A Death in Lionel's Woods

by Christine Husom

  Mason and I backed off slightly. Weber sped up, moved into the left lane alongside the Mercedes, and steered his front bumper into the side of it, near the back. The Mercedes went into an immediate spin, round, and round, and round, until it came to a halt in the middle of the road. Most of the time, a spin like that caused the vehicle’s engine to stall.

  Weber sped on past the car after the tap, then turned around, and stopped on the east side of Champ’s vehicle. Mason and I both stopped, and parked on the west side, blocking the vehicle from there. “Three forty, Winnebago County, we have the vehicle stopped on County Thirty-seven at Osborn. We’ll need a deputy at Oberg Avenue, and one at Parnell, to stop traffic from coming our way. And send a tow truck to our location, if you will.”

  “Ten-four, Three forty. We’ve got Seven twelve and Seven twenty-five responding to cover those intersections.”

  “Thanks.”

  The beauty of a spin was it left the vehicle occupants dizzy, and disoriented. An effective surprise attack. The four of us jumped out of our squad cars, and drew our weapons. Weber stayed with his vehicle, using his open door as cover. Smoke, Mason, and I descended on Champ and Fletch before they had a chance to recover. Mason crouched toward the back of the vehicle on the passenger side, and I took the driver’s side.

  Smoke moved on past me, took a look into the front seat from the back window then opened the driver’s door, staying to the rear, out of the line of potential gunfire. “Hands on the steering wheel, Champion. Hands on the dashboard, Fletcher. Now. I need to see your hands,” Smoke yelled.

  It took them both a minute to understand and comply with his commands, and Smoke continued to yell until they did. “Are either one of you armed?” No response. “Answer, or we will assume that you are, and you will be in for an unpleasant surprise. Last time, are you armed?”

  “No,” Champion said.

  “I am,” murmured a weak voice from Fletcher’s side of the car.

  “Where is it?”

  “Stuck in the back waistband of my jeans.”

  “Mister Fletcher, keep your right hand on the dashboard, and unbuckle your seatbelt with your left hand.” He did. “Now keep your hands in the air where we can see them and get out of the car.” Fletcher struggled for balance as he maneuvered his weasel-like body out the door.

  Mason took over. “Put your hands on your head, and turn with your back to me. Then take five steps.” Fletcher did a quarter turn and took the steps. “Now get down on your knees, and cross one ankle on top of the other.” He followed the directive.

  Weber walked over by me then went around the back of the car, out of Fletcher’s line of sight. As he passed by me, I gave him a thumbs’ up for his maneuver. He and Mason moved forward. Weber applied the handcuffs, and Mason lifted Fletcher’s jacket up in back, and grabbed the gun. Weber turned Fletcher’s jacket pockets inside out then helped him to his feet, and escorted him to his squad car. He pat-searched him, removed a few items from his jeans pockets, and secured him in the back seat.

  “Your turn, Mister Champion. Slowly lift your hands off the steering wheel and keep them raised until you’re out of the vehicle,” Smoke said. When Champion was out of his car, Smoke and Mason went through the same arrest procedure they’d used on Fletcher, and then secured him in Mason’s squad car.

  Smoke waved Weber and Mason over. “We got a long list of charges, but for now let’s stick with the first degree assault, attempted murder, human trafficking, human smuggling, and possession of forged documents.”

  We all got back in our squad cars. Mason and Weber each announced they were en route to the jail with one in custody. Smoke and I waited for the tow truck to pick up Champ’s car. “Well, that was a helluva deal,” he said.

  “That Weber. As much as he drives me crazy at times, he is fearless. I felt like I was watching a perfectly-choreographed scene.”

  “It was right out of the movies, no doubt. I was just about to tell him to hold off. Damn, am I ever glad I didn’t.”

  “I’ve had more adrenaline rushes the last two weeks than I had in the last six months.”

  “I burned through my adrenaline allotment a long time ago. About the time my hair started turning gray, instead.”

  “Smoke.”

  When Mike’s Towing had Champ’s car safely secured on his flatbed trailer, and was on his way to the sheriff’s impound lot, Smoke and I headed back to Champ’s house where Carlson wanted to hear every single detail of the stop, and arrest. He was visibly disappointed he hadn’t been part of it.

  The three of us filed into Champ’s house to wrap up the search. There were no paper files, or incriminating documents, to be found, but we confiscated his two computers, a laptop and a desktop, for our investigators to interrogate. Then we drove our treasure trove of evidence back to the office where we got another big surprise.

  We were hauling in the file boxes when my cell phone rang. It was Peggy, the sheriff’s front desk receptionist. “Sergeant there is a woman named Mary here to see you.”

  “Did she give a last name or say what it’s about?”

  “No, but she is upset.”

  “All right. I’ll head on over there in a couple of minutes.”

  Smoke had three other deputies helping him, so I excused myself, and walked down the hall, from the evidence room to the reception area. Time stood still when the woman with flowing dark brown hair turned, and fixed her troubled eyes on me. It was as if Maisa had come back from the dead, filled out to a healthy, attractive weight.

  “Mary?” I somehow got her name out of my mouth.

  “My name is Lamara, but I have been going by Mary.” Lamara, why was that familiar? I look much like my sister, Maisa.”

  “Maisa. Yes, you do, and I was honestly stunned for a minute.”

  “Yes, I saw that on your face.” Tears welled in her eyes then rolled down her face. “I read about her in the Minneapolis newspaper.”

  “Let me make a quick phone call then we can head to a quiet room to talk.” I stepped back into the hallway and called Smoke.

  “You gonna be tied up?” he asked. When I told him who it was that was waiting for me, he said, “Hallelujah! Go ahead and get everything you can. I just got a call from Edberg. They finished up at Fletcher’s house, and confiscated a bunch of weapons, and his computer. He’ll be here anytime, and wants me to meet him.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “Where will you be with the sister?”

  “An interview room.”

  “All right, I’ll stop by when we have things under control here.”

  “Thanks.” I returned to Lamara and nodded at Peggy to buzz us in. We passed through the sea of desks, and employees, on our way to the interview room.

  When we stepped inside, we both collapsed onto chairs. Perhaps an emotional impact punch had struck us both.

  I reached over and gave her arm a slight squeeze. “Let me start out by saying I am so very sorry for your loss, and for finding out about Maisa the way you did. We only learned her identity this morning.”

  “Thank you.” Lamara watched me pull out my pad and pen as she spoke. “The paper I saw last night with the article about Maisa was more than a week old. That’s why I didn’t come sooner. I knew I must help, even if it means I will be sent back to my old country.”

  “Georgia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you’re here illegally?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lamara, we’re uncovering the names of others who are here illegally, as well. I don’t know what’s going to happen in everyone’s case, and I can’t make promises, but if you want to stay in the United States, I will do everything I can to help you.”

  Lamara nodded. “I believe that. Please tell me what happened to my sister.”

  “Maisa died from starvation, sadly.”

  More tears trickled down her cheeks. “I was always afraid for her health that way. Maisa was unable to eat when she was anxious and depresse
d. She could not force herself to swallow. I had not seen her for months, and did not realize it had gotten so serious for her.”

  “I have a feeling she didn’t realize that either.” I gave her some time to think. “Lamara, tell me how you got here. I’ve learned a little about Maisa’s story from the man who had her brought here.”

  “Ernie Packard.”

  That surprised me. “You knew?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “The stories of how Maisa and I came to Minnesota are similar. We grew up very poor, and were often hungry. There were few opportunities in our village. Our cousin, who was an unscrupulous man—although we did not know that, at first—offered to help us. He knew we were not earning enough money, and told us we could earn one year’s living expenses by selling a kidney to someone in need. Maisa was twenty-two years old at the time, I was twenty-one.

  “Maisa had a much greater need than I did. She had two little ones, a boy, Sese, and a girl, Lela, but no husband. He had run off in the middle of the night when Lela was a tiny baby, and we had no idea where he had gone. We would not prostitute ourselves so we each agreed to sell a kidney. I know our cousin made much money, but we also had enough to live well for a time.”

  My blood boiled, but I held my tongue.

  “When money started running low again, Maisa was beside herself, trying to provide for her children, but was not able to. Our cousin suggested that she send them to the United States where they would be well-cared for, and she would get some money also. Maisa finally gave in, and sadly let the children go. Her only request of our cousin was that she be told where they were. It was here, in Winnebago County, Minnesota.”

  “And that was when?”

  “Three years ago, when the children were seven and four. They would now be ten and seven.”

  “Help me do the math here. That means Maisa was only twenty-eight when she died?”

  More tears emerged. “Yes.”

  “And you and Maisa got here through your cousin, also?”

  “Yes. Maisa was desperate to see her children, and our cousin told us there were men looking for wives in Minnesota. Maisa saw it as a way to find her children. I saw it as a way to leave our poverty behind. The problem for Maisa was with her health. She did not recover as quickly as I had from the surgery. Add to that the depression she felt with her children being away from her. She grew very, very thin. Our cousin said she must put on some weight to be more desirable. So I was sent for first.”

  “Did you get money to come here?” I said.

  “No, I did not.”

  “And you went to someone in Minneapolis?”

  “No, two years ago I came to Winnebago County to be with a man named Kevin Lionel.”

  That’s where I’d seen the name Lamara. It was in Kevin Lionel’s file. The one I’d glanced at in Champ’s office. Kevin Lionel. The man who kept secrets. He had to have suspected, looking at Maisa’s photo, that Lamara was closely related to her. “Then what happened?”

  “Kevin and I, as you would say, did not connect with each other at all. In the time I was there, neither of us was happy. I wrote to Maisa back home, and sent her money for food and medicine. I also cautioned her not to write back for fear that Kevin would get the mail before I did.

  “A year later, she was chosen by a man named Ernie and arrived here, also. She took a big chance and telephoned me one day to tell me. We discovered we lived not three miles apart, but we kept that secret from Kevin and Ernie, of course.”

  “Why was that?”

  “We were afraid of the man who brought us here. He insisted we learn to speak very good English, and sound like Americans, before we had contact with others outside of our husbands. According to the papers he had for us, we were born here in this country.”

  “That man was Waldo Champion?”

  “Yes, and he has someone who works with him called Fletch. They are bad, bad men,” she said.

  “I’ll tell you some good news about those bad men when you’ve finished your story.”

  A puzzled look crossed her face, and then she nodded. “We were very careful, Maisa and I, and met only a few times in a wooded area across from Kevin’s house, very early in the morning. When we met, we’d set our next time to meet before we parted. We did not want to risk telephoning, or writing each other.”

  “Lamara, it must have been a special place for Maisa. We believe she made a number of trips there. And it’s where she died, lying on a buried stash of money in that woods.”

  She nodded and looked at her hands. “She was saving money she secretly took from Ernie to hire a private investigator to find her children. She did not want to involve him in that. Because of Mister Champion.” Lamara took a moment then continued, “A short time after Maisa arrived, we decided I should go to Minneapolis and find a job. I did my best to sound American, but I cannot completely lose my Georgian accent, as you can hear. I explained that to people by saying my parents had come here from Russia, and I spoke Russian at home until I started school. I did not like lying, but I had no choice.

  “I got in with a temporary agency and did cleaning jobs for people. One couple liked my work so much they hired me to be what they call their house manager. I take care of their three children, and see to the daily household duties. I have also been saving to help Maisa raise the money to find her children. Now this terrible thing has happened to her.” More tears rolled down her face.

  I waited a minute before I continued. “How did Maisa get along with Ernie?”

  “She had no complaints. He was kind to her. I think he, too, was afraid of Mister Champion.”

  “I think you’re right.” I told Lamara I’d met Ernie Packard, and that Champ and Fletch had been arrested on a number of charges, and were locked up in jail. And when Homeland Security got through with them, they would likely never see the light of day as free men again.

  Her lips turned up in a hesitant smile. “Does this also mean I will be sent back to Georgia?”

  “Your testimony will be very important to the immigration officers, and cooperation goes a long way. We are bound to follow the law, but sometimes the spirit of the law makes more sense than the letter of the law. Like I told you earlier, I will do everything I can to help you.” She nodded. “What is your contact information? If you could write it all down.” I slid the notepad across to her.

  After she’d finished she said, “Do you know where Maisa’s children are?”

  “Not yet, but we’ll find them. Lamara, this is a very complex international investigation that will likely take months and months. I’ll tell you as much of what we learn as the powers-that-be allow me to.”

  She gave one quick nod. “Thank you, thank you.”

  There was a knock on the door then Smoke poked his head in. “If I may.” He stared at Lamara.

  “Lamara, this is Detective Dawes.” Each nodded at the other without speaking. “We’re just finishing up here, Detective. I think I’ve got everything, unless you have something.” I handed him my notes, which he scanned over, then gave back.

  “No. It looks good to me.” He focused on Lamara. “The only thing is, I’d like to extend my sympathies to you, young lady. Losing your sister on top of everything must be very tough.”

  Lamara’s lips quivered and she silently mouthed, “Thank you.”

  “I see you’ve given the sergeant here your contact info. I’ve been in touch with Immigration and Customs Enforcement, and they’ll need to talk with you, but they have a lot to sort through first. They said to cut you loose for now on your promise that you’ll be around when they call you. Do you agree to that?”

  Lamara nodded. “I do. Thank you, sir.”

  Smoke rubbed his forehead. “Well, this has been nothing short of an eventful day.”

  “Man alive. If someone had told me this morning all the things that would happen, I never would have believed them.”

  “Nope. I would have lost a lot of money on that bet. So I read in your notes that none othe
r than Kevin Lionel was Lamara’s intended.”

  “Can you believe it? Now we know why he acted guilty.”

  “No doubt. ICE will be here tomorrow afternoon to collect Champ’s files. At some point, they’ll round up all the people who’ve had a part in smuggling women and children into our country, including Kevin Lionel and that guy we met this morning—”

  “Ernie Packard.”

  “That’s right. And of course the Huebers, who are rightly incarcerated and facing child abuse charges, besides.”

  “So we turn all the files over to ICE?”

  “Yeah. We need to go through each of them first, in case there are other illegal activities they were involved with we can charge them on, while we’re waiting for ICE to proceed.”

  “Everything is secured in the evidence room?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to look for Maisa’s kids,” I said.

  “But not tonight.”

  “Smoke—”

  “How about first thing in the morning?”

  “Okay. You’re right, by the time we get done with reports, we’ll be wiped out. You know, we hear sad stories all the time, but Lamara’s account about what she, and Maisa, and the children went through in their lives cut me right to the core.”

  “Of course it did.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I forgot to ask you earlier, how has it been working out, having Carlson help guard your place the last couple of nights?”

  “Fine. He comes over late, goes into the den office, sleeps, gets up in the morning, and goes to work. We’ve hardly said ‘boo’ to each other.”

  “Good. It makes me feel better that you have back-up on site.”

  “Me too, I will admit.”

  “Well, I guess those reports won’t write themselves.”

  19

  After a short night’s rest, I woke up raring to dig into Champ’s files before ICE picked them up. The burden on my heart had lifted somewhat after learning Maisa’s identity, and hearing her life story, but I felt compelled to uncover where her children were.