A Death in Lionel's Woods

by Christine Husom

  There was an unusual, sour odor clinging to him that I guessed was the doe urine many hunters used to cover their own personal scent. My hunter friends had informed me that deer have a keen sense of smell they use to both stay out of danger and to find other deer, mates in particular.

  “Not to worry,” Smoke said.

  “That’s all I’ve been doing is worrying. I’m tied up in knots trying to figure out who’d put that poor woman’s body in my woods. And why my woods?” Lionel reached up and scratched his head then pulled off his cap, revealing thick, curly, nearly-black hair. He tossed the cap on the shelf in his open entry closet.

  “That’s a good question. There’s no evidence indicating someone put her body there.”

  Lionel shrugged. “Oh, I just figured that.”

  “We’ve completed the preliminary investigation, but we’ll leave the perimeter marked in your woods, for now. We’re not posting a deputy at the scene to keep it secure, but it’s best not to advertise where the victim was found.”

  “I got the ‘No Trespassing’ signs posted. Mostly so people don’t go hunting without permission. Hope that helps keep people from snooping around.”

  Smoke nodded then paused before changing the subject. “No recollection of ever seeing her anywhere before today?”

  Lionel shook his head. “No. No recollection at all.”

  “You know all your neighbors?”

  “Sure. At least to say ‘hey,’ and shoot the breeze a while. I can’t say I’m close to any of them, but we’re friendly enough.”

  “That’s more than most of us nowadays. Mister Lionel, now that you’ve had a little time to think about it, is there anything else that’s come to mind, or do you have any other questions?”

  Lionel frowned. “I’m still sort of in shock, I guess. I can’t think of what to ask.”

  Smoke nodded then pulled his business card and the plastic-enclosed photo from his breast pocket. He handed the card to Lionel. “Call anytime, if you need to.” Then he held the photo up for Lionel to see. “We found this with the victim. Does the family look familiar to you?”

  Lionel reached over, and carefully, almost reverently, took the baggie from Smoke. He studied the photo for a second, and a flicker of an expression that signified recognition crossed his face. His eyebrows raised slightly, his mouth pursed.

  “You know them?” Smoke asked, leaning closer.

  “Ah, . . . no.” He handed the photo back.

  “You don’t sound too sure of yourself.”

  “Um, well, the woman looks a little like someone I knew.”

  “Someone you knew?”

  “My wife.”

  “Knew, as in the past tense?”

  “She left about a year ago.”

  “Where is she now?”

  Lionel shrugged. “I have no idea. I came home one day and she was gone. Left me a note.”

  “And she hasn’t filed for divorce?”

  “We weren’t actually, um, legally married.”

  Smoke nodded. “And you’ve had no communication with her at all?”

  “Nope. I thought maybe she wasn’t real happy, but she never said she was unhappy. I guess you could say I wasn’t exactly happy either.”

  “Okay. But the woman in the photo is not your wife, even though she looks like her?”

  “No, she is not my wife, and I’ve never seen those kids before. I know that for a fact.”

  Smoke and I drove down the road to the nearby county park and got out of our cars to chat.

  A cooling breeze brushed across my face. “What a way to refer to his ex-wife. As someone he knew. Why wouldn’t he say who she was in the first place?” I said.

  “I caught that too. Sounded embarrassed about the whole thing, if you ask me. They weren’t married, he didn’t think she was happy, but she didn’t say she was unhappy. A little communication may have helped their relationship.”

  “It may have. The look on Kevin’s face when he saw that photo certainly struck a chord with him.”

  “I’d say that’s a given. Could be it’s just what he said it was. The woman in the photo looked a little like his sort-of wife, and it struck something in him, all right. Brought back some memories, good, bad, or indifferent.”

  “I think that if I saw a picture of someone that looked a little like my brother, for example, I’d have a different reaction. I know Lionel’s under stress, but still.”

  “You’ve got a point. It could be he did recognize the woman in the photo, and his mind is not ready to go there yet, in case it’s the same woman he found dead in his woods.”

  “He seemed honestly upset about the woman’s body being in his woods, thinking somebody put her there.”

  “He was that. I’ll run a background on Lionel, see if anything turns up. And we’ll keep him in the loop, as much as we need to.”

  Smoke went back to the office to take care of some business, and to make copies of the photo to show people we interviewed. I stayed in the park and started writing the report on my laptop. After working a while, I decided to call my work voicemail because I’d been out of the office since morning. No new messages, so I listened to the one I had saved. “You killed my friend.” Who are you, and who is your friend?

  My heart pounded and a wave of nausea rolled through me, throwing me into a panic attack. I opened my car door in case I got sick. What is wrong with me? I need to believe in my heart of hearts that Grandma is right, that I will be okay again. Eventually.

  I pulled out my memo pad with my case notes, and willed myself to concentrate on Jane Doe. I calmed down as I shifted my thoughts from myself to her. What—or was it who—had brought her to Kevin Lionel’s woods where she died on a buried stash of money? My report could only include the facts of what, and not any suppositions of why.

  When Smoke returned about thirty minutes later, he gave me a copy of the photo. We divided the houses within a one-mile radius of where Ms. Doe’s body was found, and spent the next hour canvassing for answers. About half the people were home, and of those I questioned, no one knew of anyone in the area who was missing. Nor did they recognize the woman and children in the photograph.

  I finished my canvassing ahead of Smoke, and returned to Jeremiah Madison County Park to wait for him, so we could plan our next course of action. He pulled in a minute before three o’clock and parked next to me, driver’s side door next to driver’s side door. We rolled down our windows, and pulled our memo books from our front pockets.

  “Find out anything?” I asked.

  He drummed the steering wheel with his pen. “My stomach just let me know I skipped lunch, but that’s about it.”

  I hadn’t even realized my own stomach was signaling for some attention of its own until he’d mentioned it. The emaciated body of Ms. Doe had undoubtedly quelled my appetite. “Yeah, that’s about it for me, too.” I paged through my memo pad. “Not one of the neighbors I talked to knows of a woman who has gone missing, nor remembers seeing anything suspicious in the area in the last day or two—that includes people, vehicles, and activities. And nobody recognized any of the three in the photo.”

  Smoke gave a nod and put his notebook back in his pocket. “Yup, that about sums up the responses I got, too. Of course, almost everyone was pretty damn curious about why I wanted to know. When I told them we were investigating a suspicious death in the area, they all got curiouser.” The long dimples in his cheeks deepened when he smiled.

  “I can’t believe you’re actually quoting Weber.”

  “Correction, I’m quoting a word Lewis Carroll coined.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Actually and coincidentally, there is another Lewis Carroll quote I think about sometimes. Mostly because it applies to so much of what we do: ‘One of the secrets of life is that all that is worth the doing is what we do for others.’”

  “You know, Smoke, you amaze me sometimes, like when you pull one of those quotes out of your memory bank.”

  “
I’d like to say it’s because I have a steel-trap mind, but we both know that’s not true.”

  I smiled. “It is a good quote for a service-oriented job like ours, that’s for sure.”

  Smoke’s eyebrows drew together. “Is it official? Are you back in the saddle again? Chief Deputy will have to know so he can revise the work schedule, and I surely could use your help, especially on this case.”

  The thought of our Ms. Doe being ill, and somehow ending up in Kevin Lionel’s woods, and then dying on top of a photo and some buried money, tugged at my heartstrings. It ignited my compulsion to do my part to uncover the truth, and help grease the wheels of justice. I realized I was nodding. “I want to work on this case. I need to find out what happened to our victim.”

  “I’m glad to have you back. More than glad. I’m downright grateful.”

  Smoke headed back to Oak Lea to get some food from a drive-thru, and I went back to the sheriff’s office where the lunch I had packed was waiting in the break room refrigerator. I took the bag to the squad room where I could eat, and work on my report at the same time. All the other deputies were out on calls so the room was deserted. I inserted the zip drive into a computer, and read through the report I had started in my car as I gobbled down the tuna sandwich and yogurt. I reluctantly decided to check again for new phone messages as I chugged a bottle of water.

  No new messages, but there was one saved one. Before I could stop myself, I hit the 2 button to replay it. “You killed my friend.” Something about the voice was nagging at my brain. Had I heard it before? Where and when? The only person I had ever killed was a psychopathic loner, whom I strongly doubted had any friends. I hit “2” again, listened once more, then hung up.

  “Corinne? What’s going on?” I hadn’t heard Smoke enter the room.

  I inhaled before I answered. “You might as well have a listen.” I dialed my voicemail then handed the phone to Smoke.

  A flush darkened his face. “What in the hell?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” My right shoulder hitched.

  “The message was sent this morning. The way you’re acting tells me you got it before now, and you’ve been sitting on it. Why?”

  “I wanted time to think about it.”

  “Sometimes, little lady.” He dropped his chin and raised his eyebrows. “Any idea who left that cryptic message?”

  “None.”

  “Did you have it traced yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll have the phone records pulled, see where it came from.” He unclipped the phone from his belt, called Administration, and made the request.

  “Do you want to make a bet the call was made from a disposable cell phone?” I asked when he hung up.

  “Most likely it was. But there are still one, or two, dumb criminals out there who don’t plan that far in advance, and just go ahead and use their own phone. Makes it a whole lot easier for those of us in the criminal justice field.”

  “Smart or dumb, he, she, whoever, has not technically committed a crime. He simply made a statement. A disturbing one that feels like an accusation. Okay, is an accusation, but there is not a specific threat stated. Laws are enforced with facts, not feelings.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s hope it stops there.”

  A chilling flash started in the middle of my back and rushed through my body in seconds. “If they’re referring to Eric Stueman, trying to make me feel worse than I already do, they’re wasting their breath. I don’t believe it’s possible to be any sadder, or feel any guiltier.”

  Smoke reached over and gently rested his hand on my elbow. “You think they’re talking about Eric?”

  “I have trouble believing Langley Parker had any friends, and it’s the only incident like that I’ve been involved with.”

  Saying the words, “I killed him,” out loud was still next to impossible. And it was something Dr. Kearns was faithfully working with me to resolve.

  My friends and colleagues had reminded me a hundred times it was the sheriff’s department, and not me as an individual, that had done the shooting. If Eric hadn’t died in the same incident, I could more easily accept that. Parker deserved to die. Eric didn’t. He was an innocent bystander, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Smoke gave my elbow another squeeze then withdrew it. “Infamous psycho killers always have a fan club. Some sicko might think Parker was his friend.”

  “That’s true. But the most important thing to me right now is finding out what happened to our woods victim. That’s what we need to focus on.” I patted my shirt pocket where I had put the copy of the photo of the woman and children. Maisa, Lela, Sese.

  “Agreed. I’m thinking the next step will be to have a chat with the folks over there in that Swiss Apostolic community.” Smoke glanced at his wristwatch. “Two fifty. Think someone would be over at the church?”

  “I would think so. I’ll see if I can find a phone number for them.” I logged onto the Internet.

  “Meantime, I’m going to call Doc Patrick to let her know we found a photo she should take a look at. I meant to do that earlier, and forgot. I also want to find out what’s happening on that end. I’ll be at my desk, if you need me.”

  I found the phone listing by the time Smoke was out the door, and dialed the number. An older man with a clear, even-toned voice answered on the third ring. “Swiss Apostolic Church, Reverend Joos speaking.” He spoke with a hint of what I presumed was a Swiss accent.

  “Reverend, hello. I’m Sergeant Aleckson with the Winnebago County Sheriff’s Office. We’re investigating the death of a woman who didn’t have any identification on her person, and we need to find out who she is. I’m wondering if Detective Elton Dawes and I might meet with you, and show you a photo of a woman and two children to see if you recognize them.”

  It took him a moment to answer. “I’m sorry. I’m wondering what led you to me, why you are asking this.”

  “Forgive me, I should have explained it better. The woman we found, the victim, was dressed very simply, like women in your community might be. We have no other leads at this point, and that’s why we thought of you.”

  Another pause. “I know of no woman in our church family that is missing.”

  “Her body was discovered this morning, and she died very recently. Maybe she lived alone and no one has yet realized she was gone.”

  “I see. Yes, well then, you are most welcome to stop by, and I will look at your photograph.”

  “Does three thirty this afternoon work for you?”

  “Ah, yes. You will come to the church?”

  “If that’s all right.”

  “Yes, that is fine.”

  We said our goodbyes, and when I’d hung up the phone I picked up the photo of the three mysterious people. “I’m praying he knows who you are.”

  “You talking to yourself again?” Vince Weber asked from doorway behind me.

  Which was worse, talking to myself, or to images in a photo? “Ah, thinking out loud.”

  “Yeah, right.” He moved in close and looked at the photo over my shoulder. “I gotta say that it’s good to have you back in the field, Sergeant. Not everybody cares the same way as you do about victims.”

  I was taken aback by Weber’s words. He wasn’t one to say things he didn’t mean, or to waste words, and it was a heart-felt compliment. “Thanks, Vince.”

  “Zubinski and I got the evidence all marked and secured in a locker, waiting to be processed. I gotta finish my report before I call it quits for the day.” He sat down in front of a computer and plopped his notebook on the desk next to the monitor. “So I heard you giving a bunch of addresses you went out at. Figured you were interviewing folks in the neighborhood. Anybody know anything?”

  “Afraid not. I set up a meeting with the minister at the Swiss church in about forty minutes, so we’ll see.”

  “Huh. That should be enlightening.”

  I smiled at his choice of words. “Hopefully.”


  Smoke came in and nodded at Weber and me. “Cautiously optimistic news. I sent the scanned photo of the woman and children to Doc Patrick, and she believes the woman in the picture and our victim are one in the same. They took photos of her and are going to do some computer enhancements, add some weight to fill out her face some, like I mentioned to you earlier, Corky. If that process concludes that the victim is the woman in our photo, we’ll get that to the media in an attempt to identify. If no one comes looking for her before then, that is.”

  I nodded. “That’d be one piece of the puzzle. I was able to schedule that meeting with Reverend Joos over at the Swiss church at three thirty, Smoke. We’ll need to leave in about ten minutes.”

  Smoke glanced at his watch. “I’d like to hear what he has to say, but I think it’s more important for me to get those faxes off to the sheriffs’ departments in Georgia, sooner rather than later. See if our victim is in their system for any reason. Why don’t you take Vince with you?”

  Weber jerked his head back. “Well, what the heck. If you’ll approve the O.T.”

  Smoke nodded. “Sure. It’s always good to have that second set of eyes and ears.”

  Weber offered to drive to the church. On the way, I asked how he was getting along with Mandy Zubinski. “Word has it you’ve been seeing each other.”

  “Mandy’s all right. Turns out we have more in common than we thought.”

  “You decided to put aside your differences?”

  “Sometimes the reason someone sorta bugs you is because they’ve gotten under your skin.” He scratched his arm at the thought of it.

  I couldn’t resist. “You mean like sand chiggers? After they burrow into you, you keep scratching, but can’t seem to get rid of the itch.”

  He let out a snort. “You know, the more I think of it, maybe it is something like that. We hang out, but we’re not exactly an item or anything.”

  “It’s good to have someone to hang out with. Nothing wrong with that.”

  He nodded as he drove up to the Swiss Apostolic Church. I had often admired the simple brick structure and surrounding grounds. The grass was perpetually trimmed all summer. Leaves were not allowed to take up residence on the lawn in the fall. And any snow cover was promptly removed from the sidewalks and parking lot in the winter, before it accumulated.