Secret Prey

from Childhood ,’’ and Bone said, ‘‘Christ, we’re so cultured I can’t stand it,’’ and Lucas said, ‘‘A friend of mine used to play them. Why would McDonald do Andy Ingall?’’
    ‘‘Because they were both candidates to run the operation. Then Andy sailed out of Superior Harbor one day, just moving his boat up to the islands. He never got there. No storm, no emergency calls, nothing. Just phhht. Gone. The theory was that he had a leaky gas tank—he had some kind of old gas engine, an Atomic, or something like that—and gas leaked into the bilge, and he fired up the engine out on the water somewhere, and boom. He was gone before he could call for help. That was the theory, but nobody ever knew for sure. No wreckage was ever found.’’
    ‘‘So McDonald got the job.’’
    ‘‘Well, no. When Andy disappeared, everything was screwed up for a while; then we had a general shuffling around, and McDonald wound up as a senior vice president in the mortgage company.’’
    ‘‘Huh,’’ said Lucas, and Bone said, ‘‘Yeah,’’ and asked, ‘‘Can’t you get this stuff from the FBI or somewhere?’’
    ‘‘Probably not. Besides, the computer’s down.’’
    ‘‘You too? Christ, it’s chaos downstairs . . .’’
    ‘‘Did you ever hear that McDonald might whack his wife around from time to time? Pretty seriously?’’
    Bone nodded. ‘‘I heard it. I went out with a lawyer lady for a while, old family, she knows that whole country club bunch; and she said something to me about it. She might have some details . . . You could talk to her if you want.’’
    ‘‘That’d be good . . .’’
    Bone scratched a name and phone number on a piece of notepaper and pushed it across the desk. ‘‘Sandra Ollsen, two l ’s. That’s her office phone over at Kelly, Batten.’’
    ‘‘What kind of law?’’
    ‘‘Estate planning, wills, trusts.’’ He looked at his watch and said, ‘‘Listen, I’ve got to go to a meeting, but I can talk to a guy who’s gonna be there, and find out if there was anything between Wilson and Arris.’’
    Lucas said, ‘‘Thanks,’’ stood up, and as they shook hands, said, ‘‘I understand you used to play a little ball.’’
    ‘‘Yeah, a little,’’ Bone said.
    ‘‘How well do you know Dama Isley?’’
    ‘‘Reasonably well—I heard he played for the Gophers, back when. Hard to believe.’’
    ‘‘Yeah. Listen, next time you see him, take a couple of minutes and talk a little ball, old-time stuff, like college days.’’
    Bone shrugged. ‘‘Sure. Why?’’
    ‘‘Private project,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘You still play?’’
    Bone, grinning, said, ‘‘I still shoot around a little bit on Saturdays. Always a couple of kids trying to take advantage of me.’’
    Lucas said, ‘‘A banker? Playing for money?’’
    ‘‘Good grief, no,’’ Bone said. ‘‘Not for money. That’d be illegal.’’
    ON THE WAY OUT, LUCAS PAUSED IN THE OPEN DOOR of Bone’s office, saw Kerin Baki talking to the secretary, and said, loud enough for her to overhear, ‘‘I’m probably going to want to talk about McDonald again.’’
    Bone, already settling back into his desk, distracted, missed the double-directed comment, nodded, said, ‘‘Okay,’’ and Lucas pulled the door shut. He smiled at Baki on the way out and said, ‘‘Thank you.’’
    By the time the elevators reached the bottom floor, he thought, the word on McDonald would be out. If Baki was as efficient as she looked, she could never pass on the chance to screw one of her boss’s competitors.
    LIKE BONE, SANDRA OLLSEN WAS REALLY TOO BUSY TO talk to Lucas; but he mentioned Bone’s name and was admitted to the mahogany offices of Kelly, Batten, Orstein & Shirinjivi. Ollsen was a tall, coordinated woman who looked as though she might once have played some ball herself.
    ‘‘How’s Jim?’’ she asked casually as Lucas settled into the chair across her desk.
    ‘‘Looks fine; something of a power struggle going on over there,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘Yes. With Susan O’Dell. I hope she kicks his butt.’’
    ‘‘Really?’’ Lucas asked.
    ‘‘Really,’’ she said. Lucas, bemused, watched her for a moment, waiting, and then she said, ‘‘He sort of dumped me.’’
    ‘‘Ah. I know the feeling,’’ Lucas said.
    She looked him over. ‘‘I don’t think so,’’ she said after a minute.
    ‘‘You’d be wrong,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘Anyway . . . he seems to