Ray Elkins mystery - 04 - Shelf Ice

by Aaron Stander

“No, Ms. Lawrence. I like to think that we, Brenda and I, were friends, but our relationship was professional. That said, she was a person I greatly admired. And what has happened is incomprehensible.”

  “Did she ever share any fears or anxieties?”

  “Nothing like that.”

  “Might she have formed a relationship with any of the people who worked here during the construction?”

  “If she did, I was not aware of it.”

  “I’ve heard that there’s the possibility of having a memorial service for Brenda here?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Lovell mentioned that this morning. I think the family has yet to make a decision. Brenda was not a member of our flock. But her family and friends would be welcome here. I don’t think she was very religious, but Brenda was a very spiritual person. I had hoped that she would someday join us.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us about her?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t think so. Like I said, Ms. Manton was one of dozens of contractors on this job.” After a long pause Gunne said, “Sheriff, if there isn’t anything else, my calendar this morning is overfilled.”

  “Thank you for your time,” said Ray. He dropped his card on the clear expanse of walnut. “If anything occurs to you that you think might help, give us a call.”

  20.

  “What did you think?” asked Ray as he fastened his seatbelt.

  “You should find out where he gets his hair cut. Nice suit, too. There was quite a contrast between Reverend Tim’s red suspenders, flannel shirt, and jeans and Gunne’s ensemble.”

  “Yes, that marriage isn’t going to last long. Whatever Gunne needed from Tim, well…”

  “And did you see the way he checked me out. I haven’t been so carefully undressed in a long time. Glad I had clean underwear on.”

  “How do you feel about that? I suspect I’m about to get a blast of feminist anger.”

  Sue chuckled, started the engine. “Hey, he’s handsome, beautifully dressed, and that fragrance—four notches above Old Spice and Brut. It’s been a long, barren winter, Ray. Sometimes you’ve just got to enjoy whatever comes your way.”

  “We need to know a lot more about Rod Gunne.”

  “Did you see his diplomas? I think I memorized the pertinent data. When we get back to the office I’ll see if they’re real and do a complete background check.” She looked over at Ray. “Where are we going?”

  He opened a map and showed her their final destination. “When you come off the highway here, it’s a seasonal road. I’m not sure how far we’ll get. We’ll walk or ski from that point.”

  “Molly’s directions weren’t too specific?”

  “No, but she did say that the tree house was in a stand of oak overlooking this creek.” He pointed with his finger. “So we make that our northern boundary and work back and forth. Hopefully we will locate the tree house, and maybe the elusive Tristan.”

  Sue turned and drove just off the highway, encountering deep drifts where she stopped. “I don’t think we can get much farther without taking the chance of getting royally stuck.” She looked over at Ray and asked, “Skis or snowshoes?”

  “I’d like to do skis. But I think we’ve got to use snowshoes, the snow in the woods will be too deep.”

  Before they started on their trek, Ray opened a detailed map and laid it on the hood of the Jeep. “Let’s go east down this trail. Right here,” he pointed to a small squiggle in the map, “where the trail forks, we’ll want to go north. It should be up in here somewhere, maybe two, two and a half miles. If we get to the stream, we’ll follow it to the lake. I’ve got a compass, you’ve got a GPS. We’ve got lots of daylight left. Just a walk in the park on a lovely winter day.”

  “Sure,” said Sue.

  They took turns breaking trail, quietly moving through the deep snow and heavily forested, rolling terrain. Occasionally they would stop to rest and drink water, and then start off again. They stopped at the edge of a deep ravine that dropped down to a narrow, gently murmuring stream in an otherwise silent landscape.

  “Where to now?” asked Sue in a low voice.

  Ray looked west. “Let’s go down stream about fifty yards, and then work south a few hundred yards, then work back to the stream. I’ll let you do the magic with the GPS.”

  He waited for Sue to set up the instrument and then followed her as they worked their way west and then south, their eyes searching the tree-tops in the old-growth oak, ash and pine forest for anything that looked unnatural.

  “Nothing here,” said Sue, catching her breath. “Let’s go to the top of that ridgeline and work back toward the stream. And it’s your turn to lead.”

  Ray slowly climbed the hill, carefully planting his poles, laboriously pulling his snowshoes out of the deep snow, his legs beginning to scream with pain. He stopped at the top and waited for Sue, taking a moment to absorb the quiet beauty of the scene.

  “Energy bar?” asked Sue, using her teeth to help tear open the wrapper.

  “I’m okay,” said Ray, taking the time to catch his breath and drink some more water.

  After a few minutes they started off again. As they neared the ravine again, Ray slowed, then stopped. He pointed to the top of a massive, gnarled old oak.

  “Eagle’s nest?” asked Sue in a low voice.

  “Look again.”

  They worked their way to the base of the tree.

  “Very clever, really good work. And look, he’s got a zip line rigged.” Ray’s eyes traced the course of the thin, narrow cable. He pointed to where the zip line was anchored on the other side of the stream. “There’s his escape route, down across the ravine where he can jump into a kayak or canoe. Or maybe he keeps a mountain bike stashed somewhere when there is less snow.” He pointed to an indentation in the snow. “And there’s his path from the stream up to the tree. It’s pretty drifted over. Looks like it hasn’t been used in awhile.”

  “How does he get up there?”

  “Interesting question. I imagine some kind of climbing technique.”

  “What do we do now?” Sue asked quietly.

  “If he’s as wily as Molly has suggested, and he’s up there, he knows where we are. I guess we could try yelling up to him. Probably it should be you rather than me. He might relate better to a woman. Tell him we’ve come about Brenda, we need his help.”

  Sue moved back from the tree and cupping her hand near her mouth shouted toward the structure at the top of the tree. Then they stood and waited in silence, listening and watching for any sign of life from the carefully crafted dwelling.

  “What do you think, should I try again?”

  “Go ahead,” said Ray.

  Sue’s second attempt didn’t get any response either. “I could put a few rounds up there and see if any blood comes down. It would show up nice in the snow.”

  “Your humor is deteriorating. We better get going while we still have some daylight,” said Ray. “Let’s stop at my house and find something to eat.”

  “Okay, but I’ve got to pick up Simone from doggie daycare first.”

  21.

  Sue had been working at the computer for more than an hour when Ray returned to the office.

  “Do you always have leftovers like that?” asked Sue as they settled in for an evening of work before Molly’s arrival at 10:00.

  “I thought I should feed you after that hike.”

  “And that tart was just amazing. Where do you get things like that?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “And Simone really likes lamb. She may never eat dog food again.” Sue looked over at the terrier curled tight and sleeping on an overstuffed chair in the corner of Ray’s office.

  “I feel guilty about not staying to help you clean up, but I did make good use of the time. I ran Rod Gunne’s name on NCIC.”

  “And?”

  “Nada. But Google is so wonderful. It may not list all of one’s felonious records, but you can find almost everything else.”


  “Like?”

  “How about an undergraduate degree from Northwestern in, let me get this right,” Sue looked through some pages she had printed off, “radio/television/film media production and analysis. And for Rod Gunne’s graduate work, an MBA with a specialization in concert management.”

  “How about theology, or demonology, or something related to his current career?”

  “Wait, I’ll get to that,” said Sue. “Our reverend friend has already had a rather extraordinary career. Early on after his master’s degree, he was managing the tours of well-known rock stars. Then he was recruited to manage a national tour for a prominent evangelist, and as the saying goes, he never looked back. Over the next several years he worked for some of the most successful televangelists in the country.”

  “Where did you find this stuff?” asked Ray. “Was it on his Website?”

  “Lots of things get left on Websites long after they are current. So staff positions held by Rodney Gunne years ago are still out there on a variety of sites. So unless there’s another Rod Gunne who attended the same schools as the Reverend at the same time, he’s our man.”

  “So, how about his religious training?”

  “He’s certified by a small, fundamentalist sect in Michigan. He took an eight-week training course, and passed an exam and a required background and credit check. His name is on their list of accredited ministers. And his church, The Church for the Next Millennium, is duly registered in this state as an ecclesiastical corporation.”

  “You’ve done all that in an hour.”

  “There’s more. Bring a chair over, I want you to see this,” Sue moved to the right so Ray could get a good view on the big, flat-screen display.

  “Look at the church’s Website. It’s spectacular. One of the best I’ve ever seen. They’re using all the newest Web tools. You can stream his services live, but everything is also available as a Webcast that you can watch any time, anywhere in the world where you can get a high-speed connection. And for a modest contribution via your PayPal account, everything is available, including PDFs, CDs, and DVDs of sermons, even a personal prayer or inspirational thought from Reverend Gunne. And do you know what the beauty of all this is?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s all electronic. Yes, he’s got some development costs, but most of the content is delivered via the Web. He’s not buying radio or TV time like the televangelists he worked for. He’s taken it to the next level. This is brilliant. His costs are very limited, and his audience is worldwide. And if you want to come and personally worship at his church, you’ve got to look all over the Website to find its location.”

  “That’s all well and good, Sue, but for all this technology to work for him, Gunne’s got to be selling something people want.”

  “Here’s his message,” said Sue, pointing to the screen, “God wants you to be wealthy. This theme is repeated all over the Website, in the titles of sermons, Webcasts, and a whole array of things that are available for purchase. I can’t say that I’m well versed in Christian theology, but this ain’t your daddy’s Methodist church. It looks like Gunne may be creating his own religious brand.”

  Ray gazed at the screen. “I think that message has been around for some time. But everything you’re showing me suggests enormous sophistication at delivering his message. And I imagine that it would have special appeal during hard times. When I have time, I’d like to listen to some of his sermons, so I could better understand his appeal.”

  “There’s one more thing you’ll find interesting,” said Sue. “I just want you to look at this piece of video. Watch when the focus moves from Gunne to the congregants. Look at those people. See anyone you know? Look at the great smiles, the wonderful grooming, and the way they are dressed. And they’re all such good-looking people.”

  “Yes,” agreed Ray. “Young, healthy, and vibrant. It doesn’t look much like Reverend Tim’s flock, does it?”

  “No,” agreed Sue. “It reminds me of the casino ads on TV, all the beautiful, happy people who are supposedly getting rich and having a wonderful time. You never see shots of the pensioners with their oxygen tanks sitting at the slots smoking and drinking.”

  “This is all fascinating, Sue. But do you see any connection to our case?”

  “No, there’s nothing obvious.”

  “Can you put some crime scene photos on the screen?”

  “Sure. What are you looking for?”

  “I’d like to see the area around the computer equipment. I want to look at the photos and see if her laptop was there.”

  “Give me your thought process on this,” suggested Sue.

  “We’ve touched on it before. If the assailant’s original plan was to torch the house, they only had to incapacitate Manton. What was the motive? There was no evidence that the perp was beginning to ransack the house. Was there something on Manton’s computer that they wanted to destroy? When they decided to get out of there fast, did they grab her laptop as well as her cell phone?”

  Sue worked at the keyboard, and soon her screen and the large display mounted on the wall contained thumbnail images of the photos Sue took at the crime scene. “How about this one?” she asked. The photo showed the desk area with a keyboard and large Macintosh display. On the right side was a mouse pad and mouse. On the left was a small legal pad, a pen on top of it.

  “Can you move the view farther to the right?” Ray asked.

  Sue manipulated the view, showing the right side of the work surface. The area held only a tray, blank DVDs on a spindle, two packets of sticky notes, a round tin container with assorted pencils and pens and the ends of small white cables.

  “Would you magnify those cables, one at a time?” asked Ray.

  Sue pulled the connector on the first cable into sharp focus.

  “That’s an iPhone connector. Look at the one coming off my computer.”

  “Yes,” agreed Sue. “And here’s the second one. It leads to a transformer plugged into a wall outlet. So we know from Rod Gunne that she had a laptop and it wasn’t there when I shot these photos—it was either somewhere else or the perp carried it away.”

  “So if the perp took it, why is it important?” asked Ray, thinking out loud. “They weren’t stealing a computer, what could have been on the hard drive that was worth killing for?”

  Sue pondered the question. “Photos, text, financial data, something very incriminating. It hardly seems likely, but could Manton have been involved in blackmailing someone?”

  “That hardly seems to fit,” agreed Ray, “but at this point we have to continue to be open to all possibilities. How about her car, did you check that?”

  “Yes, other than a few reusable shopping bags near the rear hatch, it was empty.”

  “Did you happen to check the car for prints?”

  “No. It was on the list of things I was going to do.”

  “And the phone records? Any word yet?”

  “No, still waiting.”

  Ray suddenly felt very frustrated. He pulled himself out of the chair and moved to the whiteboard. “What do we know for sure?”

  “The assailant knew about the plow, where it was kept, and how to drive it. And that he seems to have a fondness for fire,” offered Sue.

  “And there may be a missing laptop that might be somehow important. Lots of mays, mights, and somehows.”

  “Where do we go from here?”

  “We’ve been here before, Sue. It’s the long dark night of an investigation when you don’t seem to be going anywhere. We just have to keep pushing forward, hoping we do something smart, or right, just get lucky, or get some help from the perp doing something really stupid.

  “I think we need to push Molly harder,” continued Ray, “and I still want to talk to Tristan Laird.”

  22.

  “We found Tristan’s tree house, Molly. Your directions were right on,” said Ray, trying to open the conversation on a positive note. “Have you been up there?”

 
“Sure, lots of times. It’s especially nice in the winter. When the leaves are gone you get great views of Lake Michigan.”

  Ray noted that Molly seemed a bit less guarded. “How do you get up there, up into the tree house?” he asked.

  “Tristan has a rope ladder.”

  “Is that what he uses?”

  “No, that’s just for us, Brenda and me. He uses some kind of climbing gear to get up, then tosses the ladder down for us.”

  “I don’t know much about climbing, Molly. How does he do it?”

  “He’s got this nylon line with a weight on it that he shoots up over a branch with a slingshot. And he uses that line to pull a climbing rope. Then Tristan has this harness and stuff that he uses to get up near the top where he goes from branch to branch to get to the platform that holds his little house. He calls it his aerie.”

  “The aerie, what’s it like?” asked Sue.

  “It’s really small, a rectangle. Two people will just fit if you sit at opposite ends or lie side by side. But it’s neat. The interior is finished in pine. It looks like a cabin in a tiny sailboat. There are even a couple of porthole windows.”

  “Does it have heat?”

  “He’s got a little heater, propane, but the space is so small and so carefully insulated that it doesn’t take much to keep the place warm. He says that he can heat it with a candle, and I think that’s true.”

  “Molly, I checked his trailer on Sunday, and it didn’t appear that he had been there in a long time. And I had the same impression yesterday when we were near the aerie,” said Ray.

  “He uses the trailer mostly in good weather, not that he stays there much, but he stores stuff there. And he really likes the tree house, especially in winter. But if something has spooked him, he’s probably in hiding.”

  “And you’ve had no contact with him since Brenda was attacked?”

  “True, I haven’t seen him. We both took responsibility for Tristan, but Brenda was the main contact person, both with Tristan and his siblings. It wasn’t like that in the beginning, but over the years that’s just how it evolved.”