by Jeff Nania
“I am Deputy Rawsom from the Namekagon County Sheriff’s Office. You called to report a burglary?”
“That’s right, Deputy. Let me show you.”
“And you are?’’
“John Cabrelli. I just inherited this place from my aunt and uncle. This is Bud Treetall, the caretaker.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cabrelli. I already know Bud. How you doing these days, Bud?”
“Real good, Jim. I’m ready anytime to start helping with that deck you want to build. Just let me know.”
“Don’t worry, Bud. I’ll be getting a hold of you.”
I showed him the tool marks and the desk. He looked carefully through the contents and saw that while the search of the desk appeared to be random, it had, in fact, been done in a very thorough fashion. Every envelope opened. All contents removed.
“Well, whatever they were looking for was something that would fit inside an envelope. Could be money, but that doesn’t explain what I found over here.”
The deputy held up the three 100 dollar bills with a note clipped to them: “Bud, porch repair.”
Nope. If they were looking for money, then they would not have left this behind.
The deputy measured and photographed the scene. He bagged some of the desk’s drawer handles and a smooth heavy glass paperweight.
“They would have had to touch the drawer handles, and it looks like they used the paperweight to smash some of the desk. Surfaces are good. We might be able to get a print. We don’t have the most hi-tech lab here, but our guys are pretty good working with what they have.”
As the deputy was packing up to go, he turned and asked me, “Not that it’s my business, but you have any plans for the place?”
“Honestly, I just got here, and I haven’t had much time to think about it.”
“I’d love to have a place like this. That’s one of the best musky lakes in the state. The back of your property joins up with the national forest. You could walk for miles and miles and never see a paved road. I’ve got a little English cocker that I hunt grouse with behind here, and we’ve never been skunked. Places like this are awful hard to come by. But like I said, it’s not my business. Here’s my card. Any more problems or questions, just give me a call.”
“Thanks, Deputy,” I said.
To Bud, he said, “Catch you later and say hello to Julie.” Then he got in his car and drove out.
Bud and I went in and straightened up the mess. We tried to turn the desk over, but one leg was about broken off, and it wouldn’t stand. So for the time being we propped it up with some cement blocks Bud retrieved from the shop.
I asked Bud about the $300. He said he had repaired the porch just before Nick had been hit by the car and never bothered to submit a bill. I gave it to him plus another $100 for fixing the dock. He was thrilled.
“Well, John, I gotta get back to town; got a job to do over at the old feed store. They’re converting it to a restaurant, and there’s about three ceilings in there over the original one that have to come down before they can get started. I gave you my number. If you need anything, call.”
“Thanks, Bud, I will.”
He jumped in his 4-door Japanese car cruncher and drove out.
The taxpayers of the great state of Wisconsin spent a pile of money training me to be an investigator.
Based on that training and my vast experience, it was crystal clear to me that something was amiss regarding me and my aunt and uncle’s property. I had no way of knowing what that might be, but when something like this doesn’t make sense, it is usually because you don’t know the whole story.
Why the strange visit from Officer Lawler, and why would he think I was trying to fly under the radar of the local cops? What was he was worried about? How come Attorney Anderson was so panicked when I didn’t jump at the property offer? And mostly, why the hell were the lawyer and the tough guy cop communicating about me? Who trashed Uncle Nick’s desk and what were they looking for? This was no random burglary. I have never met a burglar that would pull three hundred cash out of an envelope and drop it on the floor.
But most importantly, who ran Uncle Nick down? Accident or murder?
A good cop is blessed and cursed. They are blessed with a will to bring the world back to order. They are cursed with the need to follow everything they come upon to its natural end, regardless of where that takes them. A lazy cop is just putting in time. A good cop is there because it is the only place for them. I was a good cop, and there was no doubt in my mind that something was wrong here, and I had no choice but to figure it out to my satisfaction.
I started with the papers that had been dumped out of the desk. Mostly just bills, check stubs for my uncle’s patent royalty, a few cards from friends, a funeral notice from Aunt Rose, and the vet bill from when they had their old Chesapeake put down. There was a tax bill for the place, and it took my breath away for a moment. Property taxes were not cheap in the Northwoods. I found an envelope addressed to Uncle Nick with a return address of a law firm in Minneapolis. I decided that the right way to go about this was to match whatever contents I could find to the right envelope if there was one. I laid stacks on the counter and some on the desk and started. After three hours, I had done a pretty fair job of connecting the dots. Mostly nothing was out of the ordinary—mostly that is. I found another envelope from the law firm. This one also matched up to nothing I could find. Mean anything? I didn’t know.
It was getting late in the afternoon, and it was about time for Julie to return home. I did not want to be in the house when she got there. I hoped we could have a civil conversation. The house was not neutral ground.
I went into the shop and could not believe what I saw. The place was immaculate. Toolboxes on wheels covered one wall, along with a lathe, a drill press, a couple of welders, and other tools. The adjoining wall had a workbench from one end to the other. On another wall was a gun and fishing rod rack, both full, as well as three tall file cabinets. I was fascinated by my uncle’s workplace, and it took me back to some of the best times of my life. One wall had two big windows that looked out on the lake and the woods behind.
I could just see him sitting there looking out while he worked on his projects. I loved the house, but I fell in love with the shop. I could have stayed put right there for hours, but I needed neutral ground. So I took a fishing rod off the rack and headed out to the boat dock. On the rod there was a lure, a Mepps No. 5 gold spinner black bucktail, his favorite. He used to say, “There is no fish in freshwater that will not succumb to the charms of the Mepps French spinner, a truly brilliant design.”
I cast out and around to where a mostly submerged log poked its end out. I was retrieving it slowly through a weed bed when wham. A beautiful smallmouth bass had clobbered the spinner and jumped straight in the air out of the water. I was twelve again and having the time of my life. I actually giggled. I didn’t even know I could giggle, but I did. I brought the fish to hand and unhooked the spinner, gently put it back in the water, and it was gone in a flash. I turned around, back to shore, and was greeted by none other than Julie Carlson, hip canted to one side, staring at me.
“You giggle like a girl,” she said.
I was as embarrassed as I could be.
Trying to recover, I said, “Did you see that bass? It was an easy three pounds. It flew out of the water. God, it was great. That would make anyone laugh.”
“You giggled,” she said, and turned and walked away, sitting down at the picnic table.
I walked over and sat across from her. “Julie, I think we had better talk.”
“What’s to talk about? I am moving out, and you are going to do what you are going to do to this place. Case closed, end of story, end of the need for conversation between you and me. So unless there’s something new that you need to share with me, I am not interested.”
“Are you always this charming?” I asked.
“I have student papers to grade and packing to do, so I would like
to get to it.”
“Well, before you go in, you should know that somebody broke in here while you were gone. They trashed my uncle’s desk and threw all the papers around. They didn’t bother anything else. If they took something, I don’t have any idea what it was. It must have happened right after you left this morning, because your cousin Bud was out here pretty early to fix the boat dock.”
With that, she bolted to the door of the house and ran in. She did a rapid run through and finally ended up back by the desk.
“It was probably kids looking for money or something they can sell to get money. Drugs are a curse here. Drugs, high unemployment, and time on their hands are a recipe for trouble,” she said.
“At first look, that’s what I thought.”
“But not anymore?”
“Nope, I found $300 paper clipped to a note for Bud. If they were looking for cash, I can’t imagine they would have passed that up. Anything else look different to you? Anything else out of place as far as you can tell?”
“Except for the desk, it looks like the way it did when I left this morning. Did you call the sheriff?”
“Yep, they have been here and gone. They took the drawer handles and a glass paperweight for prints.”
“So, what is all this about now? Somebody breaking in, looking for who knows what. I can’t wait to get my stuff and get out of this place.” She suddenly screamed, “I hate this house. I hate this place!” With that, tears filled her eyes, and she ran out the door. Lucky I sidestepped quickly because, otherwise, I am sure she would have run right over me.
I sat down in my uncle’s old chair, and I could see Julie out the window sitting cross-legged at the end of the boat dock sobbing by the look of the shaking of her shoulders. I thought, “This is one complicated shotgun-pointing, mad, ear-blistering, sobbing woman. I should just stay as far away from her as I can.” But I am a good cop, and I have to follow everything to its natural end. My time with Julie Carlson was not at its natural end.
An hour passed, and I decided to take a chance. I grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge and headed out to the dock. She did not acknowledge my presence until I sat down beside her.
A long minute passed before she said in a soft voice that up until this point I didn’t know she was capable of, “I hate it when I cry. I especially hate it when I cry in front of someone else. I really hate that I cried in front of you.”
“That’s okay,” I replied. “I hate it when I giggle, especially in front of other people.”
She burst out in a laugh. Her red-rimmed eyes sparkled like the lake water in the sunlight. Her shoulders relaxed, and she looked up at me.
“I am sorry that I have been less than cordial to you. This whole thing has been very difficult for me. I loved Nick and Rose, and I loved caring for them. They were two of the best people I have ever met. They were so kind to me. They treated Bud and me like family. We had Christmas and Thanksgiving and all the holidays together. I knew they were going to leave the property to you, and I thought it was the right thing to do. Even though I thought your absence in their lives was a pathetic comment on your personality. But your uncle stood up for you. ‘John is a good man,’ he would say. ‘Someday when you meet him you’ll see that.’ Then I heard from your lawyer that you intended to sell the place, and they were bringing in heavy equipment to knock down the buildings. I asked the lawyer if I could make an offer on the property, and he just laughed at me. Then he told me that you wanted me to pack my stuff and be out by next Friday.”
“I can understand your feelings,” I told her. “I think Nick and Rose were lucky to have you. You need to listen to me and actually hear what I am saying though. I am not your enemy. I love this place too. Whatever Lawyer Anderson has been telling you did not come from me. I didn’t even know you existed 72 hours ago. I am assuming I actually do have something to say about selling this place, and I am not even close to making any decision. You do not have to move. You can stay put until we get this all figured out. You’re right. I should have come to see them, but I didn’t, and that will be my sadness to bear forever. It’s no excuse, but when you’re fighting demons like I was, you can’t do much else.”
“We heard about the little girl on the news. Nick stopped watching the news or reading newspapers after that. He did not want to hear what they were saying about you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up. I wasn’t … I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Julie, several million people saw that on the news. It was a terrible thing. It is still a terrible thing. It was and still is my worst nightmare. The memory tempers any happiness I have ever had or will have. I am trying to move on. The best I can manage is one small step at a time.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
At that point an outside bell on a post let us know the house phone was ringing.
I asked her if she needed to answer that, and she said she probably should because it might be one of her students or a parent. When she was about halfway to the door, the ringing stopped, only to begin again a few seconds later. She went in and came back out.
“John, it’s for you. It’s Derek Anderson. He says it’s urgent.”
I walked in and picked the phone. “Hey, Derek. What’s up?”
“John, you are not going to believe this. The buyer just upped the offer to two million dollars, if we can close within 10 business days.”
“Two million dollars? You have got to be kidding me.”
“Think of what you could do with that, John. I am drawing up the final papers right now. How soon can you get here?”
Sometimes I honestly don’t understand what makes me do the things I do. It just seems like the right thing at the time, and I go for it. Common sense does not seem to have much to do with it.
“Derek, don’t worry about the paperwork. The place isn’t for sale. I’m going to be staying around for a while, so I’ll be in to finish up with my uncle’s estate. Thanks for your work, Derek. Sorry to disappoint you, but it is what it is.”
There was silence on the other end. Then Attorney Anderson almost snarled, “You have no idea what a fool you are and what a big mistake you’ve made. The people that want that place do not understand the word no. You’ll see. You will come around to their way of thinking.”
“Later, Counselor,” I said, and I hung up the phone.
Julie stood staring at me, her pretty blue eyes the size of saucers.
“John, you just turned down two million dollars for this place?”
“I guess that’s what I did, didn’t I? Never let it be said that the Cabrellis didn’t birth no fools.”
“Oh my God, John. That is a fortune. I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Huh? In the not too distant past, you were chewing me out for selling the place, even though I didn’t know I was. Now you’re looking at me like an idiot for turning down two million bucks. You’re going to have to excuse me if I am a little confused.”
“I just can’t believe you did it. Why would you care what I think? I can’t believe it.”
11
Cabrelli
Julie and I talked about her staying at the house with the break-in and all. She assured me that she would be fine and that she was going to put the shotgun by her bed. As I was mulling it over, the phone rang again. This time it was Bud. He was on his way out to stay for the night to make sure everything was okay.
Julie laughed a little. “Bud, I am going to be just fine…. Oh well, okay, if it makes YOU feel better.”
“So Bud is coming out to stay tonight?” I asked.
“Yes, he sure is,” she laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Bud, as big and strong as he is, wouldn’t hurt anyone. He has the sweetest soul of anyone I have ever met. He just doesn’t have it in him. I am the dangerous one,” she said.
No doubt.
I jumped in my rented jeep and headed back to town. What’s two million
dollars? I knew I had done the right thing. I also knew something else. I was home. I had found my place. I knew the minute I’d sat in Uncle Nick’s chair, the minute I saw the lake and walked out on the dock. I was finally home, and two million was a small price to pay. Maybe here the demons would finally leave. Tomorrow I would start taking care of all that needed taking care of. I called Laura once I got cell service, and she answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Cabrelli, I was just going to call you. That case of ours just settled. They saw the information you uncovered and went into a quick conference. They are giving our client what we asked. The risk for more is too high if they go to court. Good job, John. You’re the best. How are things going up north?”
“That’s what I called about. Things are going really well up here. So well, I am going to stay for a while. I don’t know how long but for a while anyway.”
“Are you quitting the firm?”
“Let’s call it a leave of absence. Just give me a chance to get this figured out.”
“John, if this is what you want, I am good with that. You are always welcome back here. Our caseload is pretty small right now anyway because I had booked six weeks for the trial. Elizabeth and I have been thinking about doing some traveling. Now might be a good time. I am gonna miss you, John. Stay in touch, and remember, don’t sign anything until I look it over.”
“See ya, Laura, and thanks.”
All of a sudden I realized how hungry I was. I really didn’t feel like fighting a crowd, and this time of year every place in Musky Falls was crowded. So I went to the Log Cabin and got a chicken dinner to go, based on the sign that said their fried chicken was the best north of Highway 10. After I got back to the hotel, I ate my dinner and was asleep in about two minutes. It’s amazing how turning down two million bucks can wear you out.
Morning dawned like it only can in the great Northwoods—clear as a bell, air full of the sweet scents of the northern forest. I felt good, happy. I put on my Badger t-shirt, red shorts, and running shoes, and after a stretch, I headed out for a run. I ran down the road shoulder and then on to a bike trail headed toward town and a cup of coffee at Crossroads. I have always been kind of a plodding runner. I am definitely not built for running marathons, but I can run, and today I felt light, and running felt good.
