In Sheep's Clothing (16 page)

“The ones in the census? That Karl and Sven lived with after the fire?”

“Right,” I said. “Maybe they have a family plot on their property. I need to look at the land records and find out where their property would have been. And who knows, if Sven isn't buried here in Olin, maybe he moved to one of the neighboring towns. Maybe she's buried there.”

“Yeah, but why would Sven wait years to bury his niece?” Rudy asked.

“Maybe he didn't, maybe he did. Maybe he just had her moved. Hell, I don't know,” I said. “I'm just throwing out ideas. He seems to be the one that had the conscience in the family. He reported the deaths in the first place. He's the one who convinced Anna to live, for the baby's sake. He's the one who took Anna to Cedar Springs to have Emelie baptized—”

I stopped.

Aunt Sissy and I both looked at each other. We had the same thought.

“Maybe he buried her at that Lutheran church in Cedar Springs, for the same reason that they baptized her there,” I said.

“That's an idea,” Aunt Sissy said.

“Yes, but separating mother and daughter?” Rudy asked.

“If Sven thought some harm would come to her grave or something … you know, because of a prejudice. He might have felt it was worth separating them. Or maybe he buried her there simply because she was baptized there and the people didn't have the ill feelings that the church in Olin had. I honestly don't know. She may not even be in Cedar Springs. It's just an idea. Either way, I'm going to check out some of the records in Cedar Springs.”

“So what do you think happened to Sven? If he's not buried here, he must have moved,” Rudy said.

“Yes, but keep in mind that he could just as easily be buried on his land, wherever that is. We know it's not here, because by 1861 it belonged to the Rogers family. Or he could have died on a trip somewhere … Just because he's not at the church cemetery doesn't mean he didn't live here. But if he's got descendants here—Brian Bloomquist was one of them—it's safe to say he didn't go too far,” I said.

“So, what was this about Konrad Nagel?” Aunt Sissy asked.

“Well, you know how Anna says in her diary that the parson killed her lover, which we now know is Isaac Nagel, the parson's son,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Well, Konrad couldn't have killed Isaac.”

“Why not?”

“Because Konrad was murdered two days before Isaac was killed,” I said. “There's no way.”

Aunt Sissy looked out her kitchen window a moment. “Did they ever find out who killed Konrad?”

“Well, I haven't been able to get my hands on any real documents, newspaper clippings or anything. According to Roberta, he was killed by a stranger who had come to town and needed a place to stay. Parson Nagel let him stay at his home and the stranger killed him in the middle of the night.”

“So I've heard,” Aunt Sissy said. “I mean, we've all heard the story vaguely.”

“What's bothering you?” I asked, noticing that her eyes were seeing something beyond the here and now.

“I'm just wondering if the same person who killed the parson turned around and killed his son Isaac two days later,” she said.

“I don't know,” I said. “I don't know if we'll ever know. One thing's for sure, though.”

“What?” Rudy asked.

“I don't think it was a stranger that killed the parson. Not if he killed Isaac, too.”

“Why?” Rudy asked.

“Because why would a perfect stranger kill a parson and then lurk nearby and kill the parson's son two days later? I mean, that seems more like a personal vendetta,” I said.

“I agree,” Rudy said.

“Or unless Isaac was a witness to the first murder, and the killer wanted him dead so there would be no case against him,” Aunt Sissy said.

“Yes, but whoever killed Isaac hung him in a barn for everybody to see. Not only did he hang Isaac in a barn, he hung Isaac in Anna Bloomquist's barn,” I said. “Why would he do that if he was trying to erase a witness?”

Rudy and Aunt Sissy both chewed on that for a minute. My mind reeled, and that just added to the pain I was already feeling. “Do you have some Advil or something?”

“Yes,” Aunt Sissy said. “How many do you want?”

“As many as you can give me that will equal a prescription dose,” I said.

“Man,” Rudy said and shook his head.

“What?” I asked.

“I want to come with you guys today, instead of building a shelter,” he said. “This is fascinating.”

“Now you know how I become so obsessed so easily,” I said.

“Amazing,” he said. “You just think of the olden days as days filled with going to church, plowing fields, warding off disease, plowing fields, going to church. I mean, you don't think of the past as being personal. You know, that those people did exactly what we do every day, loved their spouses, their kids, and life, just like us.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It's easy to depersonalize the past.”

“You have to call your mother,” he said.

I sighed. “Give me the phone.”

Rudy gave me the phone and I dialed it as Aunt Sissy came back into the room with her palm full of Advil and handed me a big glass of water. I swallowed four of them just as my mother answered the phone.

“Hi, Mom,” I said.

“Hello,” she said. “It's early. Something wrong?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “How are the kids?”

“Getting ready for school,” she said. “I keep telling Rachel that if she keeps looking at herself in the mirror she's going to grow a mustache. She doesn't believe me. What's wrong? Why are you calling?”

“Well, Mom. Colin's all right,” I said.

“Oh, nothing ever ends well that starts like that.”

“No, seriously, he's fine. But he's sorta been arrested.”

“Is that all? You've been arrested twice. What's the problem?” she asked.

“He's been arrested for murder.”

It was quiet on the other end of the line and then she just burst into laughter. I let her have her laugh because I knew she wouldn't be laughing later. “You've got to be kidding. Come on,” she said.

“No, I'm not kidding. He's been arrested for murder. They will probably bring charges against him today, unless this one lead turns things in his favor,” I said.

Her voice changed. No nonsense. Serious. “What happened?”

“Somebody killed the owner of the marina that he and Rudy were fishing at. Colin was found holding the knife. He was just trying to save the guy,” I assured her. “But he's from out of town and they aren't looking at it that way.”

“He's a sheriff, for crying out loud. He doesn't kill people. He stops people who kill people,” she said.

“Well, I know that. And you know that. But law enforcement officers have been known to murder people on occasion. I suppose, since he was holding the murder weapon, they want to make sure he's not one of those hideous few,” I said.

“I don't believe this. He goes fishing and gets arrested. How is that possible?” she asked. Before I could answer she answered. “I'll tell you how. He's with you. I have never in all my life seen anybody who has a little black cloud following them around like you do. What is wrong with you, Torie?”

“Well, gee, thanks, Mom.”

“You need to see somebody,” she said. “A shrink. No, a medium. An exorcist.”

“Mother!”

“I just don't believe this,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Call me when you find out something. And tell my husband to call me as soon as they allow him a phone call.”

I didn't tell her that he could have called her last night. That would probably have sent her over the edge. I just said all right. “Tell the kids to be good. I love you, Mom.”

I guess she was weighing how much she loved me or not. Finally, she said, “I love you, too. Hurry.” And she hung up.

“Well?” Rudy asked.

“She took it well.”

Seventeen

Aunt Sissy and I headed out of Olin to Cedar Springs in the noisy beast she called a truck. Aunt Sissy was quieter than normal, I think, due to the fact that nothing was turning out as she expected. Her investigation of the antiquated document had had a domino effect. Me getting punched in the eye was part of that effect. I really think she had thought that I would just read the diary, look up a few records, and know all the answers about everything, and nobody would be the wiser. Except her. And me. Well, that's rarely the case with anything. As I have found out in the past.

We were about six miles outside of Olin. The trillium was in bloom all along the floor of the forest and I could see the occasional white blossoms from the cab of the truck. The trees were tall and thin trunked, lots of birch and poplar, and of course the evergreens. All of a sudden Aunt Sissy slammed on the brakes and I instantly whipped my head around to see what had caused her to react so abruptly.

About three hundred yards in front of us was a wolf.

“Oh, my God,” I said.

“I don't believe it,” she said in a controlled voice.

“What's it doing?” I whispered.

“It's carrying roadkill off of the road.”

“Ooooh, gross,” I said. I could have gone all day without knowing that. Just as Aunt Sissy said it, though, the wolf looked up and right at us.

“It's fresh roadkill. Looks like a deer,” she whispered. “This … I never thought I'd live to see the day.”

The wolf considered its options. Abandon the roadkill or finish its task. She decided to finish her task. I guess humans in a big metal thing didn't seem so intimidating. Or maybe her empty stomach took precedence.

“Why are we whispering?” I asked.

“Hell, I don't know. You started it,” she said in a regular voice.

Just as the gray wolf got the deer to the edge of the road, two impossibly little heads peeked out from the bush. The wolf turned and chastised them. What was wrong with them? Somebody would see them. Get back where they were supposed to be. I could imagine every word. Because it was universal. It was exactly what I would have said to my young.

“She's got cubs,” I stated plainly.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“You can't kill this wolf,” I said.

“I'm not going to kill anything. Except maybe you if you don't stop telling me what I can and can't do.”

“You will be just as responsible if you just stand by and let somebody else kill her.”

“Shut up already,” she said.

“Isn't there like a Crocodile Hunter for wolves or something? You know, call somebody and have them relocated?”

“I don't know,” she said.

“You can't—”

“I said, I don't know,” Aunt Sissy said. “I'll check into it.”

I watched the wolf struggle to drag the carcass into the bush and felt sorry for her. I flashed on a memory of me trying to get my groceries in the house, the bag ripping, Mary running through the mud in her new white tennis shoes, Matthew screaming because he thought I was leaving him in the car. I could relate. The wolf's husband should have helped her carry their groceries. I couldn't help but wonder where he was. It's not like he had an office or a day job.

Once the deer was off the road, Aunt Sissy crept by at about fifteen miles an hour, I guess in case one of the little ones jumped out on the road. I stared after them as long as I could, until the road wound in a sharp turn so that I no longer could keep them in my line of sight.

And then I just sat there listening to the
squeegee, squeegee, squeegee
of the truck with my skin tingling.

We rode along in our own little worlds. Finally, we came to a four-way stop on an open road. I could see for miles in either direction. Another truck sped down the road toward us from the opposite way. Aunt Sissy didn't go. She just waited for the other truck. It was obvious the two drivers knew each other.

“Tom!” she said.

The driver of the other truck pulled up alongside us so that his driver's window was even with ours. “Hello, Sissy,” he said. “How ya been?”

“Can't complain,” she said. “This is my niece, Torie O'Shea. The one I told you about.”

He waved at me. He was a good-sized man from what I could see. About sixty-five or seventy years old, with a bulbous nose and a head full of thick blondish white hair. At least what I could see of his hair. He wore a cap that read
Husband. Dad. Grandpa. Mayor
.

“This is Tom Hujinak,” Aunt Sissy said to me. “The mayor.”

I waved back and he gave me a toothy grin.

“My niece was wondering if she could talk with you,” Sissy said.

“What about?” he asked. He checked his rearview mirror to see if anybody was coming. I turned around in the seat and did the same. All clear.

“She wants to ask you about our house. You know, your house,” she said.

“All right,” he said. “I was born there. I should be able to tell you something.”

“Well, not now,” Aunt Sissy said. “Can she come by your office later?”

“Sure. I'll be there until five,” he said. “Unless I go fishing. Hey, is she related to the guy who's in jail?”

“Uh … yeah,” Aunt Sissy said.

He nodded. “All right. Better get off the road. See you later, then,” he said.

Aunt Sissy and I both waved and he waved and we drove on in opposite directions. After a moment Aunt Sissy said, “I could have called him and asked him that. I wanted to stall him.”

“Why?”

“Because he's gonna drive right by the spot in the road where the wolves were. I wanted to make sure that they had time to get safely into the woods,” she said.

I smiled.

Silence for a beat. “How far is Cedar Springs?”

“Oh, we should be coming up on Cedar Springs in about a minute. Biggest town in the county,” she said. “It's a happening place.”