by Midge Bubany
I settled into a funk as we drove in silence the rest of the way to Bobby Lopez’s house.
We walked up to the door, and I knocked.
A Hispanic woman opened the door.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I’d like to speak with Bobby,” I said.
“He’s out of town for a few days.”
I showed her my badge. A flicker of fear flashed in her eyes.
“I can speak with you. May we please come in?” I asked.
She slowly opened the door and stopped just inside to the living room. She was a petite woman, pretty, approaching fifty—her dark hair had a few strands of silver.
“And your name is?”
“Nancy,” she said.
“Nancy Lopez?” Tamika said, grinning.
“Yes.”
Tamika chuckled. I shot her a dirty look.
“There’s a famous golfer by the same name,” I said. “Are you Bobby’s wife?”
“No, sir. I am his sister-in-law.” I detected a slight Mexican accent.
“And your husband?”
“Isn’t here.”
“Do you live here?”
“I’m just visiting.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Laredo, Texas.”
“Who else is staying here?”
“My mother and daughter.”
An older woman appeared and stood in the hallway. Nancy spoke to her in Spanish. The woman left. She turned her attention back to us and smiled faintly.
“What did you tell her?” I asked.
“That it was nothing, and she should go back upstairs. She’s a very nervous person.”
“We won’t keep you. Just tell Cisco I stopped by to chat.”
She did a double-take and nodded.
When we were in the Explorer and driving out onto the road, Tamika said, “Oh. My. God. Did you see her face when you said ‘Cisco?’ And her mother can’t speak English? They must be illegals. He could be a big time criminal on the lam. Ooo ooo, maybe he’s part of the Cartel.”
“Cisco Sanchez’s records are sealed, so maybe all or none of the above is true. Maybe he’s in witness protection or something, and we just poked a hornet’s nest.”
I dropped off Tamika so she could head home, then stopped at the house to let Bullet out and feed him and grab a peanut butter sandwich. I spent some time throwing the Frisbee for Bullet, then went back to work for three hours to do paperwork, and didn’t get home until ten o’clock. I made myself a bowl of Cheerios while I contemplated the day and Tamika’s revelation that Shannon had been with Mac while he was married. She omitted that little fact.
“Shit,” I said aloud.
Bullet perked up his ears then walked went to his leash hanging on a hook.
“That wasn’t a command, boy.”
He stayed put, looked at me with his big brown eyes, and wagged his tail.
“Okay, short walk.”
We made a six square block circuit and he’d peed twice, so I headed down Seventh Street so I could walk by the blonde’s house across the way from me. It was in her yard Bullet chose to start his pre-circling for a poop. While he was choosing the right spot, I checked out her house. A television flickered inside. Maybe I’d bring her Sportsman’s cinnamon rolls as a welcome to the neighborhood gift. But what if she didn’t eat carbs or was gluten free like some women these days? I carefully picked up Bullet’s droppings and headed around the corner.
As I walked along the sidewalk, Eleanor Kohler and her five kids were getting out of her van. She waved. I waved.
“I want you to taste test something for me!” she said. “I’ll send Alicia over with the samples.”
She’d been giving me baked goods every week since I moved in. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe she still felt beholden to me because I solved her husband’s murder. Clara and Shannon believed she was getting to my heart through my stomach, which to be honest, did cross my mind. Well, I liked the goodies, so I wasn’t going to tell her to stop.
I tossed the poop bag in the trash, went inside, turned on the television, and then grabbed my laptop to check my messages. As I could have predicted, I had an email message from Shannon. I clicked on it.
Cal, stay the hell away from Mac. This is between you and me. I told him if you ever stepped foot on his property again, to call 911. I’ll drop the twins off at noon sharp on Sunday.
I answered: Mac can have you. I’m done. I’ll expect you at noon sharp.
I had another from Oliver Bakken: Be at the courthouse ready to testify on Wednesday.
There was a knock on the door, but it wasn’t Alicia, it was Eleanor herself.
“Alicia had a phone call. I think she has a boyfriend.”
“Oh-boy. Crazy times.”
She gave out a hearty laugh. “Mm-hmm.” She handed me a nine-by-twelve pan covered with foil.
“I thought it was a sample. This is a whole pan. Hey, want to come in for a glass of wine?” And why did I just do that?
“Well, sure!” she said with more enthusiasm than appropriate. I hoped she didn’t read anything into my invitation other than me being neighborly.
“White or red?”
“Anything white.”
“Chardonnay?”
“Perfect.”
She set the pan on the counter. I lifted the lid and sniffed. “Cinnamon rolls? They smell great!”
“My grandmother’s recipe. Tell me what you think. I’m trying to beat the Sportsman’s.”
I poured two glasses of wine, then found a small plate, took a spatula and lifted a roll onto it. I cut it in two.
“Join me.”
She giggled. “Okay.”
We sat at the counter and drank wine, and I devoured two more rolls bite by bite. As I’d finish a bite I’d say, “I don’t know, I need to taste a little more.”
She’d giggle every time.
“So? What’s the verdict?” she said, when I finally put the fork down.
“They’re definitely better than the Sportsman’s.”
“Really? Are you just saying that?”
“Nope, they are. They’re softer and melt in your mouth.”
A smile spread across her face. “Coming from a connoisseur, that’s a compliment.”
We clinked glasses.
“So Cal, is the rumor true? Are you getting a divorce?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Nina Wallace came into the bakery this morning. She said her ex is dating Shannon.”
“Does everybody know but me?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s fine. I just found out—and I guess I have to get used to the idea. So, how’s the bakery business?”
“Better than I expected. I’ve hired someone to do wedding cakes, and I’m thinking of hiring another baker soon.”
“That’s great.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask how Luke was doing? I haven’t seen him in such a long time.”
“We’re all still struggling, and Luke’s successfully avoiding me.”
We then talked about the struggles of kids and marriage for another hour until her phone rang. She flushed as she said, “Right now.”
When she hung up, she said, “That was Alicia. The kids aren’t going to bed so easily for her.”
“Always a problem, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She put her hand on my arm. “Things will get brighter for you, and you’ll find someone more suited for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Ted and I believed a spouse should come first, and Shannon puts the kids first, especially Luke.”
“Oh.”
�
��But it’s really none of my business. Oh, Cal, I hate to see you feeling so down. You’re such a great guy and if I was ten years younger and without a six-pack of kids… well, I’d give her a run for her money. I’m lonely. I miss my Ted so much. He loved my baked goods too, so thank you for letting me bake for you.”
“Wave some of the cinnamon rolls under the men’s noses, and they’ll come running,” I said.
“I wish it was that easy. Well, it’s late and I better get those kids in bed. See you later.”
I stood on the back step and watched her walk back to her house. She was feeding me because she couldn’t feed Ted anymore. I felt sorry for her—losing her husband, raising five kids on her own, and she was a nice lady, easy to talk to. Our talk—or maybe it was the wine—had uplifted me.
But when I went to bed, my mood slowly turned south as my mind began to twirl Shannon’s deceit and Bobby Lopez’s need for an alias, along with all the players in Hawk’s disappearance. But I had to focus on Hawk and the players in his disappearance: Ginty, Hayes, and Wynn. The likely scenario was that they killed Hawk and disposed of his body somewhere in Birch County.
Chapter 11
May 25
Thirteen days missing.
At noon on Sunday, Spanky called to say Wynn had been booked into our jail. I had to cut the call short when Shannon drove up with the Twinks. Luke was not in the car, as he usually was. We transferred the kids from the car to the great room without Shannon speaking to or giving me eye contact. She kissed the babies and walked toward the door.
I said, “Bye, sweetheart.” She never hesitated, nor did she glance back.
Within a few minutes Hillary Kohler was at the door to help with the kids. I fed them macaroni and cheese for lunch and then Bullet, Hillary, and I took them to the park for an hour. They fell asleep on the way home. After we put them down for their naps, I handed Hillary five dollars, and she said she would come back when they woke up. But she never did. She probably had a boyfriend too.
Clara arrived around four o’clock to make dinner. She eyed the half-eaten pan of cinnamon rolls, but didn’t say a word.
May 26
Fourteen days missing.
On Monday morning, I took Bullet for an early run, then went to the department to work out. I was back by seven thirty to eat breakfast with the Twinks. Clara served blueberry/raspberry pancakes in the shape of stars.
“Eleanor Kohler left a message on the phone.”
“Oh?”
She pursed her lips then said, “She said she enjoyed having wine with you Saturday night.”
I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “Just a neighborly glass of wine, Clara.”
“She also said she shouldn’t have made those remarks about Shannon. What on earth did she say?”
“Not important.”
“She thought it was.”
“Okay, she said Shannon put the kids before me, that she always put Ted first.”
“Oh, lordy, that woman wants you bad.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She knows she’s too old for me.”
“Look at Demi Moore.”
“And look how that turned out? And why are we even having this conversation?”
“Fine. I’ll mind my own business.”
“That would be a plan.”
“Humph. Anyway, I’m going to take the kids to the Memorial Day Parade this morning.”
“Oh, it being a holiday slipped my mind. What time does the parade start?”
“Ten o’clock. I’ll be at my friend Char’s place. She lives on Hickory and Ninth Avenue if you want to join us.”
“If I can. Hey, Clara, would you please use the security alarm?”
“Why?”
“Just until Victoria Lewis is out of the picture.”
“Oh, her. Are you concerned she might come around?”
“I’d feel better is all.”
“Maybe it’ll keep Eleanor Kohler out too.”
“Clara.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Shortly after eight o’clock, I had Wynn brought over from the jail for questioning. I was looking forward to this interview.
“Orange is your color,” I said.
“Fuck you.” He sat back and crossed his arms. He had a new tattoo on his forearm—a headless frog.
“I have bad news for you,” I said.
His eyes slowly rose to meet mine.
“Your DNA was on a spoon sitting in a Dinty Moore Beef Stew can in a burglarized cabin.” I tossed him a wide grin. “Yo-ho-ho.”
“It was Hayes’s uncle’s cabin.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said with a sneer.
I pulled my phone out and called Chester Brooks. “Mr. Brooks, I have a quick question. Is a Glenn Hayes your nephew?”
“Yeah, he’s my sister Norma’s kid.”
“Did he have permission to use your cabin?”
“Not without Peg or me there. Why? Was he the one who broke in?”
“Yes, and he had some friends with him.”
“Well, that little shit.”
“Still want to press charges?”
“You bet, and I want my shotgun and booze back too.”
“I understand, but they may be long gone.”
“Well, thanks for letting me know. By the way, when can I use my cabin again?”
“You’re good to go anytime.”
“Thanks for everything.”
“You bet.”
Wynn was leaning back, chin jutted forward, a triumphant tough guy, cocksure he’d be released. We stared at each other for a few seconds before I said, “You didn’t have permission to be in the cabin, so you will still have to face those burglary charges. But personally, I’m much more concerned about what happened to this man.”
I placed Hawk’s photo on the table in front of him. He looked at it, then back at me.
“Your DNA was found in the Brooks’ cabin, and so was his, and now he’s missing.”
He wrinkled his nose as he hiked his shoulders and lifted his hands. “So we spent a little time with him.”
“Why?”
“Just talkin’.”
“About?”
“This and that.”
“What did you do with his body?”
“His body? What are you talking about?”
“Does playing stupid usually work for you? Your buddy Hayes, who you were with that day, was caught on camera talking to Mr. Hawkinson. Your other pal, Ginty, rear-ended the Mercedes… on purpose, which was later found abandoned. You all left DNA all over that cabin, along with Mr. Hawkinson’s, and now he’s vanished. Two plus two equals four.”
He gave out a raucous laugh. “Your arithmetic is a little off. Last I saw him he was driving off in that fancy Mercedes, which he tried to give me.”
“Is that how you’re playing it?”
“That’s how it was. He said I could have it.”
“Now why would he do that?”
A shrug. “Exactly. I thought it was part of a sting. You know that show on TV where cops leave the keys in a car and brothers jump in and steal it, then the cops shut it off and arrest ’em?”
“Bait Car?”
“Yeah, Bait Car.”
“Tell me what business you and Ginty had in my county on May 12?”
“I had a delivery.”
“What sort of delivery?”
“A pump to the candy factory.”
“Estelle’s?”
“That’s right.”
“We have you and your pals on two different cameras in the city. One was at Frank’s Plaza where you boys got gas for Ginty
’s van. You couldn’t have pumped more than a couple gallons because you took off shortly after Mr. Hawkinson did. Then an hour later, the same van pulls up, and Mr. Hawkinson’s debit card and pin number were used to access $300 from his account. Now, how was all that possible if Mr. Hawkinson just drove away?”
“I sure don’t know.”
“When did Mr. Hawkinson offer you his car? At the gas station? When Ginty rear-ended him? Or later when you held him captive at the cabin?”
He pushed air through his barely parted lips.
“Was Glenn Hayes with you when you went to the cabin?”
“Yes.”
“Were all three of you in the van when you used Mr. Hawkinson’s debit card.”
“I thought it was Ray-Ray’s own card.”
“Like hell. Answer my question.”
“I don’t remember who was with, that was a while ago.”
After going round and round with no new results, and even more inconsistencies in the stories, I had him returned to the jail. Then I had Hayes brought back over. It wasn’t long before he broke down and admitted he and his cohorts had broken into his uncle’s cabin, ate his food, stole his shotgun and booze. His version had Snake leaving Monday afternoon and Hawk shortly after, but he and Ginty stayed the night in the cabin. Obviously, the three agreed on what to say if questioned; they would admit to the burglary, but not the murder. Hayes was still my best bet to cave, so I needed to have a conversation with Oliver about offering him a deal.
Which reminded me I had to testify in Victoria’s case this week—just what I needed in the middle of a big case. I didn’t know what made me more anxious: being on the stand or the high probability of running into Troy Kern and Adriana Valero.
Last time I saw Troy was at Colby’s funeral. He’d come alone, but we only exchanged a few words. We had once been partners, and we clashed early on—it was a personality thing. Shortly after I was married to Shannon, he developed a relationship with Adriana, and with her influence, he changed. He tried harder not to be a jackass. She’d given him a son, and they were living together in Minneapolis where he was working for Hennepin County Sheriff’s Department. I hated that they were together—and I didn’t admit that to anyone but myself.
I left an e-mail message for Oliver suggesting he think about offering Glenn Hayes a plea for testimony. Then I decided to drive over to Brainerd to give the Hawkinsons an update. I was hoping Cat was still there. I had a few more questions for her.