A River Through Two Harbors

by Dennis Herschbach

  Deidre was in the middle of saying, “Oh, think nothing of it,” but she was speaking to the back of his head by that time, and she doubted if her heard.

  They played in the cold for over an hour, until the twins hair was stuck to their sweaty foreheads, and Ben and Deidre were getting chilled to the bone.

  “Time to go, girls. Deidre’s had a long day, I’m cold, and it’s time to make supper.”

  They left the hill amid gripes and complaints echoing from the backseat of Ben’s van. Pete was waiting to be let out, and he immediately re-marked his favorite bush before wanting back in the house. He plopped down on his pad, stretched full length before curling up, and closed his eyes.

  “You must be tired and cold,” Ben said to Deidre. “Why don’t you take a hot shower and then a nap. We’ll wake you for supper, and we can spend the evening watching a movie. The girls love the movie Cars. We have our own copy. Afterward, if you want to talk about it, you can tell me about the case you’re working.”

  *****

  Deidre stood under the hot spray, letting the core of her body warm, letting her body relax, if only for a few blessed minutes. Somehow, she was having a difficult time washing away the memory of that brief moment when she and Ben lay in a tangled heap on the ground. Then she put it from her mind. Not going to happen, she thought.

  She dried herself off and was standing in front of the full-length closet mirror. The scars on her chest were still very visible, probably would be for the rest of her life, but they didn’t bother her. It was the scars inside of her that mattered, the ones in her mind that no one could see. She reflected back to the day more than four years ago when Ben had saved her life.

  Although she remembered nothing about what happened after she was wounded by a terrorist, Deidre had been told Ben had shot and killed her assailant before he could put another bullet into her prostrate body.

  She had just put on her panties when the bedroom door was thrown open. Megan and Maren burst into the room.

  “Oh, sorry,” they started to say, and then stopped in their tracks. “What’s that?” Maren asked, pointing at the scar. Megan stood with her mouth open.

  Deidre closed the door. “I had an accident one time.”

  “Was it a big owie?” Maren wanted to know.

  “Yes, it was a big owie.”

  “Does it still hurt?” the twins asked in unison.

  “No, not at all. Sometimes it itches though.”

  “Do you want us to scratch it for you?” Maren offered.

  “No, it doesn’t itch right now.”

  “Can I touch it?” Megan timidly asked.

  “If you want to.” Deidre knelt down and each girl took a turn running their fingers over the healed wound. Their touch was gentle, almost like a butterfly landing, Deidre thought.

  “Does Daddy know you have this?” Maren inquired.

  “Yes, your daddy knows about it.”

  “Has he ever seen it?” Megan wanted to know.

  Deidre laughed. “Well, I certainly hope not.” By this time she had put her bra on and was pulling on a sweater.

  “I’m going to take a short nap. Do you want to lie down with me?”

  The girls crawled onto the bed, one on each side of her. They lay perfectly still for ten seconds, then Megan popped up.

  “Is it time to wake up?” she asked.

  “Yeah, is it time to wake up?” Maren echoed.

  “No, I need a little more rest. Why don’t you girls go down and play with Pete. I’ll bet he needs his ears scratched.”

  “Okay,” they answered as they slid off the bed.

  Deidre heard them shut her door and heard their feet as they raced down the hall. The next thing she heard was a knock on her door.

  “Deidre. It’s six-thirty. I have supper on the table. Do you want to eat, or should we let you sleep?”

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to clear her head. She went to the bathroom sink, splashed some cold water on her face, and straightened her hair until she was satisfied with what she saw in the mirror.

  After supper, Deidre helped Ben clean the kitchen while the girls dressed Pete in a dolly bonnet and tried to feed him from a dolly bottle. The doleful look in his eyes said, Please get me out of this.

  Ben set up the DVD player and everyone sat on the couch, Megan and Maren wedged between the adults. Before the movie started, Megan looked up at Ben.

  “Do you know that Deidre has an owie?” she innocently asked.

  Ben smiled at her. “Yes, I know about her owie.”

  “Well, have you ever seen it?”

  This time Ben had to laugh. “No, I’ve never seen it.”

  “Well, we have,” Maren smugly stated. Then as children do, they shifted their attention to the TV.

  “Is the movie almost ready?”

  *****

  Deidre’s eyes popped open the next morning as if waking from a nightmare. For an instant she was confused, and it took a moment for her to oriente herself to her surrounding. Her heart beat returned to normal, and she looked at the digital clock glowing on the night stand. Six-thirty. At that time of year it was still dark until 7:00.

  The house was dark and quiet, and Deidre put on her robe, quietly made her way downstairs, let Pete out to inspect his personal shrub, and picked up the Sunday paper that had been delivered in the early morning hours.

  She made a cup of tea in the microwave and sat down to peruse the front page while she sipped the brew. Her attention was immedi­ately drawn to an article with lesser headlines.

  MINNEAPOLIS JUDGE ARRESTED IN PAY FOR SEX SWEEP

  Members of the Minneapolis Police Vice and Racketeering squad executed a nighttime raid on Saturday morning. They were acting on reports of girls as young as thirteen being prostituted at an undisclosed four-plex in Edina.

  One officer, who spoke off the record, said the public would be shocked at what was discovered, but for the time being, names are being withheld to protect those who are innocent.

  At that point Deidre bristled. “And to protect those who have buddies in the system,” she said out loud. But she continued reading.

  Separate information provided by a reliable source has indicated that the multi-unit housing complex is owned by an individual long associated with crime in the city, and that four girls, all under the age of sixteen, were handed over to Social Services.

  Our informant told us only one customer was in the facility at the time of the raid. He was identified as District Judge Tony DeMarcus, longtime member of the Twin Cities legal scene.

  Deidre sat staring at the paper, her mind refusing to let her forget the sight of Anna Woodsong’s body huddled under the bridge. She thought it would be a long shot if there were a connection between the judge and her victim, but the article triggered thoughts about the murder.

  At that moment, she contemplated a visit to Judge DeMarcus to ask him about his knowledge of the organization he had been patronizing. She knew he’d be hostile, knew he’d refuse to see her, knew he wouldn’t incriminate himself. But perhaps, she thought, he might be encouraged to reveal some clues if she approached him with a hypothetical case, speaking as Bureau officer to judge.

  Before she could form a plan, chaos erupted when the girls, leading Ben, spilled into the kitchen.

  “We’re having pancakes for breakfast. We always have pancakes on Sunday. Do you? Do you want chocolate sprinkles on them? We do. Daddy makes pancakes with smiley faces. Have you ever had a pancake with a smiley face?”

  The questions came at her so fast, Deidre didn’t have time to answer.

  “Calm down, girls. Give Deidre time to wake up.” He looked at her and laughed.

  That evening, Deidre left Ben’s as the sun was setting. It was four-forty-five, and by th
e time she got to Inga’s, the early winter night would have arrived. Again, she was forced to drive in the dark. On the way home, she made a mental list of what she would ask Jill to do in the morning.

  Chapter 12

  Deidre arrived at her office fifteen minutes early, hoping to gather her thoughts and start the day with a cup of coffee. As she made her way down the hall, she could see the lights were on, and she could smell coffee brewing. She felt as though she were late for work.

  “Good morning Boss Lady,” Jill said as Deidre made her way to her desk. “How’d the meeting go with the Grand Chief?”

  Deidre didn’t quite know how to react. On the one hand, she was irked at Jill’s informality. But on the other hand, she couldn’t fault the woman’s efficiency. “Thanks for setting up a motel room for me. It was nice to not have to deal with that. Much appreciated.” Jill caught the point that Deidre hadn’t answered her question and didn’t press the issue further.

  She poured Deidre a cup of coffee, and asked, “What do you want me to do today? I’m at a loss for work this morning, unless I rearrange the office furniture, but there are only four corners, and it won’t make much sense to rotate what we have.” She smiled expec­tantly at Deidre, who tried to smile back.

  “Send off official letters of thanks to Grand Chief Musio, Joseph Walkin, and Charles Freeman for their support. Then I’d like you to do some research on a district judge in Minneapolis, Tony DeMarcus. Find out as much as you can about a raid on a four-plex in Edina last Saturday. It involved teenage prostitution. Contact the Minneapolis police for what information they’ll give you. Play the BCA card.

  For a moment Deidre watched Jill scribble in shorthand. “I’m going to Duluth today to interview a boat captain I know, and it might take awhile. He’s an old Norwegian. Nils is his name. He’s a pretty lonesome guy, and it’s hard to get away from him once you start visiting. But he knows a lot about the harbor and boats. I want his perspective on what the harbor was like twenty years ago.”

  Jill jotted down what Deidre ordered. “The drafts of thank you letters are in the folder on your desk. Read them over. Make any changes you want. I’ll have final copies ready for your signature when you return.”

  Deidre read through the communications. “I can’t see a thing I’d change. I’ll sign these, and you can get them in the morning mail.” She left the room shaking her head in amazement.

  On the way out of town she stopped at the Holiday gas station on the southwest end of town. As the meter on the pump turned to double digits, Deidre was thankful she had a company credit card. This case was going to burn up a lot of gasoline, she thought.

  When the tank was full and she collected the receipt, Deidre pulled onto Highway 61, heading back to Duluth. Deep in thought, she crossed over the French River and was almost to London Road in Duluth. The speed limit was thirty and when she looked at the speedometer it registered forty-five.

  Lucky I’m in a marked car, she thought but nevertheless let her vehicle coast to the prescribed limit. In about two miles she turned onto I-35 and picked up her pace. Ten minutes later she was at the Fortieth Avenue West exit where she left the freeway. Another three blocks and she was at Nils’ home. She had visited regularly when she lived in Two Harbors, but it was a long drive from her cabin to Duluth, and her visits had become infrequent.

  When she knocked on the door of his cottage, she heard a thin voice call out, “Come on in. The door’s open.”

  Nils had been a captain of a Great Lakes ore boat for years, but to look at him now, one would never guess he had guided those thousand-foot behemoths through narrow passageways. These days, Nils was relegated to sitting in a wheelchair and letting others serve him.

  “Deidre Johnson,” he croaked as his milky eyes attempted to focus on her. “What are you doing visiting a dried up old prune like me? Don’t ya know the neighbors will be talking if we meet like this?” He cackled at his own joke.

  “Let them talk, Nils. If I lived closer, I’d ask you to go steady with me.” That made Nils laugh until he had a coughing fit, and it took him several seconds to get his breath back.

  “Just the thought of that almost killed me,” he said, and laughed again.

  “Nils, I came by to have a talk about something serious. Sorry to have to get to the point this way, but I need to tap into your knowledge of the harbor.”

  Nils became silent. Then he murmured, “Yes, the harbor. Well, I guess I can tell you a few things about that place. But nothing recent. I haven’t been able to get down there for years. Don’t even get to sit by the canal and watch the boats come into port.”

  Deidre noticed the faraway look in his eyes. “This isn’t a pleasant subject for me to talk about, but when you were captain, did prostitutes ever get smuggled on board the lakers?”

  Nils shifted his position in his chair, and Deidre could see how thin and useless his legs had become.

  “Not that I would ever allow it, or any other captain I knew. We had strict rules about that. If any hand was caught trying that stunt, he was immediately fired. If anyone did succeed on a captain’s watch, the captain was written up and docked wages. A second incident of that nature led to dismissal. I never knew of a captain losing his job because of such an incident.”

  In a way, Deidre was relieved by what Nils told her.

  “Of course, what sailors did in port was their own business. We had no control over that. I know many of the sailors weren’t angels. Rumor was they met prostitutes in empty railroad box cars parked by the docks in Two Harbors. A whorehouse on wheels, you might say.” Nils sort of snickered. Deidre didn’t laugh, so he continued. “No, we kept pretty close tabs on that sort of thing. Course things changed when the St. Lawrence Seaway opened in 1959. I had just been promoted to captain that year and remember well the day the first salty arrived to take on a load of wheat at the Superior terminal. Now they were a different story. In fact, I was told that some, not all mind you, but some of their captains encouraged prostitutes to come aboard as a reward for the crew. Port security said they tried to prevent it, but I don’t think they tried too hard. I suspect some money exchanged hands under the table.”

  “Tell me, Nils, do you know of any women not allowed to leave the boat once the ship was ready to leave the harbor? Did you ever hear of any of them being kidnapped?”

  Nils went silent for a moment. “I really can’t say one way or another. You see, it was as though our crews and theirs lived in two different worlds. We didn’t speak their language. They didn’t speak ours. I think the girls sort of watched out for each other, kept each others’ backs. One of them might know. ’Course I don’t know any of those ladies. Most of them are dead by now, I suppose.”

  His gaze drifted to his window where he could see the dried stems of hollyhocks moving in the wind. Then he continued. “I do know this—things were getting a lot rougher on the docks by the time I retired. That was after the shipping season ended in 1979.” He paused. “Now I’m ninety-three. Not much time left, but I had a good life. I’m content where I’m at and with where I’m headed.” He smiled winsomely at Deidre, and it almost broke her heart to hear her great-uncle talk that way.

  “I’m glad to see you’re at peace, Nils, but I have one more question. If I wanted more answers to the questions I asked, who would you say I should look up?”

  Without hesitation he answered. “You’d want to see William Ojannen. He served under me when he first joined the fleet. Worked his way up the ranks same as I did. He became captain the year I left and retired in 2010. But you’ll have a tough time catching up with him. He spends his winters in Florida. I don’t know where exactly, but you should be able to find out.”

  Deidre wrote down the name with a notation beside it. “Nils, can I do anything for you before I leave,” she asked.

  “Wheel me over to the window so I can wave to you when you
go. Oh, and, Deidre, happy Thanksgiving if I don’t get a chance to see you before then.”

  Deidre walked to her SUV carrying a load of guilt for having neglected the old man the last few years. She made a vow to spend more time with him. Before she stepped into her vehicle, she turned and waved at the sallow figure in the window. He waved back with his bony hand.

  *****

  Deidre wasn’t quite sure of what to expect when she returned to the office. What arrangements would Jill have made?

  “Hi, Boss Lady,” she was greeted. “I’ve got the info you wanted about the judge. It’s in the file on your desk. The Minneapolis police are being pretty tight lipped about the raid. Seems they’re going to be stepping on some pretty big toes, and they don’t want unofficial reports leaking out before they’re ready. Need anything while you read what I have for you?” She smiled her expectant smile, something that was beginning to unnerve Deidre.

  “Yes, I need William Ojannen’s phone number. He worked on the Great Lakes fleet of ore boats until 2010 and now lives in Florida, at least during the winter. Where he stays summers, I don’t know.”

  “Gotcha, Boss Lady. I’ll get right on it.”

  Deidre didn’t know what to say, so she sat down, picked up the folder , and began to read Jill’s report.

  Judge Tony DeMarcus

  one of 62 judges in the 4th district of Minnesota

  age 59

  graduated William Mitchell Law School 1976

  first elected to position November, 1999

  married, three adult children

  home address: 1300 Lake Calhoun Drive, Minneapolis, MN 53211

  Notes: During early years of his judgeship, was noted for being strict but fair. Since 2006 has shown leniency toward certain cases, especially those involving the sex trade. Since then, he has thrown out three cases on grounds of insufficient evidence. Also dismissed two charges of assault brought against suspected drug dealers.