Figure Eight

by Jeff Nania

  She stepped into the inner office, and I heard Derek tell her to send me in.

  “Hi, John, good to see you. Enjoying your time in Musky Falls?”

  His professional conversational tone was not consistent with his appearance; he looked like hell. He was pale and drawn with dark circles under his eyes. His shirt looked like he had slept in it; there was even a stain on the front like spilled coffee.

  Normally when you see someone looking like that you might ask about their health. I really didn’t care enough to ask, so I plowed forward.

  “I am having a great time. Really enjoying myself. I ran in the fun run yesterday, did some fishing too. It’s been nice. Thanks for asking. I think we have some paperwork to finish up on my uncle’s estate, I would like to get that done as soon as we can. I was hoping we could figure out a schedule this morning.”

  Clearly a man with a burden, he asked, “I don’t suppose there is any chance you have reconsidered selling?”

  “No chance, Counselor.”

  “Kind of what I thought. Everything else is ready to go. A few signatures and we are done. We can take care of it right now if you want.”

  He lined the papers up; they had sticky notes where I needed to sign. I picked up the pen and stopped. Laura’s words came back to me: Don’t sign anything until I read it.

  “You know, Derek, I don’t want to be insulting, but I think I should have my lawyer look these over before I sign anything.”

  When I said that, he began to look even worse than just a minute before.

  “John, I do not see why that is necessary. This is a very simple matter of closing out an uncontested estate. I actually am representing you in this case and your aunt and uncle posthumously. I have reviewed everything, and all the paperwork is in order. Delaying any further seems like a waste of everyone’s time. Let’s just sign the papers and be done with it. I am a very busy man, and I have had to put other clients on hold while we settle this.”

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Derek. I will give you the fax number, and we can fax them over right now. I am sure that she will take a look at them and get right back to us.”

  “No, I’ll send them via email, John.”

  My gut feeling took over. “Derek? Give me that stack of papers, the same ones you wanted me to sign. I will take them someplace to have them faxed over.”

  “No, no, we’ll do it. I’ll take care of it this morning.”

  “Sorry, Counselor. Give me that stack of papers, now.”

  His receptionist came to the door and said she was going to the post office. I briefly looked her way. That’s when Attorney Derek Anderson accidentally knocked a full cup of coffee over onto the documents, soaking them completely.

  He yelled at his assistant to bring in some paper towels, but he was not nearly as upset as he should have been. As a matter of fact, he looked kind of happy, like a guy who had just dodged a bullet.

  I didn’t know what to say. Once again he was clearly up to something.

  I did the only thing I could. “Derek, my lawyer’s name is Laura Davis. She will be getting in touch with you.” With that, I got up and left and didn’t look back. I called Laura on her cell and relayed the events.

  “You are a smart guy not to sign anything, John, whether you think the guy is on the level or not. It’s too bad that you didn’t get the papers before he destroyed them. There was something there that he didn’t want me to see. Anyway, I will call when they send me something. How is it going there otherwise?”

  “Even with all the drama, this is a good place. I am enjoying myself. Like I’m on vacation.”

  “Good, you deserve some time off. Enjoy it. I am looking forward to you coming back. Elizabeth and I are going on a cruise to do some diving and sightseeing. We lucked out and found an open suite on a great boat. I will be out of cell range, but I can respond to emails. We’re going to leave in three days. Hopefully I will get the stuff from Anderson by then. John, I have to take this other call. Talk to you later.” She hung up. Back to her high-speed life.

  Next stop was Ron Carver. The store was open, but the staff said he had not yet appeared. His schedule, they said, was variable. He came and went when he wanted. They had no idea when to expect him today. He would be in, but when was anybody’s guess.

  I sat on a bench on the street. I was not at peace at the moment. Today was the day I was going to begin. Read the report and go from there. I wanted to get the stuff with Anderson all straightened away before launching my investigation. I needed to reduce the number of things requiring my attention and preservation of thought. Clearly that was not going to happen today. Anderson’s shenanigans had again changed the game. One thing I was sure of was that ol’ Derek was up to his neck in this thing and had reached the point of desperation. He looked bad, he was nervous, and he’d tried some sort of flim-flam to get me to sign something that I shouldn’t. He did not appear to be the same man that I had so recently shared deep-fried cheese curds and beer with. He was a desperate move maker trying to fix something by doing something else wrong, but just digging himself in deeper and deeper.

  I was absorbed in my own thought when the sound of a speeding car brought me around. Anderson was in his car driving fast north out of town. Before taking any time for rational thought, I was on my feet running on my board-stiff legs to the jeep. I fired it up, backed out, almost pulling a Bud, and before I knew it, I was in hot pursuit. I had lost sight of Anderson’s car but jumped on the main highway north. Edging well over the speed limit, trying to gain a visual. I moved in and out between the other three or four cars on the road and caught sight of Anderson.

  Vehicle surveillance is very tricky to do well. It would be easy if you could just park on somebody’s bumper and just keep up. The problem with that is that they know they are being followed and are most likely going to alter their course. What you want to do is follow them from far enough back to watch them and from close enough not to lose them. A surveillance using several vehicles is always the best way to go: one car breaks off after another takes a position, significantly reducing the chance that the person you’re following will figure things out. A one-car operation requires skill on the part of the pursuer, knowing when to drop back, use another car for a shield, or when to close the gap.

  The first problem I faced was that Anderson was going like a bat out of hell, in excess of 80. The speed didn’t worry me, but another car traveling that fast coming up behind you is a tip-off, especially if the pursuer is driving a vehicle known to the pursued. We traveled a very fast ten or so miles, when, without signaling, Anderson turned left onto a small blacktop road. The road was really a private driveway flanked on either side with two fieldstone pillars and a heavy steel gate hanging between them. As I cruised by, I saw the gate open for Anderson. I tried to get a glimpse of what lay at the end of the drive, but the property was heavily wooded and didn’t reveal a clue. I continued down the highway at the speed limit. About a mile past where Anderson turned, I found a sand road that ran off into the trees. I slowed, pushed the button to activate the four wheel drive in the jeep, and pulled in. Although some distance away, the sand road ran in the same direction as the driveway Anderson had taken.

  The jeep crawled along without spinning a tire. The road was just a fire lane cut through the brush to act as a fire break and access point for fire equipment in the event of a forest fire. It appeared to have been recently mowed by a brush hog, so there were no trees or heavy brush to stop my progress.

  I came to the crest of a hill and stopped. Below I could see a good-sized, fast running river, probably the Namekagon. The view was spectacular, a river running its course through a dense northern forest community. I looked in all directions, and to the south I saw what appeared to be the peak of a house roof. I went down the hill and walked over to get a better look.

  It was a house all right, 10,000 square feet of logs and stone set as close as possible to the bank of the river. Anderson’s car was parked in
front on a circular driveway. A massive porch extended off the back, part open, part closed in. It was the kind of place you see in beautiful home magazines. One accoutrement that you rarely see in beautiful home magazines are two guys walking a foot beat around the house, armed to the teeth.

  Security, two guys meant to be visible, would be a deterrent to the casual trespasser. Armed with AR-15 type rifles, they could also lay down a pretty good field of fire as the first line of defense. If there were two outside, chances were damn good there were a couple more inside. As much as I wanted to get a closer look, I knew that it was likely they also had some electronic surveillance gear in place. I should have, but hadn’t been, looking for it on my way in, but I was pretty sure it was there.

  I didn’t need to push my luck at this point; a body left in these woods would be subject to immediate conversion from a human life form to usable sustenance by all manner of creatures, the process beginning minutes after death. What would be left would be hard to find if anyone was even looking.

  I had learned a great deal, and while assumptions are often dangerous, sometimes you just have to jump.

  After his meeting with me, Anderson had left his office and driven 80 miles an hour to this house. The house was huge and expensive, and one could assume that the owner was pretty well off. Very visible and obviously armed security staff furthered that notion. I think that whoever it was in the house, Anderson and I shared some common interest.

  It was time to go. I walked back to the jeep, and a second too late I noticed a set of heavy lugged boot prints in the sand by the driver’s door.

  I spun around and was faced by a guy who had an AR-15 pointed at my midsection. He was 30 feet away, no distance at all for a rifle, but enough time for him to get a shot off if I made a move.

  “You are on private property. What are you doing here?”

  My brain was pretty quick on its feet. “I’m new around here and I thought this might be the road to the public landing on the river. I guess it’s not. Do you have any idea where that landing might be? I would like to do some fishing. “

  He said nothing.

  “Well, I’m sorry about the trespass. I’ll know better next time. I will just get in my jeep and get out of your hair,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Don’t.” One word conveyed many things, and the way he said it stopped me cold. “You are going to walk down the hill toward the house the way you came. You are going to do it right now.”

  This man was serious. I could see it in his eyes, and I could feel it.

  “If I don’t?”

  “You make your own choice. You are going down to the house. I really don’t care how that happens. No more talk. Get moving.”

  “Just let me get my wallet out of the glove box, and I will come along peaceably,” I said.

  At that point, he raised his shirt, and I saw my little Walther tucked in his waistband.

  We set off at a slow pace toward the house. He never got any closer to me or any farther away. If I had made a move, it was not his intention to try and restrain me with physical force. The way he had it set up would allow him only one solution for any perceived indiscretion on my part—a very permanent solution.

  Everyone was on alert when we got to the house, no doubt alerted by the radios connected to the earbuds they were wearing. They gathered around me, none too close, all making sure they were out of the other one’s direct line of fire. Pros. Their faces remained expressionless as we walked toward the front door.

  When we reached the steps, the door opened and out stepped the man I had seen on the massive power boat on Spider Lake. Off to the side behind him was my beer drinking buddy and lawyer, Derek Anderson. He looked as though he could melt into a puddle at any moment.

  “Mr. Cabrelli, how nice to finally get to meet you. My name is David Stone. Welcome to my humble home. Won’t you come in? Candace was just going to bring Anderson and me a cold iced tea on the deck. I hope you can take a minute to join us.”

  “I don’t think I have much choice,” I said glancing around at the guards.

  “Don’t give them another thought. I pay them well to be very serious about their jobs. That includes dealing with trespassers. But you’re not a trespasser anymore. Now you’re a guest. Stay or go is your choice.”

  Go was the right choice. Stay is what I did.

  The house was incredible. A huge stone fireplace dominated the center of the room. It was open on two sides. On each side above the openings were heavy thick mantles crafted of rustic wood.

  On the mantle on one side was a beautiful bronze sculpture of a man and a dog in a boat, battling enormous waves with only a paddle. The other had a shoulder mount of a gigantic moose above it, an antique flintlock rifle below. The walls were tastefully adorned with what appeared to be original oil paintings depicting outdoor and wildlife scenes. It was one large room that contained a dining area, kitchen, living room, and a library.

  Looking up, I saw that the ceiling was open, and the next floor was contained within an elaborate but still rustic wooden railing.

  “Quite a place you’ve got here, David. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

  “Well, John. Can I call you John?”

  “John’s good,” and because sometimes I just can’t control myself, I was tempted to say, “John’s fine, but just don’t call me Arvid.” I didn’t, although it seemed like a funny idea at the time.

  We walked out to the rear deck through the center doors in an enormous glass wall that had a stunning view of the river. The deck was covered, and there was a seating area on a smaller section that was built out far enough to be above the river. We sat there and were almost immediately served iced tea by Candace, who turned out to be the woman I had seen in the boat with David. She poured our drinks and then left the room, leaving just me, David, and Derek sitting. Derek drank his tea in about one gulp and refused to make eye contact with me.

  “John, I am really sorry that we had to meet like this. I want to tell you upfront that I was following the advice of counsel. As a result, I had put off getting together. Now that we are here though, we should talk. I am the person that is interested in buying your uncle’s spectacular property. I did not know you, and sometimes it’s best if a man in my, my … let’s say position, allows others to negotiate on their behalf. It seemed that it was unlikely to be an adversarial situation, so I agreed to allow Anderson to handle the sale since he was already handling the estate. Needless to say, he has not been successful in his endeavors to this point. So it is high time we get together, mano a mano, to work this thing out.”

  Mano a mano: I never liked the saying. Whenever I heard it I always felt like the next thing we needed to do was get up and pee on the closest tree.

  “What can I do for you, David?”

  “It’s really more about what I can do for you, I think. First, a little history. I have long lusted after your aunt and uncle’s property. Just prior to his accident, we had almost worked out the details of the purchase that would ensure financial security for him for the rest of his life. His dear Rose had passed away, quite a woman she was, and he had been talking about doing some traveling. The place had become somewhat of a burden for him to take care of. There is always much to do when you have land. He had hired a local dullard to help him, but I think the man was more of a hindrance than a help. He even took in a boarder to help with chores, although I again don’t think she did much. I shouldn’t say that. She did manage to bilk him and your aunt, for that matter, out of a fair amount of money that was supposed to go to a local charity or school for the underprivileged.”

  “Are you talking about Bud Treetall and Julie Carlson?” I asked.

  “I think those are the right names. Anderson, are those the right names?”

  Anderson barely muttered a “Yes.”

  David gave Derek a flint steel look that told him all he needed to know; sit up, straighten up, and do it now. Derek responded as best
as he could, which was still none too good.

  “As I was saying, your uncle and I had worked out a deal that would provide him with a lump sum and then monthly payments, with interest of course, over the next ten years. He was very excited. In fact, he asked if I knew the name of a good travel agent. I was glad to give him the direct number for the one I use myself. She said he called her the next day and began discussing potential destinations.

  “Just prior to us signing on the dotted line, Nick had that terrible accident. It is a miracle that he lived as long as he did after being struck. Damn tourists come up here, sit in the bar, drink until they can’t walk, then think that since they aren’t at home it’s fine to drive. Unfortunately, it happens all too often. The last I heard, they still don’t have any suspects. What a shame. Nick was a real asset to this community. So that brings me to you, as the sole heir. Any further negotiations will be between you and me. I’m sure that Anderson here would be glad to draft up any paperwork after we reach an agreement.”

  “Well, David, as I told Derek, who, by the way, told me he didn’t know who the buyer was, I am not interested in selling. As a matter of fact, I intend to move into the place.”

  Stone looked at me with a practiced smile, but his eyes were reptilian cold, “I know. That’s what Anderson told me, but I don’t think you really understand how badly I want the property. I understand that my last offer was not enough to interest you. So let me ask you, what would interest you? I am a very wealthy man, and I am sure we can reach an agreement. If you are determined to relocate up here with the kind of money I am willing to pay, you could buy something very, very nice.”

  “That being said, why don’t you buy some other place, David? Why overpay for this property when you could buy any other?”

  “In this case, no other property will do I’m afraid. Your property is the one I want.”

  “On that we are of like mind,” I said. “No other property will do for me either.”

  He locked his eyes on mine. They were cruel and angry. But in a second his smiling façade had returned. He got up and said, “The boys have brought your jeep around and returned all your property. Thank you for your time.”