Naked Prey

ran straight down a coffee bar, and behind those, and behind a sign that read, PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF, were sixteen booths covered with the same red leatherette as the stools. The place smelled of fried eggs, fried onions, fried potatoes, and fried beef. Eight other customers sat in three groups down the booths. They seemed to be arranged to keep an eye on Del, who sat halfway down the right-hand wall.
    “Anything?” Lucas asked Del, as he and Letty slid into the booth.
    “Ran the numbers. No such tag,” Del said.
    “Shit.” He glanced at Letty. “Shoot.”
    “But it occurs to me that a guy who’s gonna come up here and do something like hang two people would have to be pretty weird to do it in a small town, in his own car. He’s gotta know he’s gonna be somewhat noticed.”
    “You’d think.”
    “So maybe he wouldn’t lie about the Minnesota part of the plates, in case the clerk might notice. Maybe he just jumbled the numbers. I got the guys in St. Paul to look for recent title transfers on older Jeep Cherokees. Turns out the new ones don’t have those taillights. The motel clerk thought that it might be an older model, too.”
    “Maybe get lucky,” Lucas said.
    Letty asked, “Can you guys talk while you eat? Or is that too complicated?”
    Del lifted an eyebrow at her. “My daughter is only three years younger than this kid,” Lucas told him. “Do you think I could lock her in a freezer? I mean, what if she grew a mouth like this one?”
    “Ha ha,” Letty said. She handed a slightly greasy menu to Lucas. “You’re buying.”
    L ETTY STUFFED HERSELF. Del and Lucas went out of their way to prove that they could talk while they ate. The food struggled toward mediocrity, but, Lucas realized as he sampled the potatoes, wasn’t going to make it. Half of the meatloaf was refrigerator cold; the other half, microwave hot. As they were finishing, a tall man in tan Carhartt coveralls came in, stamping his feet and snuffing with the cold. Letty called, “Hey, Bud.”
    The man looked around until he spotted Letty, then stepped over. He was about fifty, Lucas thought, and as thin and hard-looking as an oak rail, with a bulbous red nose and flinty white eyes.
    “Hey, Letty,” he said, his eyes bouncing off Lucas and Del. “Been working hard, or hardly working?”
    “Doin’ okay,” she said. “I heard you been shootin’ beaver again.”
    “Yeah, over to Spike. What’s this about you finding those people? I heard about it at Jerry’s.”
    “Yep.” Letty puffed up a little. “They were nude. ”
    “All right,” Lucas said dryly. “Let’s finish the meatloaf.”
    “Bud’s a trapper, like me,” Letty told them. To Bud: “These guys are state agents. They’re taking me around.”
    Bud nodded. “I thought Jane might come to a bad end,” he said.
    “Why was that?” Lucas asked.
    “Not good people,” he said. “She thought we were a bunch of hicks. She was always laughing at people behind their backs, and she used to talk about Las Vegas all the time, like that was the navel of the universe. Every time she opened her mouth she’d start off by saying, ‘In Las Vegas we used to . . . whatever.’ ”
    “Sounds like you knew her pretty well,” Del said.
    “Just to play blackjack,” the trapper dude said. “She was the main dealer up at Moose Bay.” He hesitated, then said, dropping his voice, “You know what you ought to do when you get up to the casino, is talk to a guy named Terry Anderson. He knew Warr real well.” He leaned on real just enough.
    Lucas nodded and said, “I’ll do that. Thanks. Terry Anderson.”
    “Any relation to the sheriff?” Del asked.
    The trapper was puzzled, looked at Letty and then back to Del. “Terry? Why would he be?”
    “Both Andersons?” Del suggested.
    The trapper cackled: “Shit, buddy, half the people up here are Andersons.”
    They talked for another fifteen seconds, then Bud retreated to the counter and got a menu.
    “Heck of a trapper, and he’s supposed to be an unbelievable hunter, too. He knows more about animals than they know themselves,” Letty said. “He’s been number one around here for years.”
    “Taught you everything you know?”
    She shook her head: “He doesn’t teach anything to anybody. He’s got his secrets and he keeps them.”
    Lucas dropped his voice to match hers: “Think he might have had anything going with Jane?”
    “No.” Now she was almost whispering. “Don’t look at him, he’ll