Crow Wing Dead

by Midge Bubany

  “Then what happened?”

  “They followed me and rear-ended me at a stoplight. That’s where I made my mistake. I got pissed and got out of my car to walk back to their van. Before I could say a word, the big dude decked me. The next thing I knew I was being shoved into the back of the van.”

  “Funny no one saw that happen.”

  “No one was around. They held a gun on me, and I thought for sure I was gonna die right there. I figured I was Paul’s example.”

  “Where did you go? What happened to your Mercedes?”

  “Glenn drove it out to some cabin in the woods. We followed him in the van. He said it was a family cabin, but he had to break into it. They tied me up in a chair and told me they would kill Paul if I didn’t pay them the ten grand.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told them I didn’t have that kind of money sitting in my bank account. I’d have to make some calls, and it would take days. I told them to take the Mercedes. It was worth way more.”

  “And did they?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They abandoned it not far from the cabin.”

  “Really? I thought they’d chop it.”

  “Maybe they were going to go back for it later, or they were worried about it being spotted en route. How long were you at this cabin?”

  “Overnight.”

  “They used your debit card shortly after they abducted you. Did you give them your pin?”

  “Yeah, I told them to take my cards, go to Vegas, get some cash, just let me go.”

  “So it was your idea to give them your cards and pin number?”

  “They were threatening to kill Paul, my parents, my wife, if I didn’t give them the money, so yeah, I handed everything over!” He was shouting. His face had turned crimson.

  “Calm down, Hawk. I’m not judging you, I’m just getting the information.”

  He sat back and blew air out his nose. He took a pull of beer. I didn’t tell him, but he’d have to do this all over again officially—at Crow Wing County.

  “So they took your wallet and left?”

  “Glenn stayed. He kept a loaded shotgun on me.”

  “What brand?”

  “I don’t even know. I didn’t notice, okay?” he said, raising his voice in agitation.

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “Then Ginty came back that night, and Glenn was worried about his uncle coming around the next morning, so they moved me. They covered my head with a smelly T-shirt and drove me to where I later learned was a farm south of Brainerd, but at the time I had no idea where I was.”

  “What happened at the farm?”

  “They tied me up in a basement, handed the farmer the shotgun they stole from the cabin, and told him to guard me. They said to shoot me if I was any trouble.”

  “You’ve been gone a little over three weeks. Where you at the farm the entire time?”

  “Shit. I thought it was longer than that. Yeah, that’s where I’ve been.”

  “So, tell me about your time there?”

  “I was tied up in the smelly basement, and at first, the farmer only came down to give me water and food and empty my piss bucket. He said very little to me. About the fifth day, it started getting to me, so I started hollering at him to let me go. He took it for a full day before he came down with the shotgun and fired one off above my head. Scared the livin’ shit out of me. I couldn’t hear very well for a day. So I took a different tact. When he came down to feed me, I tried to engage him in conversation and pretty soon he’d stay on a little longer to talk. I think he was lonely, and after a while, he’d stay and talk for a long while.”

  “Why were they holding you captive?”

  “Because they were making me cash an annuity for the ten grand Paul lost. I tried to delay it as much as I could by lying. I told them I had to have the paperwork sent to my home address knowing that process would take five to seven days. I also said I had to get the form online, so they brought me down an old shitty laptop and watched as I did the transaction. Luckily, no one caught when I checked the box to send the form rather than complete it online. I was hoping one of the neighbors would see one of those bastards stealing my mail and call the cops. How well would Ginty or Wynn fit in my neighborhood?”

  “Not very.”

  “Must have been a week before they brought the envelope back up to me to fill out. Then we had wait for the check to come, so I could endorse it.”

  “Were they going to have you cash it?”

  “I’m pretty sure they were going to have Paul do it. Then they were going to kill both of us.”

  “So had the check come?”

  “Not yet. I convinced the farmer into letting me go before it did. I told him Wynn would kill both of us once I signed the check.”

  “Did you see Paul during this time?”

  “No. He may have known about the annuity, but I don’t know that for a fact. If he knew they were going to kill me after they got their money, he’d never have gone along with it.”

  I wasn’t so sure.

  “So you withdrew ten thousand?”

  “More. When I was online and had signed in, Wynn saw my total—I had around $53,000 in that account. He said he’d take forty and leave me thirteen. Nice of him, don’t you think?”

  “This extortion scheme was much more elaborate than I thought. Do you have any idea why the farmer went along with it?”

  “He was scared… we never knew when Ray-Ray and Snake would pop in unannounced.”

  “Did Glenn Hayes ever drop in?”

  “A few times.”

  “So who was the brains of the bunch?”

  “Definitely Snake. He gave the orders. I was to be fed finger food in an unbreakable dish. No utensils. So I ate out of a metal dog dish.” He smiled. “After a week or so, the farmer offered me some weed.”

  “You and the farmer smoked weed together?”

  He lifted a hand and smiled. “I was trying to be his buddy, one he might save… and he did.”

  “Paul must have known where you were.”

  “Why?”

  “He was killed there.”

  “Maybe he came to save me.”

  “His car wasn’t on site.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “No. When did you leave the Kramer farm?”

  “Early this morning. When the farmer came down, he said I needed to get out now or never. He cut me loose and told me Brainerd was a five-mile walk. I didn’t think about it; I just started walking. Not moving much for three weeks, I tired easily. I stopped at the nearest farm house, I banged on the door, but no one answered. I looked like hell, so who would answer?”

  “Did you think to tell them to call 911?”

  “No, I should have, but I just moved on. I’d just made it to the yard of the next farm when I saw a black Buick driving by. It looked like Snake driving it.

  “No one answered there either. The house was all locked up tight. I thought about breaking in, but thought the neighbors could have called them, and I’d get shot if I tried to get in. They had an old friendly collie who followed me around, wagged his tail and never barked. Then I noticed there was absolutely no activity around that house, no animals or anything to take care of but the dog, and he had two big bowls by the back door. Food dish was pretty full, so I figured they might be gone, so I felt safe there for a while.”

  “How long did you stay there?”

  “I intended to wait only until I saw Snake’s car leave. I crawled in the backseat of an old Plymouth parked out behind a shed where I could see the road. After a while I heard the dog panting outside the window, so I opened the front passenger door and he hopped in, curled up, and went to sleep. I eventually fell asleep too, I don’t know
how long. But when I woke, I took off walking west thinking I’d run into 371 and could hitchhike into town. I put up my thumb, but nobody would stop, but I wouldn’t have picked me up either. Finally the kid stopped. I told him I’d been car camping, and my car wouldn’t start.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him the truth, or at least have him drive you directly to the police?”

  “Because I… well, obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly. Anyway, the kid said he was from Prairie Falls, so I told him to drop me off at your place. He also told me he knew the two guys who had been murdered.”

  “He knew Paul? How?”

  “From The Dive. He knows Tulia too.”

  “Jesus Christ. So he also knew Norman Kramer?”

  “Who?”

  “The farmer’s name was Norman Kramer.”

  “Oh. It fits him, I guess.”

  “Did anyone ever come by? Neighbors? Relatives?”

  “His sister brought him over some chicken soup and chocolate cupcakes once. When she left, he shared it with me. That day he let me use a spoon. She lives in Cross Lake and has three teenage kids. He showed me their pictures.”

  “So he fed you pretty well?”

  “The first week he just gave me sandwiches. Later, he fed me meals he made for himself.”

  “He saved your life, Hawk.”

  “I know.” He bent forward and began to weep.

  I kept the video rolling while I let him cry it out. Then said, “Why don’t we put you to bed and finish this in the morning?”

  After I showed him to the guest room on the main floor, I got a pillow and blanket and took the couch. I wanted to be close in case he needed something. I stared up at the ceiling and thought about everything I’d been told. Man, I’m going to be in trouble for not calling Patrice.

  Chapter 25

  June 5

  I dozed on and off for a few hours. Around 3:00 a.m., my eyes popped open. I tossed and turned, punched the pillow a few times, and finally gave up. I looked in on Hawk. He was sleeping soundly. Poor guy must have slept poorly on a thin pad in the stinky basement.

  When I went back to the great room, I picked up yesterday’s Minneapolis Star Tribune I hadn’t taken the time to read. Witness in the Heiress Trial Refutes Deputies’ Testimonies. The article stated that Brock Snyder, a war veteran and flight instructor in Minneapolis, testified Ms. Valero was with him at the time the fire occurred at the Valero residence. He had given her a flight lesson out of Flying Cloud Airport in Eden Prairie.

  Brock Snyder was Victoria’s flight instructor? She was going for her pilot’s license? My God, was it those two buzzing over my house in a bi-plane? What was she planning? She could drop anything from a plane on anyone’s house.

  I skimmed the rest: Snyder testified that after the lesson they went to lunch and back to the Lewis compound in Orono. That afternoon they went on a boat ride on Lake Minnetonka and later had dinner in at Gianni’s Steakhouse in Wayzata. Sounded like a lovely afternoon for an heiress.

  Brock. What kind of a name was Brock? It was the name of a guy who’d be willing to be bought by Victoria’s father, that’s who. Damn it. We had overwhelming evidence Victoria was guilty on all counts, then the lying son of a bitch says he was with her in Minneapolis. I wonder how much Brock was paid.

  I turned on the TV and tuned into CNN. It took only a few minutes before an aerial video of the Kramer farm was shown.

  The reporter said, “Authorities in Minnesota are investigating a bizarre set of circumstances surrounding the death of two Crow Wing county residents on a farm near the resort community of Brainerd. Norman Kramer was found shot to death in his basement, and yet another victim, Paul Hawkinson of Brainerd was found in a nearby field.” They also showed film of two ambulances exiting the Kramer farm without lights or sirens.

  The screen changed to a photo of Victoria wearing her business attire: a black suit and white blouse.

  “Meanwhile, in nearby Birch County, the heiress to the Lewis fortune is being tried on several charges, among them arson. County Attorney Oliver Bakken says he has all the evidence he needs to convict. He disputes Brock Snyder’s claims that Ms. Lewis was with him in Minneapolis on the day in question. The case hinges on his testimony and that of deputies who allege Victoria Lewis was masquerading as her roommate Sadie Jones and was in the area at the time of the crime. The prosecution contends Ms. Lewis vandalized and later set fire to the home of her former stepmother, Adriana Valero. But defense witness, Brock Snyder, testified the defendant was with him the day in question.”

  Then they moved to a story of yet another athlete caught on camera punching his wife in the face. I turned the TV off and closed my eyes.

  I woke when Bullet licked my hand. I glanced up at the clock. It was 6:30. I texted Patrice and told her to call me ASAP, and within seconds she did.

  “You’re never going to guess who’s at my house?”

  “Who?”

  “Michael Hawkinson?”

  “What? Seriously? Is he okay?”

  “Says he is. He’s still sleeping.”

  “Still sleeping? He was there all night?”

  “Since about ten o’clock last night.”

  “And why wasn’t I notified last night?”

  “He was exhausted. I thought he should get a good night’s sleep before we put him through the interview process.”

  “Not protocol. I’ll be right there.”

  I made Patrice a mug of coffee, then we sat at my counter while I showed her the film of Hawk’s interview. When it was over, she said, “I’m not happy you didn’t notify me last night, and there are no excuses. And he should have been taken directly to the hospital.”

  “He seemed okay. How about I take him to the hospital now, then if he’s up to it, to the department to have someone else question him.”

  “That goes without saying. Wake him up. It starts now, and I’m taking over. We will not notify the media until after he’s questioned and has a chance to see his family. Where and when will be determined by me later. Clear?”

  “Clear.”

  “Just so you know, I’m furious with you.”

  “I surmised that.”

  “But, I would have done the same thing.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I still may write you up.”

  I nodded again, and then went to wake Hawk. She agreed to let me make us all a breakfast of bacon and eggs before we left for the hospital.

  After her first bite, she said, “I must say, Michael, except for the marks on your wrists and ankles, and the faded bruise on you forehead, you don’t look like you’re in bad shape. Cal looks worse than you.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said.

  “Were you fed well?”

  “Yes, after a week or so, Norman brought me real meals instead of peanut butter sandwiches. He was a good guy. They forced him to keep me captive.”

  “You do know he could have called 911 at any time,” Patrice said.

  “I told him that… over and over. I tried to convince him to call Cal, that he would help us. But he was too scared they’d kill his dog, Willie.”

  “You saw the dog?”

  “Yeah, he was a border collie/golden retriever mix. About five days in Wynn took him and told him if he didn’t do exactly what he was told, he’d shoot Willie. The farmer broke down after he left. I felt bad for him.”

  “You’re going to be questioned fully down at the station, but I want to know one thing. Did you ever see your brother at the farm?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think he knew I was there.” Hawk looked to me. “He would have told you, Cal.”

  I didn’t believe that for a minute. Paul was about Paul.

  Patrice sighed deeply. “Okay, I’m going to
take Michael to the hospital. You can drive over to notify his family.” Then to Hawk, “We’ll arrange a place where you can meet them privately, Michael.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  After I cleaned up the kitchen, I drove over to Brainerd to notify Tom and Barb Hawkinson their son was alive. A Subaru Outback was parked in the driveway. Tom answered the door.

  “Oh, Cal, we were just talking about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “We want to know if you’ll be a pallbearer for Paul’s funeral?”

  “Sure, when is it?”

  “Next Wednesday. We can’t show him, you know. His face was…” Tom broke into shuddering sobs, and I pulled him in for a hug for a few seconds.

  “Where’s Barb?”

  “In the kitchen with Sydney. She’s coming with us when we go to the mortuary, then to see Pastor John.”

  Barb and Sydney were sitting at the kitchen counter, a laptop before them, an opened bible next to it. WCCO was playing on the old green radio they had twenty years ago when I hung around their home.

  “Cal’s here,” Tom announced, then went to turn off the radio.

  They looked up, dread filling their faces.

  “No, no. It’s good news. Mike’s alive.”

  There was a second’s delay before anyone said anything. Barb stood, her hands frozen midair. “What?”

  Sydney shoulders dropped inches, her face went slack. “Oh, my God, I never thought we’d hear those words.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Barb said. Tom and Barb gravitated toward each other and embraced, and began to weep.

  “Where is he now?” Sydney asked.

  “He’s being checked out at the hospital; if he’s physically able, we’ll question him at the department, then arrange a place for you all to meet.”

  “Can’t he just come home here?” Barb said.

  “I’m going to be honest with you. It may not be safe. He’s seen the faces of the men who kidnapped him and feels he knows who killed Paul and Norman Kramer.”