Dominic sipped from his coffee cup, put it down, and took a bite of Mrs. Talucci’s fudge. When resettled, he said, “Scarth Krohn, I don’t really know. We hear rumors. Over the years occasionally teenagers wander out this far. This is a remote corner of the lake, and we always have the most up-to-date protections. Now it’s all computers that I don’t understand very well. We’ve got radar and sonar and lasers.”
Pierre said, “We have always had to be careful. Teenagers may grow older, but they are always replaced by another set of reckless fools.”
“Thank god we were never reckless fools,” Dominic said.
Mrs. Talucci said, “I have a list of times.”
Dominic said, “It must be a very long list.”
She said, “It takes up nearly the entire hard drive on my computer.”
Pierre said, “As an attorney, I have made sure we are as protected as we need to be legally. The young men who guard us aren’t here just because they are physically strong and pretty to look at. Phil is an attorney. The young man who brought the tea setting is also an investment banker.”
“They stay here?” Paul said.
“We pay very well,” Dominic said.
Turner asked, “What danger do the teenagers pose?”
“They’ve tried vandalism, petty crimes. The staff we hire is exceptionally well trained. When we were younger, we did most of the guard duty ourselves. Now we have our own little gay cordon of protectors.”
“How’d you get them to stop?” Turner asked.
Pierre said, “A shotgun pointed at the side of your head is a persuasive argument. We used to have quite a reputation, but we live too far out. The memory of us is fading in the town’s consciousness. We’re off the tourist path and the fishing and hunting around here are awful.”
“Really?” Turner asked. He looked around at the setting. “It looks pristine.”
“We own several square miles along the lake and far into the woods. Bought it during the crash cycles when timber wasn’t worth cutting. We manage to keep the word out that it’s awful. Probably isn’t. You saw the signs on the approaches on the lake. We also have signs posted inland, and during the hunting season we have guards posted.”
“How long have you lived together?” Turner asked.
“Since we got back from World War II,” Dominic said. “Back then out here was too remote for anyone to notice. If Arnold or Blake Krohn ever suspected, they never said anything. Arnold was a greedy businessman, but he was no prude. He had seven kids with his wife here in Cathura, and at least another seven with various women in ports around the world.”
“How do you know this?” Turner asked.
Dominic smiled. “I was his confidant. He didn’t feel he could tell anybody else, but he was dying to confide in someone he knew about what a stud he was. Over time he came to realize I knew how to keep secrets.”
Mrs. Talucci said, “He knew you were so far gone in the clutches of Satan that you wouldn’t mind listening to his tales of sin and depravation.”
“You never minded my tales,” Dominic said.
Mrs. Talucci said, “Sin and I go a long way back.”
Turner would love to hear those stories, but he doubted any would be forthcoming for the moment.
Dominic said, “For whatever reason, Arnold Krohn talked, and I listened. His son, Blake, was a wastrel and a fool. The poor woman he married was a dunderhead. His grandson, J.T., is a fool, but he’s a mean and greedy fool. They doted on Scarth. Grandpa Blake supposedly set up some kind of trust for Scarth.”
“It was complicated,” Pierre said. “Scarth could begin withdrawing the money after he turned eighteen, but only with the approval of both his parents. Mom would always say yes. Dad always said no.”
“Always?” Turner asked.
“Yep,” Pierre said. “Lots of folks put in something in their trusts about the kid gets the loot when they turn a certain age or graduate from college.”
“Aren’t you breaking confidentiality to talk about this?” Turner asked.
Pierre said, “I worked for him for nearly fifty years. I know secrets upon secrets. I’m a lawyer and a good one, but I don’t mind telling one thing about him. Not in a good cause. They can’t take away my license. I haven’t been near a courtroom or a law book in years.”
“There’s absolutely no way Scarth could get the money?” Turner asked.
“If his mom and dad got divorced,” Pierre said.
“Any prospect of that happening?” Turner asked.
Both men shrugged. Dominic said, “I’ve never heard of anything. She’s got a very comfortable life.”
Pierre added, “If we can get you information or help you make contacts, we will. The Krohn family owes us a great deal.”
Dominic said, “We were faithful and loyal through good times and bad. They appreciated it. That’s why I can get you in to see them. I can’t guarantee what kind of answers you’ll be getting to your questions. You’re on your own there.”
Turner said, “An introduction is a start. Do you have a notion of how serious the difficulties really are between the First Nations kids and Scarth’s buddies?”
The two men looked at each other. “Tell him,” Mrs. Talucci ordered.
Dominic said, “The problem’s seriousness level relates to how bigoted and prejudiced the individuals involved are. Scarth was a bigoted jerk. Billy Morningsky’s pride can be overweening. Billy’s stayed out here a few times. We’ve kept him out of juvenile hall. We’ve harbored a few fugitives from both sides over the years. They were running for their lives.”
“Has Billy committed real crimes?” Turner asked.
“The sheriff on occasion thought so.”
“Billy told me they’d eventually try to pin the murder on him.”
Pierre said, “If Schreppel has anything to do with it, yeah, he’d probably get hauled in. Schreppel has a history of bone-headed ploys. He’s lucky he hasn’t been fired. Probably will be. He’s as prejudiced as Scarth, but he’s learned to cover it up better.”
Turner asked, “Do you know anything about the deaths of those other six kids?”
“No secrets that I know,” Dominic said. “They were college kids. Everybody thought they got drunk and died.”
Turner said, “Scarth was seen away from the waterfront after he’d been in the bar.”
“He couldn’t have just walked back?” Pierre asked.
“His car was not at the waterfront. He’d been driving that night.” Turner paused and then said, “This next question is a little delicate.” He looked from the men to Mrs. Talucci.
She said, “Precisely what do you think is too delicate for my ears?”
Turner’s face got red. “We were told about a local pornographic organization.”
Mrs. Talucci smiled. “I don’t indulge myself, but I don’t see why others shouldn’t.”
Dominic said, “I’m an old man and an old-fashioned man. I’m not sure we should discuss such things in front of—”
Mrs. Talucci said, “Oh, Dominic, sit on it and rotate. If we talk about pornography, what do you think is going to happen? I don’t usually go shrieking about the countryside in rank terror if I acknowledge human anatomy.”
“I do, sometimes,” Dominic said.
“Now that,” said Mrs. Talucci, “is actually information I do not want.”
Pierre said, “Broder is the guy. As far as I know, it’s fairly harmless. The young men, straight or gay, in this town have very few ways to make money. With the mill gone, they’ll have even less. They’ll leave. Most do nowadays.”
Dominic said, “Do you think they were killed over pornography?”
Turner said, “Right now I’m mostly gathering information. I’ll follow it where it leads.”
Dominic looked at his watch. “It is time for my daily exercise.” He looked at Turner. “Would you help me, young man? I must strictly stay off my feet except, of course, when I am to be taking my daily walk. I will need to
lean against you.”
Turner readily agreed. When Dominic rose to his feet, the dogs stood also. Mrs. Talucci and Pierre accompanied them. The four of them took a path into the woods. Dominic’s arm clutched Turner’s, and the older man leaned against him quite often. The dogs followed a few feet behind. Turner saw no obvious indications of commands being given to the pets. Pierre had Mrs. Talucci’s arm. Turner thought it was more a gallant gesture than needed, although Pierre was nearly twenty years Mrs. Talucci’s junior. It would not do for Mrs. Talucci, who was in her nineties, to take a fall on the forest path, no matter how well tended it looked to Turner. After a few minutes, the other two got ahead.
Dominic paused at a slight promontory, shaded his eyes, and looked out over the vast expanse of woods and lake. “So beautiful, so peaceful here.”
Turner agreed. He felt a slight pressure on his arm. They resumed their hesitant stroll up the hill. Dominic asked, “How is Kevin Yost?”
“He’s a fabulous guide. He’s a great kid. He’s going to be a good man.”
“He comes here now and then,” Dominic said.
“He knows where this place is?” Turner asked. “Whenever we’ve speculated about where Mrs. Talucci goes, he’s never said a word.”
Dominic’s eyes twinkled. “His grandfather brought him here years ago. I suspect his grandfather may have been a sister. Married to a woman, of course. His grandfather was a good and kind man. He helped us build this place. He helped us keep our secrets. Kevin comes here often. He says that sometimes he just has to get away.”
“Has he told you he’s gay?” Turner asked.
“No. I would never ask. He has also never asked us. He comes here on his own. He helps out. Sometimes he fishes. He even teachers Pierre a few things, and Pierre is a very good fisherman. Kevin refuses to accept payment. Many times he just sits on the dock and reads a book. He’s a good boy. I’m glad he’s your guide. Kevin never says much of anything. He talks about you once in a great while. He admires the kind of father you are, the kind of gay man you are, and the way you’re calm and assured.”
Turner blushed. “I do the best I can with my boys.”
“I wish he could talk to you. I think it would make a difference.” He sighed. “Waiting for an adolescent to realize it is okay to talk to you can be a strain.” He smiled. “Rose talks about you, too.” Turner had never addressed Mrs. Talucci by her first name. It was an odd but pleasant note. “She says you’re a good man and a great father.”
“I’ll have to thank her for the compliment.”
“She tells me about the old neighborhood. I barely remember it anymore. I’m glad she has you as a neighbor. At least you don’t try to convince her to stop taking these absurd vacations.” Mrs. Talucci was notorious for finding obscure vacations for the over-fifty set and then going to those places.
“She hasn’t been hurt yet,” Turner said.
Dominic laughed. “Not that she’s told you about. That Mongolian trip was more for her than she’ll ever admit to anyone except me. She is my favorite sister.”
Turner said, “Your boat driver is armed.”
“All the young men who work here are highly trained experts in firearms and martial arts. Along with having taut butts and tight muscles, the training is part of the job description. We aren’t stupid. This might be so-called liberal Canada, but rural anywhere requires gay people to be cautious. We are well defended.”
They came to a headland with well-cushioned outdoor furniture scattered under a magnificent spreading oak that might have been alive when Columbus first sailed. “Ah,” Dominic said, “half done. This exercise crap is for the birds.” He lowered himself into a chair. The dogs sat at his feet.
Mrs. Talucci and Pierre were already seated. For a while they listened to the birds, and the insects, and the breeze while they looked out on the magnificent view.
After pleasant minutes of delicious silence, Dominic said, “You should see this place in the middle of a storm.”
“It’s wet and dangerous,” Pierre said.
“And it’s beautiful,” Dominic said. “I fell in love with this view and our place is the nearest land to it that’s good for building on. We own this, if you can be said to own something that got this way all by itself.” He sighed. “I want to be buried up here.”
Mrs. Talucci patted his hand.
Dominic said, “There is a lot of prejudice in these towns. That sabotage may not stop. It isn’t just Scarth. Zoll has more than a few fascist bones in his body.”
“We’ve rented from him since I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” Dominic said.
“Should we rent from someone else?” Turner asked.
Pierre added, “You might consider it. It might be more than teenagers who tried to do you harm. You need to be careful. We always are. It’s a sacrifice we make to live here as we wish. We can afford it.”
“I’ll be careful,” Turner said.
Dominic added, “They’d be just as likely to go after your sons or your lover or your friends. Prejudice can come out at funny times. The wrong moment in the wrong place and we could have a Matthew Shepard–type tragedy.”
“I knew that,” Turner said, “but I never expected it here.” He almost smiled to himself. Fenwick would have piped in with the old Monty Python line, “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.” He said, “I’ll be extra careful. I’d rather not stop coming up here.”
Pierre said, “I don’t think you have to go that far. And I imagine you’re always careful. Isn’t it a second sense we all have?”
“Every gay person I know does it automatically,” Turner said. “I’m curious, though: How come you’re still here?”
Dominic said, “The view. Privacy. We’ve got more money than we can give away. Say what they like about the Krohn family, they were good to me.”
Pierre said, “To us.”
Dominic nodded. “Yes. We’re not on anyone’s radar. We’ve got wonderfully well-armed guards, well-trained attack dogs, and a marvelously up-to-date security system.”
They sat for a while longer then made the slow journey back to the veranda. Paul thanked them profusely. He left Pierre and Dominic poring over another selection from the confection cart. He and Mrs. Talucci walked arm in arm down to the boat. About a quarter of the way to the pier, Turner heard Dominic say, “He’s got a nice ass.”
Pierre giggled and said, “Hush, he’s your sister’s friend.”
Mrs. Talucci smiled. “That’s what you get for having a great butt.”
“I’m tough,” Turner said. “I can handle it.”
Phil was at the wheel of the boat. Mrs. Talucci hugged Turner. She said, “You can contact the Krohns as soon as you get back. Dominic will be faithful about making the contact. I hope you get this settled. As long as Buck Fenwick is around, I’m not too worried. Take care. Give my love to the boys.” She hugged him again.
Paul climbed in the boat. As they pulled away, he waved good-bye.
30
It was just after six when Paul got back. Ben and Madge were waiting for him at the end of the dock. Ben said, “They came for Ian.”
“What happened?”
Madge said, “That Schreppel guy showed up with official-looking people and papers. He said they had to question Ian. Ian protested and ranted, and they got a little rough with him. Buck went with him to the police station.”
“Did they arrest him?” Turner asked.
“Nobody used those words,” Madge said. “The Ontario Provincial Police officer, Bednars, was among them. She kept asking Schreppel questions. He looked pretty angry. She said they had Billy Morningsky in custody. She was pretty upset as well.”
“Morningsky predicted he’d be arrested.”
Ben said, “You should probably get down to the police station. The boys are helping with dinner. We’ll be fine.”
Turner checked on Brian and Jeff; then hopped in the SUV and took off for downtown Cathura.
At t
he station he found Fenwick, who said, “They won’t tell me a thing.”
A clerk, who seemed unusually distant, refused to answer their questions. They would have to talk to the chief. Turner and Fenwick were made to wait forty-five minutes to see Schreppel.
When the young cop finally ushered them into Schreppel’s office, the chief did not rise to greet them. He squirmed in his chair as if he desperately needed surgery for his hemorrhoids.
Turner said, “I’d like to see my friend.”
“I’d like to talk to all of you.”
“About what?” Fenwick asked.
“What you’ve been doing around town.”
Fenwick said, “Why would that be any of your business?”
Schreppel leaned over his desk. He planted his elbows on the top, clasped his hands together, then released both index fingers to point at Fenwick. “You may put up with that smart-ass crap in Chicago, but I don’t. We are not in your jurisdiction. You are in mine.”
“Did they repeal all the laws in Canada?” Fenwick asked. “Are you absolute dictator of the North Woods? I haven’t committed a crime. Neither have my friends.”
Turner said, “We’ve been trying to gather information. You have two homicides on your hands. We’re concerned about what is happening to our friend.”
Schreppel puffed out a large breath. “I’m concerned because you’re friends of a suspect in a murder case. I’m wondering about your involvement.”
“How is he a murder suspect?”
“I don’t have to give that out.”
“We’d like to see him,” Turner said.
“I need answers to questions,” Schreppel said.
“You’ve arrested Billy Morningsky,” Fenwick said.
“We have not arrested him. I’m going to start hearing those goddamn accusations that I’m a racist, that the cops are racist, that we won’t do anything about the racism in the police department. I am not a racist. You do anything but wipe the butt of one of these First Nations kids, and you’re a racist.”
“Is Ian under arrest?” Turner asked.
“Where were you from eight PM to midnight Monday?” Schreppel asked.
Hook, Line, and Homicide Page 18