I washed and groomed in minutes, then dressed in a light blue button shirt and gray pants. I put my badge in a holder and clipped in on the top of my pants at the waistline. I attached my portable radio holder to the left of my badge, found my pancake holster, and clipped it on the right side of my pants. My Glock was in its off duty resting place in my bed stand. I checked it, did a few practice draws, and clicked it into the holster.
On my way out the door, I grabbed an energy drink, promising myself a cup of coffee as soon as possible, and headed into the garage for my squad car. I climbed in, hit the automatic garage door opener, and backed out as soon as the door lifted high enough for me to clear.
I pulled into the park eight minutes later. It was filled with poplars and some hardwoods. I drove in on the gravel road that followed a slight incline, then dropped again as it got closer to the lake. People used the park more for hiking the trails than for fishing. I’d see an occasional person fishing from the short dock when I’d drive through.
Deputy Norwood, a newer hire, was standing in the road, apparently keeping guard. I parked and visually took in the scene. The Corsica was sitting next to sumac bushes and was not easily visible from the road. Weber and Zubinski were peering closely at the ground, out some feet from the Corsica. Smoke was looking in the car windows.
When I got out of my car, Norwood nodded and smiled. “Stay to the side of the road.”
I took care where I walked to avoid destroying evidence.
“No good footprints that I can find,” Weber said, and Zubinski shook her head.
Smoke, Zubinski, and Weber all looked up when I joined them.
“That was fast. You sleep with your clothes on?” Smoke said.
I held back a smart comment. “Anything interesting? I overheard Weber talking about the lack of footprints.”
Weber swiped at the side of his neck. It was sunburned, along with his head and face. “It’s grassy where they parked.” He pointed to the road. “And the gravel’s packed down hard there. We’ve got shallow depressions from a few different tires.”
“But only one where it looks like a vehicle was following the victim’s. It pulled in here, onto the grass about eight feet, then backed up, and drove out of the park,” Zubinski said.
“We’ll get good photos if we can’t get a decent cast,” Smoke said.
“What about the car?” I asked.
Smoke pulled on a pair of latex gloves and reached for the car door handle. “Clean. Literally. It’s been cleaned. Weber dusted the driver’s side door handle. No prints at all, so we know it’s been wiped. Doors are unlocked, keys are in the ignition. I don’t want to contaminate whatever evidence they left behind, but I’m going to pop open the trunk.”
Weber wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Maybe we’ll find another body.”
“You have a sick sense of humor,” said Mandy, who had lost most of hers the previous month.
Smoke opened the driver’s side door and pushed the trunk release. The rest of us waited in anticipation. No body. “Well?” Smoke said.
“A pile of clothes minus the body,” I said.
“Men’s,” Vince added.
Mandy snapped a series of photos from several angles.
Smoke lowered his face into the trunk “Smell that?”
“What?” I asked, hearing the hesitation in my own voice.
“Rank perspiration odor. Maybe Leder had a problem with B.O., or he didn’t change his clothes for a couple of days, or he ran a marathon, or he was scared shitless.” Smoke turned his head to the right and sucked in a lungful of better smelling air. “You know how sweat takes on a different smell when you’re under pressure.”
Mandy agreed. “Yeah, it’s like a chemical thing.”
“And there were no apparent signs of a struggle around here?” Smoke asked.
“No,” Weber answered.
“So this is likely not the spot where Leder was restrained and stripped of his clothing.”
Weber shook his head. “It appears a single driver drove in, got out, walked back to the waiting vehicle. Didn’t mess around the trunk area. No sign of anyone walking around there at all. The placed clothing and the cleaning of the vehicle happened somewhere else.”
“They may have been careful to clean the car and wipe away fingerprints, but there could still be some trace evidence,” Smoke said.
Weber nodded. “Sure. We’ll do a thorough check back at the lab.”
Smoke reached into the trunk and lifted a shirt to get a better look at what was underneath. “Grab some bags and we’ll get these into evidence.” Weber and Zubinski left for their errand and returned a minute later. “Okay, bag one, shirt.” Mandy opened a paper bag and Smoke dropped it in. She recorded the necessary data on the outside of the bag with a permanent marker.
Smoke pulled out a pair of jeans next and patted each pocket. “Pockets are empty, of items anyway. May find some lint in there.” Weber held the bag and Smoke deposited the jeans in it. “I’ll throw the socks in there, too.” Which he did.
“What have we here?” Smoke lifted an athletic shoe that had a plastic baggie stuffed inside. He pulled out the bag and held it up, turning it as he spoke. “Wallet, gold chain, watch, wedding ring, a bottle of prescription medication . . .” Smoke slid his readers from the top of his head to his nose and moved the bag closer to his face for a better view. “Metoprolol. Hmm. Have to look that one up, but something in my memory tells me it’s a heart med. Any of you know anything about it?” Smoke looked from one to the other, and we all shook our heads.
“What am I thinking, asking a bunch of healthy thirty-year-olds?”
“Hey, Mandy and I are still in our twenties,” I said.
“Yeah, Aleckson, hold on tight to the last few months of your twenties,” Vince teased.
Zubinski opened a large plastic evidence bag and Smoke dropped the baggie and its contents into it. “You know what’s odd?” he said.
“Pretty much everything in this case so far,” I said.
“That’s a given, but I mean specifically.”
“I’d say it’s that the killers went to a lot of work: posing the victim in his brother-in-law’s field, putting his possessions in the trunk of his car, and parking it where it can be easily found,” I said.
“And they left the keys in it, so it could have just as easily gotten stolen,” Smoke added.
“Maybe that’s what they wanted to happen,” Zubinski said.
“Maybe.” Smoke closed the trunk. “We’ll work to get it all sorted out. You got any useable tire tracks to cast?”
“No, not on the other vehicle, anyway. We’ll have to rely on the photos for evidence. Looks like a mid-size car, not a truck or SUV. When we’re done, we’ll call the tow truck and have the car brought to the garage.” Weber gently scratched the back of his sunburned neck. “Think we got enough to keep us busy today, Zubinski?”
She widened her eyes and tucked in her chin. “Ah, yeah.”
“Huh. It just struck me. There is something missing in Leder’s stuff,” Smoke said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A cell phone.”
“Yeah. Well maybe the guy didn’t have one. There are maybe three people in our county who don’t, based on the people who I see driving with one stuck to the side of their faces,” Weber said.
I agreed. “That’d be about right.”
“We’ll find out if he was one of the three. If not, we’ll check his records, ask what plan he had. The last person or two he talked to could be the break we need.” Smoke nodded at the deputies. “Carry on and we’ll touch base later.”
“Later,” I said and fell in behind Smoke when he headed to his car.
Smoke stuck his readers in his pocket. “Edberg’s on his way to Rochester to see if he can shake any information loose from Shane Coates’ memory.”
I leaned against his car. “It was a smart idea not sending me. Last time he saw me I was testifying against him in
court. It might distract him if he started thinking about that instead of how to help solve the crimes against his old buddy.”
“Could be. Edberg told me he hadn’t had any past dealings with Coates, so it should go fine. On to our own interviews, huh?”
“I have to find some coffee first,” I said.
“I’ll make a strong pot when we get back to the station. And it will be brewed to perfection.”
“If you say so. It’ll save me a trip through a drive-through, anyway.”
CHAPTER 7
I was in the squad room reviewing the notes I had so far on the Gage Leder case when Smoke came in and set a cup of coffee on the table in front of me. The fragrant aroma made me take in an extra deep breath. I picked up the cup and glanced over my shoulder. “Thank you. You didn’t have to deliver it to me.”
“Yes, I did. I want an alert partner.”
I took a generous sip. “All right, I wasn’t going to tell you this so you’d get a big head, but you do make the best coffee.”
“Not everyone would agree with that. There are plenty of guys around here who add water to my brew. Can’t imagine why.”
I set the cup next to my notes. “So what’s the plan?”
“I’ll meet the Nodings at the front desk and bring ’em to Interview Room B. It’s quieter than at my desk during the day. If you want to wait for us in the room, that’s fine. They should be here momentarily.”
I gathered my papers together. “Will do.”
“If you’re dying to ask any questions, just tap the end of your pen on the table three times and I’ll give you an opening a-sap.”
“Okie doke.”
Donna Noding looked far worse than she had the day before. Reality had likely set in. Was it the reality she had gotten caught, or was about to? Her husband looked like he hadn’t slept much, either. We exchanged greetings, and Smoke invited them to be seated on the opposite side of the table. After they took their places, Smoke sat down next to me.
“We found Gage’s car. His clothes and a few possessions were in the trunk.”
Donna sucked in a loud breath. “Where?”
“Roy Slayton County Park.”
Donna looked puzzled for a minute. “Oh, that little park west of here, off county road six? Gage used to go cross country skiing and snowshoeing out there.”
Smoke raised his eyebrows slightly and jotted it on his notepad. He set his pen down and focused on the Nodings. “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourselves. Whichever one of you wants to go first.”
Willie looked at Donna and she nodded for him to talk. “Well, I’m a farm boy, born and bred. My folks farmed two hundred and forty acres west of Emerald Lake. Donna and I go way back.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Went through school together, but didn’t start dating until after graduation. Been married twenty-six years, three kids—two grown, one’s a junior in high school. Some years back . . . seven?” Willie looked to his wife for verification.
Donna agreed. “Seven.”
“Anyway, I was running crops on both farms. Then seven years ago, Donna’s folks moved to Arizona because Donna’s mother had asthma and she felt better there. They asked us to move into their house. We think it was because they didn’t want Gage there, but they didn’t come out and say that, exactly. It wasn’t until after they both died we found out they had been paying on a big mortgage. Gage had borrowed against the farm and basically stuck his parents with the payments. Of all things. We couldn’t believe it. Donna’s grandparents had owned the farm free and clear umpteen years ago.”
I noticed Donna’s hands were trembling and she was working the muscles in her jaw.
“We ended up selling our other house—the one we had at my parent’s farm—and half of my inherited land—to pay part of the debt. We have to check with an attorney for the legal part of it, but we felt Gage got and lost his inheritance when he borrowed against it.”
Donna laid her hand on Willie’s wrist, but kept her eyes on Smoke. “His children should get their fair share. We stopped Gage from borrowing more money, but we don’t have all the figures together of what the market value of the farm is.”
“In this economy, not as much as it was a few years ago,” Willie added.
Smoke leaned forward. “Donna, Gage was your brother. You are probably the best person to shed some light on him, his life, his childhood. Tell us about that. About you and Gage.”
She stared at her hands for a minute. They were still shaking. Tears were forming in her lower lids when she raised her eyes to look at us. “I loved my brother very much when we were kids. So much that I didn’t notice how he was manipulating me—and our parents—from a very early age. Probably his whole life. I’m three years older. Gage was so cute and we all told him that often enough. My parents weren’t big on discipline, and Gage learned how to charm his way into everything he liked, and out of anything he didn’t. And no one seemed to care.
“When I got older I understood what ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ meant. He was spared and spoiled. But he didn’t spare others. He used whoever he could to get what he wanted. I thought he’d end up committing a crime that would land him in jail, but he was spared that, too.”
“Did you consider reporting him when he stole that money from your parents?” Smoke asked.
“It was a loan. One he had no intention of paying back, I’m sure, but how do you prove that? He could say it was a gift.”
Smoke sucked in a quick breath. “When we found his things, there was a prescription. Did you know your brother was taking medications?”
Donna nodded. “He had a heart condition. Arrhythmia. My dad had the same thing and died from it, actually. Gage mentioned needing surgery to correct it, but hadn’t, that I know of.”
“So he wasn’t spared from having a health concern?”
“I guess not. I thought that might take him someday, like it did Dad.” She was lost in thought a moment. “In some ways, I’m not surprised Gage was killed—”
“We actually don’t have a cause of death just yet,” Smoke said.
Donna’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh. I thought from what Willie said—” She looked at him, and he nodded.
“One thing we are sure of—he had help getting to your soybean field.”
“This sounds awful, but when you live your life the way he did, it could push a person to do a bad thing.” She looked at her hands.
That was true enough.
Smoke picked up his pen. “When was the last time you saw your brother?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a few weeks, a month?”
“Did you talk to him on the phone during that time?”
“No.”
“Willie, how about you?”
“Yeah, he stopped over at the house a month or so ago, asking about some old coins his folks had in a box in the attic. We—I—asked him to leave. Hadn’t heard from him since.”
“Anyone else come to mind who may have had reason to kill Gage?”
Willie lifted his shoulder like he was trying to shrug something off. “We haven’t kept up with his life, except for hearing things here and there. It royally pissed—”
“But we do keep up with his kids, as much as possible. We try to set a good example, make up a little bit for the mistakes their father made,” Donna said.
“Did Gage have a cell phone? Did you have his number?”
Donna shook her head. “He would buy those pre-paid ones.”
Willie leaned closer to his wife. “We thought he did that so no one would have his phone number for long.”
“How about his bank? Where’d he bank?”
Donna shrugged. “It was Oak Lea National way back when. I don’t know if he’s still there, or not.”
Smoke jotted that down. “All right. It’s easy enough to check.
“Do you know Chip Ashland? Chip and Gina Ashland.”
Willie jutted his lips out, in thought. “I know of him. He’s a fellow f
armer in the area. Years back, he’d show dairy cows at the county fair. I remember his name from that. It’s possible we’ve crossed paths—I’m not sure.”
Donna shook her head.
“But you know Chip is Tonya’s cousin.”
They both looked surprised.
“No. But we were never invited to Tonya’s house. I’ve talked to her on the phone. We invited them—Gage and Tonya—over when we learned they had married, but they didn’t come. I have a feeling Gage didn’t even tell Tonya about us until then,” Donna said.
“You know why that was?” I asked.
“I figured either Gage was embarrassed about his marriage, or he was mad at us for some reason. Like because we didn’t let him take those old coins.”
“Okay.” Smoke looked at his notes. “That’s all I got for now. Either of you have any questions?”
They didn’t.
When an investigator encouraged a person to tell his or her story, it always intrigued me what came out of that person’s mouth. After Smoke escorted the Nodings to the exit, he returned to the interview room.
“Not a lot of love lost, there,” I said.
“Not a lot.”
“But would a sister strip her own brother and stake him out in her soybean crop?”
“You wouldn’t like to think so.” Smoke glanced at his watch and stood up. “We’ll see what wife number one has to say. She’s due in about ten minutes. I’m going to make a phone call or two then I’ll see you back here for the next round.”
“You want me to meet Mrs. Walker at the front desk?”
“Sure. I’ll make my calls from here, then.” He sat back down.
I wandered around the desks in the sheriff’s secretarial pool, engaging in brief conversations with a few of the staff. Mostly I answered questions about the strange death scene in the farm field. I was near the reception window when Sheila Walker appeared.
The Noding Field Mystery Page 6