Secret Prey

vacuum and so on.’’
    ‘‘That seems like quite a lot of work,’’ Lucas said.
    ‘‘Well, he liked to have cars in his driveway. He was always worried he was gonna be burglarized or something. Not saying that it couldn’t happen. He told me once that instead of working all day on a job, he’d be happier if I’d break it up so I’d be around here every day, one time or another.’’
    ‘‘Did he have parties, or lots of guests? People coming and going?’’
    ‘‘No, not a lot of them—but he did have one big party every summer for management people at the bank,’’
    Wiener said. ‘‘They’d come up here and swim off the dock and drink and the kids’d fish for bluegills and everybody’d go down to the range and shoot for a while.’’
    ‘‘He’s got a gun range here?’’
    ‘‘Just a gully, shooting against the end of it. You know, twenty-five feet to a hundred yards.’’
    ‘‘Twenty-five feet? These are handguns?’’
    ‘‘Yeah, and .22 rifles for the kids. You know, just fartin’ around.’’
    ‘‘Huh. Handguns.’’ A handgun would be interesting, especially a big one, like a .44 Mag or a .45 Colt or a .357 Maximum. McDonald could have carried it in concealed, come back, shot Kresge, thrown the gun away. Although the ME thought the killing shot had come from a rifle, a powerful handgun might be an alternative. ‘‘The sheriff took an inventory of guns in the cabin. I didn’t see any handguns on the list.’’
    ‘‘I don’t know, they never asked me about it. They just cleaned out the gun cabinet, and that was it.’’
    ‘‘Was Kresge big on handguns?’’
    ‘‘Naw, not really. I mean, some. Most of the handguns were brought down by the guests. City people don’t get to shoot that much, and they all seemed to like it, get a few beers in them. Mr. Kresge had a handgun, because I saw it: it was a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum, silver. But I think he brought it with him, when he came up from the Cities.’’
    ‘‘A .357 Magnum? Or maximum?’’
    ‘‘Oh, I think . . . a Magnum. Never heard of maximum.’’
    ‘‘And he brought it with him.’’
    ‘‘I think. Then, it’s not exactly a handgun, or maybe it is . . . but he had a Contender. That should have been on the sheriff’s list. That was up here.’’
    ‘‘A Contender?’’ A Contender would be perfect.’’
    ‘‘You know, one of the—’’
    ‘‘I know Contenders. Scoped?’’
    ‘‘Yeah.’’
    ‘‘I don’t think that was on the inventory.’’
    ‘‘Should have been. He keeps it in the gun cabinet. At least, he did. Unless he took it back.’’
    ‘‘We’ll check that,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘Do you know Wilson McDonald? Big guy?’’
    Wiener nodded. ‘‘Yeah, I’ve seen him a time or two.’’
    ‘‘What’d he shoot when he came up here?’’
    Wiener shook his head: ‘‘Couldn’t tell you. Don’t even know if he was a shooter, tell you the truth. Mr. Robles, he was a shooter: he’d help instruct the kids and shoot off his mouth about everything about guns. But I think Mr. McDonald was mostly a drinker. That’s what I remember about him.’’
    THEY FOLLOWED THE SHORELINE AROUND THE LAKE to the first stand, where Robles had been stationed. Lucas went down to the stand, climbed the tree, and eased himself out onto the platform of two-by-fours.
    ‘‘Did you build the stands?’’ Lucas called down to Wiener.
    ‘‘Naw, a couple of boys up from Wyoming built ’em,’’ he said. ‘‘They were joking about putting in electricity.’’
    The tree stand was one of the more comfortable that Lucas had been in. He could stretch his legs, lean back against the tree trunk, and still look out over the hillside edging the alder swamp. The swamp itself was dotted with stands of aspen, signs of higher ground, with a big, thick island in the middle. Here and there he could see shiny lenses of ice, where a stretch of open water lay at the surface. All around, he could make out the faint telltale trails threading through the brush, signs that deer were working the place. Robles’s stand was uphill from what looked like a major deer interchange.
    ‘‘There’s a finger of land goes out into the swamp from there,’’ Wiener called. ‘‘Deer can walk right out into that stand of aspens in the middle. Man’d probably drown if he tried to follow; before freeze-up, anyway.’’
    ‘‘Okay . . .’’
    They checked all the other stands in turn, spread out over three