Body Over Troubled Waters

by Denise Swanson

  If Wally had worked for a larger police department, he would have had his IT department scour their databases for the information. But in a small town, it was quicker to make a few telephone calls and ask the local gossips for the guy’s current location.

  He’d been a little surprised to hear that the man Wraige had ousted in a fit of pique was now living along the river, deep in Red Ragger territory. He’d moved from a relatively nice neighborhood to literally the wrong side of the tracks.

  As Wally slowly drove by the Doozier property searching for Makowski’s new residence, he noticed that even covered in a blanket of pristine snow, Earl’s place looked awful. Car parts, dead appliances, and broken-down furniture led to a peeling front door. The ramshackle fence surrounding the backyard still leaned inward, one strong breeze from falling over.

  However, there was something new sitting up next to the road. A rudimentary plywood booth with a satellite dish perched on top of the decrepit roof. A crudely painted sign proclaimed:

  FREE WHY-FRY

  SMOOCHES $1 EACH

  WET ONES $5

  As Wally drove by, he saw that inside the slapdash structure, there was an old worn-out recliner. Surrounding the chair was a carpet of beer cans.

  He scowled at the sight of Earl’s latest get-rich-quick scheme. Which Doozier family members worked the booth? It had better not be any of their underage children.

  Wally’s lips tightened and he narrowed his eyes. He allowed the Dooziers quite a bit of leeway, but if Earl was forcing his kids to kiss strangers, he’d throw the man’s scrawny butt in jail so fast it would make his head spin faster than Linda Blair’s had in The Exorcist.

  Afraid that he’d forget if he waited until he got back to the station, Wally radioed Thea and instructed her to have all patrols swing by the Doozier property. They were to log in who, if anyone, was manning the kissing booth and to notify Wally immediately if the worker appeared to be under the age of eighteen.

  Before signing off, Wally gave the dispatcher his intended location. A few seconds later, he stopped the Hummer in front of a tall wooden gate blocking the entrance to an evergreen-lined lane. He turned off the SUV, then studied the chained and padlocked entrance.

  It looked as if Makowski didn’t want any unexpected visitors.

  Wally’s cop instincts kicked into high hear. What was the man hiding?

  Exiting the Hummer, Wally opened the back and put on his body armor and his tactical jacket with POLICE stenciled across the back. He checked that the side waist zippers were open for access to his duty belt, then he maneuvered around the gate. He’d have to walk the rest of the way.

  There hadn’t been a No Trespassing sign, so Wally was fairly certain he didn’t need a warrant to approach the house. To be absolutely certain, he should have contacted the city attorney. But he was only here to chat with a person of interest, not make any arrests, and sometimes it was better to apologize than ask permission.

  Trudging down the long icy path, Wally tried to be as quiet as possible. The uneven dirt surface made it a challenge, but in a situation like this, with a possible murder suspect, it was best to approach the man’s residence and reconnoiter before making his presence known.

  As he rounded a slight bend in the lane, Wally suddenly stopped. What was that odor? It almost smelled as if someone was baking bread. He sniffed again. It was definitely yeasty. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was vaguely familiar.

  He moved noiselessly toward the scent. Abruptly, he stepped behind a huge Douglas fir. Peering between the branches, he saw a guy kneeling by a large copper container that had to be over five feet tall. It had tubing coming out of the top that bent toward the ground.

  Having grown up in Texas Hill Country, Wally recognized the apparatus, and now that he’d seen the equipment, he realized the smell was alcohol distilling. Both the equipment and the unlicensed production of liquor were illegal in Illinois.

  Earlier, Wally had pulled up Makowski’s driver’s license photo, and although the man looked worse for wear, the moonshiner was definitely the ex–bus driver. His new occupation explained why the guy had moved from his pleasant house in town out to the sticks. Here, there were no snooping neighbors to turn him in for his unlawful activities.

  Well, that is except for the Dooziers. And they were probably Makowski’s best customers.

  Retrieving his phone from the case attached to his duty belt, Wally swiped the video button and aimed it at Makowski. The recording wouldn’t be admissible in court, but the ex–bus driver probably didn’t know that, so it was good leverage when Wally questioned him about the superintendent’s murder.

  When Makowski finished up and left the little clearing, Wally returned to the driveway. He wanted to approach the residence from the front so as not tip off the guy that he knew about his illegal moonshining activities.

  Wally walked up the neatly kept sidewalk to the front entrance and rang the bell. A few seconds later Makowski opened the door.

  “Mr. Makowski?” Wally said, wanting the guy to formally confirm his identity.

  “Yes.” Although Wally could tell the man was nervous, the ex–bus driver’s tone was genial. “Chief Boyd. What brings you out here?”

  Wally’s smile was affable. “I’d like to speak to you about Dr. Wraige.”

  “What about him?” Makowski leaned casually against the doorframe, giving no indication that hearing his previous employer’s name alarmed him.

  “I understand you and he parted ways under unpleasant circumstances.” Wally took a step forward.

  The man didn’t budge. Interesting! Usually, people instinctively moved aside.

  “That’s not exactly a secret.” Makowski shrugged. “He brought the incident in front of the board and made sure that it became a matter of public record. It was his way of guaranteeing that I wouldn’t be hired by any other district or school bus company.”

  “Why was he so vindictive?” Wally moved closer to the threshold. “It’s mighty cold out here. Could we go inside and talk?”

  “Sorry, the place is a mess.” Makowski’s grin didn’t match the expression in his eyes. “My wife would be mortified if I let you see it this way.”

  Wally pasted a concerned expression on his face and chuckled. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with the missus.”

  “Speaking of that.” Makowski inched backward and started closing the door. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I can hear the wife putting lunch on the table so I need to go eat.”

  “That’s a shame because the food might end up going to waste.” Wally stuck his foot in the doorway, whipped out his phone, and said, “Take a look at this, Mr. Makowski. Now do you have some time to chat?”

  As the man focused in on the little screen, his face reddened and he gasped. He glanced behind him, then hurriedly stepped out onto the front porch. When he attempted to run, Wally blocked his path.

  “Get out of my way.” Makowski thrust out his chin. “You’re on private property and you didn’t show me no warrant.”

  “You’re right.” Wally nodded. “But I’ll argue that I heard suspicious noises and smelled the distilling process.” He shrugged. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance the judge will accept my version.”

  Wally was banking on the guy not realizing that at most he’d have to pay a hefty fine and have his equipment confiscated. He wanted him to think that he’d end up in jail, which might loosen his tongue.

  “No. Please,” Makowski begged. “I only started doing this because that son of a motherless goat fired me and stopped me from getting another job. I begged him to let me work a few more months, just until I turned sixty-five and my Social Security and Medicare came through, but he laughed and said I should have thought of that before embarrassing him in front of the whole town with my whining.”

  “Wraige certainly wasn’t a very com
passionate man.” Wally nodded sympathetically. “How about you answer some questions for me and then we’ll talk about the issue of the still? Sound like a plan?”

  “Thank you for the chance, Chief.” Makowski jerked his chin at the house. “Why don’t you come in and have lunch with me and Faye? She made her famous pulled pork and potato salad.”

  “Are you sure you want to answer my questions in front of your wife?”

  “We been married forty years. I ain’t got any secrets from Faye.”

  “Lead the way.” Wally gestured for Makowski to proceed and they walked inside.

  In a big city, sitting down to a meal with a suspect might raise some eyebrows, but in a small town like Scumble River, no one would say a word. Of course, Wally would have to keep alert for trouble.

  When they entered the kitchen, a tiny woman was taking a pie out of the oven and the smell of cinnamon perfumed the air. She turned, and when she saw Wally, she tilted her head as if asking what was up.

  Makowski studied his feet, then said, “Chief Boyd here caught me with the still and now I have to answer some questions or he’ll show the city attorney the pictures and I’ll be arrested.”

  She rolled her eyes, then smiled at Wally and said, “Have a seat, Chief. Thank you for giving my idiot husband a chance to get himself out of this mess. I told him becoming a moonshiner was not the way to make ends meet and that I could get my old job back at the factory.”

  “No problem.” Just in case Makowski decided to make a run for it again, Wally sat down nearest the back door. But the man took what Wally guessed was his regular seat at the table, tucked a napkin inside the collar of his flannel shirt, and appeared more anxious for lunch than to try to escape the long arm of the law.

  Without asking, Faye got a plate and silverware for Wally, then poured him and her husband a glass of milk. Wally thanked her and looked around.

  Although the appliances and furniture had to be a good forty or fifty years old, everything was spotless. Faye’s cleaning habits would give May a run for her money, and that was saying a lot.

  As she sat down, Faye gave Wally a shrewd look and said, “If your questions are about Dr. Wraige, Keith didn’t kill the man.”

  “What!” Makowski shouted, then glared at Wally. “You didn’t say nothing about that son of a biscuit eater being deceased. When did that happen?”

  Apparently, Mrs. Makowski was more informed than her husband. Either she read the hometown paper and he didn’t, or her sources for the local gossip were better than his. Of course, he could be faking his surprise.

  “Yesterday’s Star said he was found dead,” Faye explained to her husband as she dished out potato salad and passed homemade rolls around the table.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Makowski demanded spooning a huge portion of pulled pork onto his bun. “That’s not exactly minor news.”

  “You always get mad at me when I tell you stuff before you get a chance to look at the paper.” Faye shrugged. “I didn’t want to spoil it for you.”

  Wally broke into the couple’s squabbling. “So you weren’t aware of Dr. Wraige’s death?”

  “No,” Makowski mumbled around a huge mouthful of potato salad. “I would have been celebrating if I’d have known that turd was dead.” His wife gave him a hard stare and he hastily added, “But I didn’t kill him.”

  “Where were you Monday between eight thirty and ten a.m.?” Wally asked.

  “Me and Faye were over to Laurel that morning.” Makowski took a swig of milk.

  “Where exactly in Laurel?” Wally’s stomach growled and he picked up his sandwich.

  He’d watched Makowski consume both the pulled pork sandwich and the potato salad. Assured they were safe to eat, Wally took a bite as he waited for the man to answer.

  “I’d rather not say.” Makowski inspected the contents of his plate. “It’s private.”

  Wally raised a brow. “I promise not to take out an ad in the Star.”

  “It’s none of your business.” Makowski returned to his meal. “Faye can tell you I was there and that’s all you need to know.”

  “Can anyone else verify your location?” Wally asked. A wife’s alibi wasn’t worth a hill of beans. Most would lie for their husbands, whether it was out of love, loyalty, or fear. Sometimes a combination of all three. “Preferably someone not related to you.”

  “I’m not saying.” Makowski polished off his sandwich and made another one.

  “Oh, for the love of heaven.” Faye blew out a sigh. “We were at the proctologist getting his piles removed.” She snickered. “All those years sitting in that hard bus seat caused hemorrhoids.”

  Wally hid his smile and said, “I’ll need the doctor’s name and Keith will have to give him the go-ahead to tell me you were there.”

  “Consider it done.” Faye got to her feet, picked up the receiver from the phone attached to the wall, and dialed. After she explained the situation, she gave the handset to her husband and ordered, “Tell them it’s okay to talk to Chief Boyd about your procedure.”

  Makowski glared at her, then mumbled into the phone. When he had given his permission, he passed the receiver to Wally who spoke to the nurse. She verified the ex–bus driver’s alibi and Faye hung up the phone.

  “Are we square?” Makowski asked, then shoveled potato salad into his mouth.

  “There is the matter of the illegal distillation of alcohol.” Wally finished eating and pushed his plate to the side.

  “Couldn’t you forget about that?” Makowski’s brown eyes had a sly glint. “If I was able to tell you something that might give you a lead on who killed the superintendent, maybe you’d be inclined to sort of pretend you never saw the still and it could just disappear.”

  “That depends.” As long as he stopped making moonshine, Wally intended to give the guy a pass anyway, but if Makowski was willing to cough up a clue, all the better. “Let’s hear it.”

  “About a week ago, I went to the superintendent’s office to see if I could get him to reconsider giving me my job back. When I got there that secretary of his wasn’t around and Wraige’s door was closed so I just sat in the lobby and waited for someone to show up.”

  “And?” Wally prodded.

  Wally liked hearing a good story as much as the next guy, but the man needed to keep it moving. There was a lot that needed doing back at the police station.

  “I heard Wraige and a woman yelling at each other and…” Makowski paused as Faye put a slice of apple pie in front of him.

  When Makowski didn’t continue, Wally asked, “Who was the woman?”

  “I didn’t know at first, but I saw her when she left and it was his wife.” Makowski scooped a forkful of pie into this mouth.

  “Could you tell what they were fighting about?” Wally asked, taking a bite of his own dessert.

  “Yeah.” Makowski nodded vigorously. “It was pretty clear.”

  “What was pretty clear?”

  Makowski squinted as if trying to remember exactly. “Mrs. Wraige was screaming at the superintendent about his trying to screw her friend. I think this woman was living with them and it sounded like Mrs. Wraige wanted to kill her husband right then and there.”

  “Well, that’s certainly a motive for murder.” Wally rose to his feet. “You may have just given me what I needed to get a warrant to search Nanette Wraige’s residence.” As he headed to the door he said, “I’ll be back to make sure that moonshining equipment is gone.”

  “It will be, Chief,” Faye answered and glared at her husband. “One close call is enough, even for this old idiot.”

  Chapter 21

  All You Need Is Love

  Skye smiled at the girl sitting across from her and said, “We made some good progress today, Hailey, and your teachers are very pleased with your efforts to participate more during classes.” S
kye slid a glance at her watch, then added, “The final bell is going to ring in a few minutes. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about before this week’s session is over?”

  “I know that I’m doing better in school.” Hailey twisted a limp piece of mouse-brown hair. “But it’s harder at home. My brothers are so mean and if I try to tell them to stop or complain, my dad just says that I’m being too sensitive. I wish Mom were still around.”

  “Is being insensitive something you think you should strive to achieve?” Skye asked, wanting the girl to really think about the meaning of the word.

  “No. I don’t want to be like my father or brothers.” Hailey shook her head. “But maybe it would be good if I could feel less hurt by their nasty comments.”

  She leaned forward, wishing she had as good a counseling space at the high school as she’d created at the junior high. Maybe once Piper’s internship was up and she could get rid of the second desk, there would be room for a couple of comfy chairs. Now that she’d accepted that she had disposable income, she’d realized that she could just pay for them herself and not worry about trying to squeeze them into the psych budget.

  Meeting the girl’s uncertain gaze, Skye asked, “What’s a helpful way you could respond to your families’ unkind remarks?”

  Hailey had originally been referred for counseling because a teacher had been concerned that she might harm herself. The woman had noticed that whenever the girl felt overwhelmed, she’d scratch deep gouges in her arms and when she’d approached Hailey’s father, he had claimed his daughter only did that to get attention.

  However, he had given permission for Hailey to talk to the school psychologist. Skye had been working with the girl for the past six weeks and seen some good progress. Now she wanted to check if Hailey remembered some of the strategies they’d previously discussed.

  “I can walk away from the person that’s being mean to me.” Hailey furrowed her brow. “If they follow, I can imagine an invisible shield around me that doesn’t allow negative energy to get through it.”