The Big Thaw Part 9

"True," I said.

He went on, to reiterate the points he and Art had discussed when I was getting the snowmobile information. They'd covered the ground pretty well, because he ticked off the main points, rapid-fire, almost like he was reading them.

"And I understand that you don't believe the only logical suspect did it?"

"Havin' a hard time with it," I said.

"Houseman, I don't know what to do with you some of the time." He chuckled. "But you do know a lot about these people around here." He chuckled again. "From your uniform days."

"That would have been yesterday ..." I looked over at him. "You got that from Art."

"Oh, yeah. He thinks relating to people is some sort of disease that comes from wearing uniforms. You having any problems working with your ex-chief deputy?"

"Yeah. But I can cope."

"What are you thinking about doing to settle the question about this suspect kid?"

"We got the cops in Oelwein talking to the family of the two dead guys. I figure I'll go talk to Fred's mom and sister tomorrow. Then Fred, if his a.s.shole attorney will let me," I said, turning into Borglan's driveway.

"Check with me before you talk to this Fred?"

"I'll make sure Art talks to the aunt," he said.

It was getting a little dark, by this time, with the sun having disappeared behind Borglan's hill. Kind of pretty, with the sunlight across the little valley, and the shade in the yard. There were lights on in the living room, but I couldn't see anybody around. Three pickups in the yard, one of them brand-new, and one of them a twenty-year-old rolling wreck. Quite a contrast.

We knocked on the door, and after about fifteen seconds, during which I was sure we were being observed, Cletus answered the door.

"Mark Davies from the Iowa Attorney General's office. I'm here to look at the crime scene. I'm the prosecuting attorney in the murder case. I'll look around outside for a bit while you contact your attorney. Then I'll want to take a quick look around inside."

"I don't think so," said Cletus.

"We have this scale in the AG's office. Starts at Interference with Official Acts, goes to obstructing, ends up at coconspirator. A coconspirator, in this case, can get out in maybe fifty years. Talk with your attorney, while we check a couple of things out here." Very fast, but very pleasant. Said completely deadpan, and then ending with that infectious smile of his. Just like in court.

"I'll call him right now," said Cletus.

"Well, I hope to h.e.l.l you will," said Davies. "It's cold out here."

While we waited, I showed Davies around. He was especially interested in the shed where I'd found the two bodies.

"No point in wading through the snow," he said. "Just rea.s.sure me that you could see a track leading to the shed from the house."

"Sure. No problem."

"You get photos of it?"

"It was pretty faint. I sure hope so."

"Me too." He looked over the garage. "Impressive. Not the 'poor' farmer, is he?"

"Hardly. Smart, and a h.e.l.l of a worker. That, and a little luck, you can make it."

"Yeah." He cupped his hands, and blew into them, to warm his face. "Let's go bug Cletus. I'm getting cold."

This time, Cletus invited us in. "He says to cooperate with you."

"You got a good attorney," said Davies. "They are so so rare these days. So," he said to me, "where did the dirty deed happen?" rare these days. So," he said to me, "where did the dirty deed happen?"

I showed him. We spent all of five minutes examining the living room, the bas.e.m.e.nt steps, and looking out the bas.e.m.e.nt door. I was brief to the point of terse, not wanting to give anything away. Davies was even more controlled, just making little humming sounds once in a while. He took no notes.

There were at least two other people in the house. One was a sixty-year-old farmer I knew, but whose name I couldn't remember. I did know he was the owner of the ugly pickup in the yard, now that I saw him. The other man was about forty or so, and one of the people we'd seen here earlier today.

Cletus stayed right with us during the whole inspection. When we'd finished, Davies turned to him, abruptly.

"So, what do you think happened?"

"Huh?"

"You. What do you think about this?"

"I'm just wondering," said Cletus, "why the Iowa AG is involved in this."

"It's what you pay us to do," said Davies. "You have no ideas, huh?"

"Why would you want to know what I think?"

Frankly, I was sort of asking myself the same question.

"Thought you could help us with what you thought they might be after." Davies paused. "And if you had any thoughts on who could have been here when they arrived."

"Beats me," said Cletus.

"You own any snowmobiles?" asked Davies.

"Nope. Not anymore, gave one to Harvey Grossman. Junked the rest."

"You just gave it to him? Just like that?"

"No use for the things anymore. He needs them to do ch.o.r.es."

We headed toward the door. "If you find anything unusual that we missed," I said, following routine, "let us know, would you?"

"You people sure do try," said Cletus. Once again, there was a sarcastic ring to his voice that bothered me. Like he was trying for innuendo, and missing his target. He was sure missing if I was his target, anyway.

We opened the door.

"My attorney said to cooperate, but not to say anything." Cletus shrugged. "I guess you'll have to earn your keep without me doin' your work for you." He paused a second, but couldn't resist. "But, like I said before, there was n.o.body home."

"You have any thoughts, check with your attorney, and then give us a call," said Davies.

"What about the black helicopter?"

I looked at the speaker, the forty-year-old I didn't recognize. "What?"

"We saw it," he said, with an air of accusation and defiance. "Who was flying it?"

"I don't know his name," I said, "but I was in it. I waved. Did you see me?"

Silence.

"Thanks again," said Davies, and we trudged across the yard to my car.

As soon as we got in the car, Davies started to laugh. "'We saw it,'" he mimicked. He looked at me. "Houseman, you smart a.s.s. You actually waved?"

"Yeah. They were outside, right under us, looking up. Just a reaction, I guess."

"How high were you?"

"Oh, thousand feet, more or less."

"An Army-green Huey?"

I nodded.

"Black Helicopter. Great observers," he said. "Must have shaken the whole house. Hey, while we're out here, show me where they went over the fence." He sighed.

"Yeah. We better go to Grossman's and check the d.a.m.ned VINs on those snowmobiles."

On the way, I showed him the entry tracks. It was pretty dark by then, and I had my headlights on. I s.h.i.+ned a flashlight out the window, showing him the path. All he did was make that little humming sound. With my window rolled down, I found myself thinking about how alert I was, again. Nothing like bitterly cold air to wake you up.

We went directly to Grossman's, and I cashed in my marker with a request to look at the VIN numbers on the snowmobiles. It took about five minutes, but I found them all, and wrote them down. I thanked him.

Davies gazed out the window on the way back. "You know, without anything linking him to the inside of that house, Fred could walk." He leaned back in his seat. "All we got him on is conspiracy to commit a burglary. That works. He said he took 'em there for the purpose of burgling. They sure were where he said they'd be. Packaged. Nicely packaged."

"What ... you think he delivered delivered them?" them?"

He snorted. "No, probably not. But it's a possibility isn't it? Somebody says, 'Hey, I wanna kill your cousins ...' and Fred sets the boys up."

I thought about it for a second. "Too many possibilities, not enough leads," I said. "We could be chasing our tails forever ..."

We drove about another mile.

"You get the feeling," I said, "that there's something missing?"

He snorted. "Like evidence?"

"Not so much evidence ... more like information information."

We got back to the Sheriff's Department fully intending to have supper with Art. Instead, we found a bit of a flap. Fred had bonded out on the burglary charges.

Eight.

Tuesday, January 13, 1998, 1750 Art was p.i.s.sed off, and Lamar was simply frustrated. Fred's bond had been set at $13,000.00, a so-called "scheduled" bond, that was used when a magistrate wasn't immediately available to set one. Lawyer Priller found one, though, and he convinced him to agree on a 10 percent posting. Fred had left us for the princely sum of $1,300.00.

"Don't worry about it," said Davies. "I'm just glad you didn't do something dumb, like charge him with murder."

As it turned out, that's exactly what Art had wanted to do, and had been dissuaded by Lamar, who had maintained that there was insufficient evidence to smack him with a murder charge.

"Let's put it this way," said Davies. "You lay a murder charge on him, I've got forty-five days to make the entire case, unless he waives his right to a speedy trial." He shook his head. "You know about backlogs at the lab. No guarantee everything will be done in forty-five days. I have other trials scheduled, in the next forty-five days. You charge him now, he demands speedy trial, he walks, free. Period."

He looked at Art. "What's the hurry? He ain't goin' nowhere." He grinned. "I a.s.sume, at least, that you told him not to leave town?"

"Absolutely." Art seemed a bit mollified.

I'd been checking the VINs I'd gotten from the snowmobiles against the list Sally had given me. Two were from Cletus Borglan. I announced that.

"Is this, like, significant?" asked Art.

"Beats me," I said. "Just an error in memory, maybe." Cletus had said that he gave Grossman one and junked the rest.

"I prefer to go to trial with a ninety-five percent chance of winning," said Davies, ignoring the Art and Carl show. "The five percent being the whim of the jury. I'll be happy with seventy-five percent, and I've gone in with about a sixty percent chance, but I really don't like to do that. Right now, this one would be about fifty-fifty. Maybe less. With a circ.u.mstantial case, and a local jury, I don't think we could pull it off."

"What if the lab doesn't give us anything linking Fred to the scene?" I asked. "Then what do we do?"

"If that happens," said Davies, "you do lots and lots of interviews, of lots and lots of people. And if we still come down with Fred being the only possibility, then ..." He paused. "Then we go the grand jury route, get an indictment, and see if we can convince him to cop a plea."

"Nothing personal," said Art, "but that's not much of a plan."

"You are so right," said Davies. "And that's just the best possible scenario if the lab doesn't link him. The very best."

"So," I said, "where's that leave us?"

"The no-link bit, you mean?"

"Yep."

"That leaves us with very little," said Davies. "Or, to use a legal term, up s.h.i.+t Creek without a paddle."

"Don't worry," said Art. "He did it, and the lab will find a link."

Davies looked at him. "You must have taken a confidence-building course recently."

"I just don't accept defeat," said Art, "when I know I'm right."