BLOOD RIVER (A Trask Brothers Murder Mystery) Page 10

  Danny nodded his understanding while looking at his list of names and then moved off to the first cabin on his sheet. Dave watched him go and then did the same.

  It was well past noon when the interviews had ended. Most of the men had headed for the boats but some packed to leave. Dave saw Danny on the porch of the murder cabin and walked over.

  “You done Danny?”

  “Yes sir. Nothing really to report. Nobody seems to have heard or seen anything which I guess ain’t too surprising considering that you could hardly hear yourself think last night in that storm. I just came over to see if the doc needed a hand – or maybe two,” he added with a grin that Dave wanted to punch off his face.

  “Danny, we need to notify the victims’ families before they find out about it. I’d take care of it but I need to hear what the doctor has found. Go ahead and tape off the cabin as soon as she’s done and then head back to the office to make the calls. You OK doing that?”

  “Sure. You want me to come back and get you?”

  “I can give him a ride,” came Doctor James voice from inside the cabin.

  Danny just raised his eyebrows, smiled his biggest grin, and pointed at the sheriff before walking off toward the truck. Dave wanted to kick him in the ass when he turned.

  The doctor appeared at the screen door, blowing a curl of red hair out of her face, as she removed her gloves. “I have to say that our business has definitely picked up since you arrived sheriff.”

  “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I took the job,” Dave responded, feeling a bit sorry for himself.

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Anyway, I’m going to get a couple of technicians out here to take care of the bodies. You up for some lunch?”

  Dave was stunned. This woman had just spent a couple of hours with a murder scene that most men couldn’t handle for a minute and now she wanted to eat lunch.

  She didn’t wait for a response but said, “I’ll fill you in on what I found while we eat,” and headed off to her truck. Dave followed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dave felt nervous as a teenage boy on his first date as they drove and it wasn’t because he wanted to be driving, which he did. His mouth was dry and he couldn’t find any words as she chatted. He tried to keep focused on the road but couldn’t help stealing glances at Linda as she drove. Before he knew it they were pulling into the Channel Inn parking lot.

  The same hostess who had greeted Dave the day before did not seem to notice the woman at his side as they entered. “Hello Sheriff. Would you like to be on top or the bottom?” she said with a large smile.

  “On top, I mean up here is fine,” replied a flustered Dave. Linda giggled as they followed the receptionist to their table overlooking the channel. She handed them both a menu and then left to get them water.

  “What’s good here?” asked Dave as he opened the menu.

  “From the way you were greeted when we came in, I thought I should be asking you that question.”

  Dave explained how he had been in the day before and Linda nodded with a smirk. He was pretty sure she didn’t believe him and was about to explain further when the hostess returned with their water. The doctor ordered a chicken salad and Dave did the same.

  “My, aren’t you the healthy one?” she commented.

  “My father had a heart attack about a month after he retired. My cholesterol is a little high, so I try to be good now and then.”

  “Good for you Sheriff. Seems most of the macho men I meet up here in the great north woods need to have raw meat with every meal – and usually something they killed.” She looked out over the water and watched a boat pull into the dock at the restaurant, but Dave couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She turned back to catch him staring. “Do I have something on my face?” she said as she put her right hand to her cheek.

  “Um, no, um, your face is just fine.”

  Linda laughed at his response. “Well thanks sheriff. I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”

  Dave could feel his face burn red but he couldn’t help but laugh too. “Why don’t you just call me Dave?”

  The doctor put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “Fine. Now, why don’t you tell me how you ended up here Dave?”

  To Dave’s own surprise, he found himself talking more about himself then he had with any woman that he could remember. Their salads arrived and he continued to reveal his past, answering her questions. Before he realized, he noticed Linda was done with her salad and he was only half way through. “I’m afraid I’m not used to answering the questions, I’m usually the one asking them.”

  “You did very well,” she replied.

  “Well, you’d better fill me in on how you ended up in Lake County so I can finish my lunch.”

  Dave found himself fascinated by her story and soothed by the tone of her voice. She revealed how, as a young girl, her family would drive from Chicago and rent a cabin on Sea Gull Lake in northern Lake County for two weeks each summer. Dave laughed when she told him she had four brothers so the van was always full and there was at least one big fight each way every year. But she said she didn’t mind because once they arrived she knew she could fish for two solid weeks. Her brothers used to make fun of her, but as soon as she started catching the most fish, they stopped. On her first trip to Sea Gull Lake she declared to her mother that this was where she was going to live.

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “Once,” she replied. “He was a very nice man who I met in medical school and who is now a very successful surgeon in Chicago. He made one trip up here with me and then refused to come again. I knew that would never do, so we went our separate ways.”

  As she finished the check came which she quickly grabbed. “My treat sheriff. I asked you.”

  “Um, OK, I’ll get it next time,” Dave responded, a little flustered.

  “Oh. I guess that means there will be a next time?” she replied as she looked at the bill.

  Dave could feel his cheeks turning red again as he searched for a response. Before he could answer though, she stood and said she needed to get back to work.

  “But, we haven’t discussed what you found in the cabin.”

  “That’s not conversation for a nice meal, now is it? Why don’t you give me a call later and I’ll give you more details after I’ve had time to go over the bodies?”

  Dave followed her out of the restaurant, feeling like he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but pretty sure that he liked it. Linda dropped him off at the Section 30 station and headed for Two Harbors.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kyle Bauman looked up from his computer screen when he heard the front door of the station open. “I hear we got two more Sheriff? Danny filled us in.”

  “I’d like a meeting down here in ten. Set it up please,” said a tired Trask as he turned to head up the stairs.

  “You might want to hold that for a bit Sheriff. You got a guest. He’s in your office.”

  Dave was about to ask who thought it was OK to let someone alone in his office, but decided he was too tired to make a point of it, and went up the stairs. The layout of Trask’s office was such that the door entering his office was in front of him and to his right when he sat at his desk forcing him to circle behind two chairs facing his desk and the side of his desk to reach his chair. The back of a head of perfectly combed thick shiny black hair sitting in a chair facing his desk made Trask think he was being visited by the mafia. There was no mistaking that his visitor was Cleve Allen, owner of Allens Lodge.

  Allens Lodge sat on the northeast shore of Basswood Lake. The lodge was really a conglomeration of three lodges that were within a few miles of each other on the lake. Allen had completed the purchase of the last of the three lodges five years ago and, through a series of trails and roads, some legal and some not, had connected the camps while building a huge main lodge that served all three. ATV’s shuttled the guests between the lodges. Cabins had
been updated with big screen TV’s and wifi. The guides used newer, larger boats with state-of-the-art electronics, and full-time chefs were employed to create a menu that could only be equaled at the finest restaurants in the Twin Cities. The lodge catered to large corporate clients that wanted to be pampered.

  Unlike the other camp owners in the area, Cleve Allen had no real love of the outdoors. He had lived most of his life in Minneapolis and had made his money as a contractor. As a client he had seen the money spent at larger Canadian lodges, and felt that he could do it better, and with the attraction of less travel time and expense. This was strictly a moneymaking investment for him, or at least it was supposed to be. Despite Allen’s ties with many corporate leaders in the Midwest, the economy had hurt his business but he was seeing an upswing that he did not want halted.

  “Sheriff,” he said without standing as Dave walked around to his desk.

  “What can I do for you Mr. Allen?” responded Dave with a tired tone as he tried to cut the chitchat short. He was well aware of who Cleve Allen was, the kind of money he had, and the fact that he did not seem to care in the least that he was generally disliked by the other lodge owners in the area. He also knew that Cleve had had a hand in the fact that Dave had been elected sheriff.

  “Word travels fast sheriff, especially among my guests, and I don’t care for it,” said Allen as he leaned forward.

  “What don’t you care for Mr. Allen?”

  “You know damn well what I don’t care for – and I’m damn sure I’m not the only camp owner affected by these murders.”

  Dave leaned back in his chair. “No, but as I understand it, you’re about the only owner whose guests haven’t cancelled out.” Dave had heard that Allen had hired guards at his camp and was providing free beer in the boats.

  “That’s because I’m spending a shitload of bucks to hire security to see that my guests are safe,” replied an irked Allen. “Now,” he continued as his voice calmed, “what do you know about the situation and what the hell are you doing about it?”

  Dave was ready to come across the desk. He didn’t give a rip about who Allen was or what he wanted or his job at the moment. But he did care about catching this killer and he wasn’t getting any closer by talking to the lodge owner. Dave took a breath and stood. “Mr. Allen, what I know about the situation is none of your business and what I’m doing about it is nothing as long as you’re here wasting my time. Now, I have a meeting, and I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  Allen looked up at the sheriff for a moment and then stood, his face inches from Dave’s. “You don’t want to fuck with me sheriff,” he murmured.

  Allen turned and left while Trask resisted the urge to give him the finger. He followed Allen to his door, slammed his door shut, and then plopped back down in his chair. Allen had upset him but, as he swung his chair around to look at the Norway pines outside his window, he knew it was the nagging feeling that he had missed something that upset him more. Was it something about Allen besides the fact he was a total asshole? How had he learned about the second murders so quickly? And why was he pressing for information? Most of the small camp owners lived on a string and Dave didn’t doubt that many thought Allen had a hand in what was happening. Was Allen’s bank account thinner than people thought?

  Dave picked up his cell phone and pressed the button for his brother.

  “Well, I suppose you want me to use the rest of my vacation next week to help you finish your cabin,” answered Don without saying hello.

  “I got two more brother,” Dave announced.

  “Talk to me.”

  Dave filled his brother in on what he knew. He promised to send a complete list of the names of the guides and guests as well as anything he found out from the autopsy. Dave asked that Don also see what he could find out about Cleve Allen and Billie Whitehead and then whined about his new job.

  Don bitched about having to work two jobs but promised to get back to him. He also promised help would be on the way tomorrow if not the next day.

  As Dave put down his phone he saw Danny in the doorway. How long had he been there?

  “You want to have a meeting sheriff?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was after six when Dave finished with his deputies and returned to his desk. He turned in his chair to gaze at the sun still high in the western sky. It seemed hard to believe that it would be setting before five come November. There would probably be snow on the ground too. Dave was soon daydreaming about his favorite kind of fishing – ice fishing.

  When most folks were dreading the coming of the long, cold northern Minnesota winter, and many found ways to spend a good portion of it in a warmer climate, Dave looked forward to the cold and the ice it would bring. The area was nearly deserted in the winter even though it was never more beautiful. Snow weighed down the bows of the tall pines and covered lakes and islands. Dave loved racing his snowmobile across the ice or walking the trails. The walleye fishing was great just outside his back door, but he especially loved running out on Basswood in search of lake trout. The excitement of watching a lake trout come charging at your lure on your depthfinder, the jolt as the fish slammed the bait, and the ensuing fight to bring it up through the ice, could not be matched as far as he was concerned.

  His daydream was broken by the sound of the phone.

  “Trask.”

  “Sheriff? This is Doctor Adams.”

  “Oh, hi doc. I guess I kind of expected to hear from Doctor James,” Dave commented, hoping his disappointment wasn’t evident.

  “We thought it best that we both work on the autopsies together as I had done the first two and it would speed things up. I hope that’s OK?”

  “That’s great Doc. No problem at all. What can you tell me?”

  “We are estimating that the men died some time between midnight and two. From the wounds, Doctor James and I are both in agreement that it was likely the same person that killed all four men. Your killer is someone quite strong, probably above six feet, and right-handed. Doctor James is quite certain the man at the table was killed first and the other after he came out of the bathroom. The killer either had him turn around or surprised him, but either way, both of their necks were cut as they were held by the head as we found evidence of broken and missing hair on both.”

  “Why do you think the killer was tall?”

  “The second man was almost six feet tall and yet the hair damage says that the killer had hold of the hair on top of his head. It seems more likely that a man of similar or lesser height would have grabbed the hair on the back of the head,” the doctor explained.

  Dave found himself reaching to grab an imaginary head and didn’t know if he agreed with the doctor’s supposition or not. “Anything else?”

  “There was one thing. The blood on the back of the left pant leg of the man killed by the bathroom – it actually contained the blood of both the first victim and the second. If I may make another guess, I would say that from the shape of that stain that your killer stopped to wipe the blade of his knife off before he left.”

  Dave remembered the stain but hadn’t thought anymore about it.

  “Sheriff, I would venture to say that I have never seen anything like this before, and hope to never again. There is a hatred and calm here that, well, I can only say is evil. This person needs to be stopped.”

  There was a tone of fear in the doctor’s voice that was easy to pick up on. Dave had listened to his fair share of autopsy reports from doctors, and most of them were usually delivered by someone who sounded like they were a mechanic that just looked at your car. This doctor was scared. Dave promised that they were doing all they could and asked that the final report be emailed to him as soon as it was available.

  Dave’s mind went immediately back to John Bigeagle. If you were looking for big, strong and mean, at least mean looking, he was it. Dave searched for the number for Half Moon and called but got only the answering machine. Brad Owens was cutting corn
ers with a thin staff and was likely making sure his remaining guests were happy, or as happy as they could be. He left a message asking Brad to call ASAP.

  It was just past eight and Dave had decided to drive to Half Moon when the phone rang.

  “Sheriff, Brad Owens. Sorry I missed your call. Have you got some news?” asked the lodge owner with a hopeful voice.

  “Sorry, Mr. Owens, but nothing yet. I was wondering though, if you could give me a little information on one of your guides?”

  “Sure. Which one?”

  “John Bigeagle. How long has he been a guide there?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. He was guiding here when I was a guest and he stayed on when I bought the place. Do you think John killed those men?”

  Dave ignored the question, answering with one of his own. “Do you know where he was last night?”

  “Sorry Sheriff, what my guides do after they are done guiding and taking care of their boats is their business. I assume he was in camp but I have no idea.”

  “And what about during the day last Monday?”

  “That I know. He was out guiding. And I’m sure the two men he took out will vouch for him,” Owens replied. “You can’t think John did it Sheriff. He seems tough but he’s a good man.”

  “Thanks Brad. Who were the men he was guiding?” Owens told him their names and Brad checked to see that he had them and their contact information on his list. He thanked Owens again and hung up.

  Trask stared out the window. The doctor was right. There was viciousness and clarity about these killings that said the killer was on a mission, but what was it? Four killings in less than four days said there were more to come, and soon.

  Chapter Seventeen

  This time it had to be a nightmare. Only it wasn’t night and Dave was pretty sure he wasn’t dreaming. The clock on the table next to his bed said seven and from the light coming through his window it was evident the sun was already well up. At least it wasn’t raining. Dave lay on his back in bed and looked at the ceiling as he again heard the pounding plus this time there was a voice with it. Danny.