An Iron Fist, Two Harbors

by Dennis Herschbach

  Deidre followed him inside. By that time she was becoming immune to the smell. Funny, she thought, how our senses adjust to unpleasant surroundings so quickly. She tried not to look directly at the corpse hanging from the stringer, but she couldn’t avoid it in such close quarters.

  She didn’t have medical training, but even so, she could tell he had been dead for quite some time. His skin was dark, almost black, and his tissue was shriveled. He reminded Deidre of pictures of mummies she had seen in science magazines. One thing immediately caught her attention and made her question the coroner’s judgment. The dead man’s hands were bound together behind him, and she was about to say to Jeff that the coroner must be a total idiot to think this was a suicide. She heard a sound and turned to see the “idiot” standing behind her.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “How could he have hung himself with his hands bound behind his back? I think what he did was fasten a plastic tie around each wrist. Then he got up on the stool and placed the noose around his neck. By feel, he connected the two ties that were already on his wrists with a third, and cinched it tight. The way they’re made, once you tighten them down, they lock, and the only way to get them off is to cut the tie. Then he kicked the stool away. He wanted to make sure that at the last minute he couldn’t undo what he started. Like I said, he was determined to kill himself.”

  Deidre still wasn’t convinced. “But that would take some pretty nimble fingers. He wasn’t Houdini, you know.” The coroner didn’t take offense.

  “No, he wasn’t, but he did leave a note on the table.” He pointed to a piece of paper that had already been placed in an evidence bag on the table. Deidre had been so trying not to look at the corpse that she hadn’t noticed it. “You can read it through the plastic.” Deidre picked it up and silently read the man’s last words.

  I’ve decided I can’t go through life this way. I know I’ve caused a lot of harm to others, and for that I’m sorry. I got what I had coming to me, and maybe I deserve this, too. It’s better for everyone this way. My hands will be bound behind my back. I will have done that myself. You can figure out how. I don’t want to chicken out at the end. Tell Junior I’m thankful for his friendship. Jake Burns

  Deidre could barely read the last line through the moisture clouding her vision. “How sad,” she said, handing the bag to Jeff. He scanned the writing and said nothing.

  It took only a few minutes to look around the one-room shack. Deidre saw nothing that would have been a link to Maren, and she and Jeff walked out to where his vehicle was parked. Not one word was exchanged between them until they were on their way back to town. No matter how hard Deidre tried to get the smell of death out of her nose, it was still there. She pictured her sinuses filled with fumes from the shack.

  “I left instructions with the coroner to make sure scrapings are taken from under the nails of the victim, just in case,” Jeff said. “But I don’t think we’re going to find anything related to Maren.” They rode again in silence until Jeff said, almost as a thought to himself. “When we get back to town, I’m going to check up on a few loose ends about this guy. I want to be sure to touch all the bases.”

  Chapter

  Twenty

  ON THE WAY HOME, Deidre made a mental note to call Dave and tell him about the sex offender’s death. She appreciated Jeff letting her ride along, and she more than appreciated his honesty about Dave. For the first time, Deidre had no nagging doubts in the back of her mind.

  Jeff had a few more hours to put in, and he stopped at The Pub. The bartender looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and disapproval, but she asked if she could help him. She knew he hadn’t stopped in for a beer.

  “I’m looking for information about a man, Jake Burns. Do you recognize the name?”

  “Nope,” she said, not seeming particularly interested.

  “How about this. Ever see him?” Jeff slid a picture of Jake across the bar to her.

  “Oh, him. Yeah, I’ve seen him. Used to come in here three, four times a week. Always sat there.” She pointed at a chair around the L of the bar. Haven’t seen him for quite a while. Want me to give you a call if he comes in?”

  Jeff could tell she thought there might be something in it for her, like a reward. “No, that’s okay. I doubt if he’ll be back.” Then he stopped. “Did he ever have friends with him when he was here?”

  “Him? Never. He was always alone. The only time I ever saw anybody give him the time of day was when two rednecks gave him a rough time. Called him something, and one gave him a jab in the ribs when they left.”

  “When was that?”

  “Man, must have been one, maybe two months ago. He quit coming in after that.”

  “Do you remember who the two men were, their names?”

  “Sure, everybody knows them. A couple of troublemakers. One is Josh Philips, the other is . . . oh, man, what’s his name? Brad . . . Brad . . . Brad . . . Brad Blaten. That’s it, Brad Blaten.”

  Jeff thanked her and was leaving when she called out, “Is there a reward if you find them?”

  “We’ll be in touch,” he said over his shoulder.

  Two Harbors is a small town, and it was easy to locate the men. They rented a couple of rooms in a rundown boarding house. When Jeff arrived at their address and walked around back, he spotted two men sitting on a sagging porch. The steps leading up to it looked as if they were ready to collapse from their own weight, and everywhere he looked, paint was peeling from decaying wood surfaces.

  Do you know where I can find either Josh Philips or Brad Blaten?” he called up to them.

  “That’d be us,” one of them said, and he snickered as if something was funny.

  “I’m Sheriff Jeff DeAngelo. Would you mind talking to me for a few minutes?”

  “That’d be okay with us, Sheriff. Ain’t that okay, Brad?” he asked the other.

  “Yeah, that’d be okay. Come on up, if you trust them steps.” Both men snuffed out what they had been smoking and sat up straighter in their chairs. Jeff sat down in a rickety deck chair that almost tipped over from his weight.

  “What can we do for you, Sheriff?” the one who Jeff assumed to be Josh asked. He had an insolent smirk on his face.

  “Do either of you know a Jake Burns?” The two men glanced at each other and the smirk disappeared from Josh’s face.

  “That prevert? What’s he done now? Been playing with some little girls?” He snickered, and Jeff ’s dislike for the man intensified.

  “No he’s dead. Possibly murdered,” he added, thinking that would shake up the two dickheads.

  “I have a witness who says you two were giving him a hard time in The Pub. That was shortly before he dropped out of sight. Is that true?”

  Brad spit over the railing. “Could be. We don’t like those preverts hanging around where we drink. When was this supposed to have happened?”

  “A little less than two months ago. Is it true?”

  “That damned Sally. She was the only person in there, other than me and Josh, and that prevert. She’s the one that told you, ain’t it?”

  Jeff looked Brad square in the eye and neither man flinched. “It doesn’t matter who told me. So it’s true you gave him a hard time?”

  Josh butted in. “Ain’t no crime in that. Just a little foolin’ around is all. So what’s all the fuss about a dead prevert, anyway? Just saves you some trouble down the line, Sheriff.” He emphasized the word “sheriff.”

  Jeff had about enough of the two. “Can you account for your time between the dates of May fourth to May ninth?”

  Josh chuckled, picked out a cigarette from a pack, and lit it. After he had inhaled, he said, “That’s a long time ago. And it’s quite a bit of time to account for. What about you, Brad? Do you remember what you were doing those days?”

  Brad took a drink of amber-colored liquid from the glass he was holding. “Let me think. May what to what?” he asked Jeff.

  Jeff was having a difficult time
remaining civil, but he had no reason to haul these two sorry specimens in. “May fourth to May ninth,” he repeated.

  Both men rocked back in their chairs, and Jeff wished one of them would go over backwards. After pretending to try to remember something, Brad spoke up.

  “Now I remember. We were down in the Cities. You remember that, Josh. The gun show.”

  Josh answered. “You know, you’re right. We were at a gun show. Lasted three days, and then we did some sightseeing, at night, on Hennepin Avenue.” He laughed. “If you know what I mean.”

  Jeff was revolted by the pair “Is there any way you can prove that?” He knew there had to be, and that they had been ridiculing him and his position.

  “Yeah. We stayed with a friend and his girl,” Josh said as he dug a cell phone from his pocket. Jeff saw him push a couple of buttons and then say, “Here it is. Call Dick Jackson, 651-555-3274.” Jeff had to ask him to repeat it, because he hadn’t been ready to write the number down.

  “Now get the hell out off our butts,” Brad ordered. Both men stared at Jeff, sneers on their faces.

  As he made his way down the creaky steps he heard them laughing, and he wished he could go back and bust their heads.

  Back at his office, Jeff immediately dialed the number he had been given, expecting no answer, or perhaps an answering machine to pick up.”

  “Hello,” a woman said after the second ring.

  Jeff was startled to be talking to a person. “Uh, hello. This is Jeff DeAngelo, sheriff of Lake County, calling.” He heard a sharp intake of breath, as though the woman were used to such calls and wondered what this one would be about.

  “What do you want?” Jeff almost expected her to finish the question with “this time.”

  “I understand there was a gun show in the Cities about two months ago. Do you have any recollection of that?”

  After a hesitation the woman answered. “Yes. Yes, I do remember that. Why do you ask? I didn’t go, and neither did my boyfriend.”

  “Is your boyfriend’s name Dick Jackson?” Jeff asked.

  “It is, but like I said, he didn’t go.”

  Jeff felt sorry for the anxiety he was causing. “Please relax. This isn’t about you or Dick. Just bear with my questions a bit longer. You’ve been very helpful already,” he said reassuringly. “Did you have any visitors during that time?”

  He could sense by her answer that the woman was not as tense. “We did. That’s why I remembered there was a gun show. Two of Dick’s high school classmates stayed with us and went to the show.” She went on the offensive. “What kind of trouble are they in? I told Dick I’d never let them back in my house again. They gave me the creeps. Dick said they were from his past and that he didn’t want them around, either. Did they kill somebody with one of the guns they bought?”

  The thought went through Jeff ’s mind that those two were the kinds who should never be able to get their hands on a gun, but he didn’t voice his opinion. “No. If you give me their names, and they match what I’ve got, the two of them are in the clear.”

  “One’s name was Josh and the other Brad. I never heard their last names and don’t care if I ever do. Do you want me to have Dick call you when he gets home from work?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary. Do you know where these two guys are from?”

  “Two Harbors.”

  Jeff thanked the woman for her help and said it cleared up an issue for him. He hung up thinking she was a good judge of character.

  *****

  DEIDRE TRIED TO DO some work in her garden, but she couldn’t get the vision of Jake Burns hanging from a rope out of her mind. As she dug weeds from the dirt, she thought of his wizened form hanging like a piece of dried meat. He had looked so small, but then, she thought, his corpse was desiccated, had lost a significant percentage of weight. The image in her mind was so sharp that she could picture the shoes he wore, dirty jogging shoes with the laces untied.

  Deidre dug her cell phone out of her pocket, and as she dialed Jeff ’s number, she looked at her watch. It was 4:49, almost quitting time, and she hoped he was still there.

  “Jeff,” she said, more abruptly than she had intended. “Do you know what size shoes Jake Burns was wearing when he was found?”

  “Well, hi to you, too, Deidre.” He was laughing.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m still a little wound up after what we saw today. Anyway, I’ve been trying to kill some time and had a thought about what he was wearing. Do you know?”

  She heard paper being moved near Jeff ’s phone. “I’ve got his folder right here. Haven’t had time to look at it yet. Just a sec.” Deidre waited a few moments while Jeff looked over a one-page report. “He had on Nike running shoes, white-leather uppers,” he reported.” Here it is, size eight. Not big for a guy. Course, he didn’t look to be a large person when we saw him.”

  Deidre shot her next question at him. “You have casts of the footprints left in the mud by Maren’s car, remember? Have you checked to see if they match Jake’s shoes?”

  “To be honest with you, Deidre, I hadn’t given it a thought. Probably should have,” he rationalized. “But it’s something that has to be done. If I remember, though, the footprints in the mud seemed to be good size. Tell you what, I’m getting ready to pull the pin for the day, and I’ll swing down to the evidence room and take a look. Get back to you in a few minutes.”

  Deidre gave up trying to beautify her garden, stomped the dirt off her feet, and was pouring herself a glass of ice water when her phone rang.

  “Hi, Jeff here again. No one has checked out the size of the prints yet, but I’ve got it right here in front of me. I wear a size eleven and I checked my shoe’s sole against the cast. It’s at least as large as mine, so I guess that pretty much rules out Jake. His shoes didn’t have any red clay on them, and we didn’t find any in his place when we searched it. He was probably wearing the only pair of shoes he owned, except for his work boots. We’ll keep at it, Deidre. I promise.”

  She sat on the deck, waiting for Ben to get home and the twins to be delivered from ball practice. A familiar hollow feeling crept over her.

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  DEIDRE LEFT A MESSAGE on Dave’s voicemail, asking if he could come for coffee and dessert that evening. She told him that Jake’s body had been found, and if he wanted to talk, she and Ben would be home. Twenty minutes later her phone rang. It was Dave.

  “Deidre, thanks for your message,” he began, and she thought he sounded out of breath, as if he had been jogging or something. “I called as soon as I checked my voicemail. What did they find out? Do they think Jake had anything to do with Maren?”

  Deidre wished she could say yes, the case had been cracked, and now they could have some closure. “No, nothing like that. Ben and I are missing you, so are the boys. We’d like to visit, if you have time. There are a couple of things I’d like you to know about what was found, and we can catch up on what you’ve been doing.”

  Dave hemmed and hawed for a second or two, then said he’d change his schedule to make it work. For an instant, Deidre felt like he was doing them a favor, making room to talk to them. She thanked him and went back to nursing her hollowness.

  *****

  IT WAS LATER THAN DEIDRE had planned when she heard Dave pull into their driveway. She heard a car door slam and heard the thump of his footsteps as he crossed the deck. He knocked on the door and waited to be let in. This jarred Deidre a little, and then she realized Dave had always rapped once or twice and walked right in. It was as though she were inviting a stranger into her home.

  Dave gave Deidre a cursory hug, barely a light squeeze of her shoulder, and stepped back. “Been a long time,” he said. “Is Ben home?” Deidre pointed to the living room and watched him leave the kitchen. She felt she had just been mildly rebuffed.

  “Ben, how’s it going?” Dave asked as he strode across the floor to where Ben was reclining in his favorite c
hair. “Don’t get up.” Deidre entered the room in time to see Dave and Ben shaking hands, Ben still in his chair. She heard Jack and Steve running in the upstairs hallway.

  “Dave,” they called out as they rumbled down the stairs and threw their arms around him.

  “Man, I think you guys have grown since I saw you last. How’s baseball going?” After a couple of minutes of small talk, Deidre told the boys it was time for them to begin getting ready for bed. They climbed the stairs, mumbling to each other.

  Deidre asked if Dave wanted coffee or iced tea with dessert, and he opted for coffee. She remembered how he drank it. When she returned with their drinks and generous slices of cake on a platter, Dave had made himself at home and was sitting in the chair he usually claimed. Deidre looked at him and was glad Jeff had shared with her what he thought about Dave’s involvement—or lack thereof.

  “So, you said you had some information to share. Anything significant?” He looked expectant.

  “I don’t want to go into detail, especially while were eating,” said Deidre. She wished he had waited until they had finished with the food.

  They ate in silence. When they finished, Deidre began, “Jake’s body was found yesterday. Apparently, he committed suicide.” She was happy Dave didn’t ask about the circumstances. In fact, he didn’t act surprised or remorseful, or show any other emotion. Instead, he asked only one question.

  “Did he leave a suicide note?”

  “He did. It didn’t say much. Only that he was sorry for what he had done, and that he couldn’t take it anymore, whatever it was.”

  After a moment of looking at the floor, Dave said rather pensively. “Do you think the thing he was sorry for was Maren’s murder? Maybe guilt was the thing he couldn’t take anymore. He did have a history of sexual predation. Wasn’t he a registered sex offender?”

  For a second Deidre wanted to believe his theory. It would be a comfort to stuff everything about Maren’s disappearance into one small box, lock it away where it wouldn’t haunt her, and go on living. But she knew the facts.