Read Cold Hunter's Moon Online
Authors: K. C. Greenlief
Cold Hunter's Moon (27 page)
NOVEMBER 28âSWENSON
Lark and Lacey ate lunch and were on the road by two o'clock. The police reported that the main roads, though slick, were open to traffic. The roads were much better than the day before, but there were several cars masquerading as snow-covered haystacks stuck along the side of the road. The forty-mile trip across Highway 70 was an hour and a half meander behind cars and trucks driving at minimum speeds. Although the roads had been graded, they were still snow-covered and there were only two narrow traffic lanes with no berm, which made it impossible to pass.
It was still snowing, but not in the threatening way it had come down the day before. The weather reports said it was five degrees and expected to drop down to fifteen below that night. Snow was predicted to continue over the next two to three days.
The hunting report brought dismal news no matter how you looked at it. According to the Department of Natural Resouces, the deer harvest was about 50,000 less than they felt was needed to keep the herd thinned down. DNR experts pontificated on how many deer would die of
starvation if an organized feeding effort wasn't undertaken to save them. A list of the groups participating in feeding programs was provided. Many of the groups were gun clubs. The irony wasn't lost on Lark or Lacey.
starvation if an organized feeding effort wasn't undertaken to save them. A list of the groups participating in feeding programs was provided. Many of the groups were gun clubs. The irony wasn't lost on Lark or Lacey.
Just past the intersection of Highways 13 and 70, they came upon an accident and stopped to call it in. No one was injured, just shaken up. As usual, all the Mason County patrols were out on other calls so they waited for the wrecker. Tom Tetzloff showed up an hour later with his tow truck. It took another hour to sort out the two vehicles. Before they left, Tom asked Lark what to do with the stolen Taurus he still had in his garage.
“I don't have time to deal with it right now, just get it back to Lipperts'.”
“The wife looked up that other Lippert's car we found up here. It was from Eau Claire.” Tom dug around in the pockets of his grimy overalls. “I got the dates here somewhere.”
“Just call me when you find them,” Lark said, brushing by him to get in the Jeep.
“Just hold your damn horses. I got it right here. It'll only take a couple seconds and then we can get on about our business.” He pulled a black-smudged piece of paper out of one of his back pockets. “Found it,” he said, triumphantly.
When he started rooting around for his glasses, Lark took the paper away from him. He opened the door and leaned in under the dome light to read
November 27, 1997.
November 27, 1997.
“Tom, are you sure about this date?”
“Sure as shootin.' My wife says we got to have our books gnat's ass accurate. She don't miss nothin'. You need more information on that car?”
“You've got more?”
“I'll find out and call ya,” he said, heading for his truck. Just before he climbed in, he yelled at Lark. “You still want me to send that car back to Lippert's?”
“Hang on to it for a few more days,” Lark said as he got back in his Jeep
“That's what I figured,” Tom said.
“What was that all about?” Lacey asked as Lark watched Tetzloff pull out.
“You remember that Taurus that was found at Grezetski's Market
last week?” Lacey nodded. “Tom thought there was another car stolen from Lippert's that turned up here a few years ago. It was found two days after Gemma went missing. It was from Eau Claire.”
last week?” Lacey nodded. “Tom thought there was another car stolen from Lippert's that turned up here a few years ago. It was found two days after Gemma went missing. It was from Eau Claire.”
“I'll be damned,” Lacey said, sitting back in her seat, absorbing the facts. “Do you think this could be another connection between the two bodies?”
“Yep,” Lark said, starting the Jeep, “and it's a connection right back to Big Oak. The cars came from different places, but they both ended up here.”
“Holy shit,” she said, her mind racing. “Someone up here has a connection to Lippert Motors. I can't remember who.” She rummaged through her purse for her notebook.
“Sara Waltner was a Lippert before she got married. We haven't questioned anyone about the cars,” Lark said, his voice clipped, “but we will shortly.”
They pulled into the sheriff's office a little after 5 P.M. There was barely enough room to park in the back because of the mountain of snow taking up several parking places. The office was bustling and Flo motioned them over as she fielded a call. They pulled up chairs on either side of her.
“What's up?” Lark asked, noting the tiny white snowmen on her scarlet fingernails. Inch-long snowmen dangled from her ears and a three-inch felt snowman was pinned to her green-and-yellow Green Bay Packers sweatshirt.
“You all goin' for that matching look some couples get off on?” she asked, surveying their Packer sweats. Lark blushed a deep red.
Lacey leaped to his rescue. “This was all they had left in Minocqua last night. Beggars can't be choosers.”
“Uh-huh,” Flo said, looking them up and down before fielding another call. She dispatched George to deal with another accident and turned back to them. “Stupid bastard ran into a tree with his snowmobile,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothing but idiots.”
“Flo, what did you want?”
“Sorry about that, I was so bowled over by your matching Packer outfits that I forgot what I wanted to tell you. Betty Chevsky's waiting for you. She's got two black eyes and a bruise on her cheek. Says she fell down.” She rolled her eyes. “Fell down, my ass. That drunken bastard beat her up again.”
“We'll see if we can get her to press charges,” Lark said, getting up.
“Wait a minute,” Flo commanded, looking up at Lark and pointing down at the chair.
Much to Lacey's amusement, Lark sat down. “Sorry, Flo, I thought you were done.”
“Did they tell you that bastard's got his van rigged so he can put a snowmobile in the back of it?”
“Yes, they did.”
“She'll never press charges against him with Ron not here to protect her. She's too afraid of what he'll do to her. If you can find another way to arrest him, that would be best.”
“I'll see what I can do,” he said, standing up.
Flo fielded yet another call and glared up at Lark as she dispatched Jim to the Dew Drop Inn for a disturbance. Lark sat back down.
“Lonnie's got to be the one who shot out the windows,” Flo said
“Why do you think that?”
“If it was someone going around town with a snowmobile trailer hitched to his truck, we would've found them by now. Lonnie's rig is perfect. That's why no one could find him when you and Mrs. Ranson was shot at.”
“I'll check it out.” Lark said, giving her a reassuring smile.
“Just don't let the bastard go until you know for sure. I've never seen Lonnie this bad off or Betty this beat up. He's liable to kill her the next time.” She turned away to answer another call.
Lark and Lacey went to his office to lay out their plan. They decided to interview Betty and then take a stab at Lonnie. Lark asked Paul Dolphson to set up appointments to interview Cathy Lowery and Steve and Sara Waltner either that evening or the next day.
Lark was very alarmed when he saw Betty. The skin around her left eye was black and blue and her eye was bloodshot. The skin around her right eye was the purplish yellow rainbow color of a healing bruise. She had a fresh black-and-blue mark on her left cheek and her upper lip was cut and swollen. She stood up when she saw them and pain flashed across her face, indicating that Lonnie had not confined himself to her face.
“Betty,” Lacey said, rushing to take her arm. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No, I'll be fine. I fell out in the garage yesterday. All this snow makes it very slippery.”
“You should at least go in and be checked,” Lark said, watching her wince as she struggled to hold herself upright. “You've got good insurance, so it will be covered.”
“I said I'm all right.” She gave him an angry look as her hand flew involuntarily to her left flank. “I'm not here about myself. I'm here about Lonnie.”
“Would you like something to drink?” Lacey asked as Lark led the way into the interrogation room.
“Coffee would be nice if you've got any fresh. Maybe it'll warm me up.” She sat down and took off her gloves. Her hands were bruised and cut and her knuckles were swollen. Lark kept quiet, knowing better than to say anything.
Lacey had a bit more difficulty when she came back in the room. When Betty reached for the coffee cup, Lacey nearly dropped it in surprise over Betty's hands. She glanced at Lark, who gave her a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
Betty took a sip of coffee. “How do I get Lonnie out of here? Can you release him to me like last time?”
“Not this time.” Lark locked his eyes on hers. “He's been arrested for DUI and reckless driving. He'll be arraigned in Park Falls tomorrow morning. This time he'll probably go to jail and lose his license.”
She sunk down in the chair, fixing her gaze on the table. “I'll get a lawyer and fight this.”
“That's your right. You're looking at a couple grand in fines as well as lawyer fees.”
“Why are you doing this to us?” she asked, her voice tremulous as she slumped lower in the chair. Her hands shook as she picked up her coffee cup.
“He could have killed someone driving drunk like this in the snow. You know we can't let him get away with that,” Lacey said.
Betty looked away.
“Do you have a snowmobile?” Lark asked, changing the subject.
“Yes,” she said, once again looking away, “just like everyone else up here.”
“Your husband smokes Marlboros, doesn't he?” Lark asked the top of her head.
She said nothing.
“Your son also smokes Marlboros, doesn't he?”
Her head snapped up. “Don't you bring Ronnie into this. He has nothing to do with it.”
“Your son and your husband both smoke Marlboros, don't they, Betty?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes! Who cares what they smoke?”
“Someone shot at Mrs. Ranson and shot out my windows. Whoever it was chain-smoked Marlboros and traveled on a snowmobile. That puts your husband and your son at the top of the list as suspects. Your son also dated Gemma Patterson, one of the dead girls.”
“Ronnie's been in rehab. He couldn't have done this.” A pleading tone crept into her voice.
“He was here in Big Oak when Mrs. Ranson was first shot at.”
“I know he didn't do it,” she whispered.
Lark watched two tears drip off her face and onto the tabletop. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Chevsky, I couldn't hear you.”
“I know he didn't do it and you know it, too. Why are you doing this? Why do you want to hurt my son?” she asked, tears streaming down her face.
“Why would
you
want to hurt your son?” Lark asked.
you
want to hurt your son?” Lark asked.
“I would never hurt Ronnie,” she snapped, wiping tears away with the back of her hand.
Before Lark could ask Betty another question, Lacey got up and left the room. The look she gave him would have frozen volcanic lava in its tracks. He sighed and went on with his questioning. “If you don't want to hurt your son, then why do you subject him to an alcoholic batterer as a father? What kind of an influence has he been for Ron?”
“Lonnie's his father. That's just the way it is,” she said, her eyes overflowing with tears. Lacey walked back in, glaring daggers at Lark as she placed a tissue box in front of Mrs. Chevsky. Betty pulled out a handful of tissues, then wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“That may be the way it is, but that isn't the way it has to be. Let's quit pussyfooting around here. Your son and your husband own a snowmobile and smoke Marlboros. They threatened Mrs. Ranson. One or both of them did these three shootings. I think Ron did the first one, and when he went into rehab, Lonnie did the other two.”
“You're wrong. Ron would never hurt anyone.”
“He gave you that black eye, didn't he?” Lark pointed to her right eye. “Don't try and lie about it, he already told us.”
“He's a good boy, he's a good boy,” she said over and over as she put her head into her hands and sobbed. Lacey reached out for her but Lark impatiently waved her back.
“He may be a good boy, but he admits that he's an alcoholic and he's terrified that he hit you. How is he going to get well and make something of himself living in the same house with your husband?”
“I can't ⦠I can't do this,” Betty cried into her hands. “I want to leave.”
“Go ahead and leave,” Lark said, standing up. “We didn't ask you to come here. You're free to go. We'll call you when we have the DNA done on your husband and your son, and see which one matches the cigarette butts we found at the scene. Whoever did it is going to jail for assault, maybe even attempted murder. We're also investigating Ron for the murders of the two girls.”
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