“Well good. Carlson and Mason will be thorough gathering any evidence here,” Smoke said.
“Reverend Joos, is there a way to get word to the people in your congregation that we’re looking for Martin? No details, just that we need him. You need him,” I said.
“That is a good idea. Yes, we have a prayer chain that reaches all the families in our congregation. I will go to my office and start with the ones who get the first call.”
“Seven thirty-three, Three forty.” Ortiz calling.
“Go ahead.”
“We have a large group of people gathering. Seven fourteen and I are doing our best to keep them outside for now.”
“Maybe we won’t need the phone tree,” Smoke said, and the three of us headed to the side entrance. The street light from the corner shone on the growing mob. It looked to be sixty or seventy people huddled together in the frigid evening air. And they kept coming. “Whoa. The whole town is turning out,” he added.
Joos nodded. “We have never had anything like this happen here. And with so many sheriff’s cars at our church. We had money stolen some years back, but that is all.”
“Let’s talk to the folks outside. But no details other than that Juergen was injured, and is in the hospital. And that we are looking for Martin,” Smoke said.
“I hope nobody called the media. The sheriff will freak out if they hear about this before he does,” I said, for Smoke’s ears only.
“Oh, Lord.” Smoke turned to Ortiz. “Make sure Communications has apprised Sheriff Twardy of this.”
Ortiz nodded. “Will do.” He picked up his phone and was making the call as we headed outside.
Smoke turned and waved for Weber to come over. “Vince. We may need you.” I’d once seen Weber hold back four angry men during a bar fight incident.
There seemed to be twenty different conversations going on among the people, and they all stopped abruptly when Reverend Joos raised both hands like he was about to deliver a benediction. “Brothers and sisters. You are all concerned about what has happened here tonight. Someone injured Juergen Dettweiller, and he has been taken to the hospital. And I need Martin Geiger’s help with a matter, if anyone knows where he is. It is important that I find him, so spread the word.”
“Reverend, you do not think Martin injured Juergen?” A man from the crowd asked.
Smoke stepped in front of Joos before he had a chance to answer. “Listen up, everyone. The reverend here cannot answer any more questions. You will get the whole story when we’ve completed our investigation. Meantime, if any of you knows anything about who may have hurt Mister Dettweiller, we need to know that. And the same goes for Mister Geiger. We do not have any reason to believe he was responsible for Juergen’s injury. We are concerned that he may have been injured also.”
Murmurs rippled throughout the group. More people stepped in from the shadows, and I noticed different ones turned to fill them in on what had happened.
“All right, folks. I’m going to have to ask you to return to your homes. But if anyone has any information for us, hang back so we can talk to you.” On cue, the Winnebago County Mobile Crime Lab van rolled up, and stopped on the street behind the people.
“We need to let the deputies in so they can do their work.” Smoke held up his hand for Mason and Carlson and they waited in the vehicle for the crowd to clear.
Reverend Joos looked at Smoke with weary eyes. “I will be at the parsonage.” He pointed at a home across the street. “When you have finished your work, if you will let me know so I can lock up for the night. I usually do that at nine o’clock.”
“That raises a question. You always leave the church doors unlocked until then?” I said.
“This side door, yes. It gives our parishioners an opportunity to come in here to pray, as they wish. I unlock it again at seven in the morning. I only lock my office, and the front door, when I leave for the day.”
“When Martin told me he had keys to the church, I figured it was all locked up after hours.”
“Martin has keys to all the doors. He can come and go as he wishes. He often does maintenance here before he goes to his job at the hardware store.”
Martin had struck me as a predictable guy, and thereby easy to track. Anything he did outside of his normal schedule would no doubt set off alarms for those following him. So where was he? No family around, a hundred or more friends, but not one of them had come forward to say he was staying with them.
Reverend Joos lumbered his way across the street, looking as though he had taken on the weight of world. Mason and Carlson got out of their vehicle and joined Weber, Smoke, and me.
“Well, this is a heck of a deal,” Carlson said.
“How’s the victim doing?” Mason said.
“Holman’s at the hospital with him. No word yet,” Smoke said.
“Which I take as good news,” I said. “There was a woman hiding here who was with the victim. Zubinski took her to the hospital to see him.” I gave them a rundown of the evening, the history of how it started, and who all the players were. Mason and Carlson both shook their heads.
“Yeah, the deputies have been trying to figure out what kind of a problem we might actually have with human trafficking and smuggling in our county,” Mason said
“I sure haven’t caught wind of anything like that ’til all this started coming out,” Carlson added.
Smoke clapped his hands together. “Let’s go inside so you can get started. It’s not going to be easy. I didn’t count the pews, but there are, who knows how many fingerprints on each one. The best we can hope for is finding some good ones on the entrance door that leads into the sanctuary.
“The victim was hit once, and I think the bullet went straight through him, so it’s gotta be somewhere. At least one, depending on how many times the shooter fired. I didn’t spot any casings.”
“Smoke, can we show them the secret hiding place?” I said.
“I don’t see why not. Mason and Carlson should give it a once over anyway, check for possible trace evidence. But I can tell you there are no bullet holes in the walls. I already checked.”
Smoke was right. A bullet could have penetrated the back of one of the steps that led to the altar platform, and landed in the secret hiding place.
We made our way inside, and to the altar area. Weber, Carlson, and Mason carefully descended the steps into the lower area.
“Man, this is a teenage boy’s dream,” Mason said.
“My little brother was always hiding. My parents should have built one of these for him, then they would have known where to look,” Carlson said.
“Nah, that would have spoiled his fun,” Weber countered.
Smoke leaned over the opening. “See anything down there worth processing?”
Mason came back up the steps. “Nothing to indicate it was part of the crime scene.”
Weber and Carlson also emerged from down below. “Sorta reminds me of that movie, what was it, with Brendan Fraser and Alicia Silverstone?” Weber said.
“Blast from the Past,” Mason said.
“Reverend Joos said it was built because of World War Two,” I said.
“What you young folks probably don’t know, there was a prisoner-of-war camp not ten miles from here. On the county fairgrounds site.”
“No. Really? Why didn’t we ever hear about it?” I said.
“Good question. Even I wasn’t around yet, but my folks said there were many people who were fearful back then. They had just come out of a war, and were afraid of what might happen next. Stalin and the Soviet communists were a perceived threat. There were fallout shelters built all over, in case of a nuclear strike by them. They were common in the nineteen fifties and sixties. That’s the basis for Blast from t he Past.”
“Huh. Our history lesson for the day.” Weber crossed his arms on his chest.
“And now class is dismissed so we can get back to work,” Smoke said. “Let’s get a few photos of the crawl space. It might help when we interview Eli
so.”
“Our witness from the former Soviet Union country of Georgia,” I said.
“Who no doubt lived under communist control for at least part of her life,” Smoke added.
I nodded. “And is under another kind of control now.”
“Sad to say.” Smoke blew out a quick breath. “Let’s get ’er done.”
For the next hour and a half Ortiz maintained his position at the side entrance, and Smoke, Weber, Mason, Carlson, and I took photos and gathered evidence, in between fielding phone calls from the sheriff, deputies Holman, Zubinski, and others. And visits from members of the local media, and church members. Through it all, I kept wondering what had become of Martin.
Juergen Dettweiller had been shot between the altar and front row of pews, so we concentrated our forensic search in that area. There was not a shell casing to be found, which meant the shooter had taken the time to retrieve it. Mason located the .22 caliber bullet, almost fully implanted at the top edge of the top step of the altar area, six feet to the left of the pulpit. Smoke calculated the ballistic trajectory of the projectile, given the height at which the bullet landed, that the shooter was close to the victim when he fired. Eight to ten feet.
Carlson carefully cut a hole around the bullet, taking some of the step with it so there would be no further damage to the bullet. It was a solid piece of evidence to link to the shooter.
16
Deputy Holman called around nine o’clock p.m. and reported that Juergen Dettweiller had been successfully patched up. He was in serious condition, but the doctors were optimistic that given his otherwise excellent health, he would recover. We were all relieved to hear that, especially since we had been working around the pool of his blood for what seemed like hours.
Communications arranged a bed for Eliso. Zubinski was commissioned to stay with her at the hospital, and would take her to the safe house after Eliso had a chance to talk with an awake, and alert, Juergen.
We wrapped things up at the church a few minutes before ten o’clock. Smoke sent Ortiz over to Reverend Joos’s house with the message that it was time to lock up after us.
Reverend Joos was still dressed in his black suit, white shirt, and clerical collar. He must have been even more uncomfortable than he looked, and that said a lot. “I have been in prayer and meditation with many in our congregation. I have spoken with the doctors at the hospital and will visit Juergen Dettweiller in the morning. He has a brother who lives in Wisconsin that we have been in touch with. He, too, will visit as soon as he can arrange it.”
“But no word on Martin?” I asked.
Joos solemnly shook his head. “We have put him in God’s hands, but still I worry.”
“Me too,” I said.
“We need to leave the crime scene area cordoned off, at least until tomorrow, depending on whether we need another look for more evidence. Then we’ll get our cleaners in to take care of the blood. We found the expended bullet in an altar step. There’s damage from that, and from us cutting it out,” Smoke said.
Reverend Joos’s shoulders slumped lower. “Such sacrilege to shoot a man in God’s own house.” He lifted his keys with effort. “We should lock up now.”
“Reverend, I need to ask you to keep the doors to the sanctuary locked until we’ve removed the tape, and cleaned the area,” Smoke added.
He nodded once. “I will do that.” Joos locked the inner door then we all gathered outside, and waited until he had secured the outer door also. He turned and looked at the group of us. “Please find the man who did this.”
Smoke answered, “We plan to do just that.”
Smoke called Sheriff Twardy on the drive back to Oak Lea and requested that a deputy be posted to protect Juergen Dettweiller until we had identified and captured his shooter, or moved him to a safe place. The sheriff called Chief Deputy Mike Kenner, and Kenner got the overnight, and next day’s shifts, covered.
Zubinski phoned and reported the doctor had allowed her, and Eliso, in the recovery room for a few minutes with Juergen. He was drifting in and out of consciousness from the anesthetic, but reassured Eliso that she could trust us. They were on their way to the safe house.
Smoke rubbed his cheek. “Turns out it was not your usual run-of-the-mill Sunday.”
“Man. I wonder how long it’ll be before Juergen comes to enough to talk to us.”
“When Holman called earlier, he said the doc said tomorrow morning, at the earliest.”
“Between wondering who shot Juergen, being able to talk to Eliso and getting her story, and finding Martin, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight. Not to mention thinking about Maisa, and the Huebers.”
“A lot on our plates. Which brings your whole deal to mind. I’ve been thinking about how gorilla man seems to know when you’re gone, and then enters your property. You’ve made it a little easier for him, because you’ve been taking Queenie to your Gramps’ house.”
“Gosh, I didn’t think of it from that angle.”
“Well, I am a detective.”
“Ha, ha. You had a point?”
“We keep a deputy at your house when you’re gone. Or you take Queenie to your Gramps’ house on your day off, and go back home. If gorilla man looks in your garage window and sees your squad car isn’t there, he’s none the wiser. You wouldn’t have to watch out the windows—you could be at your computer. If the camera activates, you go out and nail him.”
“I’ve been thinking of other ways to dissuade him.”
“Such as?”
“A trap. You know one of those deals where you step on some kind of spring and a big net closes over you. Or a rope closes over one of your legs and pulls you off your feet. With the camera on in Communications, a deputy could get to my house pretty fast to cut him loose, and then put him in restraints.”
Smoke chuckled. “We may have to try something like that.”
We were east on County Road 35, a couple of miles from the road I lived on. “I’d like to go with you when you talk to Juergen and Eliso,” I said.
“Sure. But you aren’t getting much time off, on your days off.”
“Good thing I love my job.”
“It’s in your blood. However, you’re gonna have to sleep, or you’ll wear yourself out. That I know from experience. What I’ve learned to do when I’m stumped on a case is, instead of trying not to think about it so I’m able to fall asleep, I really concentrate on it just before I doze off. I let my subconscious work on it and I often wake up with a new angle to look at.”
“Really? You have never told me about that trick before.”
“Little lady, there are a lot of tricks I haven’t told you about.” His words made me blush. “But you’ll try that one tonight?” He turned into my driveway.
“I will. Oh my gosh, poor Queenie. I didn’t expect to be gone so many hours.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. Dogs have a knack for taking naps when their owners are gone.”
“And now that she’s pretty much out of the puppy stage, she rarely has an accident, which I greatly appreciate.” Smoke stopped the car, and I jumped out. “Thanks, and see you tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan. Sleep tight.” He waited until I was in my house before he backed out of the driveway. I attended to Queenie and was on my way upstairs to get into my pajamas when Smoke called. “Did you forget anything?”
Like what? “Entirely possible. Can you be more specific?”
“It’s actually something we both forgot. Your GTO. It’s sitting in my driveway, in case you discover it’s missing from your garage, and think someone stole it.
“Man. We must be tired.”
“I’ll come back and pick you up.”
“No, don’t bother. I’ll get it sometime tomorrow. Mother can always give me a ride over there.”
Something woke me in the night, and as I came to, I realized it was a loud noise. It sounded like a shot, but it could have been a branch hitting a window. Queenie started barking, an
d that got me out of bed, and on my feet, in a hurry. I grabbed my Glock from the bed stand drawer, and my flashlight from the duty belt that was hanging on the back of the rocking chair, a short way from my bed.
I told Queenie to stay put and closed the bedroom door behind me as I crept down the stairs in the dark. I felt a cold rush of air when I reached the main level, coming from the living room area. I turned toward the sliding glass door, holding both the flashlight, and my weapon, and caught sight of a foot stepping into my house, and a gloved hand on the doorframe. It took its owner a second to react to a bright light shining on him.
Someone was breaking into my house. Where was my phone?
I ran toward the threat, but he was fast, and I stopped short, to avoid getting broken glass in my bare feet. The glass on one side of the door had shattered. From what I saw, it looked like the burglar had literally flown down the steps, and disappeared into the dark. Damn. I had landlines in both the kitchen and my den office. I had no idea why I chose to run to the kitchen, but that’s what I did. I hit the three critical numbers, laid the flashlight on the counter, and rested the Glock beside it, keeping my hand on the grip.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
I recognized Steph’s voice and knew she was looking at my name and address on her display, but had to follow protocol. “Steph, Corky Aleckson. Someone just tried to break into my house. I surprised him, and he ran away.”
“Copy, Sergeant. We’ll get a car over there. Hang on.” I heard her call the area car on the radio then she came back on the phone. “Are you okay? Harmed in any way?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Do you want to stay on the phone with me until Ortiz gets there?”
“Why is Ortiz still on duty?” Did it matter?
“He’s covering for Miller who called in sick. He’ll pull four hours of O.T. then Anderson is coming in four hours early for the day shift.”
“That works. Steph, I don’t need to keep you. I’ll be fine until Joel gets here.”
“If you’re sure. I’m so sorry this happened to you. What a dirty deal.”
A Death in Lionel's Woods Page 22