Dear Crossing (The Ray Schiller Series)

by Doering, Marjorie

  “Couldn’t say. It was just a quick drop-off. No wonder, huh? I don’t imagine Davis wanted to be seen with the guy.”

  “We’re not accusing anyone of anything at this point,” Neil reminded him.

  “Keep this to yourself for now,” Ray reminded him.

  “Said I would, didn’t I?”

  Yeah, right.

  “Hey,” Burt said, “check with Harry Schuster. After the kid helped me load his bike on my wrecker, he had me drop him off on the road in front of the motel. Could be he stayed there.”

  “Thanks,” Neil said. “We’ve done that.”

  Ray headed outside. “Neil, let’s go.”

  Neil hung back, checking out the Honda’s sound system. “Alpine?” he asked Greg Speltz. “Bose?”

  “JL,” Greg said.

  “JL. Great system. Sounds awesome. Hey, Greg, next time you hear from Keith, tell him I said ‘hi,’ would you?”

  Ray’s voice carried into the bay from outside. “Neil, get a move on. We just got a call.”

  Neil broke into a long-legged lope and slipped into the car. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure.” Ray floored the accelerator, speeding out of the lot. “All Irene could tell me was that we’re needed at Hank Kramer’s place ASAP.”

  12

  Turning into the farm’s driveway, Ray and Neil saw Dr. Lewis, one of two local veterinarians, pacing beside Hank Kramer’s empty pickup. The man was clearly frantic. The squad car skidded to a stop, barely avoiding him as he raced toward them.

  The vet poked his flushed face through the open passenger window. “Thank God. I thought you’d never get here.”

  Ray stepped out, speaking to the man over the roof of the car. “What’s going on?”

  Failing to get the vet’s attention, Neil gave his door a gentle push into the man’s legs. “Excuse me, Doc. Would you move aside so I can get out?”

  Startled, Dr. Lewis lurched backward. “What? Oh. Sorry.”

  Ray asked again, “What’s the problem?”

  From the direction of the barn, a bellow ripped through the pungent farm air.

  “That.” Dr. Lewis pointed toward the weather-beaten barn. “Hank’s bull is in there.”

  “You’re talking to a city boy,” Ray said. “Isn’t that where it’s supposed to be?”

  “Normally it would be in the pasture, but I was coming to do an exam, Hank said he’d pen it up in the barn for me.”

  “And the problem is…?”

  “It’s loose, and I think Hank’s inside.”

  “You think or you’re sure? Maybe he’s out in the pasture or in one of the outbuildings.”

  “When I opened the barn door to look for him, the bull charged me. I only had a second, but I got a glimpse of something on the floor.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think it was Hank. You’ll see something’s wrong if you check in his truck.”

  The black pickup sat parked several yards away, fresh logos adorning both doors. “Kramer’s Dairy” was painted in neat lettering on either side above a picture of a Holstein cow. Ray rushed to the vehicle. The grocery bag’s meager contents lay spilled across the bench seat. A pound of ground pork was warm to the touch. He picked up a can of concentrated orange juice. The contents sloshed inside.

  “It’s thawed,” he told them.

  “You see?” Dr. Lewis said. “I know Hank, and that pinch penny wouldn’t leave his stuff out here to spoil.”

  Their heads turned as another bellow came from inside the barn.

  Ray drew his service revolver and began walking toward the barn. “You two stay here.”

  “Oh, God.” The vet clamped a fine-boned hand over his brow. “That bull’s a valuable animal.”

  “So am I,” Ray muttered over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean…You be careful. That bull is extremely aggressive.”

  Neil started after Ray. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you stay put.”

  Neil reluctantly led Dr. Lewis back beside the squad car.

  “I hope he knows what he’s doing,” the vet said. “That animal’s a half-ton of bad attitude.”

  Ray’s distance to the barn narrowed to forty yards when he heard a loud thud. He moved forward more slowly. Another thud followed, louder than the first.

  Stopping, Ray shouted, “Mr. Kramer?” No response. “Hank?”

  The rotting barn door shuddered and bulged outward. He heard Neil’s voice above the sound of the animal ramming the door from within.

  “Ray, look out. Run.”

  Pieces of wood flew like shrapnel as the bull burst through the door. Hooves digging into the earth, it propelled itself toward Ray. Stunned by the animal’s size and speed, he fired a single instinctive shot. The bull didn’t falter. He fired a second time as he spun and raced for his life. The earth seemed to quake beneath him as the immense animal closed the distance between them.

  Ray ran parallel to Neil and the vet’s location. How many strides before he’d be ground under the trampling hooves? Six? Seven? Ray’s lungs strained. His heart pounded against his ribs. For an instant, he saw the vet, his arms flapping like some enormous bird. He couldn’t make out what he was yelling. Neil’s voice was clearer, but Ray couldn’t make sense of it.

  A second time, Neil commanded more emphatically, “Veer and drop.”

  Without questioning, Ray lunged sideways, his shoulder absorbing the brunt of the impact as he hit the ground. The bull’s momentum carried it beyond him a heartbeat later.

  Ray hadn’t seen Neil take the shotgun from its bracket in the squad car. He hadn’t seen him take aim, but he heard two rapid shotgun blasts. The bull crashed, somersaulting in a kaleidoscope of tumbling flesh, blood and saliva. The body heaved once, twice, then lay still.

  Neil ran to Ray still clutching the shotgun. He crouched over him. “Are you all right, Ray? You okay?”

  Chest heaving, Ray rolled onto his back and flung a forearm over his eyes. “Yeah, just give me…a second to…catch my breath.”

  As Ray’s breathing slowed, Neil extended an arm and helped him up.

  “I thought I was a dead man.” Ray doubled over and turned his head toward the massive carcass on the bloody ground. The sight brought him slowly upright. Dust settled on the bull’s bulk. It clung to the bloody head wounds made even more appalling in their severity by the shotgun slug to the head. Still more blood drained from the second wound to its chest.

  Heart still pounding, Ray said, “God. Look at the size of that thing.” He grabbed Neil’s hand. “Neil, thanks. I owe you bigtime.”

  “Forget it. I’m just glad you’re fast on your feet.”

  Ray slapped the rookie’s shoulder. “Likewise.” He turned to speak to the vet only to find him gone. “Where’s Dr. Lewis?”

  “I don’t know. He was here a second ago.”

  The vet’s voice was faint. “Over here.” He was leaning heavily against the open barn door, his head resting against the upraised forearm he used to brace himself.

  “Doc,” Neil said as they approached, “are you all right?”

  The vet moaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.” He wrapped his free arm around his stomach. With the other, he pointed inside the barn.

  “Kramer?” Ray asked.

  “It must be.”

  Neil’s eyes widened.

  As he went in, Ray realized his mouth was dry. Seconds later his voice came from inside the barn. “Oh, Christ.” He reappeared in the doorway. “Neil, get the coroner over here. Kramer is goddamn pulp.”

  Lewis retched. When the spasms ended, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. “I told Hank that bull was trouble. I told him to get rid of it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Ray told him.

  The vet didn’t seem to hear. “I’d have gone in there myself, but it was supposed to be a simple call. I didn’t come equipped—no prod, no tranquilizers, nothing of any use in this situation.”
/>   “It’s okay.”

  “Virtually no one keeps breeding bulls anymore these days,” the vet said. “It’s too risky. I tried telling Hank that, but he refused to spend money on artificial insemination as long as that bull was doing the job on its own.”

  “It was his choice. You did what you could.” Ray took him by the elbow and led him away from the steaming pool of vomit. As they approached the parked vehicles, he helped the vet into his car. “Go home. Don’t beat yourself up. There was nothing you could’ve done to help him.”

  Lewis nodded. His hands shook as he gripped the steering wheel.

  As they watched the vet drive away, Ray asked, “Is the coroner on his way?”

  “Irene’s contacting him.” Neil took up a spot against the car alongside Ray. “Did you see the bull’s head when it came through that door?”

  “I didn’t exactly have time to notice. Why?”

  “I don’t know. It just didn’t look right.”

  Ray swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “I’m going back to the barn for a look around.”

  “What for?”

  “I’d like to know how the bull got out of that pen.”

  “Maybe Kramer never got him in.”

  “That occurred to me.”

  “Want me to come along?”

  “It’s up to you. I won’t blame you if you’d rather not see Kramer’s body.” Ray started toward the barn by himself. Halfway there, he heard Neil trot up behind him and asked, “You sure you want to do this?”

  “No.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  Ray stopped at the door. “Ready?”

  Less than a minute later, Neil rushed from the barn, adding his own share of stomach contents to Dr. Lewis’s. He went back inside and found Ray hunched over an object on the floor.

  “You okay?” Ray asked.

  “Yeah. Did you find something?”

  “A bloody wrench.” Ray brushed some straw away for a closer look.

  Neil looked over Ray’s shoulder. “Kramer must’ve got in a lick or two before that bull took him out.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  Averting his eyes from Kramer’s remains on the other side of the barn, Neil walked to the pen at the back of the barn. “It doesn’t look like the bull forced its way out,” Neil said seconds later. “There’s no sign of damage to the bolt.”

  Ray left the wrench where he found it and joined him. “You’re probably right then. He might’ve died trying to get the bull inside.”

  The gate creaked as Ray stepped into the stall. “Neil.” Something in his tone demanded immediate attention.

  “Find something?”

  Ray had Neil look for himself. Inside the pen, partially hidden by the straw bedding, there was more blood.

  “What the hell, Ray?”

  He raised his head, straining to get a better look at the dingy walls which made up three sides of the enclosure. Cast off blood arced across the surface of one wall, indicating that serious damage had been inflicted by a number of blows. “One thing is sure,” he said, “if Kramer used that wrench on his bull, he did it while it was already inside the pen.”

  “But why would he do that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  13

  Ray struggled to keep his voice calm. “I’m telling you something’s not right.”

  “I heard you the first time.” Woody clasped his hands over his stomach. “Look, you’re upset. I don’t blame you. Anyone would be.”

  “My state of mind has no bearing on it. What we found in that barn just doesn’t add up. Kramer valued that animal. He paid Dr. Lewis to keep it healthy. Why would the old guy pen it up and then beat the crap out of it?”

  “To me, it sounds like Hank Kramer put up a good fight before he died.”

  “The castoff is inside the pen—apparent multiple blows. The animal had to have been locked up at the time, not attacking the old man. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Then what are you saying happened?”

  “At this point I can only speculate.”

  Woody groaned.

  “Look, something or someone was attacked inside that pen. I’m concerned that it might’ve been Kramer. He rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Who’s to say one of them didn’t go at him with that wrench and leave him in the barn to let the bull finish the job? Even the location of the wrench, the pen and the old man’s body don’t compute. They were at the opposite points of a long, wide imaginary triangle.”

  “Okay,” Woody said, “my turn now. Follow along. Say Kramer almost has the bull locked in its pen. Almost, but not quite. It decides not to cooperate. Kramer tries persuading it with a couple solid whacks to the head with that wrench, but the bull forces its way back out. Kramer’s runs. He throws the tool at the animal and misses, or maybe not. Either way, the end. Literally.” He settled back in his chair. “There you go. That would account for the blood in the pen, the wrench on the other side of the barn, and Hank Kramer where you found him.”

  Ray almost came out of his seat. “I can shove my fist through the holes in that theory. If the old man was trying to get that animal inside the enclosure, why would he be carrying a wrench? Why not a cattle prod or whatever they call those things? As for his running across the barn, forget it. Your five year old could’ve outrun him.”

  Woody smiled. “Gordy’s pretty fast. I’ll give you that.”

  “The point is, Kramer wasn’t. He’d never have made it that far.”

  “You can’t say that for sure. The bull could’ve been dazed.”

  “Why would Kramer have the wrench with him in the first place?”

  “Who knows?” Woody argued. “I think you’re making too much out of this, Ray. I’m not involving the BCA.”

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “Okay. How’s this? I’ll have Dr. Lewis test the blood to see if it’s human or bovine.”

  “On the wrench and inside the pen?”

  “Both. Yes. If the blood turns out to be human, I swear I’ll be on the phone with the crime lab in a heartbeat. But if the blood belongs to the bull, I don’t want to hear another word about it. Have we got a deal?”

  Ray drew in a deep breath. “All right, agreed.”

  “Good. Then that’s that.” Woody stood and looked out the window. “One thing, though, Ray. You probably won’t be here when the results come in. I’m sending you to Minneapolis to investigate the Davis case.”

  “What brought this on?”

  He lifted a coffee mug to his lips and pushed a sheet in Ray’s direction. “E-C-G-O-I-N. It’s a personalized license plate. Cooper saw it on a vehicle that put in an appearance on the Davises’ property the morning of the murder. It slipped his mind. While you and Neil were out bullfighting, it came back to him. He says the vehicle came to an abrupt stop at the crest of the driveway and reversed in a damn big hurry. He got the feeling the driver might’ve been spooked by the sight of his police car. He wrote down the plate to be on the safe side. The car’s registered to an Ed Costales—Minneapolis. Lucky for us Cooper’s farsighted.”

  “Yeah. Too bad he’s got a memory like a sieve. We could’ve used the information sooner.”

  “Be glad we’ve got it now.” He drank more coffee. “The biker wrote down a Minneapolis address in Harry Schuster’s register—phony street address, but maybe the city’s right. By the way, Judge Froelich came through with the subpoena. Now we just have to get the Copper Kettle’s public phone records. I’ll let you know what we come up with.”

  “When do you want me to go to the Cities?”

  “Tomorrow. I already contacted the First Precinct—Captain E. Joseph Roth. Being a high-profile case, he’s willing to get on board with us. I don’t have the manpower to send anyone with you. You’re it. Announce yourself when you arrive. Roth said he’ll hook you up with one of his homicide detectives. You take it from there.”

  Ray gave the pa
per a sharp crease and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Where am I supposed to stay while I work the case?”

  “We don’t have a lot of funds to finance an off-site investigation, but Captain Roth offered a suggestion. The detective you’ll be working with knows someone. It’s one of those friend-of-a-friend sort of things. Anyway, this couple has a vacant mother-in-law’s apartment over their garage. The husband’s willing to rent it for a pittance on a day-to-day basis. The place is small but it’s supposed to be adequate and close to the station. If you’re okay with that, they’ll set you set up there.”

  “I’m game.”

  “Good. That’ll stretch our funds a little farther. I’ll let them know. And, Ray…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got one more job for you before you start packing. The BCA is releasing the crime scene. I’ve got Paul Davis coming to do a walk-through of his place before they vacate the premises. He should be here anytime. I want you to stay with him while he does the inventory. It’ll give you a chance to observe him at the crime scene—assess his reactions.”

  “No problem.”

  “Promise you’ll keep it civil.”

  “I can only promise to try.”

  “Try hard.”

  As they spoke, sunlight glinted off Paul Davis’s car as the silver Lexus rolled into the parking lot in the rear.

  Woody jerked his head toward the lot. “There he is now. He’s not going to be thrilled to see you, you know.”

  “He’ll have to deal with it.”

  “Yeah, well, so will you. You might want to see if you can undo some of the damage you did the other day. Make nice, Ray.”

  Ray snorted.

  “If you don’t remember how,” Woody said, “fake it.”

  Polished and poised, Paul Davis walked into the station moments later. Ray and Woody approached to greet him.

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Davis,” Woody said, shaking his hand.

  “Will this take long?”

  “Probably not,” Ray told him. “For the most part, your house was undisturbed. The living room could take awhile, though. Things were overturned, broken. It may be hard for you to do a quick inventory there.”