Chapter 3

Martin woke the next morning, troubled by Don’s question. What could Dayton Daniels and Jeff Howe have been arguing about in a back booth at Risky Dick’s? That they were there at all was curious, but arguing, about anything, was incredible. Dayton and Jeff had been best friends all their lives and didn’t disagree about anything. Not one thing. Anyone in Burnett County who knew them (and everyone did) would say they were like brothers. Closer than brothers. And no one had ever heard so much as one angry word between them.
Martin mentally considered the two men as he ate his poached eggs and toast down at Risky Dick’s before going in to work. Dayton and Jeff were the closest thing to A-listers Burnett County had. Both handsome and powerful, each with a beautiful and accomplished wife and two smart and lovely daughters. They had both been born at the Burnett County Medical Center in 1963, and met in Kindergarten. They were inseparable throughout their school years and spent much of their time attending Siren High School winning trophies and making headlines for breaking county sports records.
Academics were the only thing that separated the two boys. Dayton consistently made straight A’s, Jeff straight C’s. Jeff’s mother claimed he was more street smart than book smart, but the truth was, Jeff just didn’t try very hard. He always attended class, but his attention was never on the teacher. Jeff had friends to talk to, dates to make, stories to tell. He held court as much as anything. And Dayton often studied for the both of them, making sure that notes were taken and concepts learned, mostly to make sure he made his own marks, but also to pass on the necessary information to his best friend so that he could do well enough to pass his courses and continue to play sports, serving as captain of all of Siren High School’s teams in their senior year.
Upon graduation, Dayton went on to college in Madison, even though he could have easily just slid into a position in his father’s plumbing business. Dayton wanted a business degree to accompany his technical skills, knowing he would someday take over that family business. Jeff, on the other hand, stayed in Siren, started a construction business, leveraging his high school athletic reputation and winning personality. His success was evident immediately, and when Dayton came home from Madison, degree in hand, the two of them set up a collaborative business venture that became involved in just about every major building project in Burnett County. Howe Construction and Daniels Plumbing were listed on building permit after building permit, and the two men spent the next twenty years becoming more successful and richer than either of them had ever imagined they’d be when they fished together as young boys on Johnson Lake or hunted together on the vacant property off County Road C in Danbury. And more powerful. And more entwined with each other’s lives.


Martin thought about the last time he saw Dayton and Jeff together. It had been at the last Siren School Board meeting. Jeff was chair of the school board, Dayton, vice chair. As Martin recollected the meeting, he remembered the proceedings were uneventful, bordering on boring, just like Clark Grayson liked things. Dayton and Jeff were professional, but friendly, showing their typical confidence and community leadership. The meeting ended within the one hour of time allotted, and Martin overheard the two of them making plans to have dinner together the following evening.
When Martin got to his cubicle at the Sentinel that morning, he dug out the agenda from the last school board meeting and quickly glanced at it. He looked at the date on the document and realized it was last week Monday, the night before Dayton and Jeff met for dinner, which must have been at Risky Dick’s. The site of their rare argument.
Martin let his eyes travel over the agenda. Spring athletic schedule. Prom update. Graduation plans. Budget planning for the next school years. Impending retirements. Nothing looked suspicious, and Martin let the piece of paper slide into the garbage can by his desk.
“Don’s imagining things,” Martin said to himself. “What could those two possibly have to argue about?”