The Fed Man (15 page)

“Good morning, Leo. Thanks for taking the time to visit with me.”

Leo slowly accepted Nube’s hand, but Nube noted his weak grip. Actually, he thought wimpy would be a better description.

“Come on in, please. My name is Nube Lawson and I’d like to ask you a few questions this morning. Would you like to sit?” Pointing to the coffee tray sitting on the desk, he added, “Would you like some of Mary’s coffee?”

Leo shuffled his right foot and repeatedly tipped his head to his left. His eyes seemed to dart in rhythmic fashion to his left as well. Stammering, he replied, “No thanks. I … I want to stand.” Waving his hands, he added, “No coffee. Doctor says it’s bad for me.”

“Okay, Leo. That’s fine. Would you feel better if I stood too?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Leo, how long have you known Dr. Anthony? And when did you start working for him?”

“I met him in Minneapolis. At Hennepin County. I came there from Superior, where I went to high school. I did janitor work.”

He changed his head movements to a vigorous left to right as he continued. “Terrible about his wife.” He started nodding up and down. “Nice lady. Very nice lady. Dr. Anthony was very, very sad when she died.” Looking directly at Nube for the first time, his eyes widened. “They fired him after she died. That was wrong. Very wrong.”

“Leo, after Dr. Anthony left Minneapolis, what did you do?”

He resumed the rhythmic head and eye movements, but now he also rubbed his left temple. “I asked him if I could go with him. I didn’t want to stay there anymore. Not if they would do mean things like fire Dr. Anthony. He was like a dad to me.”

“So did you come with Dr. Anthony when he came here to Oak Ridge?”

“Yes. He said he would need some help.”

“So you’ve been here about thirty years?”

“I don’t know. Ask Doctor.”

Looking incredulously at Leo, Nube thought for a second, and then resumed. “I see that you have an iPod. What type of music do you like to listen to?”

Making eye contact again, he smiled. “Mozart. I love Mozart. Calms me down.”

“Do you have any hobbies or do anything just for fun?”

Looking up, his eyes widened and a big smile came across his face. “I like to go camping. By myself.”

“Leo, how do you get there, camping, I mean? And how do you get to work?”

Leo nodded, perhaps overzealously. “I have a bike. Or I walk.”

Nube looked at Leo for a long time before asking the next question. “Do you do anything with Dr. Anthony, like go to his house to visit?”

Leo shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no. He’s a doctor and I’m just a nothing. I couldn’t go to his house or do anything with him.” He looked at his watch and then at Nube. “This has been a long time. I have to get back to work. I don’t want to get fired like they did to Dr. Anthony.” He turned and abruptly left the office.

Nube was taken by surprise with the abrupt departure. He went to the door and called after Leo. “Thanks for your time, Leo. You were very helpful.”

Without looking back, Leo waved his right arm in the air and called out, “No worry.”

Nube didn’t see Dr. Anthony, so he returned to the reception area, but Mrs. Blowster was nowhere to be seen either. He shrugged his shoulders and left the coroner’s office.

When Nube returned to the police station, Marie was preparing a large tray of sandwiches and assorted salads to take into Naldie’s office. Picking up the tray, he offered, “Let me give you a hand with that.”

“Thanks, Nube.” Nodding toward Naldie’s office, where Pete and Doc were waiting with the chief, Marie added, “Just follow the rumbling from the chief’s stomach.”

As they walked into his office, Naldie looked up from his desk. “It’s about time. I’m starving.”

Marie squinted at him. “Please, Chief. I do declare.”

Over the noise of paper rustling as his three comrades attempted to unwrap their sandwiches, Nube filled them in on his interview with Leo, concluding with, “It was incredible. Either that guy is mentally challenged and has been painstakingly taught how to do his job, or he’s one heckuva con artist.” Turning to Marie, he added, “Marie, I think it would be a good idea to check with the
high schools in Superior and the surrounding area to see if a Leo Holmen graduated and if so, when and what did he do afterward.”

She nodded while chewing her half sandwich still in its wrapper and writing in her notebook. After swallowing hard, she placed the remainder of her sandwich on a corner of the chief’s desk. She gave him a stern look, pointed a finger at him, and said, “Don’t even think about it, Naldie. That’s my lunch.”

Turning to Nube, she smiled and then became serious.

“Let me tell you what I found out. First, with regard to the question of any similar murders,” referring to her notes, she continued, “five years ago a twenty-two-year-old coed, a known prostitute, was found dead in the state park in Cedar Junction, Minnesota, which is in the northwest corner of the state. Her autopsy showed that she had a sublethal dose of barbiturates in her system and a sock had been stuffed down her throat. The cause of her death was listed as suffocation.”

Still peering at her notes, she raised an index finger, adding, “Three years ago a twenty-three-year-old waitress was found dead at a campsite right in Danburg, Minnesota, in the far southeastern corner of the state. This campsite is located along the banks of a river that runs right smack through the middle of town. She was living with her mother and failed to come home that night after work. The local officials found her under some brush. Her autopsy concluded that her death was caused by, guess what, a sock stuffed down her throat. There were no injuries and she was not raped. Her tox screen, however, showed alcohol and Rohypnol. No leads were
ever found and her case, like the other one, was turned over to the cold case department in their respective counties.”

She turned to Doc and tipped her head to the side. The furrowing of her brow caused the creases to angle such that they formed a V pointing toward her nose. Her mouth slightly agape, she raised her pen and bobbed it at him as if in deep thought before asking, “Speaking of Rohypnol, what did you learn from the pharmacist about this drug, Doc?”

He wiped his mouth and chin with a napkin, crumbled it along with the sandwich wrapper into a ball, and tossed it into the wastebasket next to Naldie’s desk. Holding up his hand to buy a moment, he finished chewing and swallowed the last bite. Holding his fist to mid chest, he let out a mild burp. “Excuse me.”

He looked to Marie with a satisfied smile. “That sandwich was very tasty. Thank you. Now back to work … I had a very interesting and informative discussion with my good, dear friend Merlyn.” Shaking his head as if in disbelief, but obviously in respect, he mused, “That man knows more stuff. Anyway, he said that Rohypnol was first introduced in the United States in the early ‘90s as a hypnotic or sleeping med to treat inpatients suffering from severe insomnia. It’s a short-acting benzodiazepine, kind of Valium-like, but the unfortunate thing, or one of them, is that it is seven to ten times more potent than Valium. It takes only fifteen to twenty minutes for someone to feel the effects and they may last four to six hours. Another interesting fact is that it causes anterograde amnesia.

“Mixing it with grapefruit juice or alcohol slows its release into the bloodstream and that might lead to an overdose. The drug is now illegal in the United States, but, unfortunately, that does not prohibit a perpetrator from procuring the stuff. If you know how, you can get it out of Mexico or any number of other foreign countries. There’s even information on the Internet about how to make it yourself, for god’s sake!”

Pete doffed his cap, slouched forward on his chair, and began rubbing the balding spot on his head. He was kicking at some invisible nuisance when he finally spoke up.

“I still can’t believe we have some cuckoo-bird, head-up-his-ass pervert living in this town.” Looking up, he scanned the room, his face pulled taut. “Gentlemen, and of course you, Marie, we will find this SOB. Let there be no doubt about it. And like I was telling old Sam Washburn, when we do find this shithead, let’s use Stalin’s justice. You know,” Pete said, pointing his hand like a pistol, “just seven grams of lead. Right behind the ear.” He pulled his cap on tightly, crossed his arms with emphasis, and sat back in his chair.

Nube winced. “I’m sure there are a lot of folks who agree with you, Pete, but you know that’s not how the system works.” He glanced at his watch and added, “That’s why we’re meeting with the attorneys in about an hour. We don’t want to screw up our investigation so this perp, when we do catch him, can get off.”

“Yeah, I know, Nube. But I’m starting to become just a bit more than pissed with this guy.”

Marie cleared her throat to regain the floor. “I have more for you guys. I did receive some trace evidence reports from the first murder investigation. However, the evidence reports from the second murder won’t be available until later in the week and perhaps not until Friday. It takes about a week to get trace and tox reports, you know.”

Naldie, having finally finished eating, spoke for the first time. “Well, don’t hold out on us, Marie. What’d you learn?”

She flipped through her notebook until she found the correct page. She sat up straighter.

“Okay. Here goes. The paint chip was run through the PDQ and they ID’d it as coming from a 1988 Nissan two-wheel-drive regular cab pickup. They also ID’d some duct tape on the chip.

“The residue on the victim’s socks was rust, which is being reviewed to determine if it is from the same vehicle. The tire track mold, and they said it was a good one, was indeterminate. The tire was too bald to give any info.” She looked at Naldie with that peering-over-the-glasses stare she loved to use. “Kind of like you, Chief. Now where were we? Oh yes, the sock in the victim’s throat was a light green crew sock and it’s a brand that is sold exclusively at Walmart.

“The fabric piece you picked up is a gray polyester material usually used to make sweatshirts.” She looked up as she added, “Again, a brand usually sold at Walmart. The blood was from the victim; the hair samples were from the victim and,” she hesitated
before concluding, “from a raccoon. There’s nothing from the log as of yet, and nothing from the axe, since they just received it. That, gentlemen, is the latest on the trace and tox evaluations. The rest should be done later this week.”

After an audible sigh, Nube spoke up. “Thanks, Marie. I think it would be interesting if you could check with the authorities in Cedar Junction and Danburg regarding the socks used to suffocate their victims. Perhaps we can get those socks to our lab to see if they are the same type and if they were from the same lot. Maybe the perp purchased one of those value packs and hasn’t used them up yet. Anybody have anything else? If not, let’s take a quick break before the attorneys arrive.”

Looking to the front office, Marie said, “Better make that quick, boys, because Briscoe and Stone just arrived. And they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Nube noticed that Marie put on one of her warmest welcoming smiles as she rose from her chair and walked toward the two sharply attired men standing at her desk. They exchanged cordial greetings before she gestured toward the chief’s office. Naldie, Doc, Pete, and Nube stood as the two men followed Marie into the office. The gray-haired man wearing a light charcoal pin-striped suit with a pink shirt and matching tie approached Nube.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. My name is C. J. Stone.” Releasing his firm grip, he put his arm around his associate. “And this is my dear friend and partner, Doug Briscoe.”

“It’s a pleasure, I assure you. My name is Nube Lawson.” Pointing to Doc, Pete, and Naldie, Nube continued, “I’m sure you know my colleagues.”

C. J. waved his hand as if to imply that of course he knew them. “Everybody in Oak Ridge knows these three outstanding men.” Shaking each man’s hand vigorously, he said, “Haven’t seen
you guys out at Burnt Wood for a while. Something wrong with your game, or have you got something else going on?”

Speaking for the group, Naldie answered, “Nothing wrong with the game that a new short game wouldn’t cure. But to tell the truth, C. J., we’ve been a little preoccupied. That’s why we’ve asked you and Doug to join us this afternoon. Nube, why don’t you fill these gentlemen in on what we’ve been up to and what we need from them.”

“Be glad to, Chief.” Nube spent the next ten minutes bringing the attorneys up to date. Concluding, he said, “And we’d like you to work with us because we know you work with the county D.A.’s office. And we don’t want to screw anything up that may allow the perp, when we catch him, to go free.”

During his presentation, both attorneys sat very still and leaned forward on their chairs. When Nube was done, Doug opened his briefcase and removed a legal pad. C. J. opened his suit coat, leaned back in his chair, threw both arms out, and whistled softly before responding in what sounded like a soft Southern drawl.

“Whew, you boys do have yourselves one boiling pot here.” He took out his reading glasses and propped them on the end of his nose. Then he took them off and used them to point at each one of them. “The challenge before us, gentlemen, and this will not come as a surprise to any of you, is that we must review every step you’ve taken and every piece of evidence you’ve acquired to assure that it is legally admissible.” Sitting straighter, he again pointed with his glasses. “Now.”

Before he could continue, Doug interjected. “C. J.”

His mouth still open and holding his glasses in his outstretched hand, C. J. turned to his partner. Closing his mouth, he smiled and waved his hand, implying that Doug now had the floor.

“Remember, C. J., that we’re hired, not elected. No speeches are necessary, at least not yet.” He looked at Naldie. “As I reminded my esteemed partner, we are hired. Therefore, before proceeding, we do need to take care of that small piece of housekeeping.” Returning his gaze to C. J., he smiled and added, “You know, C. J., that if we don’t take care of that we’ll get our butts reamed by Francie, who”—he again looked at Naldie—“you know, is our office manager. And I must remind you of something else.” Gesturing to C. J. while still looking at Naldie, he continued, “My partner likes to think that C. J. stands for Chief Justice because he always likes to have the last word. But I assure you this is only partially true. But I do want you to know it does not stand for cheap justice. Raising his eyebrows a bit, he smiled before continuing. “How does that sound to you, Chief?”