Paul examined himself. “I’m more concerned about the kids. We can’t stay if they’re in danger.” Ben agreed.
The rain stopped at about two. Clouds and wind remained.
Without incident, they motored back to the dock from which they had rented the boats. Once Zoll had the houseboat winched up, they saw what the problem was immediately. On the bottom of most houseboats there is a corkscrew. Water often accumulates between the bottom and the deck. Usually it’s not a big deal and when a boat is cleaned part of the maintenance is emptying this water. The cork is simply unscrewed.
“Yours came undone,” Zoll said.
“I’ve never heard of that happening,” Turner said.
“Happens.”
Kevin said, “I agree with Mr. Turner. I’ve never heard of it happening.”
“Could it have been sabotage?” Ben asked.
“Of course it was,” Ian said. “Homophobic creeps exist everywhere. They robbed us last night.”
Zoll asked, “You don’t know if the people from last night are the same ones that were out on the lake today. How would they know you were homosexuals?”
Ian said, “They don’t have to put much thought into it.”
Ben said, “We don’t make a thing of it.”
“You don’t have to,” Ian said. “You don’t make a secret of it and hide in shame. People know. Look at what those kids said and did last night.”
Zoll said, “We don’t have that kind of thing in Canada.”
“What an odd notion,” Madge Fenwick said. “You may have statistically less violence than comparable communities within the United States, but what you’re saying doesn’t seem immediately provable. And it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”
“You don’t know us,” Zoll said.
Turner said, “I’ve seen evidence of violence. It’s in the local papers.”
“Seldom directed against tourists. Unless they bring it upon themselves.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Ian asked. “I’ve never heard ‘blame the victim’ so blatantly articulated.”
Zoll said, “I’m sure it wasn’t sabotage. I’m sorry you’ve taken offense.”
Kevin said, “I’ve seen things go wrong over the years, but not like this. I think it had to be sabotage.”
Zoll snapped, “You’re seventeen, and Mr. Turner is here one week a year.”
Kevin subsided. While he was technically an independent contractor as a guide, still he relied on owners of marinas for contacts and supplies.
Turner said, “Antigay feeling doesn’t take much to get fueled.”
“We’re not like that,” Zoll said. “Not here in the North. We believe in live and let live.”
Turner didn’t think there was much point in debating the universality of prejudice urban or rural.
“How would someone get under the boat?” Ben asked.
Kevin said, “You just hold your breath and swim under. Doesn’t take long.”
“How come the boat didn’t sink?” Ben asked.
“It would take a while,” Zoll said. “If you went very fast, it would tend to happen faster. You guys did the right thing by using the bilge pump.”
Paul felt frustrated, but there didn’t seem to be much they could do. It was nearly six o’clock. The clouds had cleared, and it was delightfully cool. They would need heavy sweatshirts tonight.
On the dock, Jeff was already burbling to everyone in sight about their adventures. Turner, Ben, Ian, Fenwick, and Madge met on the Fenwicks’ houseboat. Madge and Buck’s boat had been checked for sabotage. Nothing was amiss.
Fenwick said, “We have enemies.”
Ian said, “We’ve been specifically attacked. It seems because you know us, you’re among the victims.”
“I agree,” Madge said. “Somebody doesn’t like us.”
Paul said, “My family and my friends are in danger. We need to do something about this.” They called the cops.
Vincent Schreppel, the cop from the night before, showed up. Turner told the story.
Schreppel didn’t take any notes. Turner found that annoying. Schreppel said, “It could be accidents.”
Fenwick said, “You get a lot of corks coming unscrewed from the bottoms of houseboats?”
“Happens.” Same thing Zoll had said.
“People get rammed on your lake often?” Madge asked.
“That happens more than anybody could believe. It was foggy this morning.”
“Not just before the storm.”
“From what you said, you were aiming for them.”
“You’re saying we were at fault?” Ben asked.
“I’ve got your side of the story.”
Madge said, “Are you saying we’re making this up?”
“I’m listening,” Schreppel said.
Paul said, “We had some problems outside the Naked Moose with the local kids last night.” He began to explain.
Schreppel interrupted. “Yeah, I heard. Some of the Indian kids were causing trouble.”
Fenwick said, “They weren’t the ones causing trouble. They weren’t the ones who came back to taunt and attack us.”
Ian added, “Or who broke into our boat.”
“I thought you said you didn’t get a good look at them.”
“Not good enough to testify in court, no, but it’s logical.”
“Logic and the law don’t mix.”
“Not so far,” Ian snapped.
Schreppel chose to ignore him. He said, “We’ll want to talk to the kids in the boat before we do any kind of pressing charges. Can you identify them or the boat?”
They admitted they couldn’t. Kevin mentioned that it was a charcoal gray cigarette boat and that J. T. Krohn owned the same kind.
“Are you saying it was his?” Schreppel asked.
Kevin said, “I can’t say for sure.”
Schreppel asked, “If we do file against the kids, are you going to come back up here to testify?”
Madge said, “Tourists up here can be attacked indiscriminately because they can’t come back to testify? That’s absurd. I thought you people wanted tourist dollars. Keeping tourists on edge is a way to draw people here?”
“We deal with everyone equally.”
The Americans looked at the Canadian official. Each of the Americans hesitated to speak the obvious truth. Fenwick’s hesitation was briefest. He said, “So far we’ve seen that in fact that is not true. We saw First Nations kids last night getting harassed. So were we. We saw the cops not do much.”
“You called about the kids getting into it, but did you call in your problem?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Paul said, “We didn’t want the hassle.”
“Nothing I can do if you don’t call.”
Back at the dock the adults debated.
“Do we go home?” Turner asked. “This is turning into a vacation from a teenage slasher movie.”
Madge said, “We’ve got to think of the safety of the kids first.”
They talked of possibilities for an hour then decided to leave a final decision for the morning. The adults were leaning toward leaving. One stumbling block was getting in touch with Mrs. Talucci. She was scheduled to be incommunicado until her return Saturday. They decided to try to figure something out in the morning.
10
It was nearly midnight. Ian was reading and occasionally grousing in his room. Jeff was on the prow fishing/practicing casting. Ben was cleaning in the kitchen. Paul was thinking of going to bed and was looking for a good book. Bachelor loons in a clutch called in the night. A blue heron screeched with its prehistoric sound that Turner thought was one of the ugliest noises of the North.
Jeff had been cranky since they’d docked. Encased in his wheelchair, he’d been sitting waiting for adults most of the afternoon and evening. He’d said he’d come to fish and he was going to fish even if it was from the government pier with the houseboat docked against it. Paul admired
his tenacity. He doubted he’d catch many fish, but if the kid was content to give it a try, he wasn’t going to discourage him. Jeff had a leech on the end of his line and was fishing for walleye. It was long past Jeff ’s normal bedtime, but it had been a miserable day, they might be leaving tomorrow, and Paul figured the boy would probably fall asleep in five minutes after he got into bed.
Brian paced up and down the deck. He’d been allowed to go into Kenora to see a movie with Kevin and several friends, but told to get back early. He clutched a blanket around his shoulders in the cool night air. Under it he still wore his going-out clothes: jeans that clung to his narrow hips, a metal belt that did not go into any of the loops, and a shimmering short-sleeve shirt. The boy had been muttering and grumbling under his breath. It had been soft enough so that Paul could safely pretend not to hear it.
Paul heard a cry that rose above the other night noises. “Dad!”
It was Jeff. The tone and timbre of his voice contained the parental summons different from all other calls. It said there was trouble and help was needed. Paul hadn’t heard that kind of noise coming out of the kid since he was three. Brian, on the deck already, was instantly next to his brother. Jeff was pointing into the water and yelping. Without pause Brian jumped into the lake. Paul rushed to the edge.
“What is it?”
He heard Brian thrashing around. He knew the boy didn’t have one of the life jackets on while they were at the dock. Turner also knew that most lethal accidents happened within ten yards of a landing.
“It was a face,” Jeff said. “A face was looking up at me from the water.”
In the running lights from the boat, Paul saw a mass of white that was far too large to be a fish.
Brian was treading water. “Dad,” he called, “it’s someone.” The boy was holding the head out of the water. “I don’t think he’s breathing.”
Paul threw a life preserver to his older son. “Grab that,” he shouted. Paul stripped to his boxers, donned a life preserver, and dove in next to his son. Brian had the life jacket in one hand. “Put that on,” Paul said. Brian complied. The waters were cool and calm. Paul saw Ben and Ian on the deck next to Jeff. “Get a flashlight,” he called up to them. He heard activity on the Fenwicks’ houseboat.
“Is everything all right?” Madge called.
“We need more light,” Paul said.
In moments, lights were shining onto the water. Brian and Paul hefted the body to the railing. Fenwick and Madge rushed to the end of the pier their boat was docked to, down the gangway, up the pier to the Turners’ boat, then onto it. The two in the water and the four in the boat pulled, pushed, and shoved the body on board. Once it was on deck, Madge used her cell phone to call the police. The body was in board shorts, a tattered white T-shirt, white athletic socks, and shoes. The shredded and tattered clothes revealed horribly mangled flesh underneath. No blood. The lake water would have cleansed it. The corpse wasn’t wearing a life jacket or a personal flotation device.
The face was clear and white. Turner realized it was the blond from the red Mustang from the night before.
Attempting CPR on the lifeless corpse was pointless. Turner hurried to Jeff and Brian. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“He’s dead,” Jeff said.
“Yes.” Turner didn’t believe in lying to his boys. The reality was the person was dead.
Brian said, “I’ve never touched a dead guy.”
Paul put a hand on his shoulder. The boy was trembling. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “You want a blanket?”
“I don’t think so. What’s going to happen?”
The local professionals arrived and got to work. Turner saw an Ontario Provincial Police marine unit emergency response team and underwater search and recovery unit, the Ontario Provincial Police helicopter, the Cathura police, the regular Ontario Provincial Police, and some volunteers as well in case they were needed to search for others. For a short while the OPP helicopter hovered overhead with its powerful searchlight illuminating the scene.
The Fenwicks retired to their boat to discuss the situation with their daughters.
Jeff and Brian were at the Formica-topped kitchen table. Ben stood in the background. The Cathura chief of police, Vincent Schreppel, and the commander of the local Ontario Provincial Police detachment, Mavis Bednars, entered the room.
Brian clutched a large yellow beach towel around his shoulders. Turner could see that his son still wore the shirt and pants he’d had on when he leapt into the water. He suggested his son change. When Brian returned in baggy jeans and bulky sweatshirt, the boy asked, “Could we have saved him?”
Turner said, “I think he’s been dead for a while.”
Schreppel said, “The dead person is Scarth Krohn, a local boy. We need a statement.”
Each of them explained what they’d been doing when Jeff had raised the alarm.
Turner said, “I thought he was one of the ones in the parking lot last night when we called the police when it looked like the rival groups were going to get into it. It was some First Nations and some white kids.” Turner also mentioned the sabotage of the boat, the parking lot incident, and the break-in.
Bednars said, “You didn’t recognize anybody on the boat that attacked you?”
“No,” Turner admitted.
“So, it might have been those kids, or might not.”
Turner said, “I can’t be sure. Things happened too fast.”
“You didn’t report the altercation in the parking lot?”
Turner said, “We reported the one between rival groups, but not when they harassed us. It seemed kind of pointless. What was to be done?”
Schreppel said, “You’re a cop. You know it can make a difference.”
Turner said, “It didn’t seem to make a lot of difference when we called it in the first time.”
“Kids,” Schreppel said.
Mavis Bednars said, “We’ve had reports of altercations between Scarth Krohn and a number of people.”
Schreppel said, “He was a good kid. His dad is going to be out of his mind with grief.”
Bednars said, “What parent wouldn’t be?”
Turner said, “He was not being a model citizen in the restaurant parking lot.”
Schreppel said, “He was used to high living.”
Turner said, “Looked to me it was more like he was used to bullying the world around him and no one put a stop to it.”
“Did you know the kid?” Schreppel asked.
Turner said, “I’m only speaking based on my limited experiences with him.”
Schreppel said, “He was an important member of this community, and he will be missed.”
Bednars said, “Let me get my schematic of where everybody was when the alarm first came about.”
Turner welcomed her change of subject. Turner’s notion at this point was that the relationship between the two local cops wasn’t first-rate.
After the cops were clear on the basics, Schreppel said, “Seems like a simple drowning. We’ll have to let you know. There will be an autopsy.”
“Why was the body torn up?” Brian asked.
Bednars said, “Most likely it got mangled by the propeller of a boat. That happens often in these cases.”
Ian asked, “Have you had a chance to look into the attacks on us and on the sabotage? Maybe this guy had something to do with them.”
Schreppel said, “Murder comes before domestic squabbles. I don’t need some graft-taking Chicago cops trying to tell me my business or running around asking questions.”
Ian said, “Graft-taking Canadian cops are okay?”
Schreppel glared.
Turner controlled his anger. He shook his head at Ian. In the middle of the night in the beginning of an investigation was not the time to ask such questions or start fights with the local cops with their prejudices about Chicago. And it wasn’t the first time he’d heard this kind of crack about his city and his profession.
&nbs
p; Hours later only Bednars and a few uniformed officers remained. The body had been removed.
Turner asked Bednars, “What killed him?”
“Most likely he drowned. He could have drifted a ways. It’s a big lake. It may not look like there are currents, but there are.”
Turner said, “Schreppel must know the Krohns.”
Bednars said, “Yep.” She left it at that and Turner didn’t pursue it.
Ian, reporter instincts on high alert, said he was going to the police station to see if he could find anything out.
Turner checked on his family. Jeff was asleep on the couch. Brian was curled in a chair looking out at the darkness. Ben was at the kitchen table. He and Brian stood up when Paul walked in.
Brian asked, “Is everything going to be okay?”
Paul said, “I’m worried about you and Jeff. Are you all right?”
“I think so. It seems pretty unreal. The biggest thing I remember is how cold the water was.”
“You’ve been in it before.”
“Yeah, but usually during the day, and mostly if I’m on the Jet Ski, I’m wearing a wet suit so if I fall in it’s not so bad.”
Paul said, “It’s something I wish you hadn’t had to go through. Now that it’s happened, we’ll do everything we can to make things better. Do you want to go home after this? We may not be able to leave for a day or two.”
Brian thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. Will Jeff be okay?”
Paul said, “We’ll see how everybody feels in the morning. We’ll check with the Fenwicks as well.”
Paul carried Jeff from the couch to his bed and tucked him in. The boy did not waken. Paul was glad for that.
It was near four when everyone was settled down, and Paul was in bed with Ben.
Paul said, “I’m worried about the boys.”
“Me, too,” Ben replied.
Paul wasn’t in the mood for romance, but he was in need of closeness. He snuggled up to Ben.
Much later he awakened. He thought he heard the call of sunrise birds. He heard no other indications of human movement. For a while Paul stared up at the ceiling. He listened to the shifting of the boat in the slight waves. He felt puffs of wind the screened-in window let in. He was uneasy. Death at work was one thing, but death this close to his family was disturbing. He fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight leaked through the window screen.
Hook, Line, and Homicide Page 6