The Next Cool Place

by Dave Balcom

  “Sure, it’s very slow here right now. We won’t be busy again until tax bills go out in June; then we’ll be swamped with protests.”

  “Yesterday you offered to look up a number for me if I had one, can you still do that?”

  “Sure, just a second.” I could hear her fingers flying on a keyboard, pause, then again. “Okay, what’s the number?”

  “Actually, I think I have two of them, but they’re a little different, I know you said just one so I want to pick the better of the two.”

  “You speak perfect English7, did anyone ever tell you that? ‘Better?’ Nobody I know does that.”

  “You sound like an English major.”

  “Nope, speech, but I shouldn’t distract you; I forget you’re calling long distance.”

  “Here are the two numbers,” and I read them to her. “I don’t understand why they’re different.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. The first number, the one that starts out 400035 is technically correct, but everyone here who works with these numbers all the time would write it like the second number 40035 – that’s our code for Kalkaska County – technically four hundred – and 035 is Garfield Township. Both properties are in that township.

  She went on without my asking. “The next three numbers identify the plat, and the last five numbers are the parcel number. Using these we can bring up a GIS map of the property, and that provides the current assessed value and the legal description.”

  “I’ll run them both for you, it won’t take a minute. Is there some place I can FAX the legal descriptions?”

  “Can you e-mail them?”

  “Sure, I’ll attach them as PDFs.”

  I thanked her, gave her my address and hung up.

  Twenty minutes later my email chimed and I had the cover pages of the legal descriptions, everything I’d need if I could walk into the Register’s office and look up the deed.

  I called Deputy Register Davis and heard the same cool, professional welcome as the day before. Again, I reintroduced myself, and reminded her of her offer to look up one of those properties if I could tell her a number.

  “Er, well, umm... I don’t think I can do that after all.”

  “Really? That’s too bad. I was hoping that if we could do one on the phone, I’d be able to help the Record’s staffers pick up behind Patty. Can’t you help?

  Her hesitation made me think she was softening. “Okay, just one. Give me the number.” I gave her Mickey’s number. “Okay, I’ve have the deed up. The property belongs to Mickey and Seth Buchanan. There’s a description that locates it on the GIS map, and it shows that he purchased it in nineteen eighty-four from the Harold and Grace Borders estate in Lansing. They had held the property since nineteen forty-six when they bought it at a tax auction. Before that it had belonged to a Fredrick Evens who had inherited it from a Joseph Evens who had homesteaded it in eighteen eighty-eight.

  “It’s twenty-three point twenty-two acres. There’s a wild and scenic rivers easement on three thousand, four hundred and fifty-two linear feet of river bank that was put in after Mr. Buchanan owned it, in nineteen eighty-seven.

  “Hmm. The mineral rights had been leased by Shell Exploration, Inc., in nineteen seventy-nine… looks like they paid a lump sum of twenty-five hundred dollars.”

  “Wow. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help. Can I ask you to look up one more?”

  “Gee, I don’t know… oh, go ahead.”

  I gave her the first number on Patty’s list and listened as she clicked her way into the program.

  “This is a twenty-five-acre plot that belongs to one Frank Santiago. He bought it in nineteen eighty-two from Lloyd Curtiss of Lansing who inherited it from a Francis and Ellen Curtiss who purchased it from the State of Michigan for taxes in nineteen thirty-three. It had been homesteaded in eighteen forty-eight by L. Carpenter. It too has a wild and scenic rivers easement since nineteen eighty-seven and it carries a notation that all rights are intact. That’s a strange notation for a deed, let me look that up.”

  She didn’t wait for my answer; she just sat the phone down. I waited.

  “You still there? I’m sorry it took so long. That’s the first time I’ve encountered one of those notes. What it does is clarify that the entire bundle of rights that go with any property are all intact. That’s something people add to deeds when the property in question is surrounded by property where some rights – maybe a water right or the mineral rights or the right to sell has been optioned – the owner will put that note into the deed. It’s pretty clear that someone else can’t come along with a claim on those rights.”

  I was taking notes and it took some seconds for my pen to catch up.

  She hurried me, “Look, we’re like the DMV, you know, the first days and last days of every month are our busiest, but for some reason, we’ve some people coming in today to file a bunch of deed transfers. I have to be ready for them.”

  “How could you tell what rights have been retained on this deed?”

  “You can’t from this deed. If any of the rights had been sold or perpetually leased, like the first property, they would be identified, but ‘all’ means just that, so there’s no need to identify them.”

  “I see…”

  “But if you started looking at properties surrounding that piece, you’d quickly see if any rights were sold or leased, and you’d know what the owner was protecting.”

  “What would you guess, knowing Garfield Township?”

  “Mineral rights. Gas and Oil. There was a big oil boom back in the late nineteen seventies. Shell came on strong, buying up mineral rights on any and all private property they could after they’d charted the pinnacles. But then they hit the Pigeon River strike in nineteen eighty-one – that was in the state forest – and they partnered with the state and DNR – that pretty much put all the other leases and purchases on the back burner.”

  I thanked her profusely, and told her I was sure a staffer would be in to see her later in the day.

  “Oh, they’d better wait until Friday. The computer will be tied up probably all day, from what I was told. We’re a small office, and we do things by appointment.”

  “Thanks, but I’m sure you’ll be seeing someone from Mineral Valley tomorrow then. You’ve been a big help.”

  My head was spinning. “Mickey, Mickey, what were you telling me? What questions?”

  I briefed Jan on my results in an email, warning her that Friday would be a better day for research in the Register’s Office. Then I went looking for breakfast.

  Halfway through my cereal, I had a thought. As I rinsed out the bowl, I decided I couldn’t wait. I called Deputy Davis.

  “Betty,” I said, identifying myself as soon as she was done answering the phone, “I know you’re busy, but, one more quick question, can you give me a few seconds?”

  “Wait.” This time she put me on hold. The county didn’t waste money on music, but it was also apparent they didn’t put a lot of people on hold. Somebody in that government really was in tune with customer service.

  “I had to go to an office. The front area is full of lawyers and staffers. This is a huge transfer; I’ll be entering this stuff for weeks.” The “woe is me” tone of martyrdom returned to her voice.

  “Betty, I’ve been thinking about Monday. Patty was there, you said, right up until closing time. Right?”

  “Yes. I’ve never seen someone so diligent with those books. She was really interested.”

  “Betty, I also heard I could access county property files from afar if I owned the proprietary software, right?”

  “Most, not all, but pretty much all.”

  “Would someone with that software know if you or I were paying any attention to their property?”

  “You mean like spy ware? No. There’s no tracking of public document research here. We’re not Homeland Security,” she said with a laugh.

  “Thanks. But if I assume that the attack on Patty Monday night had any connection to
her reporting work, how would anyone know what she was working on?”

  “It could have been just one of us talking and someone overhearing it,” she said. While I wouldn’t call her tone “defensive” it was less assured. She continued, “When I was at lunch Friday, I was talking with one of the County Clerk’s assistants and we both noted that Patty was really focused in on the Penny Point property. Nearly every one of those IDs she was tracking was along Copper Creek.”

  “Did you talk with anyone outside the courthouse about it?”

  “Actually, I did, but it was just my boyfriend. He asked about my work, and I told him about how Patty had kept me hopping all day with her questions.”

  “Who’s your boyfriend?”

  “You don’t think he has anything to do with what happened to Patty, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t have any idea, but who is he?”

  “He’s just a guy I met a couple of months ago. He’s not from around here, and he travels a lot. I don’t want to cause him any trouble.”

  I sat silent.

  “Look, I have to go. I can’t help you any more today.”

  I thanked her, and she hung up.

  I called Jan’s cell.

  37

  I told her what I’d found, and when she started playing 20 questions, I went backwards and told her all about Mickey’s “number,” and how it was a property ID.

  “Where’s the property?”

  “It’s his home place on the creek, I think, from the description. Without a plat book to look at, though, I can’t be sure.”

  “We’ll send Ellen up there today, and iron out all the details.”

  I didn’t respond right away.

  “What’s the hesitation, Jim? Don’t you think we should send Ellen up there?”

  I roused out of my reverie with the numbers as a chill hit me. “I don’t think you should do that. I think you should call Lawton and tell him that you think there’s a connection between Patty’s work at the courthouse and her attack.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I wouldn’t send another reporter on that assignment without knowing for sure, that’s what I think.”

  “You think maybe you’re getting soft in retirement? Or maybe you don’t think us gals should be doing men’s work?”

  “No, this isn’t new thinking for me,” I snapped back. “I never would have sent a reporter in a situation like this. I’d have gone myself…”

  As soon as the words blurted out I was sorry.

  “Then, I’ll go myself. Talk to you soon, dearie,” and she was gone in a huff.

  I called her back and heard her message. I called her names that go with stubborn and arrogant and reckless. I wanted to teleport to Michigan. “Beam me up, Scotty,” I said to no one.

  I called Lawton at the number he’d given me. I heard his voice mail and left a message. And then just sat and stewed.

  38

  When Detective Lawton called back, I had just sat down for lunch. When I told him why I’d called, he informed me he was at that moment driving into Kalkaska.

  “Jan Coldwell called me; told me about the connection theory. I have no other leads, so I thought I’d come up and do some interviewing.”

  “She called you?”

  “That’s right, said you suggested it. You have any other suggestions? I’m always intrigued when you guys think up things us dumb sonsabitches who do this for a living should be doing, you know?”

  “Hey, if I was in your place, I’d consider any suggestions I could. The thing about Patty’s attack is that it strikes me as so out of proportion to anything she might have come up with.”

  “What do you think she came up with?”

  “I can’t be sure, but I think it has something to do with mineral rights. The deed on one of the properties expressly stated that all the rights were intact. The other said the mineral rights had been sold.”

  “Is that so strange?”

  “It was to Deputy Register Davis. She was helping me and she had to go ask about what that meant.”

  “And?”

  “Just what it says, all the rights are still with the property. Seems back a ways there was a lot of speculation about oil and gas, and many properties sold off their mineral rights.”

  “Yeah, and then all the working wells ended up on state land. The speculators were burned pretty good. I don’t think the mineral rights on much land today would be worth two bits an acre. But those folks who own good recreational property are making a killing.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I have a rough number from what Patty learned at the equalization office. Mickey bought up about seven hundred acres and paid about a half million for them.”

  “That’s not so much, is it?”

  “Not yet, but if Penny Point starts building out, you sure won’t be able to buy an acre building site for much less than half that, at least that’s how it’s working in places here in Oregon that have been ‘discovered’ as the next cool place.”

  “So what could be in those records that would screw up that deal?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What? What’s exactly?”

  “Your question, that’s exactly the question. I can’t imagine the answer.”

  “Maybe a professional investigator can help with that.”

  We hung up without him promising to let me know what he learned.

  39

  “Do you know a cat named Ron White?”

  I hadn’t spent enough time on the phone with Detective Lawton to recognize his voice while still trying to wake up. The clock on my night stand said it was 5 a.m.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Lawton, in Michigan. Are you okay?”

  “Detective, I appreciate your calling me, I almost overslept.”

  “It’s the early bird, you know. You want I should call you back in a few minutes?”

  “No, what’s on your mind?”

  “Ron White; do you know him?”

  “I know of him. He’s connected to those people at the compound in Mineral Valley. He’s been here just recently with their attorney, Crocker.”

  “There, in your house?”

  I let my eyes wander around the room and wondered. “I meant here in Pendleton. I met with them. I don’t think he was in my house. At the time of the robbery he was with me, I think.”

  “So what do you know of him?”

  “He’s the son of Mickey’s first wife and her second husband. If he hooked up with those people it was probably through Mickey or his dad. I understood that he was involved in real estate sales with his dad, downstate, near Lake Lucy.”

  “What do you know about a Ray Means?”

  “Not much. He’s almost my age, a little younger. I knew him back when I was running around with Mickey, in my Lake Lucy days, but I never knew him well; why the interest?”

  So he told me about his afternoon. He had interviewed my friends Betty and Carolyn as well as several other people from the courthouse staff.

  “You know, they’re all women. Good looking, too, for the most part.”

  “It has to do with the pay rates, Detective. It’s reliable, clean and safe work, and despite the low pay, it’s perfect for a second income. I’ll bet most of the worker bees are real young or real married.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I spent my formative adult years in rural courthouses, Detective.”

  He told me how it took about 15 minutes to find out that Betty Davis in the Register’s office had a new boyfriend, one Ron White.

  And, yes, she had told young Mr. White about Patty Patterson’s day-long investigation into the land holdings around Mineral Valley.

  “He asked her about her day, normal, you know, and so she told him.”

  “Was she the only person who talked about Patty that night after work?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  “So, where did Means’ name come up?”

  “Betty thinks he’s
creepy. She says Ron told her that Ray was nobody to fool with and that they worked together sometimes.”

  “They’d fit the description Patty gave you. Means is at least six-eight, and Ron is a big guy.”

  “Is he still in Oregon?”

  “I wouldn’t know, doesn’t Betty?”

  “No, she says he travels a lot on business, and she never knows when he’ll be showing up. He just calls her out of the blue, and he’s in town.”

  “You have a suspect, Detective; maybe two?”

  “I need some pictures of these guys. Think they ever did time?”

  “No, but they do have driver’s licenses.”

  “Those are Polaroid’s. We have no records like that, and you know it.”

  “Actually, I didn’t. I have a friend who might have some pictures of those two from a party I was at when I was in Michigan, but I think I had better be careful in looking for them.”

  “Yeah, I don’t need them getting rabbity and leaving for parts unknown before I talk with them. When can you find out about the pictures?”

  “I’ll make a call right away.”

  “Call my office and leave me a number, I’ll call you. It’ll save on the phone tag.”

  I hung up and went looking for Rick Edmonds’ number. When I called his office, a pert young voice told me he was out at a site and I could leave a message.

  “Voice mail?”

  “Mr., you don’t know Rick at all. He rides Schwinn bikes with big fat tires, shoots a recurve bow rather than one with wires and pulleys, and has never opened a computer file in his life. He’s real old-fashioned.”

  I gave her my name and number and thanked her.

  As my coffee perked, I sat in the early morning gloaming and thought about what kind of information a courthouse could contain that could ignite the overwhelming reaction of beating a young woman nearly to death.

  Just what was in those files? I dialed Jan’s number.

  40

  Jan picked up the phone on the first ring.

  She told me she wasn’t sure if she’d found the same stuff in her day at the courthouse as Patty had on her day, but if so, she was doubtful there could be any connection between the research and the attack.