The Equalizer (13 page)

I said, “But the thing is,
Johnston
didn’t know that. So, he still had strong motive and his only alibi is his girlfriend.”

“Betty, those ballistics tests are crucial,” Ralph said.

“I’ll get on it right after we adjourn and call you with the results.”

Ralph gave a summary of his interview with Eleanor Kohler that added no significant information—which reminded me of the photo in Fairchild’s office.

“Okay, something interesting. I stopped by the bank to get pre-approval for my car loan, and Fairchild himself helps me. On his wall, he has photos of family hunting trips. In one of the photos Eleanor is standing by the elk she shot. There’s some time unaccounted for on the morning of the shooting—maybe enough time to drive out to Emmaline and back then run errands.”

“Her alibi checks out,” Ralph said. “Talked with the carwash and Nancy Martin—they confirmed her whereabouts.”

“Maybe Rodney Teal’s right and her old man put out a hit on him,” Troy said. “Ronny’s drives in, sees what’s going down and takes off. Gets shot in the back.”

“Troy, are you gonna go up to a pillar of the community and accuse him of putting a hit out on his son-in-law?” said Jack.

“Do I look stupid? I thought you’d do that, boss. The guy owns my house and car.” He got the laughs he wanted.

“Actually, I don’t think Troy’s scenario is out of the question. Fairchild doesn’t seem broken up about Ted’s death. Kohler had week-old injuries—something was going on they’re not talking about,” I said.

Jack threw a pencil across the table. “Jesus Christ. Things are getting carried away in here.”

“People do things when emotionally charged they’d never do ordinarily,” I said.

“No shit, Sherlock, ” Jack said. “All I’m saying is that it is absolutely idiotic to think Ham Fairchild would put a hit out on Ted. What’d be his motive? We have no indication anything improper was going on in Ted’s life.”

No shit, Sherlock? Nice.
He succeeded in embarrassing me.

“So what do the rest of you think?” asked Ralph.

Bodies shifting in chairs, a cough, and an “um” were the only responses.

“Go ahead. Investigate both Ham and Eleanor, but this department is going to look like horse’s asses if we accuse but can’t prove anything,” Jack said.

Ralph and I looked at each other. Everyone else, except Jack, suddenly had something very important to study in his or her notebooks.

Ralph said, “This is the way I see it. We live in a small community and it can get uncomfortable when we have to investigate people we know. You know as well as I do, Jack, that the spouse and family are always looked at, and we can do it without creating a big stink. Now, back to the interviews. I spoke with Kohler’s mother and sister. Neither knows of anyone who’d do Kohler harm and said Ted never mentioned any difficulty with clients or anyone else, for that matter. So, our only real unknowns are Wynn and Redding. Cal, see what you can find out about them today.”

Jack didn’t look happy. “Unless there’s something critical I need to hear, I’ll be returning to my office to attend to all the other business I’ve been neglecting. Ralph remains lead investigator so your reports should be submitted to him. Cal will remain on the case. By the way, the Kohler funeral is on Wednesday at ten o’clock at St. Stephens. Peterson’s is on Thursday, same time, same place. Let Georgia know if you’ll be attending either.”

When the meeting ended, I heard Troy asked Jack if he could speak to him. He wanted to bump me off the case, and he’d probably win that one. I wasn’t feeling so confident after Jack’s cheap shot.

I headed straight to the office to do what I should have done when I found Ronny’s phone. The lock hadn’t been turned on so I was able to get into it. If the phone had been glued to Ronny’s hand like his mother said, you couldn’t prove it by the amount of calls.

October 7
th

Two unheard messages: 1) Gus told Ronny he was on his way 2) Gus wondered where Ronny was and asked him to call back.

Received call: dental office at 7:03 a.m.

Calls made: To Gus at 7:18 a.m.

Missed calls: the two from Gus, three from my phone yesterday.

October 6
th

Calls made: to Zach Whitman at 7:05 p.m.

Received calls: 1) From his home phone at 5:00 p.m. 2) From Zach Whitman at 8:04 p.m.

I found it interesting Jack’s grandson, Zach, was one of our victim’s recent contacts. I copied the number and left a message for him to call me ASAP. So, Ronny made a call from his cell phone that morning, which meant he obviously had his phone at that point.

Troy was wearing a smirk as he entered the office and sat at his desk. That meant he probably got Jack to assign him to the case . . . maybe even replace me. Why is there always an asshole in every group?

Chapter 14

DAY FIVE

I
t was a rare moment
when Troy, Ralph and I were all in the investigations office. I was checking the incident involving the altercation between Peterson and Pierce Redding that occurred last summer. Shannon had arrested both Peterson and Redding for assault but the charges were later reduced to disorderly conduct. Peterson paid a small fine and Redding failed to appear and had a warrant out. After a bit of research, I found an Oklahoma address for Redding. He didn’t have any priors in Minnesota nor did he have a drivers’ license or vehicle registered to him. After I informed Ralph, my desk phone rang, I thought it was another reporter trying to get a lead concerning the case, but the display said Birch County.

“Sheehan,” I answered.

“Hi, Cal, this is Naomi.”

“Oh, hi!” I said. I glanced at Ralph and Troy. Both were watching me. I swiveled my chair to face my desk.

“I’m so glad you stopped by Sunday night,” she said.

I pretended to write some notes. “Yeah, me too.”

“But I didn’t call to compliment you on your sexual prowess, although I’d certainly rate it as a ten plus, I called to find out when my guys can get into Emmaline Park to pull that dock, close up the park.”

“Hold on, Ralph Martinson’s right here.” I put my hand over the receiver. “Ralph, Naomi Moberg wants to know when her guys can go in and close up Emmaline.”

“Today, as far as I’m concerned,” he said. “We’re done out there.”

I repeated what he’d said.

“Thanks, that’s good news. Cal, I want to go out myself and see where it happened. Would you possibly have time to show me sometime?”

“How about if I meet you out there today . . . at twelve o’clock?”

“Perfect,” she said.

When I hung up, I asked Ralph if he had a problem with Naomi’s request.

He shook his head. “Nope. So, you’re going to meet her out there?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going with,” Troy said.

“Oh, I got a call from Jack. He assigned Troy to the case too, part time,” Ralph said.

Just as I thought.

“Uh, okay.”

We left for Lake Emmaline at 11:45 p.m.

“So, how’d you manage that?” I asked.

“What?”

“Getting on the case.”

“Jack thought you could use the help because you’re inexperienced.”

“Right.”

“I mean why would Jack assign a rookie who has shit for experience to the biggest case we’ve ever had?”

“You wanted on the case—you’re on—now shut the fuck up about my inexperience. How many murders have you investigated?”

He shrugged.

“Thought so.”

He began prattling on about his wild weekend in Vegas with April Kadinsky, his intermittent girlfriend for six years. I volleyed my attention between him and my family’s recent disclosures like I was flipping through tacky reality TV shows. I managed to say, “Uh huh” a couple times, which seemed to satisfy him.

We drove into the Emmaline Park at noon. The only evidence of a double murder was the yellow crime scene tape—trampled and flapping. We had just exited the vehicle when Naomi drove up in a county pick-up truck. All County Park vehicles were white with the green Birch County Parks logo on the cab doors. She was wearing a royal-blue suit with a skirt just to the tops of her knees—and running shoes.

“Funny to see a woman all dolled up hopping outta a pick-up truck,” Troy said.

It was. Naomi and I shook hands and exchanged smiles like nothing was between us.

When Troy shook her hand, he held it a second too long. “Don’t you look nice,” he said.

She blushed and smiled at his flattery. When I showed them where Kohler had tied his boat, Naomi asked why the top of a dock post was sawed off. I explained.

“Good, so you have a bullet. I’ll just have the boys replace the post.”

Then they followed me to the location where Ronny Peterson’s body was found. As we approached, we could see wasps buzzing the blood patch in the middle of the marked outline. Upon sight, Naomi started tearing up. We all stood there a few seconds before she said, “Ronny was kind of a soft guy underneath all that tough exterior. He cried at my mom’s funeral—said he knew her from the shop and she was always so friendly.”

“Yes, she was. Always had a big smile,” I said. I pictured Neva Hunt behind the counter. Somehow I couldn’t picture Ronny owning clothes that needed dry cleaning, but what did I know?

We stood there in silence until Naomi said, “I’ll be glad to close this park this year.”

“I’ll bet,” I said.

Troy said, “The only park open year round is South Birch, right?”

“Right. It’s a revenue maker with the educational programs, cross-country ski rentals trails, and Minnesota Fare.”

“The restaurant was your doing, Naomi?” Troy asked.

She nodded.

“The food’s great,” he said. “You’ve made great improvements to the county park system.”

She seemed to be soaking in his schmoozing, when another county truck rolled in.

“Can your guys remove the tape?” I asked.

“Sure, I’ll tell them. Thanks for meeting me out here. You guys get the son of a bitch who did this,” she said.

“We’re trying,” I said.

She nodded and walked toward her park workers.

Troy asked where we’d found the evidence so I showed him. He whistled. “Man, we’re lucky the shooter left the casings.”

“I think he may have been too rushed to take the time to find them among the leaves, and we do have the three bullets. Now to find the matching rifle.”

When we got back in the vehicle we both watched Naomi get into her truck. He nodded toward her. “She’s mighty fine.”

“Aren’t you with April?”

“
With
her? No. Banging her? Yes.”

“Do you usually
bang
more than one woman at a time?”

“Sometimes it just works out that way. Besides, April’s a party girl and I can’t see her as a mother.”

“Huh. Never thought you’d think of women as mothers.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a player, Kern.”

“I could settle down if the right woman came along.”

“Wow. A new side to Troy.”

“What can I say?”

I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell him I’d been with Naomi. Maybe because I wasn’t sure what we had going.

On the way back
to the office, we stopped at Subway to pick up sandwiches, and who happened to be in line, but Naomi’s husband, Jeremy. He stood five-foot-nine, had a medium build, copper red hair, thin lips and a massive amount of freckles. He turned and spotted us. He never seemed particularly happy.

“Hey!” he said without a smile, as we took our places behind him in line.

I wondered if he knew about Naomi and me. “Hey, Jeremy. How ya doing?” I said, trying to be nonchalant.

“Great. Troy, haven’t seen you in an age,” he said.

“Are you still working at the candy factory?” Troy asked.

“Yep, yep. I made vice-president.”

“I don’t think I could stand that sweet smell all day long,” Troy said.

“You don’t notice it in the administration office,” Jeremy.

“That’s not what I heard. I heard things are pretty sticky sweet for you in there.”

Jeremy blushed and swallowed hard noted by the bobbing of his prominent Adam’s apple. “Say Cal, what do you hear from Adriana?”

“Not much.” I pointed forward, letting Jeremy know it was his turn to order.

While our sandwiches were being made he said, “I often wonder about her—if she enjoys her new position with that prestigious law firm,” he said.

“Imagine so,” I said.

“This guy was crazy not to follow that babe down to Minneapolis. Am I right, Troy?”

“Right. Your divorce final?” Troy said.

Jeremy sneered, curling his thin upper lip. “No. Would you believe Naomi called me this morning and wanted to know if I
really
wanted her to sign the divorce papers? Give me an f-ing break. It’s not as if I haven’t been begging her to sign the sucker for the last six months. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Troy said, looking smug and nodding.

So Naomi didn’t want the divorce from Jeremy the Jerk-off? Then what was last night about?

We paid for our food and Troy said, “Well, see ya around, Jeremy. Good luck with the divorce.”

“Thanks, I need it.”

Chapter 15

B
ack at the office, while
I ate my meatball sub, I did a search on Nevada Wynn. He’d just been released from Minnesota Correctional Facility-St. Cloud two weeks ago after serving six months on a drug conviction. Both his parents were deceased, but he had an older brother, Carson, who lived on Bryant Avenue in South Minneapolis. I got hold of his sister-in–law, Shelia, who said she and her husband had no knowledge where he was currently living or working—and didn’t care. Nevada was not welcome in their home. I could find nothing on Pierce Redding. Maybe that was an alias.

Next, I called the Whitman’s home number to connect with Zach. His mother, Sarah, answered and told me he was working at Cadillac Jack’s, so I decided to pay him a personal visit. The door to the bar was locked. The sign said they were open at 4:00 p.m. I knocked, and a minute later Zach opened it a crack to proclaim the obvious: “We’re not open.”

“I know. I just have a few questions about Ronny Peterson.”

“What about him?”

“Can we talk inside?”

He opened the door and begrudgingly led me in to the dimly lit bar. No one else seemed to be around, which was what I was hoping for. The bar was located on the upper level of the building, and the restaurant on the lower. They’d recently painted the walls a yellowish gold and new photos of vintage Cadillac’s hung above the dark wood booths along the wall.

“I’m going to get to the point. You called Ronny Peterson the night before he died.”

“Did I?”

I nodded.

A fake look of enlightenment crossed his face. “Oh, yeah, now I remember, I returned a call from him.”

The thought occurred to me Zach certainly could know the combination to the storage shed located so conveniently near his home. Maybe the drugs were his. He started wiping the clean counter.

“What did he want?”

“He asked if I wanted to hang out.”

“Did you?”

“Ah, yeah. We had a beer at Beck’s place.”

“Beck meaning Max Becker?”

He nodded.
Why would Max lie about that?
“What happened that night?”

He shrugged. “Nothin’.”

“Everything was cool?”

He nodded slightly. “Yeah, cool as a cucumber.”

“Do you know anyone who had a grudge against Ronny?”

He shook his head a little too hard. “No, man.” He started moving glasses from a dishwasher to a shelf.

“What about Ted Kohler?”

“Nope.”

”Do you know Nevada Wynn and his pal, Pierce Redding?”

“I’ve heard of Wynn. He lived in Prairie Falls for a while, didn’t he?”

“You ever hang out with him?”

“Nope.”

My phone rang. V Lewis was on the display.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Sheehan.”

“Cal, Victoria Lewis. How about dinner tonight?”

Jeremy’s statement about Naomi not wanting the divorce flashed through my mind. “I think it could work. Cadillac Jack’s at 8:00 o’clock okay?”

Zach and I exchanged glances.

“Perfect. See you then.”

I turned back to Zach. “The reason I ask about these things is that we have prints on a drug case found in the storage barn on Emmaline.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So whoever’s prints we have might be implicated.”

He nearly dropped a glass. “Not my deal.” His cheeks turned blotchy.

“Your grandpa know you hang around with the Hackett’s? They’re into some bad shit.”

“Give me a break,” he said as he gave me one of those looks I must have given my mother a thousand times when I was a kid. I let some seconds of silence pass.

“Something else?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah, were you and Ronny friends, or were you his dealer?”

He froze for a second before he broke into laughter. “You’re joking, right?”

“Sure, call it that. Which was it?”

He pushed out an airy “Puh,” as if I was stupid for even having such thoughts before he said, “Friend.”

But he wasn’t on the list.

I was content with making Zach a little nervous about his “association” with the Hacketts and drugs. I didn’t see any point in continuing the verbal judo so I went back into town and drove down the alley behind Becker’s on Fourth Street and parked behind the Focus.

Max just happened to be on his way out the back door. “I’m late for work, can’t talk.” He walked past me headed for his car and stopped when he saw his car was blocked in.

“You gotta move your car,” he said. When he saw I wasn’t moving, he added, “Please.”

“This won’t take long. Why didn’t you tell me Ronny was at your house the Thursday night before he died?”

“’Cause I didn’t know, dude.”

“How’s that?”

“I had classes that night.”

“Did you know he’d been here?”

“Guess maybe Todd told me.”

“What else did Todd tell you?”

“Nothing.”

“Why’s everyone minimizing their association with Ronny?”

“I dunno. I guess cuz he didn’t come round very often.”

“When he wanted to buy or sell drugs?”

“Dude, that’s not my deal. I don’t get involved with that shit.”

“Well, somebody better start telling the truth, so Ronny can have some justice.”

“I am telling the truth, man. Now, can I go?”

“Yeah okay, but we’ll talk again.”

Max was flustered. I’d touched a nerve.

“And, Max, don’t call me dude.”

When I got back to the department I met briefly with Ralph to tell him about Wynn and my visits with Zach and Max.

“Betty just told me the fingerprints on the case don’t match up with anyone already in the system. That means they weren’t Ronny’s.”

“Zach Whitman’s probably not in the system.”

Ralph sat back in his chair. “If young Mr. Whitman is involved, things could get mighty sticky.”

He handed me the copy of the Bible verse. “Ecclesiastes, 7:1-2. Do some calling. See if any church put it out there.”

So, I pulled out the phone book, found churches in the yellow pages and phoned every single one in the county. Not one of them had made a flyer using the verse. I made some additional copies then returned it to Ralph telling him I’d come up with a blank.

“Think I should show this to our widow? See what she knows. Maybe run it by her father, as well,” I asked.

“Go for it.”

After Eleanor asked me in,
I didn’t waste time with small talk. I showed her the verse. “What do you know about this?” I asked.

She looked perplexed. After she read it, she lifted her eyes to me and said, “I don’t understand.”

“It was found in your husband’s truck owner’s manual.”

“Really. Sounds like a threat to me. Is that what you think?” she asked.

“Could be. I saw an interesting photo of you in your dad’s office. It was of you and the elk you shot. Good shooting,” I said.

“Does he still have the old picture up? Geez, it’s been years since I’ve been hunting. Funny how things change when you have kids. I won’t even allow guns in my house.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded.

“Well, thanks for your time.”

I then drove directly to the bank where I found Fairchild alone in his office. I knocked on the open door and walked in.

“Sir, may I have a minute of your time?” I asked.

“Change your mind about Ted’s truck?” he asked.

“No, just a quick question,” I said.

“All right, have a seat,” he said.

I stayed standing as I handed him the quote.

“Does this Bible verse look familiar to you?” I asked.

He looked it over and handed it back to me. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Found it in Ted’s owner’s manual.”

“Hmm. I can see why you might read into it under the circumstances.”

“Don’t you think it odd that a quote concerning death and funerals ends up in a dead man’s truck?” I asked.

Fairchild’s eyes narrowed. “Just proves the point of the verse, wouldn’t you say? One never knows when it’s time to meet The Maker,” he said.

“One thing I’m sure of is that Ronny Peterson and your son-in-law didn’t see it coming,” I said and turned toward the door.

“Deputy,” Fairchild said.

“Yes, sir?”

“The sheriff was right about you.”

“How so?”

“He said you were ambitious, but young and inexperienced. Do you know how preposterous it is to accuse me of murdering my son-in-law?”

I shrugged. “I thought I was just inquiring about a piece of evidence. My mistake.” I forced a smiled and left feeling a surge of anger. Jack must have told Fairchild he was a suspect.

As I was walking to my vehicle, Ralph called. I replayed my encounter with Fairchild.

“Ya know—I’m not sure I like him,” Ralph said.

“Why did you steer me to him for a car loan?” I asked.

“Gerry Hank usually does the car loans. Fairchild doesn’t deal with the little guys,” he said.

“Little guys?” I asked.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “And I’d be surprised if Jack alerted Ham. Anyway, don’t let the old buzzards get you down.”

“I’ll try not to,” I said, appreciating how good Ralph was at diffusing situations.

“I called to tell you the ballistics results came back. None of the rifles tested were a match.”

“Shit. I thought for sure it was Johnston. Back to square one,” I said.

When I arrived at Cadillac Jack’s, Victoria was sitting at the bar next to Bob Brutlag. I took the stool on the other side of her. They continued their chummy discussion about her Toyota’s problems while we drank a glass of wine and waited for our table. When we were called downstairs, I was thankful Victoria hadn’t asked Bob to join us.

We were shown to a table by the fireplace. Evidently, Victoria had requested it. I didn’t know if it was the glass of wine or the flickering firelight that made her look so good. Tamika was right—she did look like Snow White with her great facial bone structure, creamy skin, red lipstick, and perky little nose.

Our server, who introduced herself as Misty, was a buxom blonde with an oversized frizzy ponytail. I told her we’d just order our wine by the glass, but Victoria insisted on ordering a bottle of Stags’ Leap Petite Sirah. I objected saying we had to drive back to town.

“We don’t have to finish it all, but I want you to try it.”

So she ordered the bottle and yes—the wine was excellent—but my usual was half the price and good enough for my taste. I might have a princess sitting across from me after all.

As Misty poured our wine, she took our food order. When Victoria ordered an oriental chicken salad—hold the chicken, Misty gave her a look that made me laugh.

“I never heard that one before. Are you vegetarian?” she said in her husky voice.

“Actually, I’m an ovo-lactovegetarian.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“Besides vegetables, I eat eggs and dairy products. Occasionally, I cheat and order fish.”

It looked as though Misty was biting her tongue. She turned to me. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have the prime rib—rare.”

Misty grinned. “Very good choice.”

When our dinners arrived, Victoria made an attitudinal face at my plate. Misty looked amused so I said to her, “Evidently, ovo-lactovegetarians don’t even like to look at bloodied meat.”

She laughed aloud and said, “Enjoy!”

After a few bites I asked, “So, what is Victoria Lewis doing in Prairie Falls working for a small daily paper?”

“It’s family owned. Have to prove myself before I can advance. So, here I am, a city girl, bored silly in a small town. What on earth do you people do for fun up here?”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“I love to go dancing. What’s here? Skuzzy sports bars like Buzzo’s? They have country bands upstairs here at Cadillac Jack’s and only on Saturday nights. Then there’s The Barn, which seems to me is a heavy-metal hang-out for bikers or underage drinkers.”

“Yep, that pretty much sums it up.”

“So have you always been in investigations?”

“Just recently switched from patrol.”

“You’re working the murder case.”
Here it comes.
“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s like putting complicated human puzzles together.”

“So, what are your scariest moments as an officer? Or do you even have scary moments up here?”

“This isn’t going to end up in an article in the paper, is it? Because you don’t have my permission.”

She giggled. “No, it probably wouldn’t even be interesting to anyone else.”

I frowned. “Double murders aren’t scary and interesting enough for you?”

“I meant your scariest moments while on patrol.”

“Oh, it’s definitely domestics. They can turn volatile in a second.”

“Does that really happen that often?”

“We have all the same crimes as big cities only on a smaller scale.”

“That could be a story—if you’d be willing.”

“No, not me. Try the sheriff. He likes talking to the media.”

“I’d rather talk to you.”

“So, talk. Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know? If I’ve ever been arrested?”

“Have you?”

She grinned and shook her head. “But I bet you know that.”

“Where’d you go to school?” I asked.

“Carlton College in Northfield. My Mom wanted me to go to Vassar like she did, but I wanted to be closer to my dad for a change.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Florida with my mom and stepfather. Did your parents stay together?”

“Ah, no. I lived with my mom and grandparents.”

“Well, see, we have something in common. What’s your mom like?”

“She’s an old, liberal hippie, living in the good ol’ sixties.”

“I’d liked to have been young then. Does she have stories?”

“Not many she’ll tell me. Her claim to fame is she met both Mick Jagger and Stephen Tyler.”

“Wow, I’m impressed. So why did you become a deputy?”

“Back to that, are we?”

“I’m interested in why people select the professions they do.”

“I’ve wanted to be a cop as long as I remember.”

“Is it the gun? The power?”

“No. There’s always something going on. I liked the action and excitement of getting a good arrest, and this may sound corny to you, but it is a service job. A lot of what we do is helping with medical emergencies or making welfare checks.”