramp. Startled by the figures on the dock, the doe tried to regain her footing while simultaneously spinning back toward the trees. Pushing off with her hind legs, she hurtled twice and disappeared back into the underbrush. The thick growth parted and swayed as the deer vanished.

"Holy balls. Where did that come from?"

"I think the deer flies are driving them crazy,” Paul said. “They dart everywhere trying to get away from the flies. I'm guessing one bolted out in front of the Fossums’ car."

Carl scanned the underbrush. “Did you ever get Richard's briefcase from his sister?"

"Not yet. She left town to take care of her father. When she gets back, she'll let me in so I can load up the stuff he had in his home office."

A rustle of leaves drew their attention back to the woods. A deer hesitated before bounding through an opening and running across the parking lot into the woods on the north side of the resort.

"That reminds me,” Carl said, faking a shot at the fleeing animal. “I need to borrow your rifle again. I'm competing in a tournament next week. I have better luck with your rifle than I do with mine. With your scope and my dead aim, it's a given I'll walk away with first place."

"I lost it,” Paul said.

"Lost it? How could you lose something like that?” Carl removed his cap and scratched the top of his scalp with his little finger. Paul had probably spent more on that scope than he had earned last month. Heat welled up around Carl's neck. It was an angry heat triggered by Paul's blase attitude toward his possessions.

"I took it out to the woods to adjust the scope. It must have shook loose and fell off my four-wheeler when I drove home."