The Noding Field Mystery

by Christine Husom

  “Corky, Bob, take ten, get a cup of coffee. I’ll go see how Hastings is doing with Leder’s cell pings then I’ll meet you back here.”

  I headed to the county attorney’s office in search of Eric. “Sorry, Sergeant, he’s still in court,” Maggie, the young brunette at the front desk, told me.

  “I thought he might be, but I’m on a quick break and wanted to give him my new work cell phone number.” I grabbed a sheet from a post-it notepad on the receptionist’s desk, wrote it down, and handed it to her. “If you’d be so kind as to tell him I stopped by, and give him this.”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  One down, how many to go? All my contacts were in my now defunct old phone. I grabbed a bottled water out of a vending machine, and joined Bob Edberg in the conference room. Smoke was there a minute later. “No luck tracking down Leder’s phone anywhere in the county. Probably gone for good.”

  “Bummer,” I said.

  “Hastings is working on the potential pings, but he has to leave shortly, so he won’t get much done today. He’ll be back at it tomorrow.” Smoke looked at the hundreds of pages of records we were reviewing. “I know we’re waiting on some of the phone records, but we’ll start cross-referencing without them. No time like the present.”

  “Should we put each matching call on the board?” I asked.

  “I wish there weren’t so damn many of them, but that seems like the best way to do it. We’ll start with the most recent and work backwards. Let’s do one at a time.”

  Edberg cleared his throat. “Want me to check to see if we can use this room for the rest of the week?”

  I thought he was kidding, but Smoke said, “Good idea. In case we need it.” Edberg left to take care of it.

  “How about you read ‘em to me, like we did before?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s start with the Noding’s home phone.”

  It took me a minute to locate it. By then, the stacks of records filled both of the six foot long tables. “We need to alphabetize these.”

  “You’re right. We need better order.” Ashlands, Chip and Gina were the starting point, north table, far left. We left spaces for the missing records, and Smoke stuck a post-it note in the holes, listing what belonged there.

  We were still organizing when Bob returned. “All set. They even gave me a sign to put on the door saying ‘Private Meeting’, which I did. And the door will stay locked.”

  “Good. But we won’t leave these phone records here, in case a custodian comes in to clean during the night.”

  My work cell phone rang. Eric. “Hey there, you got my message. How are you doing?”

  “Better now, hearing your voice.”

  “Something up?”

  “Oh, you know how it is some days. You’d like to send these miscreants back to infancy, give them positive influences in their lives so maybe they’d turn out better.”

  I had never thought of it quite that way. “Yeah.”

  “Where are you?”

  When I told him, he asked if he could pop by for a minute. I said that would be fine, hung up, and returned to the pile arrangement task. Then it was Smoke’s turn to take a call.

  “Detective Dawes . . . You don’t say. Okay, Dina, thanks.” He jotted some info on a piece of paper then clapped his phone shut. “Well. Someone that might have something about Leder just called the hotline. A landlord at a building in Allandale.”

  Smoke looked up like he was sending a prayer heavenward as he dialed the number. I crossed my fingers, and Edberg nodded. Smoke reached his party and they talked for several minutes while I tried to piece the conversation together on our end. After they hung up, Smoke gave us the summary.

  “Our guy said Gage Leder was a regular visitor to someone at the apartment building he manages over there in Allandale.”

  “That someone a female?” I asked.

  “You got it. Her name is Leanne Gosser. Landlord saw Leder’s picture in the paper and wasn’t sure it was him until he quit coming around the last week. This Larry . . .” Smoke looked at his note . . . “Vaccaro, said he knew Leder only as Robert, so he was covering his true identity for reasons unknown.”

  “Gage Robert Leder,” I said.

  “The woman he visits—Leanne—has a disability.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  Edberg laughed, like he didn’t believe it.

  “Multiple sclerosis. She’s confined to a wheelchair.”

  Edberg turned serious again. “Think that rules her out as a suspect?”

  “Never say never.”

  “Landlord told me Gosser moved into the handicapped accessible apartment a little over a year ago. Pays her rent in cash. Gage Leder is the only visitor he’s seen there. And he was there quite a bit, according to the landlord. He gave me Gosser’s phone number, so we can add that to the mix.”

  “We are having way too much fun,” Edberg said.

  There was a knock at the door, then the knob turned. Eric walked in, and his eyes were busy for a minute, taking everything in. “Wow. Looks like you have a few things going on in here.”

  “Hi, Eric,” I said.

  “A few,” Smoke said.

  Eric came closer and shook his head at the stacks of papers. “You’re looking at phone records for everybody in Winnebago County?”

  “It seems like it,” I said. “It’s going to take a while to sort it all out, cross-referencing, et cetera.”

  “I know you’re busy. I just stopped by to check on something. Corinne.” He walked a few feet away and I followed. “Do you have dinner plans?” he asked quietly.

  “No, honestly, I hadn’t thought that far.”

  “Well how about it? Somewhere casual.”

  Dinner was a remote possibility. “Um, I’d like that, but I’m not sure . . .” I waved my hand toward the white board. “Can I call you in an hour or so? We just got a lead from someone about Leder, and may need to follow up on it today. Depends on how long it takes.”

  “Of course.” He leaned closer and his lips touched mine in a short, warm kiss.

  Eric headed out the door, and I turned to find Smoke and Bob staring at me. “Come on, guys.”

  “No one calls you Corinne,” Bob said.

  “My mother does. And Eric likes it.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Smoke said.

  I rolled my eyes at Smoke. “Okay. Eric can’t call me Corky, because he had a dog named Corky.”

  Bob smiled. “I will refrain from further comment.”

  Smoke shook his head, and the corners of his lips lifted. “Well, Edberg, how much more of this can you take today?”

  “I can go another couple of hours. I’ll bank the hours.” He probably had thousands of hours banked. When he retired, the county would need to take out a loan to pay him back.

  “Aleckson and I will go talk to the sheriff about the latest, then we’ll drive over to see Miss Gosser. Give me a call if we’re not back when you’re ready to leave.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Smoke and I headed to Allandale to meet the latest in the string of Gage Leder’s women. Allandale was fourteen miles from Oak Lea, with Emerald Lake halfway between the two. “Order your new cell phone yet?” Smoke asked on the way there.

  “You’ve been with me almost all day. When would I have had time? It was not number one on my priority list of things to do this morning before work.”

  “You’re a little on the testy side.”

  I shrugged. “I guess I am. When I got the new SIM card for my work cell this morning, that seemed bad enough. Years’ worth of stored contacts are gone. It is a royal pain to change numbers on two phones.”

  “Maybe, but it’s necessary.”

  “If you say so. I’m not convinced.”

  “Have you gotten any suspicious calls on your home phone?”

  “No.”

  “And you’d tell me if you did?”

  I groaned.

  “Good. Two new num
bers is better than three.”

  The apartment building Gosser lived in was an old, two-story brick structure. I had responded to a few calls there over the years.

  “I’m surprised there’s a handicapped accessible apartment in this old building,” Smoke said.

  “Someone told me the building was constructed in the twenties. It has wide hallways and doors, so it wouldn’t have taken much to make a room accessible.” I pointed to the wheelchair ramp that ran from the parking lot to the front door. “That’s been there at least as many years as I’ve been on patrol.”

  “I don’t remember ever being in the building.”

  “The walls are about a foot thick. I can see why it would appeal to the secretive Mr. Leder. When I’ve been here for medicals, or other calls, I never hear a thing from neighboring apartments, except maybe a squeaky floor if someone’s walking in the apartment above. Not like a lot of newer buildings where you feel like your neighbor is more like your roommate.”

  Smoke blew some air out of his lips as he nodded.

  We walked in, and Smoke followed me to Gosser’s door, the first on the right. Apartment number one. There was an old fashioned buzzer in the middle of the door, chest height. I pushed it and waited, then put my ear to the door and listened. There was no detectable sound from inside the apartment. I rapped on the door. Still nothing. Smoke pulled out his phone and dialed her number, but she didn’t pick up. He left a message saying we were outside her door, and would she please open up. After several minutes with no response, Smoke tried the doorknob, but it didn’t turn.

  “I think she’s in there,” I mouthed.

  Smoke nodded then turned and walked down the hall, looking at each door. He stopped at the one with a plate labeled LANDLORD nailed to it. He buzzed then knocked, but got no response. I joined him by the door.

  He looked at me. “Think he’s home?”

  “No.”

  We waited until we were back in the car to speak. “No reason to beat down her door, but I woulda had Landlord Larry unlock it to check her welfare.”

  “And if her door had opened when you tried the knob?”

  “I woulda opened the door, thinking she needed help.”

  “Either she doesn’t want to talk to us, or she could have been sleeping, or in the bathroom.”

  “If Gosser doesn’t call back by tomorrow, we’ll touch base with the landlord, take it from there. We got plenty to do to keep us busy in the meantime.”

  Smoke’s phone beeped, alerting him he had a text message. He pulled it out and handed it to me, so he didn’t have to put on his readers. “What does it say?”

  I pushed a button to open the message, and read, “‘Call me, ASAP.’ It’s from Bob.”

  Smoke phoned right away, “What’s up? . . . Yeah, no problem. Just leave everything there, we’ll take care of it. . . . Hope she’s okay. . . . Thanks.”

  “What happened?”

  “Bob’s mother’s having some sort of episode and wanted him to come home.”

  “Yeah. I think Bob said it’s vertigo. She’s lucky to have him.”

  “She is that.”

  “Smoke, why don’t we just put a piece of crime scene tape across the conference room door? That will keep all the employees with a key from going in, and we won’t have to move all those records for the night.”

  He smiled. “I like the way you think.”

  We got back to the sheriff’s department in record time. Smoke pulled into the department parking lot and turned off the ignition. As I reached for the door handle, he patted my arm. “You go on home. It’s after five, and it’s been a long three days.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll go put that warning tape across the conference room door then head home myself.”

  “Okay. Eight o’clock tomorrow morning?”

  “Eight is fine. Have a good night and a good dinner.” He had overheard Eric’s invitation.

  “You too.”

  I phoned Eric and we agreed to meet at a pizza joint at seven. Then I walked around the house thinking, with Queenie at my heels until she grew tired of it and lay down on her rug. “I am so frustrated, girl. It is one loose end after the next in this case. All those strings are dangling. If we just knew the right one to pull.

  “The persons of interest are talking to us, but no one is saying much. Not enough to push this investigation forward, anyway.” Queenie tipped her head, like she wondered what I was trying to explain to her.

  My home phone rang, interrupting my monologue. I answered, “Hi, Sara.”

  “Oh, Corky. I can’t believe I caught you at home. Get your new cell numbers yet?”

  “My work one. Sorry, I should have stopped by to see you since I was at the courthouse most of the day.” I gave Sara the rundown.

  “Actually, Gage Leder is the reason I’m calling. They’re having his funeral tomorrow,” Sara said.

  “Really?”

  “It was in today’s paper.”

  “Where and when is it?”

  Sara read me the obituary. The few paragraphs about him made him sound like a regular guy. A family man. Survived by wife, children, sister, brother-in-law, nieces, nephew. Blah, blah, blah.

  We talked a while and made tentative plans for a movie night later in the week. “I better call Smoke about the funeral,” I said. After we hung up, I dialed his cell phone number. When he answered, I heard sheriff’s communication officer Jerry’s voice on a radio in the background. “You got your radio on?”

  “No. I’m at the office. I kinda got tied up with something.”

  “What?”

  “A little background investigation on Leanne Gosser.”

  “Geez, Smoke, you told me to go home, and I’m here ruminating about the case and you stayed back to work on it.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Find out anything good?”

  “Maybe. Here’s what I learned so far. She’s originally from Emerald Lake. Graduated from high school the same year as guess who?”

  “Not Gage Leder.

  “One in the same.”

  “Old school buddies, huh? Then she was also in the same class as Leder’s first wife, Sheila. So Sheila’s got to know her. That’s a pretty small high school,” I said.

  “I’d say. We’ll talk to Sheila and or Gosser about that. What else?” He paused a second. “Gosser never married. No kids. No family around. Worked at Target for sixteen years until her health further declined and she lost the ability to walk. Hasn’t had a job in the last four years, and isn’t on any kind of public assistance, either.”

  “Really? Think Gage—or more accurately, his wife—was supporting her? Why?” I said.

  “Another good question. Leder’s body was found a week ago Monday. He’s a regular visitor at her place, yet Gosser doesn’t call the sheriff’s department tip line to give us any info on him,” Smoke said.

  “Besides being involved with a married man, maybe she has something else to hide,” I said.

  “Maybe. And she only has a landline, no cell phone.”

  “How did you find out all of this in one short hour?”

  “I got ahold of the landlord via his cell phone. He was at the lumberyard getting painting supplies. He gave me a lot on Gosser. But she still isn’t answering her phone. Landlord Larry hasn’t seen her this afternoon, but says he’ll be around tomorrow if we need him to open her door.”

  “Good. Oh, I had a reason for calling.” I gave Smoke the funeral details.

  “Huh. We better be there. We’re bound to catch a break sooner or later.”

  “I wonder if Gosser will be among the mourners?”

  “You think there’ll be mourners there?”

  CHAPTER 19

  Gage Leder’s funeral was held in the small chapel at the Anderson Funeral Home at ten o’clock Thursday morning, with a visitation for an hour prior to the service. It was ten days after his body was found. Smoke and I sat outside the home in his personal SUV for tha
t hour, watching to see who would be paying their respects. We knew—and had talked to—everyone who went in. “Let’s go inside, check to see if someone got there before our watch began,” Smoke said.

  We slipped into the back of the chapel at five minutes after ten. It was easy to count the attendees. Of the survivors listed in the newspaper, Tonya Leder was the only one who was missing. The additional people there—the ones not on the surviving list—were the two mothers of Leder’s children. No one was in a wheelchair.

  The presiding minister lifted his eyes when we arrived, but nobody else noticed us. Smoke discreetly touched my arm and pointed his thumb toward the door. We went outside and climbed back into the SUV. “Should we go out to the cemetery?” I said.

  “Yeah, but we’ll wait until after they get there. Chances are slim to none anybody else will join them at the graveside, but we’ll do a drive through, have a look-see anyway.”

  “His buddy Shane Coates didn’t even show.”

  “Guess they weren’t such good friends, after all.”

  The service was over, and the casket was wheeled out to the waiting hearse at ten-thirteen. It must have been the shortest funeral on record.

  “I’m thinking the pastor is a believer in the old adage about not speaking ill of the dead,” Smoke said.

  “Amazing.”

  It took mere minutes for Leder’s family to pile into the white sedans provided by the Anderson Funeral Home. The three car procession fell in line behind the hearse, and followed it to the cemetery. Smoke waited to let a few cars get between us. Not that we cared if any of the family saw us, but we knew they would be more natural and unguarded if they didn’t know we were there.

  When the hearse got to Lakeside Cemetery, it turned left on the first gravel road. We turned right and wound around so we could watch from a distance. “Grab that pair of binoculars out of the glove box, will you?” I found them and handed them over. “Thanks.” He focused on the group gathered around the coffin. “The only one who seems broken up is Morgan.”