"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."
"Did you look for it?"
"No, Carl,” Paul said. “That scope set me back three-thousand bucks. Why would I look for it? I thought I'd just leave it there until the next time I needed it."
"How am I going to win the tournament without your rifle? That was one fine piece of hardware.” Carl kicked at a dock board in disappointment. “I'd use my own, but the rifles the sheriff gives us are crap. You had your scope aligned so perfectly, I could shoot blindfolded."
Two colorful rafts, toting coolers, floated past the dock. Paul waved at the occupants as they slid off and carried the coolers up the access ramp.
"If you were smart, Carl, you'd capitalize on that access ramp to make extra money."
"What do you mean?” Carl set the red tackle box on the end of the dock.
"Most people think that's a public access. But it's not. That access is on the Witt sisters’ property. They've been letting people use it for years. If I were you, I'd charge per boat to access the lake. In the winter, I'd charge five bucks per vehicle during ice fishing season."
"Why didn't I think of that?” Carl said. “Got any more ideas?"
"Maybe. But they come with a price."
Carl watched Aanders head toward Sadie's cabin, playing a video game as he walked. When Aanders noticed them, he quickly averted his gaze back to his video game.
"Isn't that Nan 's kid?” Carl asked. “Who's he talking to?"
"You got me. Must be the game,” Paul said. “Did you notice how scared he looked? It's almost like he wanted to take off running."
"Give him a break. He just lost his friend. Tell me more about your ideas."
"The reason you didn't think about the access fee is because you haven't challenged your brain. You might have potential, but you don't know how to use it.” Paul tapped his temple. “It's all about manipulation."
"You mean like how you're going to buy the mortuary and trick Nan into marrying you?"
"Something like that."
Paul pointed toward a cluster of children standing around an ice cream cart. The two men sauntered over to the cart. Paul stooped to look into the case. He gestured toward the chocolate tub and pulled a ten from his wallet. Carl waited for his cone before catching up to Paul. “Well?"
"Like I said, it'll cost you. Genius isn't cheap."
"Bull,” Carl uttered. He wiped at the cone with his tongue.
"I could find another location for the mortuary. It isn't set in stone that I have to buy the existing building."
"You backing out on me?” Carl's nostrils flared as his voice rose. Red splotches edged up his neck and onto his cheeks.
Paul grimaced and looked around. “If I were you, I'd keep my voice down. You'll never keep employees if you react like that. You'll scare them away."
Carl slid his mouth around the cone to catch the drips. “Well golly gee, mister businessman, I disagree. I have no intention of changing my ways."
Paul and Carl watched a young woman in a bikini cross in front of them and walk toward the beach. Carl pursed his lips. “Oh baby. Come to papa. To think they'll be parading in front of me all summer is better than a wet dream. I'll be so busy entertaining I'll have to sleep all day to recuperate."
"You talk big, but your wife would chop you into bait and feed you to the fish."
"She'll never know.” Carl pulled a tablet from his back pocket. “I need to add bikini babes to my list of things for the judge. He's coming for dinner tomorrow night. I try to sweeten the pot every time I talk to him."
Carl jabbed Paul with his elbow. “Look who's coming."
Mr. Bakke met the two men on the walkway and nodded as he continued. He shifted a bag of groceries from one arm to the other.
Carl shot his fist in the air. “Yes. How perfect is that?” He turned to watch Mr. Bakke step up onto Sadie's porch. “I hoped one of them would see me. He'll run in and tell them I'm here. That made the drive out here worth it. I'd do anything to aggravate Sadie."
Paul stopped at the edge of the resort property and gazed at the mortuary. “It's a shame to waste shoreline on a mortuary. That hundred feet of beach front could generate a lot of income if you didn't sell it."