Bough Cutter

by Jeff Nania

  “Oh, Amber, I am so glad you are okay. Everything is going to be just fine. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  Ed Lockridge came over and thanked me while Julie, Stella, and Amber huddled, talking quietly in the corner of the room.

  Once the Lockridges were on their way back to Spider Creek, Julie insisted she go to the hospital to team up with her friend Becky, who was joined by Martha Bork. The three strong women were doing whatever they could, offering any comfort possible, no matter how small. Parents and some siblings were by every bed.

  Those who had taken the drugs were in various treatment stages and hopefully would not have lasting health issues. The kid who smashed through the plate-glass window had numerous severe cuts that Dr. May attended to. During transport, the boy I had found on the floor had become pulseless and stopped breathing. Doctor Chali and a trauma nurse wasted no time on protocol, running right out to the loading bay when the ambulance arrived. Chali delivered what he hoped would be a lifesaving jolt of electricity to the boy’s heart. At first, nothing. Chali tried the defibrillator again. No response. As he prepared for one more try, the boy coughed and coughed again. He had a pulse. He would survive.

  The following morning we began the process of figuring it all out. The owner of the lodge was from Chicago. It was one of a number of investment properties he owned in northern Wisconsin that he rented out via the Internet. He gave us the credit card information the person who rented the lodge had used. The name on the card was Phillip Trundle. We tracked him down easily in a suburb of Milwaukee. He lived in a senior citizen residential center. I spoke with him about his credit card. He told me that he rarely used it, and he was sure it was where it should be in the corner of his top dresser drawer. He went to look, and the card was gone. A check with the issuing company showed that several thousand dollars in charges had been put on the credit card, primarily purchases at stores that carried expensive electronics that could be bought with the stolen card and then sold for cash.

  My deputies and city officers took the contact sheets and began going to each house, interviewing the kids with their parents present. The kids didn’t know much. They heard through the grapevine about a big party out at the lodge. Lots of people showed up, and things started getting pretty wild. Some people there who weren’t local were a little older, and many had tattoos. Several of the kids said the drugs were just in a baggie on a table. No one remembered anyone putting them there. The boy who had been cut up was the one who opened the bag and dumped the contents out on the table. He had a pipe with him and lit the meth up and smoked it, passing it around. Ten to fifteen minutes after smoking, the problems started. No one had any idea who rented the lodge with the stolen credit card. •

  14

  I drove over to the sheriff’s office and parked in the area behind the building. A guy was leaning against a light pole staring at me.

  I got out of my truck and walked toward him. He didn’t move. “Are you waiting to see me?” I asked.

  “Name’s Anthony Ricardo, DNE.” Surliness dripped off of him. He did not look like a cop; he looked like a street thug.

  “John Cabrelli. Thanks for returning my call,” I said, even though he hadn’t.

  “Sorry, I was out detecting. Lieutenant Malone got ahold of me and figured you could use some help. So lucky you—here I am,” he replied.

  He immediately pissed me off. “Agent Ricardo, I have had a really long couple of days, and I really don’t have any interest in smartass banter. What is it that you want?” I asked.

  “Not here. I will drive east on the highway and park behind that big billboard at that auction place that’s closed. You come on in about five minutes. Give me your cell phone number. If I get there and don’t like something, I will call you,” he said.

  Five minutes later, I pulled onto a patch of gravel behind the billboard. Ricardo got out of his car and got into mine.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sheriff Cabrelli. I’ve heard a lot about you. Some of it’s even good. Sorry, no smartass banter. I forgot. It’s just my nature. Anyway, I don’t have a bunch of time, so here’s what I think I might know.

  “There is a lot of something going on in northern Wisconsin, all involving drugs and the associated crimes. Taking out Devin Martin was a big deal. We are positive he was the guy running things up here for Deacon Gunther’s outfit. The only others we know he was running with are Jesse Gunther, Deacon’s cousin and Tony Carter, both members of a recent graduating class of state prison. By the way, they are still around. I don’t have anything for you right now on who might have taken him out. Martin was a real bad guy that ran with a bad crew.”

  “Any ideas about who else might be competing for the territory?” I asked.

  Ricardo didn’t even try to answer my question and just continued with his narrative.

  “Joe Thomas told me he talked to you. He’s a good man. So, about the rip at the casino. It seems that the masked guys who robbed Martin’s boys at the casino would be likely suspects to look at for who whacked Devin Martin. By the way, the duffle bag that got taken from Martin’s buddies was probably full of meth. Within twenty-four hours of that rip-off, a bounty of meth was hitting the street locally, so it stands to reason that the guys who grabbed it are from the immediate area. Hopefully, we’ll get something from one of the local yokels and follow the breadcrumbs back to those guys. But nothing so far. The strange thing, though, is that there hasn’t been any retaliation for Martin. At least no one has turned up any fresh bodies from the opposing side.”

  Ricardo continued, “I’m usually not interested in backwoods high school parties, but I am kind of interested in what went down here the other night. Can you help me out with that?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know everything about everything, that way I can decide what’s worth knowing. But in this case, though, just hit the high spots.”

  “Someone rented a lodge on the edge of town and threw a big party. Drugs and alcohol. Some kids OD’d.”

  “Geez, Sheriff, that’s a lot. Tell me again more slowly so I can write it down.”

  “Agent Ricardo, what do you want? Quit jerking me around.”

  “Who rented the lodge?”

  “Whoever it was used a stolen credit card issued to a Phillip Trundle in a Milwaukee suburb.”

  “Let me detect on this for a minute. Now just wait, Sheriff, it won’t take long. I bet he’s in a nursing home and didn’t even know the card was gone. How am I doing so far?”

  I didn’t answer, not wanting to encourage him.

  “Oh, oh something else. Yeah, I got something else. Is it possible that someone used that same card to buy a bunch of electronics in a one-stop shop at a local Milwaukee store? I know. Amazing, right?”

  I had known Anthony Ricardo for less than an hour. In that short time, he had successfully climbed close to the top of my list of people I couldn’t stand. Every word was another step up.

  “Aww, come on, Sheriff. Did I get it right?”

  “Ricardo, get out of my car,” I said.

  “Hold on, Sheriff. Just hold on.”

  I got out, walked over to the passenger door, opened it up, and told him to get out.

  “Aww, come on, Sheriff. Give me one more chance.”

  “Here’s your chance, Ricardo.”

  “Well, that gang Devin Martin was tied up with had a little side business going. The girls they ran with would get jobs in nursing homes and assisted living facilities. There is such a shortage of people who want these jobs that they could walk in the door and be working the next day. They figure out where the old folks keep their credit cards and rip them off the first chance they get. They walk out the door at the end of their shift, hand the cards off to one of the gang members, who buys expensive stuff that’s easy to sell on the street. Your party may be tied to Gunther’s people. I mean, there are a lot of people working credit card scams, but you gotta admit it’s interesting.”

  “
Anything else, Agent Ricardo?”

  “Yeah, there is one thing. Were you able to recover the drugs that the kids OD’d on?”

  “No, they were gone.”

  “Too bad. I would have liked to get a sample to the lab. You see, Gunther has got a lab somewhere around here. They were screwing around with some different drug concoctions. We got a sample of what they are making. It would be good to compare, but whatever. Well, Sheriff, I have taken enough of your valuable time.”

  Then he handed me a card. “This has my super-secret cell phone number on it. If you really have something, call me. I will either answer or get back to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, my crew and I will continue to detect. Later, Sheriff.”

  Ricardo got in his car and drove off.

  The early dark of fall had set in as I headed back to the office to read the officers’ reports from the party and interviews with partygoers. I didn’t learn much that I didn’t already know. No one knew who put the party together or rented the lodge. I did learn that drugs have the miraculous ability to appear from nowhere because, according to everyone we interviewed, no one knew how the drugs got to the party.

  The weight of our situation sat squarely on my shoulders. I checked for messages and felt bone-weary when I started my drive home. I parked my squad and walked up to the porch.

  The night sky was clear, the stars standing out against the pitch black. Orion the Hunter dominated the southwest sky. I looked out at the impossible space. Uncle Nick and I used to stare up at the sky at night. He tried to help me understand the concept of infinity.

  Johnny, someday when scientists begin to understand the true size of the universe, I think they will find that Earth is insignificant, its relative size no more than a speck of dust in comparison to the universe. But here tonight, the stars have come to greet us. Tonight, they shine for us.

  The chill from the cold air was comforting, and the unfrozen lake shimmered. The door opened, and Julie came out wearing Uncle Nick’s old wool sweater. She snuggled into me and put her head on my chest. I put my arm around her and pulled her close. We stood quietly, then a cold breeze coming off the lake made Julie shiver, and we went inside. The weight of our heavy wool blanket was warm and comforting as we crawled into bed. I held Julie in my arms as starlight streamed through our window, and we eventually drifted to sleep.

  I slept fitfully, my hippocampus working overtime, blending recent events with events long passed. The face of young Angelina Gonzalez again came to visit me. Julie was quietly snoring when I got up at three in the morning and went downstairs. The coals in the woodstove still glowed, and I threw in a couple of pieces of split wood that soon burst into flames. I sat in the chair with my feet up, thinking about my life. It was truly better than I ever expected it would be, yet the tragedies I had been a part of were never far from my thoughts. They would always be with me. Sometimes I felt like they were waiting around the corner, hiding in the shadows, waiting to jump out. Thankfully, at some point, I fell asleep.

  Julie woke me at six.

  “John, wake up. You were dreaming,” she said.

  We showered and dressed and lingered over coffee. Julie left for school, and I drove the backroads on my way to town. I wished we could have stayed home, taken the day to walk along the lakeshore, and sit by the fire.

  My cellphone brought me back to reality, and I rolled my eyes when I saw there was no caller ID.

  “Hey, Sheriff, I bet you’re thrilled to hear my voice so soon,” Anthony Ricardo said.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Here is the deal. You never know when something is going to come your way. Something you might like to know came my way last night. That’s if you have the time. I know you’re a busy guy.”

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “I was hoping for something a little more up close and personal, and also that Chief Bork might be able to join us. What do you think? I’ll make it worth your time.”

  “When and where do you want to meet?” I asked.

  “Don’t you have a cozy little cabin some place out in the woods? I could come out there. You know, sit by the fire with a nice cup of coffee. Tell you what, we could even have the chief pick up some scones from the bakery on his way out. Sounds like a nice morning, doesn’t it? I hate to put you out, but we ramped things up a bit, so I got to be careful about being seen with you brave men in uniform. Your cabin seems like a safe place.”

  “Fine, Agent Ricardo. I’ll give Len a call.”

  “Ah, Sheriff, could you just call me Anthony? I mean, Agent Ricardo seems so formal,” he said. I hung up on him and called Len. He agreed to meet in an hour and to bring scones. I called Ricardo back to let him know the plan.

  We sat around the kitchen table. It was warm in the cabin, and Ricardo took off his leather coat. Underneath it, he was wearing twin shoulder holsters filled with two high-capacity compact Glock pistols. It looked like a custom carry double rig based on the Miami Classic.

  Ricardo saw me looking and smiled, “I am a firm believer in the concept of the New York reload. So far, so good.”

  We drank coffee and ate the scones, but I wanted to get to the matter at hand.

  “What do you have, Agent Ricardo?”

  “Anthony, remember,” he began. “While you have been trying to keep your heads above water busting up teenage parties—nasty scratches on your face there, Chief—I have been busy detecting, and I have detected some things of interest. It appears as though two separate drug gangs are trying to expand their networks to the state’s more remote areas. One is an outlaw motorcycle gang, or OMG, based in the Twin Cities. The other is Gunther’s gang, made up of our own homegrown Wisconsin ex-convicts. Both are in a class we call ‘evolved street gangs.’ Some have even started calling them cartels. I would not give them that much credit. However, they are spreading their wings. It started with expanding to the suburbs. They found out that middle-class kids have some money to spend and were much more reliable customers.” Ricardo paused to sip his coffee. “Now they are out in the hinterland. They are finding that the wide-open spaces have a lot fewer cops per square mile, and if they keep a low profile, they can do business with less risk. Well, our bad boys from Wisconsin thought they had this sewn up.

  “Then somebody makes a play and takes out Devin Martin. The bikers look like a top candidate to me. The OMG doesn’t see the value in wasting time taking out street dealers. They want to make a statement, so they take out someone high up in the organization. We are going to have to pay special attention to the goings-on around here.

  “I have got some people on the street. They are trying to find out what they can. We are giving this whole thing a high priority. A good portion of the state is rural, and the dopers are making a real move into those areas. There is a chance, maybe a slim one, that we may be able to get a handle on this before it really gets going. That’s what we are hoping for, anyway. So, we will keep you guys in the loop, and you will keep us in the loop. My people are deep cover and real pros, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be found out. If you hear anything about somebody making one of my people, let me know immediately. We will do a risk assessment and probably pull him or her. For now, you go your way, and I’ll go mine.”

  “So how sure are you it was the people from Minneapolis who killed Devin Martin?” I asked.

  “Well, Sheriff, I am not sure at all. But you gotta admit, they are worth looking at, don’t ya think? Stay in touch, boys.” Ricardo headed out the door.

  Len and I agreed for the time being to follow Ricardo’s lead, mainly because it was currently the only game in town.

  I spent the rest of the day in the office cleaning up the paperwork that is part and parcel of this job. My lack of sleep from the night before got to me, and I was exhausted when I loaded my gear and headed for home.

  That evening, Bud joined Julie and me for dinner. Although the three of us had shared many dinners before, now that Julie and I were a couple, things were differe
nt. We were a family and vested in each other’s happiness.

  We dined on medium-rare venison backstrap and mushroom sauce. After dinner, we sat by the fire while Julie worked on student papers. Bud and I tried to play a game of cribbage, but I was too distracted, and Bud got tired of playing my hand for me.

  “That’s okay, John. I know you have a lot on your mind. I don’t even know how you can think straight with all that’s going on. Some kids did drugs when I was in school, but nothing like this. The most trouble we had was in the summer when the city kids would come up on vacation. Sure, some stuff happened, but this seems to be a whole bunch worse,” Bud said empathetically.

  “Drugs have infected our communities. There are lots of kids in our schools involved with drugs. When I get together with teachers from other districts, even the smallest ones, all are facing this problem,” Julie added.

  “I have no idea what to do. The only real answer is for people to stop using illicit drugs. Every cop on the street is fighting the drug epidemic as hard as they can, and every day it seems clearer we have lost the war on drugs. Bear told me that the government spent over forty billion dollars fighting the war on drugs last year. The real truth is, Julie, you are doing more than we are. Education is the key to everything. When you started at this school, you made a place where everyone was welcome, even those kids on the outside of things. I mean, where do you think Amber Lockridge would be without you and your school?” I asked.

  “John, I was heartsick when you called me the other night. Amber told me that her girlfriend told her about the party. She didn’t want to go, but I think she felt like she had to. She said that it was weird and wanted to go home, but her girlfriend was her ride and didn’t want to. I told her if she was ever in a spot and needed a ride or anything else, no matter what time of day or night, she could call me. She has both our home number and my cell in her phone.”

  “Did you ever find out where her mother was?”

  “‘Out’ is all she told Ed and Stella. They didn’t say it, but I think they are concerned that Crystal might be backpedaling. I don’t know.”