The Noding Field Mystery

by Christine Husom

  Weber, Zubinski, Carlson, and I all stepped in, fished our knives out of our pockets, and picked the hand or foot we would release. Smoke pointed to a point on the twine. “Cut through here.” Leder’s hands and feet were freed within seconds.

  “You can go ahead and call for a transport. I’ll be done by the time they get here,” Melberg said.

  “Sure. I’ll have communications phone Anderson’s Funeral Home. We’ll need to talk to his wife before they take him to the Hennepin County Medical Examiner’s Office. She’ll want to see him, and can also confirm his ID for us.” Smoke made the phone call.

  “Let’s see what we got here.” Melberg twisted and turned his head, looking at every inch of Leder’s body. He pressed on the skin of his arms, stomach, and legs. He spread his fingers and toes, peering between them. “No other needle marks I can see. Help me turn him on his side.”

  Weber and Zubinski were closest. Weber placed his hands under the shoulder and back area, and Zubinski placed a hand under his bottom and the other under his legs. “One, two,” Weber said, and Leder was rolled on the count of “three.”

  “It doesn’t look like he died here. There’s more defined lividity on his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. And foot and ankle area. That’s more consistent with dying sitting on a chair, and being there a while.”

  Smoke cleared his throat. “We know he was probably brought here on a toboggan-like sled, by a couple of snowshoers.”

  Melberg squinted his eyes at Smoke in disbelief.

  “Take a look for yourself.” Smoke pointed at the ground leading from the body westward.

  Melberg’s eyes left the body for a cursory glance. “Winter’s not long enough around here? They can’t give up their snow toys?”

  “I’ll ask them that question when we find out who they are.”

  “You can put him down,” Melberg told Weber and Zubinski. “I’d say he’s been dead twenty-two to twenty-five hours. In this kind of weather, maggots will hatch and emerge somewhere between eight and twenty hours. They are already causing some lesions on the skin.”

  Carlson nudged me then told Melberg, “Our sergeant had a bad experience with maggots.”

  Melberg looked at me. “Maggots are helpful little creatures. They’ve been using maggot therapy for a long time. Read about the Civil War and how they helped the wounded. Maggots get rid of harmful bacteria in wounds while taking care of the rotting flesh.”

  “Mr. Leder doesn’t have to worry about bacteria,” I said.

  “I mean in the living. Take somebody with gangrene when the blood supply is cut off, for example. If gangrenous tissue isn't removed, the affected area begins to rot and becomes infected by poisonous bacteria. Getting rid of infected and gangrenous tissue is vital. So they implant maggots directly onto a wound, and they eat the dead flesh and kill harmful bacteria. Blood flow returns and promotes the growth of new flesh.”

  Mandy scrunched up her face. “Eew.”

  “That must be a last ditch effort,” Weber said.

  “It’s fairly common. Somewhere in the neighborhood of five thousand laboratory grown maggots are used in U.S. hospitals every week.”

  “I will do my best to avoid gangrene,” I said, imagining the little critters eating away on me.

  “That’s the best way to handle infection—don’t get it in the first place.” Dr. Melberg pulled the thermometer from his pocket and inserted it into the right side of the victim’s belly. We watched the numbers drop for several minutes. “He’s down to seventy degrees, so it’s been at least twenty hours since his death, but my guess is closer to twenty-four. Around four o’clock yesterday afternoon.”

  Smoke’s phone rang. “Yes, Mason . . . Send ’em in.” He clapped his phone shut. “Andersons are here for the transport. Aleckson, Mason, the two of you can go deliver the news to the victim’s widow. And be sure to ask her if she wondered where he was the last day or so.”

  I pulled off my latex gloves, inside out, and stuffed them in my pocket. Mason did the same. “Ten-four. Let’s be on our way, Mason.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Todd Mason and I drove in our separate vehicles following William Noding’s directions. It was a little over four miles from where the body was discovered, deeper into the country between Oak Lea and Emerald Lake.

  Oak Lea, Winnebago’s county seat, sat in the geographic middle. It wasn’t the largest town, but it was about the most picturesque, tucked into the rolling, green hills on the banks of Bison Lake. And the many antique and shabby chic shops attracted large groups of visitors each week.

  The towns on the eastern border, next to the Hennepin County metropolitan area, had the greater year round populations per square mile than the towns to the west, where family farms claimed the bulk of the land. But the three hundred lakes in the county also meant hundreds, perhaps thousands, had cabins so they could recreate on the weekends, mostly in the spring, summer, and fall. The lake people caused the more rural populations to swell, and gave the retail and restaurant businesses a boost.

  I turned into the Leders’ driveway and my thoughts went to his widow, wondering what to expect. Delivering bad news was unsettling even for seasoned officers because individuals’ reactions were impossible to predict.

  The house was a 1970s rambler with a large picture window in the front. The blistered beige, painted siding looked like it could peel off any second. There was a large shed and two smaller out buildings visible from our vantage point. A hobby farm with no sign of farm animals. A German shepherd, followed by two kittens, came running to greet us. The dog barked, but his tail wagged in a friendly way. One cat rubbed up against my leg.

  “Cat must not be able to smell,” Todd said quietly behind me.

  “Thanks.”

  “Just sayin’. After being at a death scene I can’t wait to get out of my uniform.” He wrinkled his nose.

  I had difficulty determining whether the smell of decay was evident, or if it was a perception—one I carried with me after my olfactory sent it to my memory, where it stayed for a long time. “I know, and the bad part is, we’re barely into our shift.”

  “I got another uniform in my locker. If I get a break, I’m showering and changing.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  We walked up the three steps and Todd rang the doorbell. There was no answer, so he rang again, and then knocked. Still no answer.

  “Let’s walk around back. If she’s not around, we’ll have to leave notes on the doors for her to call us,” I said.

  As we rounded the corner, a short, thin woman with brownish red hair, about thirty came out of the large shed. Her hand flew to her chest and she gasped. “You scared me!” Her voice and manner of speech was childlike.

  “So sorry. Are you Mrs. Leder?” She nodded. “We tried the front door first. I’m Sergeant Corinne Aleckson and this is Deputy Todd Mason. We’re from the Winnebago County Sheriff’s Office.”

  “What do you want?”

  I glanced around, looking for some chairs or a bench to sit on, but there were none. “Let’s go inside where we can talk.”

  It took a minute before Tonya moved. Then we followed her into the house.

  When I stepped into the kitchen I felt like I was in a rooster museum. The fowl were everywhere—on the curtains, on a set of canisters, on a braided rug. Even the napkin holder and salt and pepper shakers sitting on the table were painted ceramic roosters. Kitchen towels, the breadbox, and toaster cover all sported the creatures in various poses. Several knick-knack shelves displayed sizable collections of them.

  It gave me something to open with. “You collect roosters.”

  Tonya reached over and touched the napkin holder. “They were Mama’s, but now they’re mine. People keep giving them to me.”

  I smiled. “Mind if we sit down?”

  She nodded and I pulled out a chair, revealing a braided rooster seat cover. I sat down opposite Tonya, and Mason hung in the background.

  I leaned forwa
rd. “I have some upsetting news to tell you.”

  Tonya frowned and waited.

  “It’s about your husband.”

  “Gage? What about?”

  “His body was found a little while ago. He’s dead.”

  Her frown deepened. “How could Gage be dead?”

  “It appears someone else was involved, that his death was not natural, but we don’t know at this point what caused it.”

  Her face didn’t change expressions. “What do you mean?”

  “His body was found in a soybean field owned by William Noding.”

  “Gage is really dead?” Her eyebrows lifted.

  I nodded my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, and we didn’t find any obvious signs of how he died. That’s why we’ll need to take him to Hennepin County so they can do an autopsy and find out what happened to him. To Gage.” Her eyes had a vacant look. “Do you know what an autopsy is?” I asked.

  She nodded. “They do it on TV when people die.”

  “They are taking Gage to Anderson’s Funeral Home in Oak Lea first. Would you like to go and see him?”

  Tonya shook her head. “It would make me too sad.”

  “Yes, I can understand that.” Not the answer I expected. I pulled out my memo book. “Tonya, I have to make a note of my visit here, so I need to get your name, date of birth, phone number.” She gave me the information. “We all want to find out what happened to Gage. You can help us out by answering a few questions. Will you do that?”

  She nodded.

  “When was the last time you saw your husband?”

  She held up her hand, looked at her fingers, tucked one, then another down, like she was counting. “Not last night, but the day before that.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “Here.”

  “He was gone two nights. You saw him two days ago? That was Saturday, May eighteenth?” I asked to confirm the date.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Where was he? Where did he go?”

  Her eyes grew wider. “I don’t know. He told me he has friends he visits.”

  “What are their names?”

  “He never told me.” She picked up the rooster salt shaker and looked at it.

  “How about a job? Does he work?”

  “He doesn’t have to ‘cause I get money from Mama’s and Papa’s ’state.”

  “Estate?” I clarified.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Did you talk to him on the phone since you last saw him?”

  She shook her head back and forth. “No.”

  “What did you think when he didn’t come home?”

  “That he’d come home when he missed me and needed clean clothes and money.”

  Noding was right. Leder used people. Taking food, shelter, money, and love from a vulnerable woman angered me. I silently counted to three to keep my voice even. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to the funeral home with us to say goodbye?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “No. I mean, I’m sure I don’t want to go.”

  “Is there someone we can call to come over to be with you?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll call my cousin. He likes to come over and visit.”

  “Good. Tonya, I have one more important question. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Gage? Did he tell you about anyone who said bad things to him, anyone he was having a fight with?”

  “No. But he might have a fight with someone because sometimes he yells at me, so I know he gets mad.” Her lips went into a mild pout. “I don’t like mean talk and my cousin doesn’t like that, either.”

  “What’s your cousin’s name?”

  “Chip Ashland. He has a family. They live down the road at one-one-seven-five-nine.” She recited the words like she had practiced them many times.

  “And what is Chip’s phone number?”

  I added the information to my growing list of people to talk to, then handed Tonya my card. “Give me a call if you think of anything that might help us find out what happened to your husband. Or if you need someone to talk to. Will you do that?” I stood and offered my hand to Tonya. She lifted her own and we shook on it.

  Todd and I headed back to our cars.

  “I don’t feel quite so sorry for what happened to him after that,” he said in a low voice when we were out of earshot of the house.

  “My blood pressure actually rose when she was talking about him. She described him as a real putz and she didn’t even know it.”

  “I’ve got a better name for him than putz—”

  “Winnebago County, Seven-ten?”

  “Go ahead,” Mason said into his radio.

  “We have a citizen reporting a possible impaired driver heading west from Krieger on County Seven.”

  “Copy.” Mason slipped into his squad car and was off.

  I phoned Smoke when I got into my own car. “We’re done at the Leders’. And just in time because Mason got a call.”

  “I heard.”

  “I don’t think Tonya Leder is a suspect, but she gave us another name. Her cousin.” I gave him a rundown of our visit.

  “What I’m trying to figure out is how did Leder stay off our radar all these years? He sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “I know. I need to stay focused on his death—how he died and who did it—and not on how he lived his life.”

  “Not always an easy thing to do, but you’re right, of course. Leder may have a criminal record in another county, another state.”

  “Or civil suits against him.”

  “Good thinkin’. So you said the missus doesn’t want to go to the funeral home, but I’m thinking Leder’s sister would. I’m finished out here at the scene, for now. The crime lab team will be a while, yet. I’ll call the Nodings, see if they want to meet us at Anderson’s, then I’ll call you back.”

  “Copy.” I closed my phone and radioed communications that I was back in service. When my phone rang, I expected it to be Smoke. “What’d you find out?”

  “About what?” It was Eric Stueman, sounding puzzled.

  Eric was an assistant county attorney who had started with the county at the beginning of the year. He had done everything he could to avoid me, or so I thought, until we were thrown together in a team building exercise and were forced to spend the morning together. When I’d finally asked him if I had done something to offend him, he confessed he had a crush on me, but didn’t know what to do about it. A couple of weeks later, we went to dinner and a movie, and had been dating for a few weeks. We were getting along surprisingly well despite our rocky start.

  “Eric. Sorry, I didn’t check to see who it was. I’m waiting on a call from Smoke.”

  “That makes more sense. You’re working and I won’t keep you, but I’m on a quick break and thought I’d better double check the time of your mother’s party Friday night.”

  I had to switch mental gears. “Right. Um, be at the park at six-thirty. Then we’ll get you shuttled over to Smoke’s.”

  “That’s a mile west of his place, you said?”

  “That’s right, the Fair Mill County Park.” I drove past the road I lived on, and automatically glanced down it.

  “Sure you don’t need me there earlier to help?”

  “Everything’s under control, but I appreciate the offer. Grandma insisted on making most of the food, and it’s not a big party.”

  “Anything going on out there today in the world of law and order and keeping the peace that’s going to wind up on my desk?”

  “That’s an understatement. A man’s body was found left out in a soybean field. Looks like a homicide.”

  “No kidding? Our office hasn’t heard about that.”

  “We just found him, so the news isn’t out on it yet. I’ll tell you about it later. We’ll find out who did it so you can prosecute him.”

  “That’s a deal.”

  “Oops, getting that call I gotta tak
e. See ya.” It was Smoke. I hit the call symbol button. “Yes, Smoke.”

  “I had a conversation with Donna Noding, and she was a little reluctant at first, but thinks she should see her brother. She called Leder’s children—at least she tried—but didn’t get ahold of any of the three, and didn’t want to leave a message. Anyway, the Nodings are on their way in to the funeral home, and so am I.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  William and Donna Noding were talking to Smoke in the inner reception area, adjacent to the service chapel. Donna was the more attractive half of the couple, by far. She was almost as tall as her husband, dark-eyed, dark-haired, and dark-skinned. Either she had recently returned from a sunny climate, or was an aficionado of tanning beds. Or both. Her hair was thick, cut short, and nicely styled. Her capris, button-down shirt, light sweater, and sandals all looked expensive. So did the rings on her manicured fingers and the chain around her neck.

  Smoke nodded at me when I joined them and introduced me to Donna. When she said, “Hello,” her white teeth shown bright and straight in the dimly lit room. “I don’t exactly want to be here, but I feel I have to be. I owe it to my parents. They loved my brother no matter what he did.”

  It wasn’t the time to ask how she felt about her brother, but what she didn’t say spoke volumes.

  An Anderson brother, the roundest and most jovial of the three who owned the business, appeared from behind a curtain in the front of the chapel and came our way. He wore his sympathetic expression well. Donna Noding appeared to be the best thing he had seen all day because he looked only at her, even when he said, “My condolences to both of you.” After Donna and Willie muttered their thanks, Anderson said, “Follow me. The deceased arrived a few minutes ago. He’s in the lower level.”

  Gage Leder’s body was lying on top of a stainless steel table. He was in a body bag that was unzipped to the middle of his chest. Donna gasped, and Willie slid his arm around her waist and held on firmly. She dropped her head, nodded, then looked up at her husband. Neither said a word as he steered her toward the exit. Willie turned his head toward where three of us were standing, gave a slight nod, and the two disappeared from sight.