Figure Eight

by Jeff Nania

  I have always thought you could learn a lot about somebody by what they hang on the wall of their home or office. Dennis Targett was a fisherman and hunter and a successful insurance man, all evidenced by the décor. His office furniture was not fancy, but he had a desk and comfortable chairs. Derek Anderson’s office was a different deal altogether. His desk was huge and looked like some kind of antique. The chairs were leather adorned with brass studs. The walls had framed diplomas and pictures of Anderson with several different groups of, I assumed, dignitaries. One I recognized as the Wisconsin governor. There were also two plaques placed conspicuously, both acclaiming in polished wood and brass what an all-around good guy he was.

  “Nice desk,” I said.

  “It should be; it cost a small fortune. There is a company in Superior that makes furniture from logs they retrieve off the bottom of Lake Superior. I ordered it as a reward to myself after a successful deal I put together. You have to take those rewards when you can along the way.”

  He sat in his desk chair and I in one of the fancy leather ones facing him.

  As he looked for my file he said, “I heard about the accident. I hope they can get your car fixed soon so you can go about your business and be on your way. I know the fellas at the body shop, and I will phone them and tell them to give your car top priority.”

  “Thanks, Counselor, I appreciate that, but I think I will be fine with the jeep for a while.”

  “Well then, let’s get down to business. There are three major parts of your uncle and aunt’s estate. First, there is combined cash and securities of just over $219,000. There are also royalties from his patented invention that come in at about $5,000 per month in a structured buyout agreement that has several more years to run. That has a value of $300,000. There is a buyout clause as part of the agreement should your uncle Nick or his heirs decide to cash out. It would be 75% of the value and is payable in 30 days after the notice is filed.

  “The biggest asset is the property. Here is a map of the holdings. There are several parcels of land involved, all contiguous. Over the course of his life, when a next-door property would come available, your uncle was a ready buyer. The total is 240 acres. It is kind of an odd-shaped parcel, much longer than it is wide. Much of that is wasteland, you know wetlands and such, not much value there. Some is forest land and contains marketable timber but has not been managed in years. The most valuable parcel is the water frontage along Spider Creek and Spider Lake. As you know, it is a beautiful secluded spot, the kind of property people will pay for. If you were to use comparable sales to determine a value, it would become difficult in that not many properties like this are sold. However, $1.5 million is at the top end of value, so the offer you received is very generous, and you can see why I’m anxious for you to seize this opportunity. If we cashed this all out, you could walk away with about two million dollars after fees and such. A man like you could do a lot with that kind of money.”

  “Who is the buyer?”

  “Well, that is the hard part here. I actually don’t know. He, or I guess it could be she for that matter, is represented by a law firm from Minneapolis. It’s a very prestigious small firm that has the reputation of serving high-end clients. People like that often want to remain out of the spotlight. I assume that is probably the case here. The Community Bank here in town has, however, been able to confirm that what they say is true, that they have funds on deposit to draw from to pay for the property. They have the money, and they are ready to go forward.”

  “What are their plans for the property? Are they going to keep the buildings?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t think you should worry about it. Those buildings are old, and although they look very quaint, they are a maintenance headache. No one wants to spend all their time fixing up old buildings. Once you sell the property, you don’t have to worry about it again. You can head back home a millionaire and resume your life.”

  At some point, even the most casual observer would note that almost everyone I had met so far in Musky Falls was anxious to see me return home as soon as possible. I was getting the feeling that this was not the friendly town that I’d remembered. Then again, maybe it was just me they didn’t like.

  “Derek, I need to ask you something else. Julie Carlson said—” Anderson cut me off.

  “Oh my, not her again. Anything she says has little credibility in my book. She is the last person I would waste time listening to.”

  “Just humor me. She said that this was all a done deal. They were moving heavy equipment in next week to bulldoze the place. Where would she get that impression?”

  Attorney Anderson started to look a little ruffled.

  “Mr. Cabrelli, I don’t know what she is talking about. This is a small town and rumors run rampant. If you are smart, you will take this offer and run. In my opinion, it would be very foolish to turn this down.”

  “Let me ask you another question about the property. I saw a map in the newspaper of the proposed mine area. It included Uncle Nick and Aunt Rose’s property. You know anything about that?”

  His ruffled look worsened, and he began to sweat.

  “Those maps are on such a large scale when they are printed in the newspapers that the boundaries often cover areas that are not in the planned acquisition zone. It is impossible to judge by the newspaper what lands are in or out of the proposed mine area.”

  “Could you get a copy of the real map? An accurate one, big enough that we can tell whether or not this property is part of the mine?”

  At this point his face took on a strained look, and his voice changed to almost a snarl. The normally cool and friendly lawyer lost his cool and friendly attitude.

  “Sell the damned property, Mr. Cabrelli! Let’s get this over with! I don’t have time for this. Just sell and be done with it. If you don’t, you will wish you had.”

  The last part came out more like a threat than good advice from my lawyer.

  A second later he was back to his old self. Every hair in place and a 100-watt capped-tooth smile.

  “John, I am sorry. That was uncalled for. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Really, I am just trying to do the best for you, that’s all. Your welfare and future are my only concern.”

  “Well, thanks for that, Derek. I’m going to head out now for a while.”

  “What about the property sale?” he asked, clearly exasperated.

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  “When, John? When can I expect to hear from you?”

  “Soon,” I responded. “Very soon.”

  I walked out and, unknown to me at the time, stepped off the cliff into the abyss.

  10

  Cabrelli

  It was a beautiful day, and I decided to head out to the house.

  However, before going, it was clear that a wardrobe change might be in order. I stopped by the Fleet store where they had everything I needed. I found a comfy pair of boots, some work jeans, t-shirts, and a sweatshirt. I asked the clerk if I could change clothes in the changing room at the store and take the tags up to the checkout. She acted like she got this request all the time. Who knows? Maybe she did.

  “Sure, no problem,” she said.

  At the register, they gave me a bag to put my other stuff in and then checked me out. The total for everything was slightly less than half of what I had paid for my Italian loafers. I left the store feeling pretty good, especially about my puddle-proof footwear. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to find a puddle in which to try them out.

  I drove a couple more blocks, stopped at Crossroads Coffee, and got one for the road. I was set and took off down the highway. The jeep handled a lot differently than my little sports car did, but it had a substantial feel, sitting higher up, and a little whine from the mud and snow off-road tires went up and down with my speed. I kind of liked it. Trading Italian loafers for boots and a sports car for a jeep kind of made me feel a little more … manly, I guess would be the word.

  I pulled
into my uncle’s property and there, parked down by the lake, was a familiar crew cab pickup. The tailgate was open and someone was pounding on something with great exuberance. I walked over and was greeted by the smiling face of Bud Treetall. He was bent over a piece of boat dock and was trying to straighten out a bent leg.

  “Hi, Mr. Cabrelli. I didn’t think you would be up and out so soon. I knew this boat dock needed to be fixed and thought I would come out and get it done before you walked on it and had it tip over. I did the handyman work around here for your uncle whenever he needed help. Well, when he had the accident and went to the nursing home I just kinda kept things up. I had forgotten about the dock though and figured I better get it done. Even though I know you’re going to bulldoze the place.”

  “That’s very nice of you, Bud. How about if I hold that leg so you can get a better whack at it.”

  “That would help for sure.”

  So I held the leg while Bud wailed away at it, and eventually it was pretty straight. I helped him slip it back into the dock section, and we prepared to level it.

  At that point Bud said, “Mr. Cabrelli, if you’ll stand on the dock with this wrench, I’ll get my waders on and get in the water. I’ll lay this level on the deck. When it’s level, just take the wrench and tighten the two hold bolts.”

  “You’re going to lift me and the dock to level?”

  “That’s what I was thinkin’ anyway.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I wasn’t standing on the dock?”

  “I suppose, but I don’t think it’ll matter much, and I only have one pair of waders, and I wouldn’t want you to get all wet.”

  With that, I positioned myself on the dock, wrench at ready. He lifted me and the whole works up with no problem. Once we got it to level, I set the bolts and he climbed out.

  “Bud, you are one helluva strong man. I couldn’t have lifted me and that dock section together on my best day.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am. It sure comes in handy sometimes,” he replied.

  We headed back to the house, and I went to unlock the door. I knocked as loudly as I could to see if Julie Carlson was lurking inside waiting to give a blast of buckshot. No answer.

  “If you’re worried about Julie being home, forget it. She teaches during the day and doesn’t get home usually until 4 or 4:30.”

  I reached to unlock the door and it swung open. It was already unlocked.

  “Bud, you got keys to this place?”

  “Yup, got keys for all the buildings.”

  “Did you unlock the house?”

  “No, I didn’t need to go up to the house. I had my tools with me and just went right to the dock. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though. A lot of people around here don’t lock their doors.”

  “Does Julie usually lock up?”

  “I think she does pretty much all the time. Not that she has to worry. Anyone dumb enough to bother Julie would be making a big mistake.”

  We pushed the door open, and it was instantly clear we’d had a visitor. My uncle’s desk drawers had all been emptied on the floor, and the desk was tipped over. Someone had then hacked away at the bottom and the frame leaving a pile of wood fragments.

  “Jeez,” said Bud, “someone smashed the shit out of your uncle’s desk. Why would they do that?”

  “They were looking for something, Bud. They thought it was in the desk. By the looks of it, they must have thought the desk had a hidden compartment. Wonder what they were looking for.”

  “Probably money, I bet. Some of the kids around here are too lazy to work, and they sit around doing drugs and drinkin’. Probably thought that no one was living here. Man, is Julie going to be pissed off.”

  We looked around the place and saw that nothing else seemed to have been bothered. A close examination of the front door showed tool marks where someone had slipped a flat pry bar between the door and the jamb and popped the spring lock. I decided I had better call the sheriff’s office and report the break-in. I dialed them up on the landline, and the dispatcher said someone would be out within the hour and asked me not to touch anything.

  I opened the fridge and retrieved a couple of cans of soda, and Bud and I went outside to sit at the picnic table and wait.

  “Bud, you mind if I ask you some questions about the local folks?”

  “Sure, Mr. Cabrelli. I’ll answer if I can.”

  “For starters, call me John.”

  “Okay. Bud’s good for me. I hate Arvid. That was my great-grandfather’s name on my mother’s side. I bet he hated the name too.”

  “So, tell me about Julie. What’s the deal with her? Yesterday she thought I was a prowler and damn near shot me with a shotgun.”

  Bud broke out in a big smile followed by a booming big man laugh, “You sure are lucky. Usually she doesn’t hesitate much. I am surprised she didn’t shoot,” he said. “Julie is my cousin, but we were raised together. She never knew her dad, and her mother pretty much tried to drink Namekagon County dry. One night on the way home from the bar, her mom crashed her car into a tree and that was it. Julie came to live with my family. We were cousins, but she was more like a sister.

  “She was way better in school than I was, and she helped me out a lot. Book learning and I just never got along, but she got me through. When we graduated, she went off to school at Eau Claire to become a teacher. I knew she would be a good one ’cause of how good she did with me. It’s not because I’m not smart, I am real good at figurin’ out things, it’s just that books and me, well… She was at college two years, and then one day she showed up back home with all her stuff. She had this old car that I kept running, and it was packed to the roof. She told us she had run out of money and left school. My dad asked her about student loans, and she just said startin’ out in life with a bunch of debt wasn’t for her. She worked all that summer at the lumberjack show at night and at the co-op during the day. She sure was set on saving enough money to go back to school. She never went out, not even to the movies. She cashed her checks and put them in the bank. I think she was getting pretty close to what she needed, because she told me that she had applied for a part-time job at the student center and was pretty sure she would get it. Then late in the summer, my mother took real sick, and by fall, she had passed on.”

  Bud paused and looked out onto the lake. It was dark blue and calm. I could feel the sadness of past sorrows sweep over him.

  “I’m sorry, Bud.”

  He just nodded and continued. “Julie took over running the house for dad and me. My dad kept telling her she needed to get out and see the world, that taking care of him and me was no job for a smart and pretty young girl. She’d have none of it. She was sure we couldn’t take care of ourselves. When Christmas came around, Julie started taking some online courses through UW-Superior. She took care of us, worked two jobs, and still had time to study. My dad was in his eighties, and he had smoked pretty much all his life. It finally took him during the winter. He got pneumonia and never recovered. He had a paid-up life insurance policy when he died, and he left that to Julie and the house to me. The policy wasn’t very big, and the house wasn’t much, but Julie and I were thankful for it. He had lived a good life, and he was a good dad to both of us. She went back to school at the start of the summer session. She must have worked like a dog because it didn’t seem like anytime at all a year had passed, and she was back home with her diploma.

  “She was all excited about a special school they opened in Namekagon County for kids like me that don’t do good in regular school. She wanted to teach there. Anyway, her first day home she drove out to the school to put in an application. The school was in an old town hall building about a mile off the highway. Guess there was no one around because it was summer, so she headed back into town and went to the school administration building. She went in and asked about the school. The woman in the office told her that it was going to close. I guess the teacher had quit, and even though they had a notice out for the job for a month, they
had no takers. Julie applied right then and there. They called her within a couple of days, and she got the job. She became the lead and only teacher at Northern Lakes Academy.

  “She’s been working there ever since. Some of the kids are pretty hard to deal with, but she likes them and they like her. She got hooked up with your aunt and uncle three or four years ago. Heard that they had a cabin that no one was living in on their property. It was only five miles from the school. She went and talked to them, and they agreed to rent it to her if she would help with the chores around the place.

  “She really loved your aunt and uncle. They treated her like family. They talked her into moving into the main house when Rose got sick. Her room is up on the second floor. It’s pretty nice. It’s big and has a window that looks out on the lake and a big whirlpool tub in the bathroom. She really likes it.

  “She’s pretty sad that she has to move out now that you’re selling the place and tearing it down.”

  “I don’t know anything about tearing the place down, Bud. I am pretty overwhelmed by all this right now, and I haven’t really had time to give any of this much thought. I am working on trying to figure things out, but I haven’t gotten very far.”

  “Well, it’s your house now, and if you want to tear it down, that is your business. That’s what I told Julie. She didn’t like to hear it much, but that’s the way it is.”

  At that moment a marked sheriff’s car pulled into the driveway and came to a stop by the table.

  The deputy got out and walked up to us sitting at the picnic table. He reminded me of many of the rural deputies I had met over the years, lean and fit. He walked toward us with a confident stride. A cop in the city has backup no more than a minute or two away. In a rural county like this, it could take an hour before help got to you. Deputies learned to pretty much handle everything on their own. This guy looked to be in his forties, and the hash marks on his sleeve showed he had over twenty years of service.