by Jeff Nania
“But just you, me, and the chief, here. Tell your guys to go about their business,” I directed.
Gunther turned his back on us, walked over to a round table, and sat down with his back to the wall. He had an open beer in front of him. Len and I sat on either side.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
Gunther was an intimidating man. He wore the scars of many battles on his face, including a Frankenstein-looking one running down the left side of his head. He lit a cigarette and sat back.
“I’ve got a question for you,” I said.
“Ask it so you can get the hell out of here,” he replied.
“Who is taking out your people? Who took out your cousin Jesse, Devin Martin, and Tony Carter? Who blew up the lab?”
Gunther smoked for a while.
“Those aren’t my people. What does ‘my people’ even mean? If you are going to start out stupid, then this is over. Jesse was my cousin. The other two were just people I knew,” he said, playing a game he knew well.
“I don’t care what your relationship was. I only want to know if you have any ideas about who might have taken them out.”
“You should’ve asked that screwball, Randy Muller. He probably did it. I’m sure he spun you a line of bullshit trying to get a deal. Good thing he hung himself. Good thing for everyone,” said Gunther.
“Nope, these killings were a step above Randy Muller’s talents. Whoever did those hits spent time planning. Maybe they are just getting started, or maybe they’re done. I don’t know. Thing is, the easiest way to get them out of your life is to help us catch them,” I explained.
Gunther lit up another cigarette and smoked for a while. He rapped the tabletop, and a guy from behind the bar brought him another beer.
“You guys want something to drink?” he asked.
We both declined.
“Well, I don’t know who might have done those guys. It seems to me, all their troubles started when they moved to the promised land. My cousin was all jacked up about learning to fish. They must have got crossways with somebody up here. That’s all I can figure.”
“You think you might be next, Deacon?” I asked.
He laughed, “I’ve spent my whole life thinkin’ I might be next. So far, I’m still here,” he said shrewdly.
“No idea who might be behind the killings?” Len asked.
“Let me be straight with you. I don’t have any idea at all about who killed those guys. If I did, I would tell you. Then you do what you do. Go get ’em and put ’em away. That would be alright by me. There are too damn many criminals in the world. But I don’t have any idea. If I think of something, you guys will be the first to know. How’s that?” Deacon said, ending our conversation.
We left the bar, and I had an urge to take a shower.
“What do you think, Len?”
“I don’t think he knows who is behind this, and I think he’s a little worried we don’t know. He’s a drug dealer, and he has had nothing but trouble in Namekagon County. His top guy, his cousin, and his chemist all get killed. That’s bad for business, maybe bad for him.”
“We’ve got a meeting with the DA tomorrow afternoon. Any thoughts about Tyler Winslow?” I asked.
“He kept his word. We need to keep ours. He needs to go free. Truth is, we’ll get him again. He won’t go far. A skunk doesn’t change his stripes.”
Tyler Winslow had been evaluated for witness protection. Given that he was a habitual criminal, a drug user, and the person he was going to testify against had hung himself, the evaluators didn’t feel that he was enough at risk. The upside for him was that he avoided going to trial and maybe doing twenty-five years.
I got a call from Ricardo the next day.
“Hey there, Sheriff. How goes things in Mayberry? I kinda miss the place, although my doctor put me on cholesterol medication because of my addiction to the Fisherman’s deep-fried cheese curds,” he said.
“I’m headed over right now for a meeting with Len and the DA about cutting Tyler Winslow loose.”
“That boy dodged the bullet. The bad guy he’s going to testify against does himself in. For a while, I thought Gunther might come after him just for show. I don’t think that anymore. To that end, I have some great news for you. Deacon Gunther and company have fled the scenic north country. They arrived in Milwaukee yesterday evening and have reestablished residence in their old digs. The word is they just don’t see Namekagon County as the place to be. I wondered if you or one of your deputies could run out to his bar and see if it’s locked up. It’s not important, but information is good to have,” Ricardo said.
“You’re kidding me. Len and I met with Gunther yesterday and asked him if he knew who was knocking off his people. He didn’t have anything. Guess he didn’t want to stick around to find out what happens.”
“Gone is good enough,” Anthony replied.
“I’ll swing by there and let you know,” I said.
“Thanks, Sheriff. I’ll catch up with you later,” and he hung up.
The meeting with the DA included Tyler Winslow and Jack Wheeler. When Len and I walked in, it was clear they were already in the middle of a discussion.
“Sheriff, Chief, thanks for coming,” the DA said.
We settled in, and Jack began.
“You guys have not kept your end of the bargain with my client. He is still locked up,” Wheeler stated.
“He is still locked up by his own choice,” I clarified.
“That is because he is afraid to walk out the door. You put a bullseye on his back and no protection,” Wheeler said accusingly.
“You saw the review for witness protection. They don’t feel he is at risk. At your request, we appealed the decision and got the same answer,” the DA said.
“I have other news that is germane to this situation,” I said. “I received information this morning that Gunther and his people have returned to the southeastern part of the state. I haven’t confirmed it yet, but the source is impeccable,” I said.
“They are gone for good?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know, but they are gone for now,” I replied. “That’s good news for all of us.”
“My client and I have an offer we think you should consider,” Wheeler said. “Tyler has seen the error of his ways and wants to turn his life around. He would like to relocate to another community and start over. He needs some money to accomplish that. We are requesting twenty-five hundred dollars from the Witness/Victim Compensation Fund to get him on his way. Let us not forget he was instrumental in clearing a homicide.”
“I do not feel that paying a criminal for doing his civic duty, for once in his life, is a precedent we want to set,” objected Len.
It was distasteful, but we agreed.
We had kept Judge Kritzer in the loop about the Tyler Winslow situation, and in chambers, he was advised of the current status. He had determined it was within the district attorney and law enforcement’s discretionary powers to make such an agreement. He was candid about the fact that Tyler Winslow leaving Namekagon County could only be good for the community. He also agreed to Jack Wheeler’s formal request to have the court proceeding closed to the public and press. The judge was a strong believer in open court, and it was a rare circumstance where he closed a proceeding. The potential threat to Winslow was enough to support that.
Our attempts at secrecy were less than successful. That evening, the local TV and radio news broadcast a story about the potential release of Tyler Winslow. The essence of their stories was pretty much the same. Winslow was an eyewitness to the homicide of Marcus Johnson. Randy Muller had been arrested and charged with the crime based on Winslow’s sworn statement. Muller was found dead before he went to trial, having hung himself from the cell block shower door.
The next morning several reporters were waiting outside the courtroom for the proceedings to start. They were disappointed that when the doors opened, the room was empty. The court clerk advised them that the cas
e was over. There was plenty of grumbling on the part of the reporters as they left the courthouse. Chief Bork and DA Hablitch went out front and addressed all questions with “no comment.”
I took Winslow out the back of the courthouse and drove him to the garage to pick up his truck.
“Well, Winslow, from here on out, you’re on your own. What happens from here is pretty much up to you. Good luck,” I said.
“Sheriff, I am going to change my life. I’m done with getting crossways of the law. I’m done with drugs. I know I have got a second chance, and I plan to take it,” Tyler promised. •
33
The Watcher
The man sat in his vehicle drinking a cup of coffee, pretending to read the newspaper. He had heard on the radio that Tyler Winslow was going to be released. Just as he figured, Sheriff Cabrelli snuck him out the back of the courthouse, put him in a sheriff’s car and drove him away. He followed the sheriff’s car at a safe distance, watched them go to the bank and then Bill and Jack’s Garage. He watched as Winslow gave the mechanic some money. They were standing next to a pickup truck. The man didn’t speed up or slow as he drove past the garage but unintentionally caught the sheriff’s attention, who gave him a casual wave. He waved back and continued on his way. When he got the chance, he cut through an alley and found a parking place where he could watch Winslow, who was still talking to the sheriff.
Winslow drove straight out of town on the highway, and the man followed. Tyler turned off at the first forest road and then took a series of other roads until he came to a two-track leading to the Crooked Lake dam where his brother had drowned. The man pulled off on a dead-end dirt driveway blocked from view by a hill. He shut off the engine and got out of his vehicle. He slowly, carefully followed a well-worn footpath up the hill. Soon he could see Tyler Winslow in the empty parking lot and watched as Winslow took a plastic tarp from behind the front seat and spread it on the ground. Winslow laid on his back and slid under the truck. After a few moments, he got back up with a small plastic bag in his hand. He carefully unwrapped the package, filled a small pipe, and lit it with a disposable lighter. After a minute or so, Winslow slid down the side of the truck and sat on the tarp, smiling.
From there, the man followed Tyler back to the cabin where he had been arrested. Winslow opened the door and went inside. Several minutes later he reappeared with a bottle of whiskey in his hand and headed to the woodshed. Winslow came out carrying the whiskey and a plastic bag in one hand and the large-caliber revolver he used to kill Marcus Johnson in the other. He got back into his truck, turned up the radio, and drove off. Tyler Winslow was only out for a few hours, and it looked like he was already back in business. •
34
January started as quiet as it was cold. At the end of the first week, the temperature began to drop and stayed below zero, stubbornly refusing to move. Then arctic blasts blew through and drove the windchill to minus twenty. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Namekagon County was fifty-five below zero, and there was conjecture that the record might be broken. People who didn’t need to go out hunkered down as much as possible. For others heading off to work, it was just another day in the north country. Doc O’Malley drove around with his jumper pack idling in the back of his truck. Tim the plumber had a waiting list for thawing frozen pipes and repairing broken ones. Everyone casually ignored laws regarding where and when snowmobiles and ATVs could be operated. We didn’t shut our squads off.
Despite the weather, Julie’s school kids still worked with the local DNR and Charlie Newlin. They were all wearing snowshoes following several different trails that led them to locations where they had placed trail cameras. Each team of kids was responsible for the cameras in their area. They recorded the camera number and location, removed the camera card, and replaced it with a new one. Then they carefully examined the area in a hundred-foot radius of the camera, taking detailed notes and photographing anything of interest. It was exciting for all when they returned to school and got to take the first look at what the cameras had seen. Ed and Stella Lockridge helped out on almost every one of these field days. It was on one of these days that we all got some sad news.
Ed, Stella, Charlie, Julie, and the students were following the trails to the camera locations. Some snow had a crust on top, and some was powder. It was hard going. Still, youthful exuberance should never be underrated, and the kids moved quickly, making it a challenge for the adults. They all reached the point where each team would go out on their trail. Everyone took a breather, and the kids made a fire and ate some snacks. Stella noticed Ed was chilled and told him to move closer to the fire. Then Ed started to cough and couldn’t stop. Everyone was concerned, but Stella said that he had spells like this before and it would pass. Soon his coughing subsided, and he began to breathe easier. Ed and Stella decided to take the rest of the day off and head back. Julie and the kids, especially Amber, wanted to go with them, but Ed insisted they would be just fine.
The one-hour walk back to where they parked took them three hours. Stella loaded him into the truck and drove straight to the hospital. He was admitted and, after a short while, moved to intensive care. They put him on oxygen and through a battery of tests.
Amber stayed with Julie and me that night. We watched Northern Exposure reruns, ate popcorn, and played a board game in an attempt to distract Amber, who was clearly worried about her grandfather. The next morning, Stella called and asked us to come to the hospital with Amber.
We entered through the emergency doors, and a nurse took us to the family room waiting room. A doctor came in a few minutes later with Stella, who looked as if she had aged ten years.
Stella held Amber’s face with strong but gentle hands.
“Honey, we have some bad news. And just like all bad news, it is going to hurt. This time real bad. Your grandpa has lung cancer. Real bad lung cancer, the kind they cannot fix. He will still be with us for a while, maybe some months, but then we are going to have to send him on a journey.”
I don’t believe I had ever seen a heart shatter until that moment. Amber had lost so much in her young life. First her mother, and now she would lose the man who had loved her unconditionally, given her a home, and protected her from the evils of the world. The man who read her stories while she sat on his lap. The only man in her life. It started as a quiet sob, the kind of sob that attaches itself to those around you, the kind of sob that comes from deep inside, from that unprotected place. She cried until there were no tears left. Julie and Stella cried with her.
It was agreed that Amber could stay with us until Ed was released from the hospital, probably in three or four days. Stella asked Amber if she wanted to see Ed before she went home with us. She said no and began to cry again.
Ed improved more quickly than anyone expected and was released two days later. We met them at their cabin on Spider Creek. He looked surprisingly good, even though he was wearing a mask and carried an oxygen bottle in a shoulder pack. He got out of the old truck, and Amber ran up and threw her arms around him.
Ed had a big smile on his face, glad to be home and with his family.
“They are gonna try some treatments on me. I have to go to the hospital in Superior once a week. Stella will take me the first couple of times, and after that, I can probably take myself. We have a lot to do here in the meantime. Pulling all the traps is the first thing. I think we better get started on that right away in the morning.”
“Ed, I can help you with that if you want,” I offered.
“Thanks, Sheriff, but I think Stella, Amber, and I can handle it. We’ll take it slow and enjoy the time in the backcountry. Who knows, we might even catch a beaver or two. Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about you and Julie meet us at the last trap—the one right by the Spider Creek Bridge. We should be there by noon. We’ll make a fire and cook up some coffee and lunch. How’s that sound?”
“That sounds great, Ed. What can we bring?” Julie said.
“Nothing,” Stella said. “W
e always have plenty.”
We worked things out so that when Stella took Ed to the cancer center in Superior, they would drop Amber off the night before. Stella and Amber picked out some of Amber’s clothes and things from home. Then Julie and Amber went over to our place and had fun setting up the guest room. A few pictures, a favorite pillow, and a couple of stuffed animals helped cozy things up.
The next morning, the Lockridges pulled their traps for the last time. They had caught two beaver, a mink, and three muskrats. When they got to the location of the last trap, Julie and I already had a fire going. Stella brought out five foil-wrapped packages. She put them on the edge of the fire and banked coals over the top of them. Ed filled an old dented enamelware coffee pot from the creek and set it in the fire.
“Can’t add the coffee until we get the water to a good rolling boil for a while. Gotta watch out for beaver fever,” said Ed.
Each foil wrap held venison, potatoes, and onions, seasoned just right. Along with that, Stella pulled a sack out of her backpack full of homemade biscuits. Dessert was wild blueberry tarts and strong coffee with sugar and cream. It was probably the best lunch I ever had. As we were cleaning up, Ed reached in the pocket of his parka for his smoking supplies, but the pocket was empty. It was too little, too late, but now each minute of each day had more value.
I ended up helping in the skinning shed. Ed found it easier to breathe with the door open, which meant the shed was colder than either Amber or Stella liked. Even with my lack of skill, everything got skinned, stretched, and prepped for the fur buyer. Prices were good, and that made Ed happy. He was even happier when Stella came back from the mailbox with the check from Yuletide Wreath Company, payment for the balsam boughs they had harvested and delivered. He and Stella had lived a simple life and had money saved, but any extra that came their way would be much appreciated after Ed was gone.