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rod, which had not been cheap, they had been acquired before his late wife caught on to his budding interest in a new sport. That he knew because he had a vivid memory of Mary Lee putting her foot down: “Paul, you have enough fishing equipment. I refuse to let you spend another dime of our money—”
    Later that same day he had driven to town and shown the fly rod to the owner of Ralph’s Sporting Goods whom he knew to be an avid fly fisherman. The rod was a good one and Ralph was willing to take it on consignment but he encouraged Osborne to give fly fishing a try first.
    “Doc, if you were interested once, who knows—you might like it. Spin fishing keeps you on the water but fly fishing takes you into the water. A very different experience. I know you love the outdoors and no doubt you own some waders—”
    “Okay, okay, you don’t have to twist my arm, Ralph,” said Osborne, “but how do I get started? I’ve never cast a fly rod in my life.”
    “Tell you what, Doc. I know a real good instructor who can show you a few basics—help you decide if it’s something you want to do …”
    And so he had agreed to let Ralph book him “half day” for a hundred bucks with a guy named “Lou.” Ralph would make money on the booking, of course, but Osborne didn’t mind. He had nothing better to do and why not give the rod and those trout flies a try?
    Turned out to be the best hundred bucks he’d spent in years: “Lou” turned out to be “Lew”—a police officer moonlighting as a fly fishing instructor. Nor was “Lew” a guy. And as Osborne learned to cast a fly rod, Officer Lewellyn Ferris, on getting to know her student, was introduced to the concept of forensic odontology.
    This was a trade that benefited both of them when, weeks later, the Loon Lake coroner was on one of his benders (alleged as always by his wife to be a “last minute vacation”) just as an individual passed away under circumstances that required a signed death certificate before the family could deal with the remains. A certain police officer knew just whom to call.
    “Doc,” Lew had said when she called him the first time, “Pecore is hopeless around booze but there is nothing the department can do. He is appointed town coroner by the mayor and—since the jabone is married to the mayor’s wife’s sister—he’s home free. We have to deal with him.”
    “Isn’t that too bad,” said Dr. Paul Osborne, managing to keep his tone serious even as he was delighted to be deputized to work with her. That occasion was soon followed by others, including the opportunity to ID crime victims.
    When the current chief of police retired, Lewellyn Ferris was promoted to his position. Not only did this enhance her authority to deputize whomever she might need but Osborne’s skills in dental forensics gave her leverage—and a direct benefit to her budget—as she could loan him out to the Wausau Crime Lab, which could not afford a full-time odontologist.
    So it was that Dr. Paul Osborne found himself once again in a position to barter his dental skills: The Loon Lake Police Department could pay for his time or their Chief of Police could continue his fly fishing instructions in the trout stream—at no cost.
    Talk about a no-brainer!

C HAPTER 7
    “H ey, Doc, I hear the Chief got you out of bed, too, huh?”
    “Almost—I was in my PJs.”
    The face grinning into the open window of Osborne’s car belonged to Terry Donovan, the younger of Lew Ferris’s two full-time officers. “Say,” he said without waiting for Osborne to answer, “I picked up a four-wheeler from the sheriff’s garage and dropped it off at the access road that runs up to the trails. Only way we can get back in there with our equipment. I’ve got Ray staying warm in my car here and thought I’d drive both you fellas back there. But I want you to leave your cars here at the trailhead.”
    “Do I need a helmet?” asked Osborne, reaching for the black bag in which he