Firesetter in Blackwood Township, a Winnebago County Mystery

by Christine Husom

Smoke joined us. After meeting Delia, he gave Woody his sympathies and then got his signature on the fire marshal consent form. “You probably want to have a look around, huh?” Smoke said.

  “I guess I do, and I don’t.” Tears formed in Woody’s eyes. “We had horses when my son was young. But after he graduated college and moved away, we haven’t had any animals in the barn. But I was sort of attached to it anyhow. Lots of great memories from those days.”

  Delia slid her hand into his and gave his arm a gentle pull. He looked down at her and nodded. They acted like a couple that had been married for years, like they were a team that knew what the other one needed. “Let’s do it,” Woody said.

  Smoke led the pack, and I brought up the rear. Chapman was finishing his tasks and packing up his tools. Smoke introduced them then said, “Woody here is going to take a look-see then we can have a chat with him.”

  “Sounds good,” Chapman said.

  Smoke pointed out the areas Chapman had marked where the fire started and where the body of the yet-to-be-identified man had been found. Woody was in a state of total disbelief, trying to comprehend how someone had gained access to his property without his knowledge or tipping off his neighbors. “Why me, and who is this Ross Warren anyway? Did he think because I was gone so much it was okay to use my property? Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have wished the guy any harm, especially nothing like this. But I’m thinking he could’ve been the one that started the fire in the first place.”

  That was true. He may have, and it might turn out he’d set the other barns on fire as well. Could he have been the one on my back property who lost the lighter? He had a slight build, like that person had. But given his age, he could not have served in the Navy during either of the wars in question. He wasn’t Buzz.

  My cell phone dinged, and it was the message I’d been waiting for from Communications. I’d asked for Ross Warren’s driver’s license photo, and it had come through. The photo was several years old showing a younger, longer-haired Warren than I’d met two days prior. The burn victim had no hair, and that wasn’t the only component that had altered his appearance dramatically. “Excuse me, Detective Dawes and Investigator Chapman. I have something to show you,” I said. We stepped off to the side and I handed my phone to Smoke. “It’s Ross Warren’s DL photo, five years ago.”

  Smoke enlarged the image and studied it before passing it to Chapman. “Could be,” Chapman said.

  “Yep, could be,” Smoke said. “Have Communications print some copies for us to show folks when we pay them a visit later on.”

  “Will do.” We, as in Smoke and me? Maybe I wouldn’t be spying on Darcie after all. Weber would understand and give me a pass. I called Robin in Communications and passed on the request, and she said she’d have them ready for us.

  We returned to where Woody and Delia were standing. “I noticed you have a table on the patio by the house. Why don’t we go sit over there so we can talk,” Smoke said.

  We once again followed the detective and took our places on the padded chairs surrounding the glass-top table.

  Smoke, Chapman, and I all produced memo pads and pens from various pockets, ready for recording action. We noted the other barn fires in Blackwood Township and asked Woody if he believed there was any connection between the three. He didn’t. Was his barn locked? No. Then Chapman asked him if he had any idea why his barn would have burned down. No idea. There were no chemicals stored in it that could have ignited. Smoke asked if he knew why Ross Warren was on his property, helping himself to his vehicle and who knew what else. He had no clue about that either. “I know my garage was locked. I checked it before I left Monday morning.”

  I brought up the photo of Warren on my phone and passed it across to him. Woody squinted and angled his head one way then the next while he fixed his attention on the image. “It could be the Ross I told you about, Corky. The grandson of the folks I bought this farm from twenty-some-odd years ago.” He bent his head and pinched the area between his eyes. “When you work with a realtor, they take care of everything, and you don’t have a lot of contact with the owners. But we had a second look at the place before we made an offer, and the Grants were home. That’s when we met them. Their grandson was here. I think he was staying with them, and if memory serves me right, he had just graduated from high school.”

  “Do you remember anything about him? Anything that sticks out in your mind?” I said.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I got the impression there had been some kind of disagreement between him and his grandparents. You could sense the tension, but Ross kind of hung in the background. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think all that much of it at the time, which is why I pretty much forgot about it until now. Teenagers aren’t always on their best behavior.” Woody lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug.

  “Woody, you said you keep your garage door locked,” Chapman reiterated.

  “I do.”

  “And you left on this last tour Monday?”

  “Yes, early in the morning.”

  Chapman’s eyebrows came together. “And you’re sure the service door in the garage was locked before you left?”

  “Yes. I always keep it locked and don’t use that door much anyway. I got my garage door opener for the overhead when I need one of my vehicles.”

  “I see you have a security system for your house.” Chapman pointed at the notice posted on Woody’s back door.

  “Yes I do.”

  “Have you changed the locks on either your house or the garage since you’ve lived here?”

  “I got new doors and locks on the house, but not the garage.”

  “There was no sign the lock had been tampered with, so that indicates Warren had a key,” I said.

  Woody shook his head. “But if he did, why would he use it to get into my garage after all these years?”

  Smoke looked up from his memo pad. “There are many crimes of opportunity, committed on a regular basis, for a variety of reasons. Maybe Warren came back to relive some childhood memories and instead of knocking on your door and asking to have a look-see around your place, he helped himself to it instead. Why he took your Jeep is anyone’s guess.”

  “And if Corky hadn’t stopped him, I wonder if I would have even found out?” Woody said.

  “Along with diligence and hard work, there’s still a lot of what some might call lucky breaks in this business,” Chapman said.

  “We’ll need to process your Jeep, Woody. Check for fingerprints and DNA. We know it was Ross Warren who was driving it two days ago. We don’t yet have proof positive he was the one in your barn, and the test results will tell us yea or nay,” Smoke said.

  Woody kept shaking his head. “Sure. I still can’t believe any of it. How can a guy think it’s okay to break into another guy’s garage and use his vehicle? It’s got me wondering if he’s done it before.”

  “If we find Ross Warren out there somewhere we’ll arrest him for trespassing and the unauthorized use of a motor vehicle and ask him those very questions,” Smoke said.

  “And I want to talk to him about it, too,” Woody said.

  “Right.” Smoke held the clipboard with a number of forms on it. He fingered through until he found the one he needed then slid it over to Woody. “Our crime scene team has been waiting for your permission to search your vehicle, if you’ll sign this for them.” He handed him a pen.

  Woody briefly scanned the document, scribbled out his signature, then gave it back to Smoke.

  “Good deal. We’ll get right on it,” Smoke said.

  I stood up. “I’ll go let them know.”

  Before I walked away, I heard Smoke say, “A word of caution, Woody. The media will no doubt start pressing you for information, but you need to keep what we’ve discussed private for now. We don’t have an identity on the victim, and we can’t have any false statements or rumors floating around out there.”

  “I understand.”

  Deputies Brian Carlson and Todd M
ason were in the Winnebago County Sheriff’s Mobile Crime Unit. The door was open, and I climbed the steps and poked my head in. “What are you guys doing?”

  “Killing time, so we’re taking inventory of our supplies. We’ve been extra busy this week and have used up a lot,” Mason said. He pulled a big hankie out of his back pocket and ran it around his head and the back of his neck.

  “I’m here to deliver the good news that your wait is over. The owner gave us permission to process his Jeep.”

  “Sweet,” Carlson said.

  “Good deal,” Mason said.

  “Let’s get our gear on and the collection kits together,” Carlson said.

  Smoke helped Chapman load the last of his equipment into his van then Chapman hopped in and away he went. Woody and Delia had gone into the house. I thought about Weber and the day, time, and place he’d set to meet with Darcie and checked my watch: 3:48. I could still get ready, borrow Gramps’ car, and be in position by 5:45. Unless Smoke needed me to accompany him to Chaska to help with interviews.

  “Mason and Carlson will be at it for a while. You up for some more OT?” Smoke asked me. That answered my question.

  “Sure. But if we’re going to Chaska, I need to shower first. I can barely stand myself, even in the great outdoors.”

  “Yeah, I know I stink to high heaven. You head on home. I’m going to check in with Mason and Carlson, and then talk to Woody again. I’ll meet you at the office in forty minutes? You can lose the uniform, dress like a detective.”

  “Good. That’ll be about a gazillion degrees cooler.”

  “Ya think?”

  The inside of my squad car was hotter than a pistol. I started it up, cranked on the air conditioner, and then got out again to let it cool for a few minutes. I needed to touch base with Weber and dialed his number. “Hey, Sarge, what’s up?”

  “Sorry to have to bail on you, Vince, but I need to help Smoke with the investigation, see if we can get an ID on the victim.”

  “Ah, geez. Well, you know what? That’s okay. Now I just gotta decide whether I should meet Darcie after all.”

  “I think you should. You need to cut the ties with her. She needs to understand that she can’t keep bugging you.”

  “I know, I know. Since I didn’t find anything with her DNA on it at my place, I’ll see if I can snatch her wine glass or something.”

  “That’ll work, unless it doesn’t. What about telling her about the dead rabbit and the blood, see how she reacts.”

  “I thought about that too. Maybe I will. But I was sort of waiting to see what the DNA test tells us.”

  “Either way. If it turns out she’s the one who left the rabbits all we could charge her with is trespassing. The veterinarian didn’t find an obvious cause of death for the one left at my place. No poison, no injuries. The blood drop, on the other hand, could constitute harassment. And the phone calls and messages fit the definition of stalking in the statute.”

  “I know. She’s gotta stop that shit.”

  “Vince, how about you conduct a covert operation of your own? Take a short video for me with your cell phone. Your personal cell.”

  “Ah, geez. I don’t think that’ll work, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good luck tonight. I’ll hold good thoughts for you.” And say a prayer.

  “Thanks, Sarge. I’ll catch you later and hopefully give you some good news.”

  We hung up, and I climbed back into my much cooler vehicle, headed home, showered, dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and navy pants, took care of Queenie, and was back at the office ahead of Smoke.

  I went straight to Communications for the printouts. Robin had gone off duty, but Jody knew where they were. In the out-going tray by the fax machine on the front desk. “Thanks,” I called out and carried the stack to the squad room.

  I sat down at the table and studied Ross Warren’s photo for the umpteenth time. He had aged substantially from his early to late thirties, an indication he’d had a hard life, or a chemical addiction, or serious physical or mental-health problems. Or all of the above. People with mental health issues often self-medicated, and that led to a multitude of complications, like problems with family and friends, job retention, and money for food and housing. We’d see what the MEs uncovered at autopsy.

  Smoke sent me a text asking where I was then found me a minute later. “Feeling better?” he said.

  “You know it.”

  “I do too.” When he stepped in beside my chair our clean-soap aromas told me we smelled better too. “The enlarged photos of Warren?” He picked up one of the printouts and looked it over. “And this is his current address?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Let’s see if we can either track him down, or find someone who knows him.”

  But our efforts proved to be exercises in futility.

  24

  Belle and Birdie

  “Birdie, the officers have finished up at the farm. Everyone’s gone home,” Belle said.

  Birdie turned to her with a blank look on her face.

  “I was there and saw them. That detective who didn’t help us, the sergeant who likes snooping around but didn’t figure out what we needed, and the other deputies, including the one who called us that name that hurt us so bad. They were all there.”

  Birdie nodded, and her frown left small creases on her forehead.

  “I don’t know, Birdie. Now that we’ve taken care of one of our true enemies, I don’t feel the same need to go after the ones who were more incompetent than anything else.”

  Birdie nudged Belle with her shoulder.

  “You think we should? Well, I guess we have a good enough supply in the freezer. I’ll see what I can do. Some are easier to get to than others, you know.”

  Birdie looked up at the cloudless sky, and it sounded to Belle like she sighed.

  25

  We had no problem locating the four-plex listed on Ross Warren’s driver’s license. The problem was the man who opened the door told us he had lived there for three years and had no idea who the man in the photo was. Nor had he ever met anyone named Ross Warren.

  “Do you happen to know if any of your neighbors have lived here longer than you have?” Smoke said.

  “The couple just below me was here when I moved in. The other two have changed renters, one of them at least twice that I know of,” he said.

  “We’ll check with them. And what’s your name and date of birth, sir?”

  Smoke thanked him after he got the information, and we went back down the stairs. He knocked on the steel door of a first-floor apartment, and a woman about my age opened the door. Her eyes widened when Smoke held up his badge and gave our names and department. “What is it?” she said.

  “We have a couple of questions about a former neighbor of yours. Ross Warren. Lived upstairs?” Smoke said.

  Her look changed from alarm to apathy. “What do you want to know?”

  “Maybe we could step inside for a minute,” Smoke said.

  “Okay.” She moved aside, and we went in. The apartment was decorated with too many Precious Moments figurines for my taste, but to each their own. She stood by the kitchen counter, so we did too. Smoke got her name and date of birth then asked her about Ross Warren and if she knew when he’d moved away, or knew of any family members. She said he’d moved out right before the current tenant moved in, and didn’t know much about him at all.

  “To tell you the truth, I kind of avoided him. He struck me as a little creepy.”

  “In what way?” Smoke said.

  “The way he’d stare at me made me uncomfortable,” she said.

  “Did he ever say anything offensive?”

  “No, nothing like that. But my husband and I agreed to keep our distance. Not very neighborly, I know.”

  “It’s good to follow your instincts, because you don’t always know about people,” Smoke said, and I nodded.

  “Yes. So why are you looking for him, if
I can ask?”

  “We’re working on an investigation, and his name came up,” he said.

  “Oh. So that’s what you meant when you said it was good I followed my instincts.”

  Smoke smiled. “Ah, not specifically, but I guess you get the point.”

  “Well this is a fine kettle of fish,” Smoke muttered when we were back in his car.

  “I had a feeling Warren wasn’t being truthful when I asked him if the address on his DL was current. He said the address was right. Not exactly a straight answer.”

  Smoke started his car and headed toward home. “Not to mention that he out-and-out lied about helping Woody and having permission to use his car.”

  “I know. But I couldn’t reach Woody, and the Jeep wasn’t in the system as stolen, so I had no reason to detain him. I just wish I had followed up, stopped by Woody’s place yesterday, or even this morning.”

  “Twenty-twenty hindsight, as they say. But Woody wouldn’t have been there anyhow, and chances are slim to none you’d have found Ross Warren. He must have kept a very low profile to not have stirred the neighbors’ suspicions.”

  “It makes you wonder where the guy has been the last three years, and when he showed up at Woody’s place in the first place. How long did he fly under the radar?” I said.

  “Could be he’s been homeless. Moving around. That camper’s pack Chapman found indicates as much.”

  “And no vehicles registered to him.”

  “Maybe he has a regular circuit, and Woody’s place is one of his stops. He’s got a key to his garage, helps himself to the Jeep when he figures it’s safe. Crashes in the barn. Woody doesn’t use it, so what the hell?” Smoke said.

  “The irony in all this is, if Woody had gotten my message Warren would still be alive.”

  “Hey, we’re talking like the body in the barn in fact belongs to him. And we don’t have confirmation of that yet.”

  “And if it isn’t, then we’ve got an even bigger kettle of fish.”

  “No doubt.” Smoke’s phone rang. “It’s the ME’s office,” he relayed as he pushed Talk. “Detective Dawes. . . . You have? That’s good. . . . Tomorrow at nine? We haven’t been able to track down Warren, or his next of kin yet, but we’ll keep looking. I may do a media release of his photo, ask the public’s help locating him or someone in his family. . . . All right, well hang tight. . . . Thanks.” He disconnected. “They’re getting restless and would like to autopsy our barn body tomorrow.”