by Jeff Nania
“I feel like we are making progress. The volunteer program I put in place for the parents in our school is paying dividends. Most of the parents seem more engaged with their kids and the education process as a whole. The number of parents volunteering has increased. I think that is mostly due to peer pressure and the fact that they have found the school to be a welcoming environment. I still have some problems, though.
“Danny showed up at school for his conference with his dad, who was clearly drunk. He wasn’t a problem, but I knew talking to him was a waste of time. He kept repeating over and over how he never went to school and turned out alright, but he wanted something better for Danny. They were the last conference I had at school today, so I gave them both a ride home. Danny’s dad didn’t care for the idea and said he was fine to drive. Then someplace in the back of his alcohol-soaked brain he remembered that my significant other was the sheriff, and he agreed to the ride.
“After I dropped them off, I drove out to Amber Lockridge’s place way out on Highway B. Her mother doesn’t have a driver’s license right now, so we agreed to meet at the house. I pulled up in front of their house, and Amber came out in a hurry, slamming the front door behind her. She stopped me before I could get out and said she was sorry that I drove all the way out, but they needed to cancel the meeting. It seems her mom was sick.
“I asked her what was wrong with her, and Amber said she just had the flu, but that she is very contagious and didn’t want me to get it. Her mom told her that she would call into school for another appointment.
“I had a feeling that something else was wrong. But Amber was adamant that she was fine, and her mother just had the flu. I asked to talk to her mom for a minute, just to make sure she was okay. Amber stood in front of the door and gave me an emphatic ‘No!’ Then she went inside and closed the door behind her,” Julie finished and let out a long sigh.
She continued after a moment, “Amber and her mom have had a tough go of it. Her mother and father never married and lived together on and off. Her dad was bad news. I know he had a police record, I think for selling drugs. I don’t know for sure. I also don’t know if her mother has a drug problem, but that’s the local rumor.”
“Was? Where’s the father now?” I asked.
“He’s dead. I’m not positive, but I think he drowned. I don’t even know how long ago. I do know it was before I met Amber.”
“So it’s just Amber and her mother living out there?”
“As far as I know,” Julie answered.
“How does she get to school if her mother doesn’t drive and she lives way out in the country?” I asked.
“Her grandparents, Ed and Stella Lockridge, bring her and pick her up every day. They also volunteer in the school from time to time, especially when it comes to outdoor biology lessons. They are a wealth of knowledge about the outdoors. Bud knows them pretty well. Like many people up here, they are good folks, making their living pretty much off the land. In the summer, they can and freeze everything they need then drop the rest off at the food pantry. In the fall, they shoot a couple of deer for the freezer. Pretty much takes care of what they need. They also run a trapline. Every year we have the local warden come in as part of teaching hunter safety, and the Lockridges bring in tanned furs from all sorts of animals for the kids to see. When they first started coming, the students were a little standoffish.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Her grandpa has a long white beard and long white hair. The only color to his hair is a brown ring around his mouth from smoking. Her grandma has long gray hair down to the middle of her back that she wears in a braid as thick as your wrist. Their clothes are worn but clean, and they are good with the students. The kids have warmed up to them, and it seems like Amber is proud they come. They are skillful in outdoor ways. Every year at school, we have a lumberjack challenge. Working in teams, the kids perform a series of tasks: make a fire, cook their own lunch, build a shelter out of logs and branches. Once that’s all done, we end it with three competitions: log roll, crosscut saw, and axe throwing. I asked the Lockridges this year if they would help prepare the kids for the day. It turns out that Ed used to compete in lumberjack contests. A local logger dropped off a big tree stump for the kids to use for a target in the axe throw. Ed picked up the axe, and the students gathered around him. After explaining what they had to do, he gave them a demonstration. He took the axe, raised it above his head, and let it fly. The axe hit right in the center of the bullseye we had drawn on the stump. It was buried so deep it took one of the bigger boys to pull it out.”
“Sound like folks I would like to meet someday,” I said.
“They don’t live too far from us as the crow flies. Maybe ten miles away on Spider Creek.”
“Any chance they could take over as Amber’s guardians?” I asked.
“It is not something they will consider. I already broached the subject. They said that without Amber, their daughter would not survive. It’s the only thing she has left. The good news is that Amber is a great student and smart as a whip. She is already taking advanced placement classes online. We have cooperative agreements with many companies and organizations that help students continue on a successful path once they leave here.”
“Julie, you are truly a hero. What would these kids do without you?”
“I am no hero, John. The kids who pull themselves out of challenging circumstances are.”
She settled back and took her first sip of wine. I had warmed up enough dinner for both of us when she was ready. Then the house phone rang. I was hesitant, but I picked it up.
My hello was answered with a “Quack.”
“Hello, Sheriff. Charlie Newlin here.”
“Thanks for calling, Charlie. Do you have some news on the plant?”
“I certainly do. The plant had begun to flower when it was killed. The flowers had not yet opened, and the pollen was not yet exposed. The plant’s stem was almost completely severed with a small crushed area that kept it attached to the stem remaining in the ground. So the plant would have used up the remaining nutrients in short order. The internal tissue in the stem measured—”
I interrupted him. “Charlie, hold on a minute. I am interested in all of this, but I just need to know when the plant died.”
“Oh, of course, Sheriff. The plant died in the middle to late part of August. No later than the end of the month and no earlier than the second week of August. We would like to continue and try to pinpoint the date if you don’t mind. The students are very engaged with this project, and I am not one to ignore the importance of enthusiasm when it comes to science.”
“This is great information, Charlie. Where is the plant now?”
“It is sitting atop my antique oak bookshelf, sealed in its plastic bag. It has never left my sight, and I would be glad to testify to that in the highest court in the land,” he replied.
“How long do you think you will need the plant to finish your studies?”
“I have requisitioned the vans for tomorrow. With your permission, we would like to go to the scene of the plant’s demise to gather additional evidence.”
“Let me think for a minute before I answer,” I said and paused momentarily to consider the request. “I will check with the crime scene crew to make sure they are done with the scene. If they are, I will have them send you the coordinates and you can have at it. Keep your eyes open for anything else that might turn up. More eyes on the scene the better.”
“Oh, my gosh! This plant is really part of a crime scene?”
“It is part of a death investigation, yes,” I replied.
Professor Newlin confirmed my suspicion. The passenger’s door had been opened and closed approximately a month before the grouse hunters came upon the vehicle. It was not a definitive piece of case closing evidence, but it was something. The question was, opened and closed by whom?
Julie and I ate our dinner in relative silence, both deep in our thoughts.
The
n she said, “John, I am not asking you to do anything, so don’t. But I am wondering if Amber’s mom is involved in drugs right now.”
“I am pretty sure I could find out,” I replied.
“I am not comfortable snooping into my students’ lives. I am their teacher, and there are limits to what I should be doing. I wouldn’t do anything to compromise my relationship with any of them. Trust is a real issue, and they need to trust me.”
“I agree with everything you’re saying. But you are talking to an investigator, and I will always check things out. I try to do it carefully, but you never know. If you are interested, why don’t you just search public court records first? It is an easy search form. Just type in the last name and first name to get started. Then whittle down the results by dates of birth that correspond to the approximate age of Amber’s mom. There is no record of your search. We use CCAP all the time for quick records searches. I can pull up the website if you want.”
“John, I just don’t know,” Julie replied with hesitation in her voice.
“How about this: I will look for you, and if there is anything important, I will let you know?”
A look of relief washed over Julie’s face. “Her name is Crystal Lockridge. I think she is in her thirties.”
I turned on my Toughbook laptop and got into court records quickly. Crystal Lockridge was definitely a presence on the court records. She had two convictions for theft by fraud, one conviction for battery, another for child abuse, and three convictions for possession of a controlled substance. Notably, no charges or activity existed during the last few years.
“She’s here, Julie. Do you want to know?”
“Is it bad, John?”
“Well, it’s not good. Although there has been nothing for a while, and she is not on probation. I could pull the files on all the cases. It looks like most of the charges came out of my department or the city PD, so I can read them to get more details if you want. “
“No, let’s just let it go for now.”
Julie went upstairs with her second glass of wine, a rarity, and ran a hot bath in the whirlpool tub. Then she settled in to relax.
I used the opportunity to get into my department’s files and educate myself on Crystal Lockridge. I did not consider this to be betraying Julie’s trust. I felt it was more due diligence on my part.
The theft by fraud charges were regarding unauthorized use of a credit card. She had stolen the card from her significant other at the time, a guy named Travis Winslow. Travis Winslow first stole the card from an elderly woman he did odd jobs for. Crystal used the card with abandon until the law caught up with her. She agreed to pay restitution and serve ten days in jail.
The conviction for battery came close on the heels of the credit card issue. The significant other she had stolen the card from confronted her at a bar. She must have had enough of him because she pounded some knots on his head with the closest available blunt object: a pool cue. He disarmed her and slapped her around. Sheriff’s deputies got to the tavern on the edge of town and took them both to jail.
The charge for child abuse was something different. Crystal had a brush with an overdose. Amber was nine at the time. She could not wake her mother and did the only thing she could do, and that was call 911. EMS and a patrol deputy showed up. They hauled Crystal off to the hospital and called the Namekagon County social worker on duty for Amber. The trailer they lived in, according to the report, was “akin to a toxic waste dump.” A check with the school district indicated Amber had not been to school in over a month. Amber’s grandparents came when the social worker called them. She was temporarily placed with them. The investigating officer who noted everything about the living conditions asked the social worker to contact crisis intervention and get an evaluation in the works.
The next three charges read like they were from the addict’s handbook. She is stopped for speeding by the state patrol. The trooper runs her name, and low and behold, her driver’s license is revoked for failure to pay a previous fine. He arrests her. During the search incident to arrest, the trooper finds two meth eight-balls.
She goes to court on the traffic charges and agrees to pay a fine within sixty days. A preliminary hearing is set for the drug charges, and they let her sign a five-hundred-dollar signature bond. The problem is she is dead broke and doesn’t have the money to pay the traffic fine, much less the money to make good on the bond. So, she misses the court date and doesn’t pay the fines. After ninety days, they issue a warrant for her arrest, adding bail jumping to the growing list. A couple of months after the warrants are issued, she is involved in an altercation at a downtown bar. The police are called, and a Musky Falls officer recognizes her. He runs her name, and all the warrants pop up. He arrests her, and when he searches her, he finds a baggie containing methamphetamines. In addition to the previous charges, she is now also charged with possession of a controlled substance and disorderly conduct for the incident that brought them all to the bar in the first place. She begins to spiral down.
She is facing all these charges, and something interesting happens. The State Department of Narcotics Enforcement was working with my department and the Musky Falls PD on some undercover drug stuff. According to the report, Crystal, who doesn’t have any visible means of support, is popped by an undercover agent. At the bust, Crystal attacks the agent and takes off running. She is tackled by backup. In the backpack, she was carrying twenty one-eighth-ounce baggies of meth packaged and ready for sale. It seems that Crystal had become a dealer. Based on the court report, it appears as if she bought her way out of a felony possession with intent to deliver with some cooperation.
Then that’s it. Nothing further on the record, anyway. I had some questions, and when I went into the office in the morning, I would check out a couple of things. Just for the heck of it, I wanted to find out who Travis Winslow was.
Julie came out from her bath wrapped in a fluffy robe, rosy-cheeked, and looking relaxed.
“Did you find out anything on Crystal?”
I was caught, and the look on my face must have told her so.
“Relax. I knew the minute I asked whether you could do it, you would at the first opportunity. You are who you are, John Cabrelli.”
I told Julie what I found out. A girl who lives her life looking for silver linings was encouraged that Amber’s mom appeared to be clean.
“Maybe she really had the flu, and I was just too harsh.”
“Maybe so,” I replied.
The cabin was cool. Although the logs that made up the structure were perfectly set and the cabin was masterfully built and tight against the wind, cold air coming down from the arctic put a chill in the air. We crawled under our five-point Hudson Bay blanket and were soon asleep. •
7
In the morning, we awoke to a light dusting of new snow that had snuck in overnight. The temperature had dropped to a frosty twenty-five degrees, according to our thermometer. I got to making a fire while Julie started whipping up some breakfast. She was making a pile of bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. The smell of freshly brewed local roast coffee filled the air.
“Are you expecting company?” I asked.
“Did you forget Bud is coming out this morning to help you bring in the boat dock?”
It had slipped my mind completely. “Oh yeah, right.”
Bud was more like Julie’s brother than her cousin. He was a mountain-size man, known far and wide for his strength and ability as a handyman. There was nothing he could not repair or build. As big as he was, Bud was a gentle soul and friend to all without a mean bone in his body.
A few minutes later, his giant four-wheel drive, crew cab, one-ton pickup pulled into the yard with his snowplow attached. He shut off the diesel and, at the top of his lungs, boomed out, “YO HO!” He was practicing for the annual YO HO contest held each year before the Nordic ski race.
I opened the door and in he came.
“Geez, you guys, the weatherman didn’t say a word abo
ut snow, but we sure got some. The wind is supposed to kick up during the day. As light as that snow is, it’ll really be moving around. Anyway, I figured I might as well put the plow on. I will probably need it sooner than later. Old man winter is just around the corner. Ah, what is that I smell? Pancakes?”
“Sure are, Bud.”
“Rose’s recipe?”
“Of course. Would you expect anything else?”
“Nope. I sure am hungry.”
Julie was a cook renowned for her breakfasts and walleye dinners. Either one was so good you could hardly stand to eat it. She presented us with heaping platters of pancakes and smokehouse bacon that had come from the neighbor down the road. The syrup was made from tapping the sap from local sugar maple trees. Each spring, when the sap began to run, her students would tap into the trees. They would attach a clear hose to each tap and run it into a five-gallon bucket with a lid. Once the buckets were full, they dumped the sap into a large cooking vat elevated on some concrete blocks over a wood fire. When the vat was full, they began the process of boiling down and adding sap. It took about forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup. Their goal was to produce enough syrup for each student to take a quart home. They also distributed half-pint jars wrapped with ribbons to local, mostly elderly people. The whole activity was a big hit with the kids and the community.
I would have gladly testified under oath that the maple syrup on top of those pancakes was the best I had ever tasted. After breakfast, Bud and I dutifully began to help clean up. Before we could start with dishes, Julie stopped us.
“I can take care of these dishes. You two better get going if you’re going to get the dock in. Don’t you also need to winterize the outboard motor?”
“Yep, we’ve waited long enough. We’ll do the boat first,” Bud said.
We walked out onto the dock. Our little fourteen-foot F-7 Alumacraft was on a boat hoist with the old fifteen horsepower flat top Evinrude mounted securely on the transom.
A little snow had covered the deck and the seats. I started brushing it off and throwing it into the lake.
