Chapter 12

Deidre arrived at her office fifteen minutes early, hoping to gather her thoughts and start the day with a cup of coffee. As she made her way down the hall, she could see the lights were on, and she could smell coffee brewing. She felt as though she were late for work.

“Good morning Boss Lady,” Jill said as Deidre made her way to her desk. “How’d the meeting go with the Grand Chief?”

Deidre didn’t quite know how to react. On the one hand, she was irked at Jill’s informality. But on the other hand, she couldn’t fault the woman’s efficiency. “Thanks for setting up a motel room for me. It was nice to not have to deal with that. Much appreciated.” Jill caught the point that Deidre hadn’t answered her question and didn’t press the issue further.

She poured Deidre a cup of coffee, and asked, “What do you want me to do today? I’m at a loss for work this morning, unless I rearrange the office furniture, but there are only four corners, and it won’t make much sense to rotate what we have.” She smiled expec­tantly at Deidre, who tried to smile back.

“Send off official letters of thanks to Grand Chief Musio, Joseph Walkin, and Charles Freeman for their support. Then I’d like you to do some research on a district judge in Minneapolis, Tony DeMarcus. Find out as much as you can about a raid on a four-plex in Edina last Saturday. It involved teenage prostitution. Contact the Minneapolis police for what information they’ll give you. Play the BCA card.

For a moment Deidre watched Jill scribble in shorthand. “I’m going to Duluth today to interview a boat captain I know, and it might take awhile. He’s an old Norwegian. Nils is his name. He’s a pretty lonesome guy, and it’s hard to get away from him once you start visiting. But he knows a lot about the harbor and boats. I want his perspective on what the harbor was like twenty years ago.”

Jill jotted down what Deidre ordered. “The drafts of thank you letters are in the folder on your desk. Read them over. Make any changes you want. I’ll have final copies ready for your signature when you return.”

Deidre read through the communications. “I can’t see a thing I’d change. I’ll sign these, and you can get them in the morning mail.” She left the room shaking her head in amazement.

On the way out of town she stopped at the Holiday gas station on the southwest end of town. As the meter on the pump turned to double digits, Deidre was thankful she had a company credit card. This case was going to burn up a lot of gasoline, she thought.

When the tank was full and she collected the receipt, Deidre pulled onto Highway 61, heading back to Duluth. Deep in thought, she crossed over the French River and was almost to London Road in Duluth. The speed limit was thirty and when she looked at the speedometer it registered forty-five.

Lucky I’m in a marked car, she thought but nevertheless let her vehicle coast to the prescribed limit. In about two miles she turned onto I-35 and picked up her pace. Ten minutes later she was at the Fortieth Avenue West exit where she left the freeway. Another three blocks and she was at Nils’ home. She had visited regularly when she lived in Two Harbors, but it was a long drive from her cabin to Duluth, and her visits had become infrequent.

When she knocked on the door of his cottage, she heard a thin voice call out, “Come on in. The door’s open.”

Nils had been a captain of a Great Lakes ore boat for years, but to look at him now, one would never guess he had guided those thousand-foot behemoths through narrow passageways. These days, Nils was relegated to sitting in a wheelchair and letting others serve him.

“Deidre Johnson,” he croaked as his milky eyes attempted to focus on her. “What are you doing visiting a dried up old prune like me? Don’t ya know the neighbors will be talking if we meet like this?” He cackled at his own joke.

“Let them talk, Nils. If I lived closer, I’d ask you to go steady with me.” That made Nils laugh until he had a coughing fit, and it took him several seconds to get his breath back.

“Just the thought of that almost killed me,” he said, and laughed again.

“Nils, I came by to have a talk about something serious. Sorry to have to get to the point this way, but I need to tap into your knowledge of the harbor.”

Nils became silent. Then he murmured, “Yes, the harbor. Well, I guess I can tell you a few things about that place. But nothing recent. I haven’t been able to get down there for years. Don’t even get to sit by the canal and watch the boats come into port.”

Deidre noticed the faraway look in his eyes. “This isn’t a pleasant subject for me to talk about, but when you were captain, did prostitutes ever get smuggled on board the lakers?”

Nils shifted his position in his chair, and Deidre could see how thin and useless his legs had become.

“Not that I would ever allow it, or any other captain I knew. We had strict rules about that. If any hand was caught trying that stunt, he was immediately fired. If anyone did succeed on a captain’s watch, the captain was written up and docked wages. A second incident of that nature led to dismissal. I never knew of a captain losing his job because of such an incident.”

In a way, Deidre was relieved by what Nils told her.

“Of course, what sailors did in port was their own business. We had no control over that. I know many of the sailors weren’t angels. Rumor was they met prostitutes in empty railroad box cars parked by the docks in Two Harbors. A whorehouse on wheels, you might say.” Nils sort of snickered. Deidre didn’t laugh, so he continued. “No, we kept pretty close tabs on that sort of thing. Course things changed when the St. Lawrence Seaway opened in 1959. I had just been promoted to captain that year and remember well the day the first salty arrived to take on a load of wheat at the Superior terminal. Now they were a different story. In fact, I was told that some, not all mind you, but some of their captains encouraged prostitutes to come aboard as a reward for the crew. Port security said they tried to prevent it, but I don’t think they tried too hard. I suspect some money exchanged hands under the table.”

“Tell me, Nils, do you know of any women not allowed to leave the boat once the ship was ready to leave the harbor? Did you ever hear of any of them being kidnapped?”

Nils went silent for a moment. “I really can’t say one way or another. You see, it was as though our crews and theirs lived in two different worlds. We didn’t speak their language. They didn’t speak ours. I think the girls sort of watched out for each other, kept each others’ backs. One of them might know. ’Course I don’t know any of those ladies. Most of them are dead by now, I suppose.”

His gaze drifted to his window where he could see the dried stems of hollyhocks moving in the wind. Then he continued. “I do know this—things were getting a lot rougher on the docks by the time I retired. That was after the shipping season ended in 1979.” He paused. “Now I’m ninety-three. Not much time left, but I had a good life. I’m content where I’m at and with where I’m headed.” He smiled winsomely at Deidre, and it almost broke her heart to hear her great-uncle talk that way.

“I’m glad to see you’re at peace, Nils, but I have one more question. If I wanted more answers to the questions I asked, who would you say I should look up?”

Without hesitation he answered. “You’d want to see William Ojannen. He served under me when he first joined the fleet. Worked his way up the ranks same as I did. He became captain the year I left and retired in 2010. But you’ll have a tough time catching up with him. He spends his winters in Florida. I don’t know where exactly, but you should be able to find out.”

Deidre wrote down the name with a notation beside it. “Nils, can I do anything for you before I leave,” she asked.

“Wheel me over to the window so I can wave to you when you go. Oh, and, Deidre, happy Thanksgiving if I don’t get a chance to see you before then.”

Deidre walked to her SUV carrying a load of guilt for having neglected the old man the last few years. She made a vow to spend more time with him. Before she stepped into her vehicle, she turned and waved at the sallow figure in the window. He waved back with his bony hand.

 

*****

 

Deidre wasn’t quite sure of what to expect when she returned to the office. What arrangements would Jill have made?

“Hi, Boss Lady,” she was greeted. “I’ve got the info you wanted about the judge. It’s in the file on your desk. The Minneapolis police are being pretty tight lipped about the raid. Seems they’re going to be stepping on some pretty big toes, and they don’t want unofficial reports leaking out before they’re ready. Need anything while you read what I have for you?” She smiled her expectant smile, something that was beginning to unnerve Deidre.

“Yes, I need William Ojannen’s phone number. He worked on the Great Lakes fleet of ore boats until 2010 and now lives in Florida, at least during the winter. Where he stays summers, I don’t know.”

“Gotcha, Boss Lady. I’ll get right on it.”

Deidre didn’t know what to say, so she sat down, picked up the folder , and began to read Jill’s report.

 

Judge Tony DeMarcus

 

Deidre’s thoughts were interrupted by Jill.

“Sorry, Boss Lady, unless you can raise the dead, you’re going to have a tough time getting any info from William Ojannen. He died six months ago. Fell off a ladder and broke his neck. You’d think at his age he’d have known better. Anyway, he won’t have much to give you.”

Deidre still wasn’t sure how to respond to this working arrange­ment. What could she say, the woman was more than competent.

“I ran off a copy of a Google map for you. It has instructions for getting to the judge’s house on Lake Calhoun. If you leave now, you can be there by four and still have time to make it back tonight.”

It was as if Jill had read her mind. She had planned to try to meet the judge.

In a half hour she was in her car and on her way to Minneapolis, realizing the road was becoming all too familiar. She stopped at Tobie’s, a legendary stop on I-35 midway between Duluth and the Twin Cities, ordered one of their famous caramel rolls and a cup of coffee to go, and was back on the road in fifteen minutes.

Juggling the coffee and the sticky roll, she managed to drive at the same time. Deidre mulled over what she would say if she had the opportunity to see the judge. She didn’t want to call ahead to ask for an audience, knowing the phone would probably be hung up, if it were answered at all.

No, she wanted this visit to be a surprise. She thought if she could catch him off guard, she might have a chance.

Jill’s map and directions were easy to follow, and she maneuvered the streets with no problem. A little after four in the afternoon, Deidre pulled over to the curb near 1300 Calhoun Drive. She didn’t want her BCA emblem to be noticed so she made sure she parked down the block.

As she neared the front door of his house, she could hear the shrill voice of a woman screaming obscenities inside, but she couldn’t quite catch every word.

“You lying bastard! Don’t you come close to me. I’ve put up with your philandering long enough. No! Don’t you ever touch me again you . . .” Deidre couldn’t make out what the last word was, but she could guess.

She hesitated before ringing the door bell, and during that moment’s hesitation, the door flew open, and a very angry woman, her jacket open and flapping in the November cold, stormed past. She carried a suitcase in each hand.

Janelle DeMarcus, Tony’s ex-wife-to-be, stopped in front of Deidre. “You blond bimbo, are you lining up to see the judge already? Well, go to it, you little tart, and have a good time with that worn out old SOB. You’ll find out he’s not much good in the bedroom, or anywhere else.”

Janelle spit on the ground as if trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth, threw her stuff in a van, and peeled out of the driveway.

The judge stepped to the doorway, a drink in his hand. He teetered for a moment and then hurled the glass at the speeding van. It fell short and shattered on the concrete.

“Who the hell are you,” he barked at Deidre, looking at her through bleary eyes.

“My name is Deidre. I’d like to come in if you don’t mind.” She smiled as sincerely at the drunk as she could.

The judge cursed and said, “I don’t want to talk to anybody. Get lost.” But then he looked again at the petite blond who stood on his doorstep, smiling innocently at him.

“Oh, hell, come on in. Maybe we can get to know each other.”

Tony DeMarcus poured himself another drink, and flopped down in an expensive leather chair. “So, what do you want?” he slurred.

“Judge, I need some legal advice. I—”

Before she could continue, he broke in. “Leave the SOB. That’s what he is, an SOB. In fact,” and he pointed his drink at Deidre, “we’re all a bunch of SOBs.” Tony took a long swig from the glass and went silent, staring at the floor.

“Judge,” Deidre tried again. He reacted as though he had forgotten she was there, jerking upright and trying to focus his eyes on her.

“Wha?” he asked. Deidre figured she better get to the point before he passed out.

“Judge, I have a hypothetical situation I’d like your advice about. From your years on the bench, are you familiar with anyone who might be connected to a prostitution ring in Hennepin County?”

The judge looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Hell, yes. This county is filled with crime. Every year, we try more cases than all the rest of the state. Walk down Hennepin Avenue any night of the week, and then ask me that question.”

“Well, then, hypothetically speaking of course, do you have any judge friends who might be involved with prostitution?”

“Hypothetically? I suppose one or two might be.” He drained his glass and reached for the bottle to pour another.

“If I were talking to one of them, do you think he’d be able to name some names of the pimps involved?”

The judge shifted his feet. “Maybe. Might there be anything in it for me if I say yes?”

Deidre smiled sweetly at him. “Might be, judge. But what would your friend have to tell me?”

“I think he’d say, ‘Billy Evers.’”

“And where would he say I’d find this Billy Evers?”

The judge leered at Deidre. “He’s in jail.”

With those words he drained his glass, began to make a move toward Deidre from his chair, and fell flat on his face, passed out.

“Sorry, Judge, I guess that’s all you’re going to get. And you’re wrong. Not all men are a bunch of SOBs.”

She let herself out of the house, not bothering to rouse the inebriated judge, and climbed into her SUV. Deidre was getting ready to call Jill, but her phone rang while it was in her hand.

“Hi, Boss Lady. It’s Jill.”

Deidre was about to recite her rehearsed script about respect, authority, and protocol, but Jill cut her off. “I’ve found the names of three people charged with prostituting women and let off by Judge DeMarcus. DeJohn Franklin appeared before him four years ago. The judge ruled the evidence against him had been compromised and dismissed the case. The prosecuting attorney went ballistic and received a stayed sentence for contempt of court. Mr. Franklin was killed in a drive-by shooting last December, so you won’t have to interview him.”

All Deidre could do was listen and take notes. Jill continued. “The second is Trenton Williams. He appeared before DeMarcus two years ago. Same situation, same results. The judge declared the evidence inadmissible, much to the chagrin of attorney. Evidently, Trenton left the city after his release, because two months later he was arrested in New York City. He was convicted of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, and kidnapping. He’s serving a twenty-year sentence in the Downstate Correctional Facility in Fishkill, New York.”

Jill concluded, “Not only would it be time consuming to interview him, it also might not be productive, because he’s been in jail for over a year and a half.”

Deidre still couldn’t get in a word.

“The third is more interesting. His name’s Billy Evers. Four months ago, his case was dismissed by our favorite judge, but he was arrested on a different warrant a couple of days ago at the same time the judge was caught with his pants down. Billy is in the Hennepin County Jail, and his arraignment hearing is set for nine tomorrow morning. You’ll never guess who his attorney is—Gerald Colter II, a Two Harbors attorney. I thought you might try to see Billy this evening, if he’ll talk to you. You might even want to hear Mr. Colter’s argument in the morning, so I’ve booked a room for you at the Marriott. You might as well be comfortable while you’re there. Got a pencil? Here’s the address.” Deidre wrote down what Jill dictated.

“So, anything else you want me to do before you get back tomorrow afternoon?”

Deidre was still writing. “No. No, this is fine. I’ll see you around two or three tomorrow.”

“Bye, then,” and Deidre heard Jill disconnect the phone.

She was not quite sure how she was going to handle the whirlwind who camped in her office, and as she drove, she brooded on the problem. By the time she arrived at the Hennepin County Jail, she had come to the conclusion that Jill had done exactly what she, Deidre, would have asked her to do. It was just unnerving to have Jill do everything before she was asked.

She presented her identification to the guard manning the metal detector in the entry and was allowed to pass through. It was a long shot. Billy Evers probably wouldn’t talk to her anyway, but she was here and might as well try.

To her disbelief, when she made her request known, she was escorted to a room divided by a glass partition. She sat in a wooden chair opposite a speaker mounted in the glass, and she saw movement in the hall leading in from the other side. A man who looked to be about thirty-five sat down opposite her on the other side of the glass.

“I’m Deidre Johnson, an investigator with the BCA. Are you Billy Evers?” Deidre asked, staring directly into his eyes.

“I am.

“Can I ask you a couple of questions not related to your case?”

“You can, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer them.”

“How well do you know Gerald Colter?”

Billy thought for a full ten seconds. “Well enough to call him.”

“Have you ever been to Duluth or up the North Shore?”

Billy grinned and took his time answering. “No, can’t say I have.”

“How did you know to call Mr. Colter to be your attorney.”

Again a long pause. “His name’s in the phonebook.”

“And you just happened to pick the Two Harbors phonebook?”

Billy smirked. “Good as any.”

“Do you know anything about the trafficking of women to the sailors on the boats in Duluth?”

Billy’s face went blank. “I suppose it could happen.”

Deidre knew she was getting nowhere, that Billy Evers was mocking her. “Where were you two weeks ago tonight?”

Billy shrugged. “I’m a busy man. Do you expect me to remember that far back. If I had my calendar, I’d check it, but they’re kind of fussy about those kinds of things in here.” He squinted at her. “Say, you’re pretty good lookin’ for a cop. Doin’ anything tonight? I thought we might get together, say sevenish.” He laughed at his attempt to be funny.

Deidre glared at him, wondering if she should get up and leave or say what she felt like saying.

“Anything else? Otherwise, I’m bored.” Billy motioned for the guard to take him back to his cell.

Deidre left, wishing she hadn’t been so foolish as to get into a peeing contest with a skunk. When she got to her hotel, she was thankful for Jill’s foresight. The hot shower relieved some of her tension, and she set the alarm for six-thirty the next morning. It would be good to observe Gerald Colter II in action.

She was seated in the courtroom at nine o’clock the next morning and heard the bailiff call out, “All rise.” The judge, a stern looking woman with graying hair and heavy, black eyebrows stomped to her place and sat down.

The bailiff read from a script. “The case of William Evers versus the State of Minnesota.”

The judge addressed Billy. “You are charged with being complicit to prostitution, to contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and with having sexual contact with a minor. How do you plead?”

Before Billy could answer, his attorney, Gerald Colter, sprang to his feet. He stretched out his arm and adjusted his shirt cuff so his expensive Rolex watch glinted in the light for everyone to see.

“I am requesting that all charges against my client be dropped, Your Honor. If you will take a brief moment to scan the police report, I’m sure you will agree that Mr. Williams has never been involved in such practices as the warrant against him charges today. That woman assured him she was over eighteen, and he took her at her word. Secondly—”

The judge cut him off and stared at him over the rims of her glasses. “That will be enough, Mr. Coulter. From your outburst, I assume you mean to plead not guilty. Am I correct?”

Colter was not cowed, and he glared back at her. “You are correct in that assumption. I will, however, further request that my client be released without bail. He resides in Minneapolis, has relatives in this area, and has three children. Obviously he is not flight risk and has assured me he wishes to clear his good name of these charges.”

The judge continued to stare impassively at the attorney. “Bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars. Until that is paid or until this case is scheduled for trial, Mr. Evers will be remanded to the Hennepin County Jail.” She hammered her gavel. “Next case.”

Gerald Colter glared at her as though he thought he could intimidate her.

Once a bully, always a bully, Deidre thought.

Deidre watched Colter gather up his papers, and as he looked back at the courtroom observers, he spotted Deidre. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared, but he gave no other indication he saw her.