Martin, Crook, & Bill

by Donna Nitz Muller

  “Hauk carried those keys on him at all times.” Carl continued to look outside. “I have them, hid away at my house.” Of course Carl was lying. Vilhallen saw that Carl could barely restrain himself from touching the keys inside his pocket.

  “Did you remove the keys from the body?” Vilhallen was beyond shock.

  “Yes, I did,” Carl answered with grave seriousness. “I thought to remove them before anybody like you could do it.”

  “You didn’t look for a weapon, but you thought to remove those keys?” White looked steadily at Carl.

  “I thought it was a heart attack at that time, and I knew first and foremost Hauk would not want those keys in any hands but mine. Then I turned his body and that was it for me. I couldn’t think after that.”

  Vilhallen considered Carl’s attitude to be odd. He could not stop talking about the murder, but he was afraid to say even one word about that second bedroom. At some point, Hauk put the fear of God into Carl regarding whatever the room held.

  White said, “We’ll need manpower from Minnehaha County to put a twenty-four hour guard on this house.”

  Vilhallen could not seriously consider Carl a suspect, not for the murder. However, the man’s behavior was so odd that he was certainly guilty of something.

  Carl squared his thin shoulders and looked hard into White’s face. “I don’t want anybody poking into Hauk’s private affairs, and that includes you.” Carl came dangerously close to a sneer. “Hauk is the victim here. He’s not the criminal.”

  “Really,” Vilhallen thought.

  “I’d like to have a look in that room.” John White spoke casually, man to man, law enforcement to law enforcement. “There might be something in there that will help us get a handle on this thing and find whoever did this. You know that.”

  “I’ll do it,” Carl said. “I’ll bring you the stuff.”

  Vilhallen took a step back, seriously eyeing Carl. “No,” he told him. “You are not to enter this house without one of us with you.”

  Crimson rose up Carl’s long neck and across his face like a visible wave. He blinked and swallowed and then said, “Fuck you.”

  The three men now stood in the narrow hallway outside of Hauk’s bedroom. Vilhallen said, “Let’s finish the tour of the rest of the house. We will come back to this room.” He nodded toward the closed door of the second bedroom. The men walked away from the closed door after White put an evidence tag on the knob.

  Vilhallen thought, we need a look at Carl’s vehicle. Somewhere is a large amount of blood and it is not here. He glanced at his partner and saw a quick nod in return. White was on the same page.

  They entered the garage through the kitchen. Carl flipped on the light switch. John and Larry stood still for a minute, absorbing the scene. Except for the two vehicles the garage was empty. They would never know what might have been here twenty-four hours ago before the assailant could have walked in and away with anything incriminating.

  Hauk had no tools, no lawn mower, no junk in his garage, not even garbage cans or shelves with motor oil, no garden rake or fishing pole or old batteries. It was the most barren garage either detective ever saw.

  “Where’s his stuff?” Vilhallen asked.

  “Hauk never used this garage except to park his patrol car and his truck. He pretty much hired everything done. His whole life was his job, nothing else,” Carl answered reluctantly. He was cautious now, wary.

  “How many people would you guess came through this garage in the last twenty-four hours?” John’s cordial tone sounded forced.

  “Let’s see,” Carl rubbed the black stubble on his chin. “The reporters set up some stuff in here. And my wife brought us some coffee and donuts. Some of the guys from the bar wanted to see, so I brought them inside through here so they wouldn’t mess up anything. I told them not to touch anything or move any stuff around. The neighbors came over wondering if they should clean the place, you know, in case Hauk had family coming. I told them to wait. They stayed in the garage. That’s it, I’m pretty darn sure.” Carl shut his lips tight and rested his hands on his hips. He added, “Only Hauk could have done it better.”

  “That’s it?” Larry made no effort to hide his sarcasm

  Pursing his lips and thinking, Carl nodded his head. “Pretty sure,” he said.

  White asked, “Did you keep a register of everyone who entered?”

  “Look, I was in demand. TV people and a newspaper guy, two of them, kept pestering me about this and that. I told those guys not to take anything. That’s all I could do. I don’t have eyes in the back of my head like you do.”

  John White moved away quickly. He walked around Hauk’s vehicles and opened the passenger door of the patrol car. “When do the lab boys get here?” he asked Carl.

  “When you call ‘em and tell ‘em to come,” Carl said.

  “Well, Carl,” John stood erect and pushed his voice through clenched teeth. “Go right now to your car and radio for the lab boys from Sioux Falls to come right now and for a back-up team to watch this house. But first, did Hauk lock his patrol car when he wasn’t in it?”

  Carl smirked, “Hell no. Nobody in their right mind would touch anything in Hauk’s cop car.” He made no move toward his vehicle.

  “Make those calls you should have made on Saturday, per procedure and do it now!” Vilhallen had enough. This time Carl left, opening the garage door with more force than necessary and striding under it like he had burrs in his boots.

  Inside the sheriff’s vehicle, Vilhallen could see no obvious signs of struggle or blood. However, when he bent to look under the front seat from the passenger side door, he did see something interesting and he did not want Carl to know.

  It could be meaningless or it could be the one detail that solved the case. In his notepad, Vilhallen described the baby bottle exactly as it lay under the seat. White snapped pictures.

  Vilhallen joined Carl who stood by the driver’s door of his car, radio in hand. A good, professional deputy in this case would be invaluable, a liaison to the community, a resource of cases and innuendo. Carl was none of that. He was a worried little henchman of a questionable sheriff.

  White joined Vilhallen and the three men stayed right there. Vilhallen could not allow Carl to leave on pretense of getting keys that Carl already carried in his pocket. Nor could he or White leave the scene until it was taped off and in the hands of professionals. So, they stood. Eventually, White asked Carl about the town and Carl told them different things. He told them about Sandra Peters going missing and Martin Webster coming back to town. He described the local pub as the main place of information along with the ladies prayer chain.

  Vilhallen asked about the coroner photos before the body was moved. Carl had them at his home as well. “We need those, Carl. Why did you take them home? Don’t you have an office?”

  “Too many Nosy Nordicas around my office,” Carl answered. Then he said, quietly but with conviction, “We don’t need all this official shit. Like I already told you, I know who killed Hauk. I don’t need your help to know that.” Only the pitch of Carl’s voice indicated how wired he was, coiled like a snake.

  Vilhallen and White exchanged glances and then studied Carl as though he were a prize exhibit at the fair.

  John White asked, “Who?”

  “That crazy guy who just moved back to the area. That’s who. Quite a coincidence, him moving back and Hauk being killed. Quite a coincidence.”

  “That would be the Martin Webster you spoke of?” Vilhallen leaned casually on the passenger door of Carl’s county vehicle.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Why would he do that? Did he have any encounters with the Sheriff?” White spoke from beside Carl’s elbow.

  “Crazy doesn’t need a reason.”

  Vilhallen watched Carl’s expression and knew the man believed it. Carl did not kill the sheriff, but Vilhallen suspected something a little evil inside of Carl.

  “How about proof? We need proof, don�
�t we?”

  “We bring him in and get a confession. I planned to do it today, but I need back-up. He’s not alone out there.” Carl warmed to his plan as he told it.

  “Remind me again what kind of vehicle he drives?” Vilhallen asked.

  “I don’t believe he has a vehicle of any kind. His neighbor, Bill Bendix, drives him around.” Carl stopped just short of an eye roll. “Like I told you previously.”

  “You think his neighbor drove him to town, he stabbed Hauk while his neighbor waited for him and, being crazy, he sucked up all the blood and then his neighbor drove him home?” Vilhallen maintained a serious expression

  Carl paused a minute. “Don’t jerk me around,” he said.

  White explained to Carl that actual proof, physical evidence, motive, access to the victim were all required. So, they needed the crime scene photos, the weapon, motive and ability, the files of recent and past cases, and the keys to check whatever was locked up inside that second bedroom.

  “So you guys are gonna try the victim just like always. It’ll be Hauk on trial.” Anger blazed from Carl’s eyes.

  “We need to know the victim to find who did this,” White answered.

  Vilhallen moved away from Carl’s vehicle leaving White to keep watch on Carl. It wouldn’t be long before a unit arrived from Sioux Falls. Vilhallen passed the time looking at the layout of the neighborhood. Hauk’s house was isolated from his neighbors. For one thing, the house sat further back on the corner lot. Out-of-control lilac bushes covered the corner, preventing passersby from seeing the house from the west or the south.

  Three evergreens marked the property line to the south and also blocked the view from the road. A driver could see Hauk’s house on the street directly in front of the house and that was it. Vilhallen walked down the street and looked at Hauk’s house. For Carl to see inside the garage, he must have driven slowly and maybe pulled into the driveway. Two houses across the street to the east faced Hauk’s house.

  Vilhallen noted to assign officers to knock on doors and interview neighbors, canvassing for witnesses. It annoyed him that this wasn’t already done.

  He was beginning his survey from the north side of the house, the garage side, when two Minnehaha county sheriffs department vehicles pulled to a stop in front the house. They came quietly, without sirens, lights or fanfare. He looked at Carl to see if the deputy noticed that. A few minutes later the lab van stopped, and suddenly the place felt like a proper crime scene.

  Later that afternoon, Vilhallen and White sat at their makeshift desks in their makeshift office. They looked at the coroner’s photos and report on the cause of death. They studied the pictures of the body, slightly turned as Carl admitted doing. They discussed the possible weapon. When the phone rang that the technicians finished their work at the crime scene, they ran for the car. It was time to check that spare bedroom.

  Carl was assigned to return to his normal duties and to not mention or interfere with this investigation. When told that he was no longer a part of the investigation into Hauk’s murder, Carl had merely nodded. Vilhallen knew Carl had no intention of obeying this order. Carl would follow his own private agenda. Vilhallen could only hope that Carl would cause no harm.

  As Vilhallen drove to Hauk’s house, White pointed out Carl’s county vehicle parked behind the pub. “I hope Carl doesn’t have a few beers and share his theory of who killed Hauk.”

  “That is exactly what he is doing,” Vilhallen said. “We have to hope no one listens to him or we could have a vigilante nightmare.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  At the house, Vilhallen and White found the lab Technicians loading their van. They had bagged and tagged only three items from the house, garage and vehicles. Vilhallen noted the baby bottle in a clear plastic bag, two kitchen knives and a large bag of bedding. They wouldn’t take from the scene anything more unless requested.

  A technician met them at the front door. “Interesting stuff,” he said. “You’ll have my full report in the morning. We have some knives, but I doubt they are your murder weapon. We have the baby bottle you found and we’ll check that out. Of course, we took the bedding to see what we see, but no visible sign of blood. In fact, we checked everywhere and didn’t find blood. We did find a lot of footprints and fingerprints, and we have them photographed and can check for matches if you need.”

  “In that second bedroom?” White asked.

  “Only one set of prints on a cabinet and desk, likely the victim’s. We did not force open the cupboard or the desk drawers. Let me know if you find something you want tested.” He was a clean-shaven, blond-haired man in his forties, slim and professional. He wore his gloves and carried a black case.

  Vilhallen stepped to one side to allow him to exit, but the man stopped and faced him. “One more thing, that little wired deputy, Banks, stopped by to ask some questions. We didn’t him anything, but he was a very anxious fellow.”

  “Did he come inside?” White asked.

  “No,” the technician answered. “He wanted too. Said he was told to start checking those files and needed to get on it. His name is on the authorized entrance list, but we were not finished with our part and told him to come back later.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Vilhallen said, and the man left. Two uniforms out of Sioux Falls remained on duty guarding the entrance. The first thing White did was to remove Carl’s name from authorized entry. Not removing Carl’s name was an oversight and such carelessness could not be repeated. The first thing Vilhallen did was jog to that second bedroom office.

  The light was poor in the small room with dusk long since past. The overhead bulb created more shadows than light. Vilhallen put on his gloves and pulled his penlight from his pocket. White entered and stood by the desk. It was an old wood teacher desk with two front drawers that stuck.

  “What do you expect to find?” Vilhallen asked.

  White said, “I hope for nothing more than letters from an old girlfriend. But I have a creepy feeling. Carl is worried about something.”

  White looked pale and grave as he took pictures of the desk. He pulled from his jacket pocket a black pouch containing screwdrivers and thin tools. They could no longer wait for Carl to give up the keys.

  The first drawer contained four neatly stacked bundles of cash bound with rubber bands and a second locked box, a small metal box like a miniature fishing tackle box. Vilhallen thought that Hauk would not give this particular key to Carl. White took pictures of everything exactly as it was then Vilhallen reached to remove the box from the drawer. He reached but pulled back. “For pity sake,” he said. Was he afraid of a box? He removed it and set it on top of the clean desk. The thought ran swiftly, “this box is a classroom study come to life.” He glanced at White and saw his complexion blanch. “We’ll look later.”

  Vilhallen moved on. The second drawer held more cash and a small spiral notebook. That was it for the desk. The cupboard was a steel type cupboard designed originally as a gun safe. The detectives expected to find guns inside, and they did. Two shotguns stood in their slots. However, the guns were not the first thing that caught the eye. From bottom to top in two rows were vanilla folders. The shelf designed to hold ammunition contained more folders and the drawer at the bottom was on a separate lock.

  The key to the bottom drawer was taped inside the door. When Vilhallen opened it, it contained ammunition and a cleaning kit and two knives in sheaths. These knives were too long and deep to be the murder weapon. These knives were for cleaning deer hide.

  The detectives looked at the files, thick and thin, and knew every single page would have to be studied. At this point they could only speculate what the files contained. The actual case files for the County of McCook should be in the court house. White called the uniforms and instructed one of them to carefully box theses files and take the files to their temporary office in City Hall.

  Vilhallen and White stared at the flat tin box that came from the desk drawer. White said, “Was Carl after
the money, the files or this box?”

  “I doubt Carl knew about this box,” Vilhallen said.

  A small screwdriver opened the box with little damage to the lock. Vilhallen could not help the sudden tightness in his chest as he looked at the contents. His mouth went dry on the instant. Beside him White gasped and stepped back.

  Inside the box were a dozen small plastic capped compartments. Inside six of the compartments were small clear plastic evidence bags. White took pictures and Vilhallen used his penknife to light each compartment. For some reason, both detectives hesitated to touch it.

  White finally said what they both feared, “It is a trophy box.”

  Vilhallen nodded.

  Each plastic bag was numbered in order. Neither detective knew what the numbers meant. Each bag contained a piece of jewelry or a button or a hair ribbon. One bag contained a lock of hair, black hair held with a paper clip.

  “I’ll get the lab tech back here,” White said. His voice held a slight tremble, and the color was gone from his face. He seemed to force his eyes away from the box and left the room. Vilhallen waited for the lab tech to return, and bag and seal the box. He felt sick.

  The file on the kitchen counter was different than the files in the cabinet. It was a heavy folder with wire edges for hanging in a drawer. “Property of McCook County Sheriff’s Dept.” was stamped on the front. This was a case file that Hauk must have brought home from the office. Vilhallen noted the name on the file, glanced through it briefly and bagged it to take to their headquarters.

  Vilhallen said to his partner, “Carl talked about this girl. And I saw the name on an amber alert.”

  “Cassandra Peters,” White read the label aloud. “We should talk to her today.”

  “Not before I’ve studied the situation. I have to know more before I interview her.” Vilhallen was still shaken by their discovery of the box and its contents.

  Vilhallen was too restless to focus, his thoughts churning. He tried to rein them in. His modus operandi was one detail at a time, and he was struggling to find his balance. The lab technician joined the detectives in the kitchen. The three men, shoulder to shoulder, looked at the tin box inside the plastic bag. The technician removed the tin box from the bag and placed it on the counter.