Decker nodded. “So did you know the victim?”
“No. But I understand that Joe Kelly did.”
“Do you know him well?”
“Well enough. London’s booming right now, but that wasn’t always the case. Everybody knew everybody else. That all changed with the fracking. Now we have folks from all over, even different countries. Think I heard Russian spoken at the grocery store last week.” She paused and added, “But that hasn’t always been the case. We almost had to shut down our business during the last bust.”
“Surely people were still dying, even if the good times had gone.”
“Oh, they absolutely were. Some by their own hands out of despair at having lost everything. Only their families didn’t have the money to pay for our services. They’d offer to barter and such, and we did what we could, but we had our own bills to pay. Luckily, we held on and now things are fine. For now. Who knows about tomorrow?” She looked around. “Your partner isn’t with you? Walt told me you were with another agent.”
“We parted company back at the hotel.”
“Will there be more agents coming?”
Decker sipped his beer and didn’t answer. Caroline Dawson had now hung herself around Baker and was using him as what looked to be a dance pole.
“Do you know those people?” asked Southern as she glanced where he was looking.
“Sort of, yeah.”
“Any leads yet?”
“I can’t get into that.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Decker focused on her. “You have any ideas on who might have done it?”
“Me?” she said, although she didn’t really look surprised at his query. “Well, I can tell you that we do have violent crime here. Not as bad as the last boom cycle. Before we just got all guys, transients with problem backgrounds looking for a quick payoff and then they’d move on. Now we’re still getting some guys with shady backgrounds, but we’re also getting more families. People are putting down roots. They want a nice, safe community.”
“I sense a but coming.”
She smiled demurely. “But we have places like this where young, single guys in particular come to spend their money and blow off steam. And sometimes that turns out badly.”
“Kelly mentioned an incident earlier here today.”
“I heard it was a fistfight between a bunch of guys that turned into something more. Joe apparently de-escalated it. But some people went to jail and some went to the hospital.”
“The guy I’m looking for is probably not in the ‘dumbass bar fight’ category.”
“I saw the body when it came in,” said Southern softly. “So I understand what you mean.”
“Not a pretty sight.”
“We’ve had some bad ones here. Not murders. Accidents. Explosions and fires from fracking gone wrong. Those were . . . challenges from a cosmetic perspective. We had to do a closed casket with a picture of the deceased in . . . happier times on top.”
“I can see that.”
She finished her drink and put the empty on the bar. “Something like this could be a real drag on the town, just when things are going so well.”
“And Irene Cramer probably deserves some justice, too,” said Decker bluntly.
She bowed her head slightly. “I never thought otherwise. Good night, Agent Decker.”
She left and walked up the stairs leading to the second story of the bar. Decker turned back to see that Stan Baker and Caroline Dawson were no longer on the dance floor. He looked around the bar space but didn’t see them anywhere. He finished his beer, braced himself, and headed back out into the heat, though he found it was cooler outside than in.
A bolt of lightning far to the west speared downward, and something seemed to explode at the spot where the slash of electricity had stabbed the earth. The sound reached them even here, and a plume of flames shot upward and lit the sky for miles around. The other people on the streets kept on walking, or staggering, as though detonations like that were routine.
London, North Dakota, was getting more interesting by the minute, thought Decker as he trudged on.
SIX A.M.
Decker flicked open his eyes and rose without the need of the set alarm on his phone. He trudged to the bathroom, showered, and changed into a fresh set of clothes. He looked out his hotel window. The sky was dark and still clogged with clouds, but he could see a seam of dawn starting to build, like a sleepy eye about to open. He looked at the weather app on his phone. It was only sixty-eight degrees but with a dew point that would make Louisiana proud. Decker thought he could actually see the air outside, it was so thick with moisture.
He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple extra seconds as he awoke more fully. Another town, another case to solve. His life. And welcome to it.
He went down to breakfast to find Jamison already sitting at a table with Joe Kelly in the hotel’s restaurant. The local detective was dressed in a dark two-piece suit, white-collared shirt, and no tie. His shoes were black scuffed boots with worn heels.
Decker sat at the table. “I thought I’d be the first one down,” he said.
“I’m a borderline insomniac, so I’m usually up by four having my first of too many cups of coffee,” said Kelly.
“And we gained an hour coming out,” said Jamison, who was looking over her menu. “So it’s actually a little late for me.”
Decker eyed Kelly. “I was out walking last night and a bolt of lightning hit something in the far distance. And there was an explosion.”
“I heard that, too,” chimed in Jamison. “Wondered what the hell it was. But nobody in the hotel seemed bothered by it.”
Kelly nodded. “It was probably just lightning hitting a saltwater disposal pond. The lightning is sort of drawn to those things, and also to the metal freshwater tanks and piping stations. The bolt hits it, it blows up, and they come and repair it. Cost of doing business up here.”
“Okay,” said Decker. He shot Jamison a quizzical look.
After they ordered and their coffees were delivered Kelly said, “Any updates on why Irene Cramer was important to you guys?”
Jamison glanced at Decker, who said, “Not yet.”
“So Feds keep things from other Feds?” asked Kelly, looking disappointed.
“These days everybody keeps things from everybody else,” noted Decker. “Anything on your end?”
“I’ve got an interview lined up for us with Cramer’s landlady. I was going to go see her when I found out you were coming to town. So I held off.”
“We appreciate that. Did Cramer have a job other than being an ‘escort’?” asked Jamison.
“She did actually, a pretty important one,” replied Kelly. He paused and said somewhat haltingly, “She worked as a teacher with the Brothers.”
“The who?” said Jamison.
“The Brothers. They’re a religious group. Branch of the Anabaptists.”
“Care to elaborate?” said Decker.
“They’re sort of like the Amish, only they can drive cars and use heavy machinery and stuff. They’re farmers and also do some manufacturing. Communal living is their standard. They take it straight from the scriptures. Good people, but they keep to themselves.”
“So an escort was employed as a teacher by a religious group?” asked Decker with a pair of hiked eyebrows. “How the hell does that work? And why didn’t you tell us that last night?”
“Well, they obviously didn’t know that she was also an escort. Plus, she was apparently a really good teacher and got along well with the kids. They’re going to be devastated by her death. I’ve already talked to Peter Gunther, the minister, though I didn’t tell him about Irene’s ‘other’ job or what had happened to her. And I was working up to tell you. I just couldn’t find the words last night. You Feds coming to town was a little bit of a surprise. I hadn’t decided how to handle it.”
“Minister? Like a preacher?” said Jamison curiously.
“No, as in the lea
der of the organization.” He eyed Jamison. “The Anabaptists are a male-led sect. The women do a lot of the work, including all of the butchering, cooking, cleaning, and sewing. But the men are the leaders.”
“Welcome back to the 1950s,” said Jamison drily.
“They’re good people, like I said,” replied Kelly defensively.
“How do you know so much about them?” asked Decker.
“My grandparents used to belong to the sect when I was a kid” was Kelly’s surprising reply.
“And they got tired of communal living in an age of male dominance?” retorted Jamison.
“No, but my parents did, apparently. They left after my grandparents passed on, when my sister and I were still kids.”
“Do your parents live here?”
“Nope. They retired to Florida about three years ago.”
“And your sister?” asked Jamison.
“She passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m so sorry. She was really young then?”
“Yeah. She had a rough life.”
“What else can you tell us about the Brothers?” asked Decker after a few moments of silence.
“They’re antiwar pacifists. Some of the Hutterites, the largest branch of Anabaptists in the country, were persecuted for that stance during World War II.”
Decker nodded. “So that covers her place of lodging and her work as a teacher. What about her work as an escort? You said you weren’t sure if she actually was one, even though you recognized her from the website. But are you sure it was her?”
“I am.”
“How?”
“I contacted her through the site. I made arrangements to meet with her. It was at a flophouse on the other side of town. I got there before her. Badged her when she showed up.”
“Did you arrest her?” asked Jamison.
“No.”
“Why not?” asked Decker. “You’re a cop. She broke the law. Seems pretty simple.”
“Look, I was trying to help her out. She didn’t need a prison sentence. She just needed some positive reinforcement and guidance. Only it looks like I failed on both counts.”
“But when you met with her did she confirm that she was selling sex?” said Decker. “Because earlier you intimated that you weren’t sure what she was up to.”
“She never admitted to being a prostitute, or an escort. She did say she was lonely and that while she admitted to arranging to meet men from the website, she never took any money from them. And they didn’t always have sex. Sometimes they just talked.”
“Right,” said Decker skeptically. “I’m sure they did.”
“And she wasn’t dressed like most hookers I’ve run into. Her outfit was pretty normal.”
Their meals came and they ate fast, with a lot of work ahead of them.
As they prepared to leave Decker said, “You ran her prints through IAFIS, right? To see if she had a record?” He was referring to the FBI’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System.
“I did, but how’d you know that?”
“It’s the only reason we’re here. When her print came through it obviously dinged some pretty high-up corridors at the Bureau. You said it was a request from the Feds that sent your reports to DC. That had to be how they knew.”
“So she was important?” said Kelly.
“They’re all important,” retorted Decker.
“But we didn’t get any hit on our submission,” said Kelly. “As far as the FBI was concerned, they had no criminal record of Irene Cramer.”
“Well, maybe they didn’t under that name,” replied Decker.
“But if they had another name in that database with those prints, they should have let us know that,” said Kelly a bit angrily. “You sure you’re not withholding anything from me?”
“Scout’s honor,” said Decker.
“Didn’t figure you for a Boy Scout.”
“I wasn’t. Now let’s go. Busy day and I’m not getting any younger. And Irene Cramer’s not getting any older. And somebody has to answer for that.”
Decker headed out.
Kelly looked thoughtfully after the departed Decker before glancing at Jamison. “Anything I need to know about your partner?”
Jamison managed a smile. “Oh, it will become readily apparent all on its own.”
A FEW DROPS OF RAIN hit them as they trudged to their rental SUV. Kelly rode next to Jamison while Decker took up most of the back seat.
“So Cramer had no family in the area?” asked Jamison.
“None that I know of or could find.”
“How’d she end up here?”
“She arrived a little over a year ago. No record of her before, that I can find, other than she went to Amherst. And I only found that out from the Brothers. It’s like she had no past. Now, we do run into that up here from time to time. I mean we have lots of folks who are trying to escape from their pasts and whatnot. But this was the first time I could find absolutely nothing on somebody like that.”
“That is weird,” noted Jamison.
Kelly looked at her. “Well, maybe not all that weird, when it comes to people like you. I thought that might be the connection to you guys.”
“What, you mean WITSEC?” said Jamison, referring to the Witness Protection Program run by the U.S. Marshals Service.
“To tell the truth, it was the only thing I could think of. I mean what else would explain my not being able to find anything on the lady?”
“But if that were the case, the Marshals would be all over this and the Bureau would not be leading the investigation,” said Decker. “And they’re not and we are. So it can’t be WITSEC. We have to keep digging.”
Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “So what could it be, then?”
“Tell us what you do know about Cramer.”
“She was pretty. Very pretty. Tall and carried herself well. Almost like a model. And she was educated. I could tell that just by talking to her. She didn’t get that teaching job based on her looks. Amherst is a top-notch school.”
“If she actually went there,” noted Decker. “What about her personality? Give us a take on that.”
“Quiet, but confident. You could tell she believed in her ability to handle any situation. I think that’s why my pitch to her to quit what she was doing fell flat. She thought she could manage it. For some reason, little things she said led me to think she’d traveled around some. She seemed pretty sophisticated.”
“But you also said she denied being a prostitute,” pointed out Jamison. “So she may not have felt there was any reason to stop what she was doing.”
“That’s true,” conceded Kelly.
“Any signs of her being in the money?” asked Jamison. “With the clothes she wore, or other possessions she might have had? Something she said?”
“No. She drove a used Honda. The apartment building we’re going to is no great shakes. I highly doubt we’ll find a Rembrandt on the walls there. I guess her pay as a teacher was enough to cover her expenses. But finding a decent place to stay for an affordable price is tough.”
“Cost of living really that high around here?” asked Jamison.
“Some of the rents here would rival what you would pay in a lot of metro areas. When people first move here they usually sleep in their cars or a friend of a friend’s spare room in a trailer, or someone’s couch for a month or longer. Fracking crews coming in are usually housed initially in old shipping containers set up as tiny studio apartments with a bed, a toilet and a shower, and a fridge and a microwave, with one door in and the same door out. They’re building homes as fast as they can, but they can’t keep up. Everybody’s chasing the dollars this place throws off. The result is we’re growing way too fast and the cracks are showing.”
“Did you believe her when she said she didn’t charge for sex?” asked Decker.
“Thing is, we’ve been all over her place, and we’ve checked her bank records. Other than her teacher salary there is no sign of any
other money.”
Decker seemed taken aback by this. “Okay, that is odd. Most hookers have evidence of cash flow somewhere.”
“She show any signs of drug use?” asked Jamison. “The coroner couldn’t find any trace of it in her system.”
“Nothing that I observed, and I know what to look for.”
“So why’d you pick her out of all the escorts out there to have a ‘come to Jesus’ talk?” asked Decker.
“She wasn’t the only one I had that chat with,” replied Kelly.
“Who else?” asked Jamison.
He restlessly tapped his fingers against the window. “Look, in the interest of full disclosure, my sister had some of those same issues. Only she got trapped on drugs, and hooking was the only way out, or so she thought. She overdosed and they couldn’t bring her back. It was a tragedy all around.”
“That’s so awful, Joe. I’m sorry,” said Jamison.
“So that’s why you don’t arrest escorts?” said Decker.
“All I know is, prostitution is not a victimless crime. And if I can do something to help people who need help, then I will. It’s why I signed up to be a cop. I have no problem putting people away who deserve it, but that’s not all I want to do.”
“How’d you find out about her connection with the Brothers?” said Jamison. “Was that widely known?”
“I’m one of the few people here that know the Brothers well. I’ve been out to the Colony—that’s what they call their collective home—many times. Just part of being a local cop, get to know the people in your community. I’d seen her there, in fact. That’s how I recognized her picture from the website. And I highly doubt anyone from the Brothers would be surfing the web for sex services. So I think her secret was safe with me. And I never told anyone.”
“Including anyone at the Brothers, or else she would have been dismissed, I imagine,” noted Jamison.
He nodded. “Especially not them. She seemed troubled in a way. I didn’t want to add to those troubles.” He paused and added. “And I’ve dealt with a lot of hookers. Most come from shitty backgrounds and situations. Vulnerable and lost. But Cramer didn’t fit that pattern. There was something about her that seemed, well, focused and intent. Like she was on a mission or something. So, to tell the truth, part of me believed there was something else going on with her.”
Walk the Wire Page 4