So as I was saying, after driving the jeep, it felt like I was low flying in my little car. There was little traffic so I kept the car at a steady 75. The landscape I had so enjoyed just days before was now a blur. Distance to be traveled. I slowed down before I pulled into the lot at school. All the kids were outside working on the garden or building benches and wood duck houses. I parked and walked over to Julie. She was down on her knees helping some students transfer small plants to a raised garden bed.
“Julie, we need to talk.”
“Talk,” she said with a smile.
“I know about the life insurance.”
Her face went sheet white. She moved her mouth, but no words came out.
Although I was steaming mad on the trip out to the school, once we were face to face, her look said it all. I was no longer mad. I just felt betrayed and defeated. I had fooled myself that Musky Falls was a place that would bring me peace, happiness, and honesty. Now I found it was a place just like all others.
“John, if you could wait just a half hour, the kids will all be gone. Summer school lets out early, and they are cleaning up right now. I don’t want them around when we talk.”
My temper rose again. “I don’t blame you for not wanting them to know what kind of person their teacher really is. I’ll be glad to wait. I’m sure this is going to be worth it.”
I walked over to sit at the picnic table next to the building. Some of the kids said “hi,” but I was in no mood for conversation. Soon they had cleaned up and were all on the bus. Julie waved as they pulled out. She came over to sit across from me.
I have been told by others that at certain times I have a look on my face that is scary. It usually shows up just before hell is about to break loose. I don’t consider myself some kind of super badass, but when this happens, there is no backing down. If you choose to start a fight, I may lose, but you will get all I have to offer and even more if I can find it. That must have been the look I had on my face when I glared at Julie.
She was at first startled, and then showed a look of fear. Then she stared right back, her eyes meeting mine.
“That hellish look on your face may scare others, but it doesn’t scare me. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. If you are going to yell and rant and who knows what else, I am leaving, and we can talk sometime later when you have settled down. You make the choice.”
I told her we would talk now.
“When were you going to tell me about the life insurance policy?”
“I actually didn’t know how to handle it. I was as surprised as you. I have never been in this situation before, so I didn’t do anything. Besides, Dennis Targett told me that I didn’t have to tell anyone anything. So I decided not to, until I felt the time was right.”
“So you didn’t think it was important to tell me that my murdered uncle had changed the beneficiary on his life insurance policy three weeks before he was run down and murdered? That sounds to me like it’s something you wanted to hide, motive …”
“Motive for what!? You stupid ass, you jerk! You actually think that I had anything to do with Nick’s death? What the hell is wrong with you? You, the ‘concerned nephew’ that didn’t even know that Nick and Rose were dead. You and all your crap about how this place feels like home. I never asked one thing from Nick and Rose. I loved them and cared for them. You were nowhere to be found. How dare you talk to me this way!”
She stood up and slapped me across the face so hard it felt like I was hit with a blackjack.
“I am staying at Bud’s house tonight. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Stay away from me. That goes for Bud, too. We will be out tomorrow to get my stuff. Please let me know when you will not be there.”
She got in her car and left, tires spinning, gravel flying.
My face burned from the slap, but more from her obvious hurt and anger.
She was right. Technically it was none of my business. Also, there really hadn’t been a point where it would have been a good time to have broached the subject.
It was time to find out what the hell was going on. Things were no clearer than when I’d started. The first place to start was the safe in Uncle Nick’s shop.
I pulled in, and the warm coming-home feeling had deserted me. I, John Cabrelli the cop, was on the case and going to run it down, take it to its natural end. Whoever the bad guys were, they were going down, starting now. Lawler, Anderson, Stone, whoever; their time had come. As my old precinct commander used to say, ‘Your ass is grass, and I am the lawnmower.’
I opened the shop and pulled out the file drawer. The light lit the door and the safe dial. It was a sturdy safe with hidden hinges and what looked like a thick door, probably fireproof. Not a cracker box that I was going to open with a pry bar and drill. Safe combinations are usually in two categories. People use the combination that was assigned to the safe, or they change it to something that is easy to remember for them but personal information someone else would not readily know. On a safe dial numbered 1 to 100, the combination almost always had six digits. Right-left-right or the opposite.
Six digits, zero could be used. I sat at the workbench and picked up a notebook and paper, trying to put number codes into a usable sequence. The phone worked if I dropped the first or last number. I tried it both ways—no luck. The fire number was a short one. What worked was a birth date. I had Uncle Nick’s and Aunt Rose’s in my paperwork. I tried both—nothing. Then I tried mine, and the lock clicked. I turned the handle, and the door came open.
The safe was about two feet deep, and the opening was a foot square. It was three-quarters full. Before taking anything out, I looked to make sure no one was sneaking up on me. There was a workbench with a window over it that looked out on the driveway. I took the Walther out of my pocket, set it on the bench, sat down with the first two envelopes, and began.
The first was a business-sized white envelope with my name on the front. A note inside read:
Johnny,
If you are looking at this, it is because you are a smart boy, found the safe, and figured out the combination.
It also it means that I have gone on to join your aunt Rose. I can’t wait to see her. I have missed her so much.
I don’t know where to begin. There is so much to say. What is contained in this safe is mostly self-explanatory. As you will see, I ended up in the middle of things that I wanted no part of. I did not ask to be involved and tried to avoid it at every turn. They just kept coming, and I knew that they were not going to stop. Vince Lombardi said, ‘The best defense is a good offense,” so I began to look at the situation and started putting things in categories, just like developing an invention, common denominators, isolated factors, co-dependent factors, and so on.
I decided to do this after I had a long talk with myself. After Rose died, I felt like a ship without a home port. If I could wish something for you, I would wish that you would have a partner like Rose. She made me stronger, smarter, and a better person. Any success I have had in life has been because of her, not in spite of her.
When that little weasel Anderson came to me with the offer from Stone, I was very tempted. I have loved the north country and all it has to offer: its clear waters and fast running rivers and the big woods. Northern Wisconsin is a place like no other—a place where everyone can spread their wings and not touch wingtips. There comes a time when you have to look at the future, and this place is a lot to take care of. I thought about selling and almost did until I found out the truth. From then on, it was me against them. There is more to find out, but what’s here ought to get you started. Be careful. I think these guys are dangerous.
I hope you have met Julie Carlson by now. I left a good portion of my life insurance policy to her. The amount should be enough to get an endowment started for her school. There is only one stipulation: she has to take a portion of the money to buy herself a new car. She hauls kids around in that rattrap of hers, and between Bud, Doc O’Malley, and I, we can barely keep it running. See that she does it. She’s not too good at receiving gifts.
I believe strongly in what she is doing. Most of those kids have nothing, yet she makes them all feel special. I am convinced that her school is part of saving the world. Video games, cell phones, computers, and a couple hundred TV channels have made certain that kids will spend as much time as possible indoors. I believe with all my heart and mind that the health of our environment and the health of our human population are forever intertwined. Who will the leaders be that step up to protect what we have if their only exposure is a nature show on TV? I tell you who: it’s going to be those kids at Northern Lakes. I hope you will get to know them. They are worth your effort.
Johnny, the rest is in the safe. I want you to know that Rose and I loved you like a son. You were a good boy and have become a good man. I know the pain you must have gone through. Just remember, you can’t change what happened a second ago. You can only change what happens a second from now. Miss me and mourn me, but live your life. It is one of God’s greatest gifts.
Uncle Nick
I put the letter down and wished that Julie was there to slap me again, just harder this time.
I am predictable to some extent. When I am feeling emotional pain, the best medicine for me is hard work. Idle hands or an idle mind or something like that is the devil’s workshop.
I sat at the bench and opened the second envelope. In it was a letter from a private investigation/law firm located in Minneapolis indicating they were confident that the information they had developed was accurate and that there was little else to be found. Closing with a “call us again if need be.”
The first document was a corporate charter. Attached to it was a flow chart. Attached to the flow chart was supporting information and several other corporate charters. The narrative was interesting and listed many names of people I had never heard of and companies with names I had also had never heard of. With one glaring exception. Following the flowchart and the narrative through several different corporations led me to the controlling owner of Northern Mining Company, David Stone.
Next was a permit application for mining and mineral exploration. The permit had been approved and was very detailed about what testing could take place and where. The permit had been issued by the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, and Namekagon County Zoning. Attached to the permit was a high resolution aerial photo and a map. Each had areas delineated by various solid and broken lines. Two areas on each map were highlighted with bright yellow: the area along Spider Creek including this property and an area marked as Tribal Trust lands. After that was a huge tract of land marked as being owned by Northern Mining Company and another large tract owned by ST Trust. I am not a cartographer, but even I could see that the only access to the Northern Mining and ST Trust property was through my uncle’s land, right down Spider Creek and all of the land on either side. The rest of the land surrounding their property was owned by the government and was listed as national forest or wilderness area. Even if they could come through the federal property to get to their site, that distance was many times that compared to coming through Uncle Nick’s land, and by the looks of the aerial, it would mean crossing dozens of large and small rivers and streams. The only access point with enough space to run the heavy equipment they used for iron ore mining was through his property. Even if the tribe went along, it wouldn’t get them there.
The firm had uncovered several other interesting documents: one report was marked “confidential” and “proprietary” and “possession of this document by an unauthorized party constituted theft.”
It had two parts: a fiscal analysis and a geologist’s report regarding the proposed mine area. The geologist’s report was in-depth and involved terms and data sheets that were beyond me. It essentially said that the proposed mine site was a Precambrian “Lake Superior-type” sedimentary iron formation. The area contained millions of tons of marketable iron ore. In addition, it noted that it was the largest remaining site in Wisconsin. In the geologist’s opinion, the site had sufficient quantities of taconite over a large area and that it was feasible to mine.
The fiscal report was enough to set you down. Initially the site would produce hundreds of millions of dollars in net revenue from the taconite. Contract terms were currently being negotiated with China to form a partnership that would ensure a ready market for the ore. Shipping via the Great Lakes would ensure economical transportation. The report was done as some type of document for investors. It had none of the fluff and baloney about community benefit that accompanies public documents. This was made for a select few big players that could risk a million or two. The bottom line was pretty plain: the mine would have net revenues over a twenty-year lifespan in the billions of dollars. A long way from shooting someone over fifty bucks at a convenience store, about a billion or two worth of motive. Any way you looked at it the mine was a big deal and was going to make a few people very, very rich.
Money is always one of the top three when it comes to motive. The more money, the less value a life that might stand in the way has.
Next was a group of documents inside a legal folder with a label that said Jonas McMann, Attorney at Law. It was several inches thick, and the first layer was correspondence between Uncle Nick, Jonas, and a lawyer from St. Paul. It was a back-and-forth correspondence regarding the sale of the property. It included three offers to purchase, each more than the preceding one. A letter from Jonas should have closed that issue, as it clearly stated after the third offer that his client did not want to sell, period. Don’t bother us again.
The letters they got in response were ugly. It seems that under the authority of a thing called the Economic Development Act a government entity could move to acquire a property through condemnation. The final offer they would put forth was a permanent easement through the property. They offered a sizable sum for the easement. If the offer was refused they would proceed to initiate a condemnation procedure.
Lawyer McMann was an able researcher, and he studied the potential for their being successful if they were to proceed with the condemnation. The law that they were using was relatively new and one signed at midnight by the governor to serve the interest of a big campaign donor. It was a bad law that would be almost surely found to be unconstitutional. It, however, was the law. The people trying to buy the property had followed the progression required to move forward with such an action. In a nutshell, his opinion was that they would be unsuccessful in any attempt to acquire the property through condemnation.
The problem with that was that even if Jonas worked pro-bono, they would have to hire a law firm that specialized in these sorts of cases. Nick’s defense would soon drain all his assets, and the opposition would just be getting warmed up.
Nick had written every branch of government and every law group that might be looking for a cause, to hang their sign up to fight injustice. From the looks of things, those that did bother to answer gave him little hope.
What had changed any thoughts about selling was next. The mining companies that were involved in the Northern Mining Company had a long history of mining in the U.S. There were pages of documents regarding violations of the Federal Clean Water Act and state water laws. Additional documents detailed fines and penalties that had been levied, and they totaled in the millions of dollars, which was a whole bunch of money, but nothing compared to billions in revenue. There were copies of news stories from around the country. A common theme was easy to detect: the mine was built and operated; the operators were shielded behind a corporation; they extracted as much ore as quickly as possible; eventually environmental regulators would catch up to them and find numerous violations, most involving lakes, rivers, streams, and wetlands. The mining representative would refer issues to their team of lawyers, who would delay the process through legal challenges. They would eventually go to court and be found guilty and fined a couple of million dollars. The lawyers would file appeals and eventually settle. During all of the wrangling, the mine would continue to operate at a huge profit and continue to destroy natural resources. They would appeal to locals working at the mines and tell them how the government was trying to take their jobs by nitpicky environmental violations, thereby turning the public against the regulators. While this was all going on, just months prior to a settlement, the mine would be sold to another company. The new company would pledge to be a better citizen, and the whole process would start over. At least three of the buyers of these mines were ones listed in Uncle Nick’s documentation.
There were two folders left. The next one I read was the most chilling. It was written by a hydrogeologist employed by the U.S. Geological Survey. It listed his credentials as well as various publications that he had been involved in. In his opinion, if the proposed mine was allowed to go forward as planned, the mining process would cause widespread contamination of both surface and groundwater. The proposed process had been used in several other places in the U.S. and Canada, and each case had resulted in significant and long-lasting environmental damage. Although it claimed to be cutting edge mining technology, it had never been used anywhere in the world that did not result in significant impacts. Attempts to pre-treat the contaminated water on site before being discharged into surface waters and wetlands had been unsuccessful and had resulted in significant damage.
In this case, the potential for disaster was incredible. The scientist from the USGS had included detailed maps of waterways that would be impacted by the mine. Most of them flowed directly into one of the largest bodies of freshwater in the world, Lake Superior. The hydrogeologist was willing to stake his reputation on the fact that the mine as proposed would cause long-term irreversible damage to one of the Great Lakes.
Should this happen, the north country would never be the same. The place Uncle Nick and Aunt Rose had loved would be destroyed, the splendor of the northern lake region lost—maybe forever.
The last folder was a little confusing. It was several pictures of a small bird. Along with the photos was a log that gave GPS locations, times, and dates that corresponded to the photos. As should be expected, the documentation was meticulous, likely part of his ongoing nature observations. There was nothing in that file that connected it to the mine. It must have been a big deal for him in his birding life to put it in the safe.
It looked like everything he could have done had been done. The mine was too big, too powerful, and had too many lawyers. The situation was just going to be another case of a little guy getting his butt kicked by a big guy.
So why kill him? According to his own lawyer, he was beat. Why not just wait him out? Tie him up in court until he ran out of money? And what was the deal with someone breaking into the house and trashing his desk? I had more pieces of the puzzle, but not everything. Something was missing.
When you embark on a great and all-consuming task, clear your plate, if you can, before you start. When murder is involved, and you are trying to find a killer, a clear head may be the only thing that keeps you from being another victim. It was with this on my mind when I saw Julie’s car pull into the yard. I walked out of the shop and toward her. She turned to face me. Her eyes were red from crying. We were only a few feet apart staring at each other, her skin-blistering glare now replaced by something else. We were both exhausted. The events that had transpired had taken a toll on each of us in our own way. We were too tired to fight. I walked into the house and came out with two cold beers, opened them, and sat them down on the picnic table. She sat across from me.
“Julie, I’m sorry. I’m a jerk sometimes, and I can’t help it. I don’t try, but I sure do it well.”
“No, John. I should have told you the truth upfront. I just felt like you would think I had manipulated Nick into naming me on the policy. I didn’t want you to think I was another Derek Anderson. I loved Nick and Rose, and the last thing I wanted from them was money.” Her eyes welled up with tears.
The nightmares I live with when I sleep are proof that there is no such thing as a do-over. But there is such a thing as a start-over. With Julie Carlson and I, a start-over was clearly needed.
So I said, “My name is John Cabrelli. Nick and Rose were the closest I had to family in the world. I am here because they have died, and I have inherited this beautiful place. Coming back here has been a blessing and a curse. I loved Uncle Nick and Aunt Rose. I was not as good to them as they were to me. I feel ungrateful. I wish that I could have spent some time with them, but that is an opportunity I lost. I hope they will forgive me.
“Since I arrived here, I have learned many things. The most difficult is that my uncle was murdered. The one thing I can do for him is find the person, or more likely persons, responsible and make them pay. To stop me, they will have to kill me too.”
She blinked back her tears. “I am glad to meet you, John. I am Julie Carlson. I have heard a lot about you. I am a teacher at a local environmental school that serves kids who people call ‘at-risk.’ Nick and Rose were kinder to me and my cousin Bud than anyone in our life had ever been. Nick told me that he wanted to endow the school. We always struggle with finances. He listed me as the beneficiary of his life insurance policy and trusted me to use it to help the school. There are no other restrictions. The money is in my name, and Nick told me to use my best judgment. The only condition that he put on the funds was that I buy a new car that was four-wheel drive and big enough to haul kids to all the places I take them. All of the money is in an account at the bank downtown. I haven’t used a penny. I loved Nick and Rose. I am going to help you find the killer, and nothing you can say will stop me.”
So began my relationship anew with Julie Carlson, one of the best people I have ever met. I thought if I was ever lucky enough to find a girl like her, I’d never let her go. Fat chance. The John Cabrellis of the world never end up with the Julie Carlsons of the world, but a guy can still dream.
I took her into the shop and showed her the hidden safe, then the files that had come from them. As she went over them, I could envision her correcting student papers. I sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, and we went through things together. We didn’t say much until she got to the folder that contained the photos of the bird.
“Amazing, these are photos of a very rare bird called the Kirtland’s warbler. It is a federally listed endangered species. My students did a project on endangered species of the north, and this bird was one that originally lived in this area. These are GPS locations? Oh my gosh! Give me the mine map.”
We spread out the mine map. Julie took one location from Uncle Nick’s notes and scanned the first map, and there it was, a corresponding GPS, a few points off of Uncle Nick’s but close enough. The locations he had noted were all within the proposed mine area and half of them on his property. Uncle Nick had found his ally with deep pockets, a government lawyer. Julie filled me in on some of the history of the Endangered Species Act, how successful legal challenges had been mounted against huge companies all in the name of protecting rare and endangered species. She relayed a couple of incidents that her kids had researched.
Presence of an endangered owl had darn near shut down the whole logging industry in the Pacific Northwest. Protesters on both sides had amassed in the hundreds. Those trying to protect owl habitat had gone as far as chaining themselves to the bumpers of logging trucks. The loggers who were trying to make a living and support their families fought back, and the controversy went on for several months before the federal government made a decision. They decided in favor of the owl and dispatched adequate law enforcement to make sure their ruling stood.
Probably on one of Nick’s daily outings he had seen this unusual bird. Who knows whether he knew what it was, but being a very astute observer of wildlife, he likely did. The first date of observation preceded the correspondence with the law firm and investigator from the cities. It was his ace-in-the-hole card; he’d probably thought that just simply not selling would stop the project, but had found out later that it likely wouldn’t. His lawyer and friend had said that there was no way to fight the mine’s lawyers without going broke. But he had the bird. He must have known that they would challenge anything that he put forward without an over-the-top amount of documentation. He was acquiring evidence, building his case, and by the looks of things he was almost ready. If he wanted to stop the mine, bringing the full weight of the U.S. Department of the Interior against them was sure a step in the right direction.
Uncle Nick had them. He was going to win. They were going to lose out on billions of dollars. Somebody knew he had this stuff. They gave the information to someone high up from the Northern Mining Company who would decide they needed to do whatever they had to do to prevent this information from coming forward. Uncle Nick was about to shut them down, and they’d killed him to keep him quiet. The search of the desk had been an afterthought just to make sure his former cop nephew wouldn’t uncover anything.
The burning question was who had Uncle Nick confided in? Who had he told?
Julie and I sat for a long while, each immersed in our own thoughts. There is always some feeling of satisfaction when you are working on a case, and the why has become clear. It is at that point that you can focus your efforts, and most often you will be successful in finding the bad guy or guys. My mind was buzzing, ready to go on the hunt.
There was no doubt that Nick had shared his information with someone. We needed to start with a potential list and then draw links between them and the mine. Nick’s group of trusted confidants was small: Julie, Bud, Ron Carver, Chief Don Timmy, and that was about it. What about his lawyer, Derek Anderson? Would he have confided in him? It didn’t seem likely that he’d liked or trusted him much, but there was a link between Uncle Nick, Derek Anderson, and the mine. Maybe in his conversations he had threatened David Stone with the release of the information unless he backed off. Certainly Stone wouldn’t hesitate to make sure this information never saw the light of day. Maybe he contacted the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and told them what he had found. Maybe he had confided in one of his close friends, and they had sold him out. Money made normal people do strange things all the time.
The task became more defined.
Julie still had the contact information for the local USFWS biologist who was in charge of the Endangered Species Act for the area. I gave him a call. When you call a government office, you come to expect some degree of formality when they answer your phone call. Not so with this guy, who answered the phone with a very cheery, “Quack! Charlie Newlin, endangered species specialist.”
Sometimes when you’re under stress, the dumbest thing breaks the ice; Newlin’s phone answering did it for me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I explained that I had gotten his number from Julie Carlson and was interested in a bird.
“Julie Carlson sent you? How is she doing? How are her kids? I love that school. I wish there had been something like that when I was a kid. Sure had fun working with them on their endangered species projects. Any chance they’re going to do it again this school year? I sure hope so. You tell Julie that if she wants to, I’m her man. I got some great ideas for things we could do. I thought maybe we could include a plant identification unit along with the endangered species. Not to say that plants can’t be endangered species, not to say that at all. Lots of plants are on the list, but Julie and the kids were mostly interested in the furry or feathered. Say, where did you say you were calling from?”
“I didn’t, but I’m in the Spider Lake area.”
“Spider Lake? Man, I really like that area. Have you seen any ducks or geese around? I love ducks and geese; they are so tasty. Anyway, Mr. … ah Mr., what did you say your name was?”
“Cabrelli, John Cabrelli,” I answered.
“Well, Mr. John Cabrelli, how can I help you?”
“I am interested in whether or not you have heard any reports of Kirtland’s warblers in the Spider Lake area.”
“Kirtland’s you’re interested in? Are you a birder? I am a bird watcher myself. They are fascinating creatures. I have several feeders out my back window. I could watch them for hours. Do you have feeders set up? The Fish and Wildlife Service has several sets of plans available for properly constructed feeders. I could send you some plans, if you give me your address.”
“Maybe some other time, I am not quite settled here yet. Back to the Kirtland’s warbler. Any reports?”
“Well nothing, nothing at all. The agency put out a bulletin to be on the lookout a few years ago. But nothing was reported. Now in Adams County, a couple hundred miles south of you, they have confirmed a handful of nesting pairs. But nothing here. Have you seen something of note? I haven’t had much this year. There were a couple of reports of a Canadian lynx here or there, and, of course, wolves everywhere, but nothing as exciting as a Kirtland’s. I can come out and take a look if you want. We would set up some observation spots and see what we could see. Do you know the general area of the sighting?”
“No, no idea. I am just interested in whether someone has seen any Kirtland’s warblers and reported those sightings to you. Did anyone report any sightings?”
“Sorry to say no. But if you should see something, I would be happy to follow up. I can’t be everywhere, so citizen observers like you are very important to our work. I can send you some information on the warbler if you like. Give me your address, and I’ll get it right out.”
“Mr. Newlin, thanks for the information. If I need anything more I will get back to you. But that’s all I need for now.”
“Mr. Cabrelli, call anytime. Glad to hear from you. And always remember the magic words: please, thank you, honk, honk and quack, quack, quack.”
If Uncle Nick had found an endangered species, and no doubt he had, he had not reported it to the authorities responsible for wildlife’s well being.
Bud showed up while we were sorting this out and joined us.
At this point a decision had to be made. The only way to keep a secret is to never tell anyone, nobody.
When you are launching an investigation like this one, it is damn tricky because your list of possible confidants and helpers are on the same list as your suspects. The only choice is to use your best judgment and forge ahead.
Julie and I brought Bud up to speed on what we found. He listened without comment. When we were done, the big gentle man across from us became a bigger and now very angry man.
“I’m helpin’ you guys. When we find the guy, I am going to straighten him right out.” As he talked, he flexed his massive hands.
This was a guy that would and could do serious damage to anyone that needed it. A good man to have on your side.
My old academy instructor taught us to gather, assess, and prioritize your resources. Use those resources that have the most potential gain and require the least amount of hands-on work by the investigative lead. Use your existing resources to their full potential before you run off chasing new untried possibilities.
With this in mind, I called my old partner J.J. Malone. Malone answered in his usual uplifting and cheery way:
“Malone,” he growled.
“Bear, it’s John.”
“As I live and breathe, Nesmuck of the North has seen fit to call upon me, his long-lost partner. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Bear, I got something going on here, and I need a little help. I am convinced that my uncle Nick’s death was a homicide. The local gendarmes have written it off as an accidental hit-and-run fatality. I have got some new information, and that theory no longer washes with me.”
“No shit? Someone did your uncle in on purpose?”
“I am sure of it.”
“What can I do to help?” Just like always, Bear is there, no screwin’ around. You’re my friend. You need me, I am there. They don’t make them like him anymore.
“Do you still have that buddy with the feds that follows corporations, LLCs, and businesses figuring out who’s who and who’s laundering what money for what crook?”
“Sure do. I just talked to him the other day. He’s helpin’ us take down some drug dealers and the phony companies they are using. That guy is really good at what he does. He turns up solid stuff that no one else could ever find. What do you need from him?”
“I need to know who the principals are in two different companies: Northern Mining Corporation and ST Trust. Somehow one or the other, or maybe both, are involved in this. One guy, David Stone, is supposed to be a very bad man, and he employs heavily-armed security, pros by the looks of them, guys who don’t come cheap anyway. There are two other guys, Derek Anderson, attorney-at-law, and Brian Lawler currently serving as one of Musky Falls’s finest. I think these guys are both involved up to their ears in this thing.”
“Anything else?’’
“Not that I can think of.”
“I will see what I can do under one condition. Set Tanya up with a first-class musky trip up there. She’s nuts to go fishin’, and her birthday is coming up.”
“Consider it done. Thanks, Bear. I knew I could count on you.”
“No problem, John. I’ll get on it. Meantime, don’t forget to keep your ass covered.”
I told Julie and Bud about my conversation with Malone. “This guy is as good as gold,” I told them. “We can count on him.”
The question we needed to answer was who else was on our side? Who else could we trust?
“Your uncle knew a bunch of people, but I think his only real close friends were the chief and Ron Carver,” said Julie.
“Which was the closest?” I asked.
“Ron, without a doubt,” Julie and Bud answered together.
“They were really two of a kind but totally different, if that makes any sense,” added Julie. “They shared the entrepreneurial spirit and are both super smart. Ron would come over all the time, and he and your uncle would talk about all sorts of things, but mostly they shared creative ideas. Have you ever seen that surveillance system in Ron’s jewelry store?”
“Just the other day I saw it in action.”
“That whole thing started out as a conversation one night here in front of the fire. I was helping Rose sort through a couple of boxes of old photos. We were having our own conversation when Nick and Ron got going. Ron was saying that practiced thieves were still hitting him and other merchants hard. Cameras in the corners of rooms were a great help in identifying them later, but by then, whatever they took was long gone. By the end of the night, those two had developed a plan to solve the problem. They came up with the idea of small cameras that produced clear images of the products. They coupled that with a discrete switch at each counter that could be activated by the sales staff, causing another camera to focus in on the counter. The backroom calls 911 and before the crook leaves the store, the police are there waiting. The best thing about it is they put this together using inexpensive components they bought online.
“Theft has dropped significantly. As a matter of fact, the professional shoplifters that drift in each summer have found easier pickings in the towns around Musky Falls and pretty much left us alone. These security systems worked so well it actually almost became another business venture. As a matter of fact, a few weeks later after they had installed a couple of the systems, the chief showed up one night for dinner with a whole marketing plan and partnership agreement for selling them. He was pretty disappointed when Ron and Nick told him they had already agreed to provide the systems to local businesses at cost, and had gone ahead and given out a list of the part suppliers and an easy ‘how to’ manual so business owners could install them in their own stores.”
“What about the chief? He and Nick were close, right?”
“Yeah,” Julie answered, “but not as close as Ron and Nick, but good friends. I kind of always got the feeling that the chief was, I don’t know, a little jealous of those two.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing really. It’s just that Ron and Nick were pretty successful in their careers and financially very secure. Ron’s jewelry business is a gold mine, and he is pretty well off. Although you wouldn’t know it by looking at him, some folks around here say that he is one of the wealthiest people in town. I don’t know if that’s real or just talk, but he sure isn’t hurting. Nick was more conservative. He wasn’t wealthy, but he was comfortable and very secure in his place in the world. The chief was always kind of on the outside of their business dealings. He knew about them but was not part of their schemes.
“Later, after they left, I heard Nick and Rose talking. I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was grading papers, and Rose was fixing Nick’s old sweater again.”
“Not his old gray wool army sweater?” I asked.
“Same one, I bet. Rose said he’d had that sweater forever, and he wouldn’t let her get him a new one, even though it had repairs everywhere.”
“When I was a kid, I fell in the lake when it was cold out. Uncle Nick put that old sweater on me while he got a fire going. It was so big, it went to my knees, but it sure was warm. Anyway, what did you hear?”
“Anyway, Nick was talking about how Don wanted to be the lead man in the camera security company. He figured he could sell these systems all over, and it would be a big boost to his retirement. When he found out that Ron and Nick were just about giving them away, he got angry and chastised them for not bringing him in.”
Solving a crime requires that anything that ties one thing to another is recognized and duly noted. If later on it turns out to be nothing, you can always let it go. But in the meantime, you have to keep track of it. In this case, money may have been the motive that got Uncle Nick killed. Don Timmy is close to Uncle Nick and wants to beef up his retirement. Not so friendly Officer Lawler works for Don, and Lawler is connected with Attorney Anderson.
Probably just a small town coincidence, or maybe not. Best to keep track. For now, even though he was chief of police, Timmy would not be privy to what we had found. Not that I thought he was a real suspect, but you never knew.
I had a couple of ideas of how we could proceed, but I needed to think them through. We were not out to catch a shoplifter; we were looking for a killer. A premeditated murder conviction is a life sentence in Wisconsin. Most killers figured out that after the first murder, the next few didn’t mean much, especially if they meant reducing your chances of getting caught and doing any time at all. I was thankful that Bud and Julie were willing to help, but there was no way I was going to put them in harm’s way.
I needed to set a trap with the right bait. I think we had pretty well figured out what they wanted. The stuff on the Kirtland’s warbler, the presence of the bird, and Uncle Nick’s documentation of it were sure to sink their ship. They knew he had something. The search of the desk, and only the desk, led me to believe that someone thought that is where they would find what they were looking for. Why the desk? Some hired thief would go through that place like a tornado, probably counting on a bonus if he found what he’d been hired to find. It would also be against any thief’s code of conduct to leave cash behind. Somebody who knows the lay of the land focuses their search on areas they know are likely hiding places, usually based on prior knowledge.
The fact that the thief had prior knowledge and knew about the bird made it crystal clear that they knew about the bird because Uncle Nick had told them.
The general rule is if you go to great lengths to hide something in a secret vault, whose location is known only to you, you don’t go talking about what’s hidden there with some guy on a bar stool next to you at the Moccasin Bar. You tell a trusted friend or someone who can help you with what you’re trying to accomplish. Nick sure didn’t trust his lawyer, Anderson, and there was nothing to indicate Anderson knew. No it would have to be someone real close, someone he trusted completely.
You start looking close to home. The chief and Ron were his best friends, and it was likely if he confided in anyone, it would have been one of them. The chief was a career cop. If Uncle Nick had confided in him he would have put two and two together and pushed the investigation. The chief just didn’t fit.
This is how we arrived at the idea that Uncle Nick’s old buddy Ron Carver might have something to do with this. Good friends are good friends, but throw a few million bucks into the mix, and well, things can change in a hurry. Carver was a guy who had been around, savvy to the ways of the world.
I sat down with Julie and Bud and told them what I thought. At first, they were convinced that I was completely off base, and then Bud remembered an incident that had occurred locally the year before.
“I don’t think it’s Ron, but remember Tom Porter and his mother, Julie?”
“I do. That was really strange. I went to school with Tom. He was always such a nice guy,” she replied.
Bud continued, “Tom was a really nice guy and had lived with his mother all of his life. They went to church every Sunday and helped out in the community. Well, Tom’s mom stopped showing up with him, and people naturally asked where she was. Tom told everyone that her sister had taken ill, and she had gone to help out. Turned out that what really happened is she figured out Tom had been secretly draining the money from her bank accounts. She confronted him, and Tom killed her and stuffed her in a freezer. Nobody ever would have expected something like that with those two.”
We were all exhausted and gave it up for the night. I retired to my new residence, the cozy cabin behind the main house. I was tired, but sleep wouldn’t come. Visions of sweet little Angelina Gonzalez visited me twice, blood on her face. She and I were joined forever by tragedy.
Morning came as only it can on a Northern Wisconsin lake. The air cooled overnight, and a light mist covered the lake as the sun rose, it burned the mist off and gave promise of a beautiful day. The little log cabin was small but cozy. There were only three rooms: a bathroom, bedroom and a combined living space that included a kitchenette area with a coffeemaker and—lo and behold—some coffee. I brewed up a pot and took a cup out to the dock. The sun was just coming up, and the morning light perfectly framed the shape of Julie sitting on the end of the pier.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked.
She just turned around, smiled, and moved over to make room.
“Are you really going to live up here, John? Walk away from your life down in the city and come here to live, where you get at least an extra month of winter each year, and usually the most exciting thing that happens is a bear or two shows up on Main Street?”
“Julie, I am staying. I need this place. I am not going back to the city. There is nothing for me there.”
“You still have nightmares about what happened. I heard you through the window last night shouting. It must be terrible.”
“It is what it is; wherever I land, I can be sure that Angelina Gonzalez will be there with me.”
“Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener. I don’t know if I can help, but I can listen.”
“There’s really nothing to tell that you probably don’t already know. The whole thing happened so fast, and then I changed the Gonzalez family and me forever. Their hope and love died. I took it from them, and I am so sorry that words don’t even come close. I didn’t do my job, and the circumstance I set up got her killed. It was my fault, all my fault. I should have protected her. I didn’t. I killed her, and as sure as I am sitting here, when I die, I am going straight to hell for what I did to them. I am so sorry. I wish I could do it over again—just turn back the clock. I know I can’t, and I know that thinking that way is useless, but I can’t help it. If I could only do it over.”
My voice was shaking, and I just hung my head.
Julie reached over and put her arms around me and held me. She didn’t say anything. She just held me. When she finally let me go, I saw that my tears had soaked the shoulder of her sweatshirt. We sat for a while longer and then went into the main house. There standing in front of the stove was Bud, wearing cutoff sweatpants, a ragged t-shirt, and a red and white Wisconsin Badgers apron. He had every burner occupied with scrambled eggs in one pan and sausage in another. A cast iron griddle stretched between two burners with pancakes bubbling away.
He announced, “Bud’s kitchen is now open. Bring your plates and fill them up. There is plenty to go around.”
Bud, for all his talents, was a very good breakfast cook, and Julie and I ate more than I thought possible. Bud ate the rest. It was delicious.
We were settled back, drinking coffee, when a car came flying up the driveway and slid to a halt by the front door. Attorney Derek Anderson exited the vehicle and stalked up to the door, pounding as hard as he could. I went to meet him. When I opened the door and saw him, it was clear that something was wrong. He looked like ten miles of bad road, rumpled clothes, uncombed hair and bloodshot eyes. He had a wild look of desperation.
My brain signaled possible danger. I blocked the door.
“What can I do for you, Derek?” I asked.
Unexpectedly, he bolted past me and into the house. He glared around. His eyes had a tic, and his movements were jerky. Then he began a screaming tirade.
“I’ll tell you what you can do for me, Cabrelli. Get out of my life, sell this property, and go home. You’re trying to ruin me. We don’t need you living up here. We don’t want another person from the city moving up here to discover themselves. I got you a two million dollar offer for a property that’s worth half that. What is your problem?” he ranted.
No physical threat yet, so I just let him burn it off.
When he came up for air, I told him to settle down and offered him a cup of coffee. Caffeine was probably the last thing he needed, but it was what we had.
Derek took the cup and sat down only a minute before he got wound up again.
This time he made a mistake and turned his tirade toward Julie and began name calling that ended up with his barreling across the room at her. He was met halfway by a huge man still wearing an apron who lifted him off the ground, carried him with one hand across the room, and tossed him out the door like yesterday’s trash.
I had underestimated Derek. He was up in a flash and came back at us with intent and malice. It was time to end this. Bud and I met him with like force, and Attorney Anderson found himself face buried in the dirt held firmly in place by one Arvid Treetall. I ran out and grabbed a stout piece of rope from the boat dock, and in a few minutes we had him tied hand and foot. I opted to leave him lying there in the yard screaming about suing me into financial ruin, having me arrested, and so on. I figured I would let him scream himself out and calm down some before he and I had a little visit.
When something big is going on and all hell breaks loose, it usually starts with something like this; the pressure gets to the weakest link, and the link breaks and does something—makes a move. It’s that move that often starts the ball rolling. The weakest link was never the boss, the brains behind the whole thing. Guys like Anderson who think they are smart are used and abused by the real bad guys. They almost always get in over their heads. Then when things go bad, which they have a tendency to do, guys like Anderson always lash out, try to find someone else to blame. Whatever was going to happen had most likely already started. Now I needed answers, and I needed them fast. I was not the least bit concerned about how I got those answers.
I told Julie and Bud that I could take it from here, and that they should head to town. Bud didn’t understand what I was really saying, but Julie did and gave me a sad look.
“John, you need to stop. I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but it can’t be good,” Julie pleaded.
“You’re right, Julie,” I said. “I should call 911 and let the police handle it.”
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911, no service.
“I don’t have any cell service. Try yours.”
“John, you know there’s no cell service here. You have to use the house phone.”
“Watch him,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I came back in a minute with the phone and dangling cord in my hand.
“Apparently during Attorney Anderson’s rage, he ripped the phone out. I guess 911 is no longer an option.”
“I don’t remember him near that phone!”
‘‘He was moving so fast I don’t recall, but why would anyone else rip out the phone?” Again, Julie got it.
She and Bud made no move to leave.
“Julie, I am not going to hurt him or do anything crazy. I just need to ask him some questions. If it is just him and me, he will be more likely to talk. We need to know what he knows, and this is our best opportunity so far. Just give me a chance. If he doesn’t cooperate, I will either let him go or haul him in to the sheriff.”
“John, we’ll go, but please promise you won’t do anything crazy.”
“Nothing crazy.”
They both loaded up and left. I gave them a few minutes to make sure they didn’t try and sneak back on me.