Murder in Winnebago County

by Christine Husom

  “Okay, back to work, everyone. I’m going to sit on this latest discovery, that Fenneman was likely murdered . . .” His voiced cracked and tears gathered in his eyes. “I’m not going public with the latest info for a day or so. I’ll talk to Clarice Moy, but keep it from the public until we have a little more to go on. Everybody okay with that?”

  We all nodded then filed out of the sheriff’s office in silence, wondering what we were up against. None of us had suspected Judge Fenneman had been killed until the previous night. The day before we’d had two murders, and now we had three. Would our killer strike again, or was he done? Solving the three murders would take cooperative hard work from everyone in the department, and lots and lots of luck.

  40: Alvie

  Alvie was working the day shift, nine thirty a.m. to six p.m. Her least favorite time to be at the nursing home. The administrator and her secretary, chaplain, maintenance guys, program director and staff, human services, and director of nursing were there, in addition to all the other workers. It was too many people and gave Alvie claustrophobia. She was glad to escape to the break room by herself a little after one o’clock. She picked up the Sunday edition of the Star Tribune metro section and almost stopped breathing. The top headline read, “Winnebago Attorneys’ Deaths Investigated As Murders.”

  Alvie’s head began to pound again, and she had to concentrate to keep the newsprint in focus. “Sergeant Corinne Aleckson of the Winnebago County Sheriff’s Department found evidence that opened an investigation into the deaths of Winnebago County Attorney Arthur Franz and Public Defender Marshall Kelton. Arthur Franz was found dead in his vehicle July 22. Marshall Kelton was found dead at his home on July 26. Both deaths were initially listed as suicides, but the newfound evidence has led authorities to believe both men were murdered. Sheriff Dennis Twardy held a press conference yesterday—”

  Sweat gathered under Alvie’s arms and beaded on her forehead. Why hadn’t she killed the little sergeant and her friend, that probation officer bitch, when she had the chance? In fact, she’d had more than one chance. Now look what letting down her guard for the sergeant had done. It had gotten her in trouble. Well, the little sergeant would have to be stopped, and soon. That very night, in fact. No matter how late Alvie had to wait for her, she would.

  The probation officer, the detective, and the traitor all had to die in less than a month. She couldn’t take a chance on what the sergeant would stumble onto next time. There wouldn’t be a next time.

  And what evidence? Alvie had left no fingerprints, and there were the suicide notes she had so carefully typed and traced. She hadn’t left anything personal in the prosecutor’s car or the defender’s house. Alvie searched her memory bank, but came up with next to nothing. She had drunk soda in the field across the lake and might have left her cans there, but so what? Kids did that stuff all the time. They couldn’t get her on soda cans. Besides, it had been raining so much that summer, they were probably buried in mud.

  It was a game the sheriff’s department was playing, Alvie was sure of that. Like all the games the system had played with Nolan’s life. They had played and played until it killed him. Well, it was about to stop. She’d see to that.

  41

  I phoned Nick during a morning break. After our greetings I asked, “How was the Science Museum yesterday?”

  “It was really something. I think I enjoyed the program more than the girls did, but they had fun too. The twins have been a great addition to Faith’s life. How is your extended tour of duty going?” he asked.

  A loaded question. “Okay. Just. A lot is going down, so we’re putting in overtime trying to find our bad guy.”

  “I finally read the Sunday paper late last night. Quite a splash in the metro section. Any new leads?”

  “Some, but we’re still checking them out.” I looked at the stack of papers on the table in front of me. “I’m actually working now, so I’ll be off at five. You have dinner plans?”

  Nick groaned. “Worse. I have a hospital board meeting at seven. But how about lunch?”

  “Sorry, I’m taking Mom out. She’s a little distraught with this whole business, and my chosen profession in general,” I explained.

  “She’s your mother—she’s bound to worry about her little girl. We could get together later, maybe watch a movie? I should be home by nine,” Nick said.

  “Sure, give me a call after your meeting. Sara is staying over for a few nights, but she often has things going on.”

  “Why is she staying at your house?” Nick wondered.

  When I explained, he was kind enough not to tell me I was silly being concerned Sara might be in danger from the killer.

  Lunch with Mother turned out to be a good thing for both of us. She needed reassurance everything would be okay, and for some reason, being with me always helped to calm her down when she was distressed. I think it was the part of me that reminded her of Carl. She had told me many times that she’d always felt safe when he was around. She had drawn strength from him somehow.

  When my mother felt more relaxed, she started making plans. “Why don’t you and Sara come over for dinner at Gramps’ tonight? I’m doing a fish fry with those last fish you two caught. They’ve been in the freezer long enough, and Gramps has been after me to make them.”

  A favorite meal of mine. “I can’t speak for Sara, but I’d love to. What time?”

  “We’ll eat about seven. I have to do inventory this afternoon and probably won’t finish until six.”

  I poked my head in Smoke’s cubicle before I went off duty. “How are you doing?”

  Smoke’s drawn look had eased. “I am feeling downright human again. That four-hour nap was just what the doctor ordered.” He smiled.

  “Good. So court admin will be running that report about now?”

  Smoke consulted his watch. “Sandy should be on that right about now.”

  “How late will you be here?” I wondered.

  “Not real late—maybe eight, nine.”

  “Call me if you find something, or if you need me.”

  Smoke waved at me. “Will do. See you tomorrow.”

  Sara wasn’t at my house when I got there. I listened to my phone messages, got out of uniform, and took a quick shower. My Gramps Brandt didn’t use his air conditioner, and his house was usually too warm for my comfort. I slipped into shorts and a tee shirt and stepped into my Haflinger sandals.

  “Are you home?” Sara called out from the kitchen.

  “Just coming down,” I answered and headed down the steps.

  Sara came out of the kitchen. “I bought a bottle of wine and set it on ice in the freezer to cool. I’m going to change then we’ll have a glass before we go to dinner, okay?” Sara said.

  “More than okay,” I said.

  I sat on the couch and closed my eyes to relax and meditate for a few minutes, but images of Judge Fenneman, Arthur Franz, and Marshall Kelton filled my mind. They played like a video collection, jumping from one scene to the next and back again. Public servants, all dead by some sicko’s hand. Why? What had they done? And was that same person after Sara? Arthur and Marshall had had over 1,400 cases together. And those two had shared umpteen cases with Judge Fenneman. Should Sara’s probation clients be figured in the mix?

  “Are you too tired for a glass of wine?” Sara’s words shifted my thoughts.

  I opened my eyes and focused on my friend. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Okay, you sit there and I’ll get it.” She returned minutes later with the drinks and settled on the overstuffed chair opposite me. “To good friends,” Sara said and held up her glass in a toast.

  “To good friends,” I repeated and took a sip of wine. “Mmm, it’s really good.”

  “I owe Arthur for all the wine advice he gave me over the years,” Sara said, her voice cracking, tears gathering in her eyes.

  “To Arthur.” I held up my glass.

  Sara smiled and raised her glass. “To Arthur.”

 
; “Sara, when we talked last night, did I mention I met another ghost from my past on Saturday?”

  She drew her feet under. “No, who’s that?”

  “Jason Browne.”

  Sara thought for a second. “Wasn’t that Nolan Eisner’s partner in crime?”

  “One and the same. You weren’t his probation officer, too?” I asked.

  Sara shook her head. “No, he wasn’t one of mine. I think he was Carrie’s, or maybe Dorothy’s. I can’t remember now. So where’d you see him?”

  “Burglary complaint. Someone got in his house and stole a few bullets.”

  “Bullets?”

  “I know, weird. I figured they got scared off in the middle of the theft and didn’t get far.”

  “I have learned that nothing that happens in this business is too weird.” She stood up. “Well, I have to go potty, and then I’m going to get a little more wine. How about you?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “He wasn’t one of mine.”But Nolan Eisner was. Nolan Eisner, the common denominator.

  Nolan’s criminal complaint jumped out of my memory bank from the day Smoke and I had searched Marshall Kelton’s office. Judge Fenneman, Arthur Franz, Marshall Kelton, Elton Dawes, Sara Speiss: all involved with the arrest, conviction and prison sentence of Nolan Eisner. And Jason Browne was the one who had turned him in to the authorities. And who was in the hospital the night Judge Fenneman died? Rebecca Eisner. Alvie Eisner, her grandmother and Nolan’s mother, could certainly have the motive to want those people dead.

  I jumped up, unclipped my cell phone from the waistband of my shorts, and hit Smoke’s number. Before I could lift the phone to my ear, I heard a low, haunting, emotionless voice behind me command, “Turn around.”

  Alvie Eisner stood in the entrance of the living room with one large arm wrapped around Sara, her hand clapped over Sara’s mouth. The other hand held a gun that she slowly waved between Sara’s head and me.

  Sara’s green eyes were circles filled with raw terror on a face drained of color. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly beneath Eisner’s arm. I was so shocked I thought I was imagining things for a second. Then reality reached my brain, and I knew what I saw was real. My vision tunneled, blurring around the edges, focusing on my friend and the monster holding her captive in the sanctuary of my living room.

  I remembered my phone and prayed the call had gone through to Smoke and not to his voicemail. I couldn’t hear him with my ear so far from the phone, but determined the one chance Sara and I had for survival was if Smoke heard us. I carefully tipped the receiver slightly upward and toward where Eisner and Sara stood, hoping Eisner wouldn’t notice.

  “Alvie Eisner. What are you doing in my home?” I asked loudly. She stared at me with a hate that forced prickles of fear through my entire body. Somehow, it felt both hot and cold at the same time. My bowels loosened and my limbs twitched. I gripped the phone so it wouldn’t fall from my numbed hand. Despair threatened to suck me in, to consume me, when I realized Sara and I were about to die.

  “Put the gun down. It will only make things worse,” I commanded, my voice more steady than I felt.

  Eisner looked disgusted. “Worse for you. Not for me. Not for Nolan.”

  “What about Rebecca?” I shot at her.

  Her nostrils flared a little and her eyes narrowed. “I’m doing this for Rebecca. Now, shut up. It will be over soon.”

  I prayed for more time. “Before I die, tell me. Did you kill Judge Fenneman, Arthur Franz, and Marshall Kelton?”

  She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes.”

  Alvie Eisner had nothing more to lose by killing Sara and me. When she was caught for the other murders, she would be going away for life. What were two more victims?

  Stall. As long as possible.

  “One last thing. Why are you doing this? And why us, Sara and me?” I asked.

  Emotion formed around Eisner’s words. “Because they killed my son. You shouldn’t have gotten in the middle of this, but you did, so now you have to die along with the killers.”

  I met Sara’s eyes and blinked my own toward my cell phone. I nodded my head, ever so slightly, in an attempt to signal her I wouldn’t let us die without a fight. Words from my training, “I will survive,” spurred me on and gave me inner fortitude.

  Alvie Eisner towered over my small friend. I mentally practiced throwing my phone at her head and then, with all my strength, hurled it. The phone hit its target, just behind Eisner’s left temple, setting her off balance and staggering to the right. Her gun fired in my direction. If I was hit, I didn’t feel it. I saw the gun fly toward my computer cabinet, the same direction Eisner was headed, trying to regain her footing.

  “Run,” I screamed at Sara and she did. “Call nine-one-one.”

  I don’t know how I got to the gun before Eisner, but I must have dived for it. I found myself on top of it, working my hand under me to get a firing grip. Suddenly, her crushing weight was on top of me. I worked both arms under my chest and squirmed to get my knees up under my stomach, then lifted my butt and bucked Eisner off my back. She rolled with a thud, but grabbed my leg before I could scramble away.

  I aimed the gun at her chest and pulled the trigger. It didn’t fire. I pulled again—damn. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Eisner for the split second it would take to find the safety button to see if it was on. I was accustomed to my Glock, which had no safety.

  Dear God. Eisner was strong, made even stronger by her blinding hatred. My right leg was pinned to the ground, my ankle held in a vice-grip—first by Eisner’s right hand, then her knee as she lunged for her gun. I pulled the trigger again, hoping the gun had momentarily jammed when I had tried to fire before. No luck. I moved the gun as far away as possible from Eisner as she reached for it, then threw it across the room with as much power as I could muster.

  When the gun left my hand, she slapped me across the face before I could block her blow. I was stunned for a second, close to seeing stars then saw both her hands seemingly aimed for my throat. I delivered a karate chop to her windpipe, and she exhaled a choking “gghhh” sound.

  I moved enough to get a little distance and delivered a forceful blow to Eisner’s ribs with my free leg. She howled in pain, and when she retched, I broke free. I rolled away, jumped to my feet, and retrieved the gun I had pitched.

  “Lie face down on the ground with your hands on your back!” I heard the loud order behind me. I felt a little shaky, but held my position with Eisner’s gun aimed at her. I quickly glanced to locate the safety and slid it off. I was ready to shoot her if it came to that.

  Deputy Brian Carlson stormed in, followed by Mandy Zubinski and Todd Mason. All had their guns drawn and pointed at Eisner. She looked at them, then at me, a stunned expression of disbelief on her face. We would not hesitate to shoot her if she tried anything, and Eisner knew it. She lowered her face to the carpet and stretched her hands to her back. Carlson moved in cautiously, kneeled on her shoulder, and handcuffed her.

  Mason and Zubinski got on either side of Eisner and guided her to her feet and out the door. I noticed Sara leaning against the wall, arms clutched around herself, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face blotched with red spots. Carlson reached his hand out to Sara, led her to the couch and held her, petting her face and speaking softly.

  I didn’t see Smoke until he was standing inches in front of me, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He lifted me into his arms and I rested against him, drawing from his warmth and strength.

  Smoke’s voice was quivering. “I have never had five more panic-filled minutes in my life. If anything had happened to you . . .” He pulled away slightly, his hands on my shoulders. “Let me look at you. God, you’re bleeding.”

  “I am? Where?” I looked down.

  He touched the areas as he said them. “The left side of your face is all red. Your right cheekbone. Looks like rug rash. The side of your neck—scratch marks. Your knees. Again, rug rash. You have to fight that
ox?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “She fought like a little banshee. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Sara offered from the couch.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Smoke held my head, stroking my jawbone with his thumbs. He bent down and kissed my forehead, my nose, then brushed my lips with his. His kisses were soft and warm, and very familiar somehow. I was both touched and surprised. Smoke had never been intimate with me before that moment. Understandably so.

  Smoke slid his arm around my waist and led me to the armchair across from the couch. It was the same one Sara had sat in ten minutes earlier, casually sipping wine. I found that almost impossible to comprehend. Smoke swung his leg over the arm of the chair and sat down close to me, facing Sara and Brian Carlson. He rested one hand on my shoulder. I noticed both Sara and Brian had interested, questioning looks on their faces. Thank God it wasn’t Mandy Zubinski sitting there. More fodder for her rumor mill.

  “All things considered, now that the two of you are safe, I can say thanks for cracking the case, as awful as that must have been. Tell me what happened,” Smoke said.

  I looked at Sara and nodded for her to speak. “Well, we were having a glass of wine, then I left to use the bathroom and get a refill. When I came out of the bath off the kitchen, Alvie Eisner was standing there, pointing a gun at me. Before I could yell, she grabbed me and dragged me into the living room.”

  Sara shook her head, trying to absorb her own words. “Smoke, Brian said you heard the conversation between Corky and Eisner and had Communications get the closest squads here. How?”

  “Thanks to Corky’s fast thinking.” Smoke tucked a finger under my chin. “How did you manage to dial my number with a gun pointed at you?” he asked me.

  “I didn’t. I dialed just before. When Sara was in the other room, all of a sudden it occurred to me that Alvie Eisner was a likely suspect. I was going to tell you, but before I could say anything, she was here. In the flesh. With Sara in a death grip. At first, I actually thought I was hallucinating.” I turned to face him. “You know how I’ve been having all those strange feelings and intuitions since this whole nightmare began with Judge Fenneman’s death? But back to the phone call. I prayed you could hear what was going on, Smoke. Thank you.” I squeezed his hand.