“The counseling office? Here on campus?” Marlee asked.
Donnie made her way toward the door and said over her shoulder, “Yeah, I heard he’s required to go see a counselor there at least three times a week. Like I said, the guy has some serious issues.”
People are singled out in society because of their differences. Instead of understanding and embracing the differences, individuals and groups are stigmatized and punished. Punishment takes many forms. One of the most hurtful is exclusion.
Chapter 16
The November wind of the Dakotas whipped across the MSU campus. Marlee, like the other residents of Elmwood and the surrounding area, knew it would get much, much colder in the next few months. As a way of pacing herself for winter, she did not wear her heavy winter coat until at least December. If she gave in and wore her winter coat too early, then the winter seemed longer and harsher. It was a stupid game, but one she played every year as a way to psychologically deal with the oncoming winter. Her reward was beating Mother Nature again. And a damp chill down to her bones that she just couldn’t shake.
Marlee zipped up her unlined fleece jacket and exited her office, looking both ways to make sure the dean wasn’t lumbering down the hall. She made her way out of the building and over to the Student Union. Due to privacy laws, Marlee knew she wouldn’t be able to get any information from the campus counseling center about Nate Krause or his condition. She might, however, be able to bump into him if he was just hanging around.
The Student Union was busy with a late lunch crowd. Marlee passed several tables occupied by groups of students. The chatter from the tables took on similar themes: Logan LeCroix’s death and the investigation, unfair assignments from professors and upcoming parties that weekend. She waved at two separate tables of students as she hurried through the dining area. If she didn’t locate Nate Krause, she might circle back and talk to the students to see if they had heard any new rumors. She had learned early in her career as a probation officer that just because something is a rumor, doesn’t automatically make it untrue. There was often a grain of truth in many rumors, which made it worthwhile to listen.
As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, Marlee saw a young man sitting on a couch staring at all the people walking by. Before Donnie left her office, Marlee had asked her to provide a description of Nate Krause. This student fit the description to a tee. He was of slight build with long, dirty blond hair, which was partially covered by a black stocking cap. Donnie said that Nate wore the same clothes every day: an oversized black sweater and baggy jeans that were black in previous times but had now faded to a dark, grainy gray. His wire rimmed glasses sat askew on his face, as if he absentmindedly put them on after waking up and never readjusted them.
Walking slowly toward the young man, Marlee put on a smile and said, “Excuse me, are you Nate Krause?” She needed to approach him with care, not that she was fearful of him, but because he might not be very forthcoming with information.
“Yeah,” he said looking up at her, diverting his gaze from the groups of students walking past him. “Why?”
Marlee introduced herself and identified that she was a professor on campus. She thought it might put him at ease knowing she was not a detective. “I was a friend of Dr. LeCroix’s, and I understand you had a class with him this semester. I was wondering if you had any thoughts as to who might have killed him.”
“Why would I know?” asked Nate, with an air of contempt.
“I’ve been talking to a lot of students who were in his classes,” Marlee fibbed. “I’m wondering if any of you students have some thoughts on the investigation that the police hadn’t thought of.” She wasn’t sure if buttering him up would work, but it was worth a try.
“Don’t know nuthin’,” Nate muttered, his gaze returning to others in the open seating area.
“I heard you were sort of close to Dr. LeCroix. Some students said you talked to him before classes and then stayed after class to chat some more.” Marlee didn’t want to overplay her hand but this kid needed some coaxing.
“Sometimes we talked,” Nate stated, not offering any details.
“What did you talk about?” Marlee quizzed. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I just want to find out as much as possible about Dr. LeCroix, you know, before he died.”
“Mostly how I could do better in his class. He was a good teacher, but I just couldn’t concentrate on French. It’s confusing. Dr. LeCroix said he would help me,” said Nate.
“How was he going to help you?” Marlee asked. She hoped he would disclose going to Logan’s apartment. She eased into a chair near Nate in an effort to give a more informal feel to the conversation.
“He met with me after classes in his office a few times and went over some pronunciation and vocabulary,” stated Nate.
“Did you ever meet anywhere else?” Marlee continued.
“I saw him in the library a couple times and asked him questions. He started to get tired of helping me,” said Nate, warming to the conversation a bit.
“How do you know he got tired of helping you learn French?” Marlee asked. “Did he say something to you?”
“Because I went to his apartment one night just to ask some questions about an assignment, and he sent me away. He was kind of grumpy about it,” disclosed Nate. “I went to class a few more times after that but couldn’t get the hang of it, so I dropped out.”
“Have you gone to other professors’ homes for help with your classes?” Marlee asked, anxious to see if this was typical for the student, or if Logan had been the only one.
“No. Most don’t seem all that excited to help me. Most profs just want to teach during class and then not have anything to do with me after that. I can tell they don’t really like me. Dr. LeCroix was different. He seemed to really care,” Nate reflected, with a sad face.
“What do you think happened to Dr. LeCroix? I mean, who would have had any motive to kill him? He seemed to be very well liked by his students and the other profs,” said Marlee.
“I don’t know who would want to hurt him. I dropped his class, but I was going to take it again next semester. I was even trying to practice my pronunciation now so it wouldn’t be so hard when I retook the class,” he said. “I heard some people talking in one of my other classes. They said it might have been a mob hit.”
“What do you think of that idea?” asked Marlee.
“Sounds a little crazy to me. Sounds like something Hollywood would cook up for a lame movie,” Nate stated.
“So, are you waiting here for your next class?” asked Marlee.
“Nah, I’m meeting my counselor at two o’clock,” said Nate.
“Oh, you go to counseling,” stated Marlee. “I know a lot of people who go to therapy and have been helped by it. How often do you go?” she asked, knowing she was on shaky ground.
“Three times a week. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I don’t think I need to go that often, but my probation officer says I do. He gets on my ass if I don’t go,” Nate replied nonchalantly.
Have prejudice and discrimination really decreased in the past decade, or have they just gone underground? From my short time in Elmwood, I can confirm that a look speaks a thousand words.
Chapter 17
The shift change at the Elmwood Police Department happened at 4:00 p.m. Marlee knew that the best time to talk with her contacts within the department was right before they went on duty or right after they finished their shifts. She rolled into the parking lot and went to the glass front window. “Hi, Lois,” she said, thinking this might be the one time Lois would remember her.
“Hello. Can I help you?” Lois asked. No such luck in being remembered.
After re-introducing herself for the hundredth time, Marlee asked if Bettina Crawford was on duty. Lois gave her the stink eye for twenty seconds before contacting Bettina on the intercom. A few minutes later, Bettina walked to the front security door and motioned Marlee inside. When they got to a back office corner
, Marlee grumbled, “Geez, why does Lois always act like this is the first time she’s met me? I’ve known her for umpteen years.”
“She thinks that if she’s too chatty, then people will start to ask her for favors and inside information,” said Bettina, shuffling aside some papers. “So, what brings you to the PD?”
“Um, I need a favor and some inside information,” Marlee said with a mischievous smile. Maybe Lois was on to something with her chilly reception. Bettina raised her left eyebrow and gave a quick grin. Marlee had first met Bettina Crawford years ago when she was a federal probation officer and Bettina was an officer with the Sisseton-Wahpeton Tribal Police Department. Marlee frequently traveled to the Lake Traverse Reservation in Sisseton, because tribal land fell under federal jurisdiction. This meant that, if a felony, such as an assault, happened on tribal land, the investigation and prosecution of the crime fell under the auspices of the federal system. This was a major bone of contention since, often times, the federal sentences were more severe than the sentences handed out in South Dakota state courts. What this meant was that a Native American convicted of committing an aggravated assault, such as beating another person with a baseball bat, would end up in an automatic eighteen-month federal prison sentence. If that same person had committed the exact same crime in South Dakota, but off tribal land, then that person might not receive a prison sentence at all and just be placed on probation. Probation allowed for a person to remain in the community without serving prison time. This resulted in two very different systems of justice in South Dakota: one for Native Americans and one for everyone else.
When Marlee traveled to the reservation to meet with people on her probation caseload, she sometimes had trouble locating them. Bettina was a good source of information; she knew if anyone had moved, if they were fighting with parents or spouses, or if they were attending a local festival or a funeral. Since she was an enrolled member of the tribe and a life-long resident of the Lake Traverse Reservation, Bettina had her finger on the pulse of the town of Sisseton and the outlying tribal housing districts on the reservation. On one occasion, when Marlee believed that there might be some type of trouble in one of her probationer’s homes, Bettina accompanied her to the home and provided back-up. Although Marlee had a gun and had passed all required examinations through work to carry the weapon, she almost never took it with her. She hated guns and felt more at ease when she didn’t carry it. Bettina, on the other hand, was required to carry a firearm as a police officer. Marlee didn’t like guns, but if she thought she would be facing a combative probationer or be walking into a house where many of the occupants were drinking, she was more than happy to take Bettina and her side-arm with her for protection.
When Bettina had decided to apply for a police officer position off the reservation, Marlee was only too happy to provide her with a much-deserved glowing recommendation. After Bettina moved to Elmwood, she and Marlee had become even better friends. Bettina was separated from her husband and had two small children, so that restricted her social life since moving to town. Now that Marlee was a professor, she and Bettina had even fewer opportunities to cross paths.
“My shift ends in about twenty minutes and, for once, I’m actually caught up on my paperwork. How about we get a beer and we can talk in private?” suggested Bettina. She knew the line of questions Marlee had and didn’t want to be overheard by one of her fellow officers or the chief of police.
“It’s not even four o’clock yet,” said Marlee.
“Do you have a problem with that?” asked Bettina with a chuckle. “Oh, and you’re buying. And, I’m going to want supper after we have some drinks. You’re buying that too. And, it better be somewhere good. Don’t be thinking you’re just going to buy me something from the dollar menu. I have some stuff to tell you that I think you’ll find very interesting.”
“Sure! Let’s meet at Apollo’s at five?” Marlee suggested. That would give Bettina time to go home and change out of her uniform before going out on the town.
“See you then. And bring your checkbook, because I’m really hungry and thirsty,” Bettina said as she strolled out of the room, smiling.
At 5:00 p.m., Marlee entered Apollo’s. It was part of a regional chain and considered the nicest place in town. The dress was casual, but customers could be dressed in anything from fancy evening attire to sweat suits. The restaurant was decorated in dark greens, browns, and burgundies, which added to the overall coziness of the dining experience. Apollo’s was split into four seating areas. One consisted of a bar, which was quite popular during happy hour. It was separated from the other three rooms. The remaining dining areas were hooked together but kept individual by cleverly placed walls. Marlee suspected one reason for walled-off rooms was to shield diners from noise. Elmwood was a very child-friendly town, and people took their young kids out to eat often. Dining with kids typically involved some degree of chaos, so sectioning families off in a separate area was good business. The second area tended to be for large groups, such as family reunions, prom dinner dates and the like. A large fireplace was in the largest of the dining rooms and was the preferred seating area. Tables of varying sizes were located in the middle while large booths lined two of the walls. A small partition enclosed two other booths at the far end of the restaurant. Marlee always suspected this was for private meetings or people having affairs.
When she arrived, Marlee found Bettina already seated in a booth behind the partition. She was thankful for this seating arrangement so that no one could see or hear them talk. Bettina was already drinking a tall Bud Light tap with tomato juice and green olives. Marlee ordered the same thing as she slid into the booth. The concoction was the source of amusement by newcomers, but it was a standard drink in South Dakota–and it was delicious!
After exchanging pleasantries and inquiring about each other’s families, the two got down to business over their second beer. “So, what can you tell me about the Logan LeCroix investigation?” asked Marlee. She knew Bettina trusted her to keep the information secret and Marlee would fulfill that obligation.
“The chief thinks it’s a suicide and is about to release that finding to the public,” said Bettina.
Marlee was dumbfounded. She had suspected that Chief Langdon was heading down this path, but it still shocked her to hear it was true. “Why? What makes him think it was suicide?”
“He can’t find any leads that suggest anyone else,” said Bettina, as she rolled her eyes, clearly not buying into the chief’s theory either.
“So, because the case is taking some time, and a suspect hasn’t been located, he thinks it’s acceptable to rule it a suicide?” Marlee inquired, more than a little bent out of shape.
“Apparently so,” said Bettina. “He’s explaining away the gun in the dumpster by saying Logan threw it in there after he shot himself and then walked away. Since the bullet didn’t hit a major artery, he didn’t fall to the ground right away. Basically, everything the history prof from your department said on TV the other night was an accurate depiction of the chief’s thoughts on the case. What is it that you call him? Assmunch?”
“Asshat is what the students–and well, everyone–call him. If the chief is so committed to his theory of Logan’s death, why hasn’t he made an announcement yet?” asked Marlee.
“Because he’s waiting for some outside consultants to finish their reports. They are reviewing the investigative materials, forensics reports, autopsy and anything else in the case,” Bettina reported.
“Who are these outside consultants?” asked Marlee.
“I don’t know specifically who they are, but one is a firearms expert with the FBI, one is a forensics specialist and another is a former detective turned private investigator. I think some of them are from out of state,” Bettina said. The chief talked to all of them this morning, and they all gave verbal confirmation that they believe it was a suicide. He’s just waiting for their written reports so he can make an official announcement.”
; The waitress appeared at their table, interrupting their discussion. Both ordered another red beer, and they decided to share some mozzarella sticks. Nothing goes with beer quite like deep fried cheese. After the waitress was out of earshot, Marlee asked, “What in the hell is it that makes them all think it was suicide? Do you think the suicide theory holds water?”
Bettina thought for a moment as she sipped at the last of her beer. “Well, it’s possible,” she said, hesitantly. “It just seems to me that it’s being tied up in a neat little ball without enough time and investigation. Personally, I don’t buy it.”
“That’s what I think too. It seems that the chief and MSU administration just want to have this ruled a suicide and then forget about it,” said Marlee, upset that anyone would make this type of ruling just because it was an easy answer. “The PD comes out looking good, since there’s no unsolved murder in Elmwood, and MSU doesn’t have to report any murder statistics to the parents of current and prospective students. It’s win-win for both parties.”
“It’s a complete injustice to Dr. LeCroix,” said Bettina angrily. It was no secret that she wanted to be a detective. She had over ten years of policing experience with the tribe but had only been with the Elmwood Police Department for two years. Her newbie status prevented her from climbing to detective any time soon. She had to prove herself in Elmwood before she could even be considered for a promotion to detective. Marlee realized Bettina was taking a risk with her career by meeting with her and sharing information that had not yet been released to the public. “I really don’t know how much effort the detectives put into the case. Logan was gay and part Native American, so he had two strikes against him right away.”
Day of the Dead Page 14
