BLOOD RIVER (A Trask Brothers Murder Mystery) Read online

  “Danny, I won’t be sworn in for a week and I’ve got things to do. You’ll have to take care of whatever it is yourself.”

  “Yes sir, but Rosemary said we needed to get you on this now. She said the judge will be at Morton in an hour to swear you in and that I couldn’t let you say no.”

  Rosemary Thiel was the head of the county board and had been for fifteen years. When she yelled she was used to people paying attention. The county seat is in Two Harbors on Lake Superior in the southeast corner of the county. To get the judge to drive north an hour to Morton must have meant that there was something serious going down.

  Dave Trask looked down at his brother Don who was sipping his beer. “You need a break?”

  Don stared at the deputy for a moment and then replied, ”I don’t need one but it looks like you do. Better see what the fuss is all about.”

  Danny turned toward his vehicle, taking Don’s answer as a ‘yes’. “Tell the judge it’ll be an hour and a half,” Dave yelled after him and then downed the rest of his beer.

  Chapter Three

  Dave and Don Trask rode silently down County Highway One towards Morton in Dave’s 4Runner. Both scanned the ditches for any deer or bear that was ready to hop in their way to commit suicide by Toyota. The ditches were wide, supposedly to give drivers some time to see any animals approaching the road. Usually the deer seemed to be more of a problem from sunset to sunrise, but the Department of Natural Resources had severely limited hunting two years ago and that, coupled with the two mild winters that followed, meant an exploding deer population, and exploding deer populations meant more wrecked vehicles.

  Dave did not want to hit a deer with his SUV. He had babied it since he purchased it twelve years ago, hand-washing it on a regular basis. The truck was three years old at the time, a lease return with low miles, in immaculate condition. It was more than he wanted to spend, with more features than he needed, probably the only semi-frivolous purchase he had ever made. Don, on the other hand, drove business vehicles as often as he could, leasing his personal vehicles.

  The twin brothers were 46 years old, born and raised in the western Minneapolis suburb of Minnetonka. While there were plenty of mansions on famous Lake Minnetonka, and the brothers spent as much of their youth on the lake as possible with their “rich friends”, they grew up in a decidedly middle-class neighborhood. Their father was an insurance agent and their mother a substitute teacher.

  A fox on the shoulder heard the truck coming, and was swallowed by the dense forest next to the ditch, leaving no trace it ever existed. “Man, you take a walk in the woods here and you’re never coming out,” commented Don as he tried to get some glimpse of the retreating fox as they drove past.

  The brothers ran in different circles in high school, Don in a “wilder” bunch and often on the edge of trouble, but both ended up in law enforcement. Don started as a prison guard at a low security facility northeast of Minneapolis but within two years had a position with the Minneapolis police department. He moved between various units, and did a stint with the state patrol, before jumping at a chance to get involved in more high-level action with the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, or BCA. He was now a lead investigator, involved in many of the high-profile crimes across the state.

  “We call it natural selection here,” replied Dave, his attempt at levity doing nothing to penetrate his darkening mood. Dave had few friends growing up, spending his time under the hood of a Buick Skylark he purchased with the money he saved working at McDonalds after school and on weekends. He secured a job with the Maple Grove police department right out of the academy and worked his way up. In his time in Maple Grove, the suburb had grown from a small village to an upper-middle class bedroom community with convenience stores, strip malls, and restaurants on nearly every corner. As the town grew so did the crime. Dave got tired of days spent busting kids in the Burger King parking lot and so, ten years ago, he decided to approach the mayor about becoming police chief when the position opened, thinking it would be his chance to move away from the grind.

  The mayor nominated Dave for the position and the council approved him. At first he enjoyed the post, but the endless paperwork, personnel headaches, and politics finally took its toll and he stepped down two years ago. With no plans, no family, and a pension to support him, he took a good chunk of the savings he was able to accumulate with his frugal lifestyle, and purchased the cabin in Lake County.

  Dave was soft-spoken, Don’s voice booming when he spoke, which wasn’t often. “And you ran for sheriff again because why?”

  “I was bored, OK, and I figured a little extra money wouldn’t hurt considering the new boat I’ve been looking at,” replied Dave as he continued to stare straight ahead. “I never thought I’d actually get elected.” The prior sheriff had been caught with his pants down, literally, with a girl he met at a bar in Duluth. The girl turned out to be seventeen and the bar happened to be under the watchful eye of the Duluth PD vice squad. A special election in late spring for a new sheriff of Lake County soon followed.

  “You’re sick of the politics in the little town of Maple Grove so you quit and then run for sheriff of an entire county? Brother, this could be a long four years for you,” Don said as he continued watching the brush for animals.

  “I checked the stats in the county before I ran and a moose-killing was the biggest crime in the last ten years. And the term is only for three and a half years. This is probably nothing.” But Dave didn’t believe his own words and he knew his brother didn’t either. Both had seen the look in the deputy’s eyes. He had been scared.

  Dave slowed his truck as he climbed the hill to Morton. On the right was a café attached to a convenience store that sold live bait and liquor according to the hand-painted sign in the window, two things that seem to almost be inseparable in northern Minnesota. Across the street was a one-room building with peeling faded tan paint and a healthy crop of weeds growing around it. Apparently the owner of Anderson Realty wasn’t having much success selling property in the area. Next door to the realty office someone had converted what was once a small church into his or her home. Tall grass around an old snowmobile said it was permanently parked in the front yard and a rope with clothes hanging from it was tied between oak trees. A cross still stood on the peak of the roof and a wooden plaque over the front door said ‘Jesus Welcomes You’.

  “I suppose we’ll do this in the café,” Dave said as he turned into the lot.

  They had just poked their heads in the door when Rosemary Thiel jumped up from the table closest to the door. Dressed in a white blouse and black slacks with a crease that could cut you, she was a short, thin, bony woman with grey hair she kept cut close to her head and a face that just looked mean. She was somewhere past seventy, but quick on her feet and with her tongue.

  “You took your sweet time getting here sheriff. I don’t appreciate being made to wait!” scolded Thiel as she raised a long finger at Dave.

  The woman struck Dave as a cross between the wicked witch of the west and a tenth grade chemistry teacher he had who still gave him nightmares. “The way I look at it Ms. Thiel, I’m a week early. I’ve got no problem turning around and going home.”

  Rosemary was not used to being talked to in such a manner and was momentarily speechless, an oddity for her. Her eyes narrowed as she scowled.

  “Shall we get this done Judge?” said Dave to the man still seated at the table, an overly plump man in a grey suit nursing a large beer, long thin strands of oily grey hair stretched across the top of a head that had gone bald long ago.

  Judge Eric Hailey greedily gulped the last swallow and then began a slow extrication from his chair as he used the chair arms to help him push his bulk to a standing position. “Certainly,” he responded wiping off his beer foam mustache with the back of his hand. “Ms. Thiel can witness or you can use your own witness if you prefer.”

  Don had already moved to the bar in search of a cold beer indicating there was
no need to bother him with the proceedings.

  “I would be honored if Ms. Thiel would be the witness Judge,” replied Dave as Thiel gave him a look that said he had pushed her far enough.

  The Judge sensed the tension and quickly produced a Bible, performed the ceremony, finally handing Dave the sheriff’s badge that had been lying on the table next to the judge’s beer. Hailey shook Dave’s hand and looked to Rosemary to do the same. It was readily apparent that she had no such intention as she turned and walked toward the door without a word. The judge shrugged his shoulders and followed. Only after they left did the deputy get up from his seat at the bar and walk over to Dave.

  “Thanks for coming sheriff. I never had to deal with nothing like this before and with you being from the Cities and all, I figured you’d know what to do.”

  Dave waited for Danny to continue; pretty sure he didn’t want to hear more.

  Chapter Four

  The three men slowly circled the island where Johnson and Lau had been murdered. A thirty-foot granite cliff rose from the water on the north and west side of the island tapering to a boulder lined shore on either side before meeting the sand beach on the south. They saw no sign of anyone on the island but knew that with well over five hundred acres that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone there. Dave’s binoculars were of little help in penetrating the thick brush of summer, it would be easy for someone to be concealed, and to hide a small boat pulled up on shore. They were an easy target for anyone with a rifle.

  Sand and gravel crunched underneath as Danny piloted the twenty-two foot Lund sheriff’s boat onto the beach next to the Alumacraft. Dave moved to the front of the boat and took in the entire scene, his brother behind him doing the same. Mark Lau’s body lay in the sand, flies having found it long ago. A flock of squawking gulls and ravens had moved off as the men arrived while two bald eagles circled overhead. Tracks in the sand beneath the water showed where two other boats had been beached nearby.

  “How many others have been here Danny?”

  “Just me and the camp owner like I told you.”

  “But I only see four sets of tracks – two headed in from the Alumacraft and then one other set, in and back from another boat.”

  “That sounds right sheriff. When Al brought me back here to show me what he found I didn’t think I should get out and make any more mess in the area, so we just backed out, and he brought me back to camp. That was when I called Rosemary and she told me to go get you.”

  Dave stared at the deputy and wondered if there wasn’t more to the story. It was good he thought not to contaminate the scene but to leave a known murder scene unattended overnight, especially in the wild, should never happen. Dave had a feeling that his deputy maybe didn’t have the stomach for what was on the beach and beyond. Or was there something else? And why would his first call be to a county commissioner? Why wouldn’t they have contacted him last night or early in the morning? Who had made that decision?

  Dave jumped on shore and Don handed him his investigator’s bag before following.

  “What do you want me to do sheriff?” asked Danny still sitting behind the console.

  “I doubt we’ll get a coroner from Two Harbors here before dark so I want you back here as soon as possible with the two other deputies and whatever you need to stay the night. The birds have already been here a day so the bears and wolves can’t be far behind. Bring a generator and some lights and tell the coroner to get his butt out here ASAP in the morning.”

  The deputy opened his mouth slightly, about to say something, but then paused, as he seemed to reconsider. Dave waited for Danny to speak, but the deputy only turned to watch the motor as he tilted it just enough to get the prop in the water. He started the engine, churning up the bottom as he backed away.

  The brothers turned their focus back to the island. The long northern Minnesota summer sun would hit the treetops before long but there would be light for almost four more hours. Still, shadows were lengthening quickly, making evaluation of the scene more difficult.

  Don unzipped his bag, removed his digital camera, and began to photograph the body of Mark Lau and surroundings by the shore. The body was on its left side, the head turned up grotesquely, attached to the body only by the muscles that ran from the shoulder. The birds had made a meal of dead eyes that would have stared at the skies. The sand was dark where blood had poured from the neck and a few remaining crumbs of the victim’s sandwich not eaten by gulls were at the fingertips of his left hand. A nearly full beer sat upright in the sand to the right of the rock where he had sat.

  “The killer came up behind and slit the throat before any real struggle,” observed Dave. “This guy just tipped over. His feet hardly kicked out.” It was incredibly rare to find a victim that apparently had little or no reaction to being attacked unless that victim had been drugged or was unconscious. How was the killer able to slit the victim’s throat and not elicit more of a reaction? He searched the victim’s pockets but found no wallet. Possibly it was in the boat? Dave made a note to check.

  “Would have been pretty easy to be quiet in this sand, but the killer was out in the open for a long time before he reached the victim. Looks like he came about all the way across the beach from the cliff over there, almost at a trot,” replied his brother pointing to the east. “He knew how to be quiet but he took a big chance that he wouldn’t be seen. Had to be strong to cut through the neck like that too.”

  The pair walked to where the killer’s tracks were first visible below the cliff. “He must have jumped down from up there,” commented Dave as he looked at the ledge a little above his eyes. “Probably a big guy looking at how deep the prints are where he landed. I’m guessing there will be nothing to show us his way on those rocks but I’ll have one of the deputies go over it anyway. Let’s have a look at the other one.”

  They could detect only three sets of tracks leading through the brush to where Pat Johnson was killed, two going in and one back, until they came closer to the clearing and saw what looked like a fresh paw print.

  “Shit!” said Dave as he bent to get a closer look at the print in the muddy soil. “This could be a wolf. One of us is going to have to hang with this body and one with the other until the deputies get back. Aren’t you glad you came?” asked Dave with a smile on his face.

  “Thrilled,” replied his brother in a sarcastic tone that Dave had heard many times before. Don had never sounded pleased when asked to do even the smallest thing, ever since the two were young. Their parents had scolded him about it many times but his ‘sour attitude’ never seemed to change unless the idea to do something was his own. Dave was certain it was one reason why Don’s two marriages had been measured in weeks, not much longer than the time that Don knew the women before getting married. The brothers looked at the tracks heading to the body before scanning the area for any sign that a wolf may still be near.

  Gray wolves had been nearly hunted to extinction in Minnesota before becoming a protected species in the seventies. With no real enemies, they had flourished, thrilling conservationists. That was not the case with farmers who found their livestock dead or homeowners who lost pets. Deer hunters were also voicing their displeasure. Gray wolves can reach over 100 pounds and six feet in length. They are fast, all muscle, killing machines. The wolves have recently expanded their range, moving south to more heavily populated areas in central Minnesota and the Department of Natural Resources seems uncertain how to handle the growth of the species. A limited hunting season was enacted but quickly was suspended as the DNR bowed to the alarms of conservation activists. The brothers did not want to meet a wolf where it felt cornered or protecting a kill.

  The walls and trees around the clearing blocked any breeze to keep the black flies and mosquitoes away, a welcoming committee that quickly found the men as they emerged from the woods. The twins walked carefully across the rocky clearing to where Johnson lay. Like the man on the shore, this man’s throat had also been cut deeply, the head near
ly severed. Dave knelt next to the body holding his nose, the smell almost overpowering, as Don took more photos. He waved away the flies that had found this body like the one on the shore. “Jesus!” yelled Dave as he jumped back. A yellow and black garter snake that had curled up next to the body poked its head out and then slithered away.

  “Scared of a little snake,” laughed his brother.

  “No. You better look at this,” responded Dave as he pointed to the front of the body.

  Don moved around to get a look at what his brother had seen. The victim’s jeans were open in front and the penis was gone, apparently sliced off with the same sharp knife that had been used to slice through the victim’s throat. Don scanned the body noting a deep knife wound in the back as well as what looked to be a swatch of blood across the victim’s shirt. The victim’s left leg was ripped apart where an animal had started to eat.

  “We’ve got someone with some anger issues here. Looks like the stab wound in the back and the dick getting cut off happened after this guy had his throat cut. Not much blood on those wounds. Somebody was pretty upset with this guy.”

  Dave searched the second victim for any identification but again found nothing. “No ID on either of these men. We’ll have to take a look in the boat but it seems a little odd that both are without wallets. Could be a robbery.”

  “Maybe, but the condition of this body tells me that there was more to it than that,” said Don as he stood. Don scanned the area around them more closely looking for any sign of human tracks. Moss filled cracks in the uneven rocky surface with occasional stunted shrubs poking up. Loose rock and dead branches were scattered on the ground but nothing seemed to have been disturbed. The brush beyond the clearing was heavy. “I can almost see the killer being able to come up from behind on the sand but how did he do it here?”