Lionel looked at it, but didn’t take it from my hand. “Here, get a closer look.” I practically stuck it in his face. He pulled back a tad then took it and held it for a few seconds before handing it back.
“I saw this same picture in the paper. I don’t know her.”
I moved my eyes from the computer image to his face. “Kevin, what time do you get up in the morning?”
The insides of his eyebrows lifted. “Five thirty, six. Why do you ask?”
“Because our victim was seen walking on roads in the area early in the morning. I thought maybe you’d seen her.”
Kevin looked at the ground and shook his head. “I’m in the barn at the crack of dawn. At this time of year, before dawn. I see people walking and jogging by once in a while, but I don’t recall ever seeing her. I can’t swear to it, since it’s too far for a close look from here to the road.”
I nodded. “I figure she lived near here. One theory is that she took up residence in an abandoned property.”
That surprised him. “Why would she do that?”
“Mental health issues, maybe. Or she was homeless.”
He squirmed. “I don’t like the thought of that at all.”
“Bad things happen to everyone.” I put the photo back in my pocket. “We’ll be checking out the vacant properties, just in case. I thought maybe I’d talk to some realtors to get a list of the ones they know about. Got any suggestions?”
Lionel swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “I guess I don’t, but there are plenty of them around.”
He had been avoiding my eyes, and I waited until his eyes met mine to respond. “Yes, there are. And I know there’s one not far from here, over in Wellspring.”
His eyes flinched slightly. Kevin Lionel was either lying, or withholding information, or both. But I wanted to dig deeper through the muck until things became clearer, and then I’d confront him with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
It was late in the day, but there was no way to stop myself from driving by Waldo Champion’s office before I called it a night. I pondered what Kevin Lionel was hiding the entire way there. There was obviously a reason he didn’t want me in his house. The other two times I’d been there, he’d let me in without question. Evidently, there was something, or someone, he didn’t want me to see. Smoke had called Edberg off from keeping a watch on him. Maybe that was premature.
As I approached Champ’s office, it was dark and appeared closed for the night. But when I got closer, I noticed a crack of light coming from a door that separated the front office from a back room. I presumed it was another office, but it could have been for storage. I pulled my squad car into a deserted city park across the street, a block south of the office, and parked. I sent Communications a message giving my location and climbed out of the car.
I grabbed a non-uniform coat from the trunk and wrapped it around my body, leaving access to my service weapon. At least it partially covered my uniform, in case someone drove by, and wondered what a deputy was doing creeping around the edge of town. I crossed the street and stayed in the shadows. It was easy to do with the closest street lamp two blocks away. Plus, there was a row of bushes on the other side of the sidewalk.
I was about to cross the alley that ran by the south side of the real estate building when an older Chevy pulled up close beside me with its lights off. The driver’s window rolled down. “What are you doing?” I couldn’t see inside the car, but recognized Bob Edberg’s voice.
“Geez, Bob,” I said in quiet whisper. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“You’re kinda jumpy for a cop. Here I thought I was the one assigned to this case.” He leaned his head partway out the window.
I moved in close to him. “Sorry. I’m not trying to steal your thunder, I thought you were home for the night, and I was curious about what his business looked like. The set-up.”
“You aren’t on your way there to peek in the windows, are you?”
Busted. “When I drove by, I saw there was a light on in the back room, and thought I could see better close up.”
“Get in the car, but don’t slam the door.”
It was Edberg’s investigation. I ran around the back of the car to the other side, got in, and eased the door shut. The interior lights were turned off. He put the car in reverse and slowly backed to the next cross street. The car’s engine was so quiet it barely purred.
We were a half a block from the park entrance. It occurred to me that I had noticed his car, but thought it was parked, and unoccupied. I hadn’t heard it running. “Is this where you were sitting?”
“Yeah. Not many people around this part of town this time of day. Or any time of day, it seems. The two busiest places are Pete’s Grocery and the gas station.”
“We get called to the bar once in a blue moon, like if someone steals the meat raffle money.”
“That’s about it. In a town with a population of around five hundred people, it may turn out that the most exciting, albeit illegal, thing for miles around is what’s happening in Champ’s office.”
“How long have you been here?”
“This time, about an hour and a half. But I was here earlier, and observed a couple in their thirties go into his office. They were in there way longer than I think it would take to either list their property, or look for property for sale. When they came out, I decided to follow them. I had Communications run their plate and it came back listed to a couple in Kadoka. I was curious about their property.”
“That’s like fifteen miles.”
“Seventeen to their country home, south of town. Nice place. Very nice. I’ll check to see if a ‘for-sale’ sign goes up on their property in the next days.”
“There are how many realtors in Kadoka, and they came up here to Wellspring to see Champ, a guy that doesn’t do diddly for advertising?”
“Raised a red flag with me. But there’s always word of mouth advertising to consider, which I’m told is the best form there is.”
“But still. You’ve got the couple’s names?”
“Yeah, from Communications. The bad part about driving some of our repo vehicles, like this one—no mobile laptop. I gotta do things the old-fashioned way, like radio Communications for the info, or wait ’til I get back to the office to look it up myself.”
“Yeah, we are spoiled with laptops in our squad cars, all right. So what happened after you followed the couple?”
“I came back here, got back about three fifty. There were no comings or goings until this last guy got here fifteen minutes ago, at four fifty-five. He went in, and Champ escorted him to the back room, locked the front door, shut off the lights in the front office, and pulled the door shut, but not tight.”
“Any idea who he is?”
“Never seen him before, to my knowledge. He looks to be about my age. Not quite sixty, I’d say.”
“It makes you wonder what they’re up to in there with the door locked. If Champ arranges to get wives for a price, he could easily be involved in other illegal operations.”
“Sure. Ponzi schemes, gambling, what have you.” Edberg shifted the car to drive. “We need a better look.” He drove into the park, turned left, drove across the ball field that was deserted for the season, and stopped the car so we had a decent view of the Champ’s store-front window.
“They’re still back there,” I said.
We made small talk for another ten minutes until the inside office door swung open. A large, prematurely gray-haired man I recognized from his driver’s license photo as Waldo Champion appeared in the doorway with an older, shorter man. Champ was talking and clamped his hand on the man’s shoulder. The man was looking down, shaking his head.
“Good old Champ,” Edberg said then picked up the binoculars from the middle console. “His visitor looks like he lost either his shirt, or his best friend.”
“He doesn’t look happy, that’s for sure.”
The older man move
d his eyes from the ground to Champ and nodded. As the two of them moved from the back room to the front, another man, half the size of Champ, filed in behind them. “Where’d he come from?” I said.
“I have no idea. He coulda been in the back room the whole time, I guess.”
“There’s always that back door.”
“That’s more likely. There is a back alley. But I’d have seen if someone turned in the side alley there, to get to the back.”
“He could have driven in from the west side. Or even walked.” When they reached the front door, Champ turned the lock and the other man pushed the door open. Champ said a few more words. “Can you make out what he said?” I asked.
“It looked like ‘hang in there.’”
As the older man walked toward a car parked a ways down the street, I focused on the second unidentified man as Champ turned, and walked toward him. Martin Geiger had described the man called Fletch as scrawny and sleazy, with thinning hair pulled into a long ponytail. His description fit the man to a T.
“I can’t believe it, Bob. I think that guy with Champ is Fletch.”
“Damn.”
“How about you see where the older guy goes, and I’ll hang here.” When the man got into his car, I jumped out of Edberg’s, and scooted over to a large tree for concealment. I huddled against the nippy early evening air, and buttoned a middle button on my coat to free my hands from holding it together.
A few seconds after Champ’s visitor drove away, Edberg slowly maneuvered his car out of the park, and followed at an unnoticeable distance. I heard him call Communications on the radio requesting a license check. I continued watching for action in Champ’s office, and was disappointed when the back room light went off. Either they were up to no good in the dark, or they had exited via the back door. I jogged over to gain a visual of the alley and waited, expecting Champ’s and Fletch’s cars to drive out. Instead, I heard vehicles on the county road, north of the store, and realized they’d left via the alley instead. I saw a Jeep Cherokee heading east and hoped they were both in one vehicle.
I ran to my squad car, got in, and drove out of the park seconds later. I turned right on County Road 37 and saw a pair of headlamps in the distance. I pushed my speed to seventy miles per hour, and it took a while to catch up to him. I fell in five or six car lengths behind the vehicle then typed the license plate on my mobile laptop. It came back registered to Waldo William Champion, age forty-three. His license information reminded me just how big he was. Six feet, four inches and two hundred fifty-eight pounds.
Champ was doing sixty-seven in a fifty-five mile zone, exceeding the speed limit by twelve miles per hour. My natural instinct was to stop him. I reached over to activate my lights and siren, but withdrew my hand before I did. He was getting enough attention, whether he knew it or not. Until we learned more about the relationship between Kevin Lionel and Champ Champion, the best thing for me to do was stay behind the scenes for that side of the investigation. Especially since I was front and center in Kevin Lionel’s. Champ’s house wasn’t far, according to the address on his license.
My cell phone rang and I glanced at the face before answering. “Hi, Bob.”
“I just met your vehicle on my way back to Wellspring. Where are you heading?”
“Following Champion. I lost Fletch, unless he’s with Champ.”
“Possible, I guess. My guy lived just over two miles east, and that’s where he went.”
“Champ lives another mile east of that. Your guy might be a friend who’s going through tough times, and stopped to see Champ for some support.”
“I’m turning around. You want me to follow up with Champ, see if he goes home, or heads off to some exotic place instead?”
“You really think you can catch up to us?”
“Probably not, but I know which way you’re headed.”
I laughed. “That’s a start. Woop, it appears Champ is heading home, so I think we can call it a night.”
“Ten-four. Enjoy the cold, dark evening, Sergeant.”
“Likewise, Bob.”
13
When I turned onto Brandt Avenue, a message popped up on my mobile laptop. I’m at your house. Where are you? It was from Smoke. I phoned instead of pulling over to type my response. “You’re not my secret stalker, by any chance?”
“My stalking of you could not be considered secret.”
“That’s true.” As I approached my driveway, I pushed the garage door opener.
“It’s either magic, or you are the one pulling in behind me,” Smoke said as the door went up before his very eyes.
“Would you mind moving so I can hide my squad car in the garage?” I had picked up Queenie from Gramps’, and she barked up a storm when she saw there was a car that required her protective services. Smoke backed up and parked on the other side of the driveway. I pulled in, got out then let Queenie out of the backseat. She jumped out, and ran circles around Smoke, one of her favorite people.
“Smoke, this is becoming a regular thing, you stopping by every five or ten seconds.”
“My wit, charm, and good looks—or lack thereof—just make it seem that often.” He walked around to the passenger side of his vehicle, opened the door, reached in, and came out with a box. “New cameras with a wider pan.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that tonight. It can wait until daytime so your hands don’t freeze putting them up.”
He shrugged. “I was thinking maybe you had some extra cardboard pizza you seem to thrive on. When you run out of your mother’s culinary treats, that is.”
I hadn’t thought about what was in the refrigerator until that moment. “I probably should try my hand at cooking one of these days. John Carl is the one who takes after my mother that way.”
“When he moves back, you’ll have another cooking source who will want you to have a decent meal, now and then.”
“Hey, you’re right. I should leave the cooking to those who are not only good at it, but who actually enjoy it.”
Smoke carried the box into the garage and set it on the closed trunk of the squad car. “I talked to Edberg this afternoon. He was staking out Waldo ‘Champ’ Champion, and got curious about a couple who was in the office with him for a long time. Even followed them home,” he said.
“Ah, yeah. I saw Bob a bit ago, in Wellspring.” I filled Smoke in on the details while he grabbed the stepladder from its hook, carried it to the front of the garage, and set it in place.
“Damn. So we now have proof that Fletch is not just a figment of Martin Geiger’s imagination.” Smoke climbed up several rungs of the ladder, and set to work with the screwdriver he’d pulled from his back pocket.
“Yes, we do. Man, I wish we’d been able to get a picture of that guy to show Martin, confirm whether or not it was Fletch. And I could kick myself for losing him.”
“If Fletch had a car, and he and Champ had taken off in different directions, you could only follow one of ’em anyway. Fletch might live in Wellspring, in walking distance of Champ’s office. We’ll nab him before long, and snap his photo then.”
“That’ll be good.”
“I didn’t think you’d be able to stay away. From Champ, I mean.” Smoke freed the mounted camera, and handed it to me.
“I really couldn’t, particularly after my visit with Kevin Lionel.” I set the camera on the squad car, picked up the new one, and lifted it up as Smoke bent down and took it.
“Why’s that?” After I told him, he verbalized what I’d thought earlier, “Maybe we should have Edberg, or another deputy, on Lionel, after all. We still can, I guess.”
“Let’s see what pans out with the Champ and Fletch connection. I still can’t believe how Kevin Lionel delivered them right into our hands.”
“Our lonely-hearts-club poster child of the month.”
I smiled and shook my head at the visual his words produced. “Make that a buck scent scratch-and-sniff poster.”
Smoke laughed out loud
. “That’d likely explain things better than words could.”
“I just thought of something, Smoke. What if Lionel ordered a new wife and she has arrived from overseas already? That’d be a good reason to keep me out in the cold.”
“It sure would. And it’d explain his behavior.” Smoke held the camera in place, stuck the screws in the holes, picked up the screwdriver, and finished the job.
After we’d put things away, we moved the operation to install the back yard camera, and got a nasty surprise. The one that had been there was gone.
“What in the hell?” Smoke said.
“I mean really.”
He shook his head. “Good news though, it will all be recorded.”
“And proof that we really are smarter than the bad guys sometimes. I’m sure he thought that if he stole the camera, he’d steal any damning evidence.”
Smoke rapped his fingers on the camera. “The question is should we put another one up?”
“I’d say not in the same spot, for sure. Just in case he’s stupid enough to come back, and steal that one, too.”
Smoke glanced at the back yard, but there was little to see in the black night. “You got a couple of good-size trees where we can probably hide a camera pretty well.”
“But not tonight. It’s dark, it’s cold.”
“Okay, we’ll do it tomorrow. Let’s go take a look at the footage, see who it is that’s been taunting you, and thought he’d made off with the evidence.”
We stepped back into the house and Queenie begged for my attention. “I’m going to get food and fresh water for her, if you want to get started on my computer.”
“Sure.” I gave Smoke my password and he headed into my den office, while Queenie and I went to the kitchen. After I took care of Queenie’s needs, I opened the refrigerator to see if I had anything to offer Smoke for supper. It was dismal. No wonder my mother brought me meals on a fairly regular basis, poor woman.
I’d bet I could follow recipes and whip up any number of “culinary treats” if I wanted to. It was the wanting to part that posed the biggest hurdle. I looked in the freezer and pulled out a gallon-size bag identified as “spaghetti sauce” by the sharpie mark on the side. I set it on the counter and looked in the cupboard for noodles. No noodles, but there was rice. Or bread.
A Death in Lionel's Woods Page 17