Shelf Ice (18 page)

“And they’ve gone missing?”

“Well, it’s more than that,” said Sue, warming to the story. “As she describes it, her parents live in a walled compound, says her father is a security freak. They have a large home on a bluff overlooking the big lake. The place is surrounded by a high fence and gated drive. She went to visit them last evening, thought she would surprise them. The gate was open, she rang the doorbell and….”

“Come on, Sue, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“A total stranger answered the door, identified himself as Rod Gunne. Seems he’s living there. Says her parents gave him the use of their home.”

“A couple of days ago I had never heard of Rod Gunne. Now his name just keeps popping up in almost every conversation.”

“It’s kinda weird, isn’t it. Do you have time to hear her story?”

“Please bring her in. This should be very interesting.”

• • •

When Ray returned to his office with a fresh flask of coffee and some clean mugs, Sue was waiting, standing beside a slight, delicate woman who appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties.

“Sheriff Elkins, this is Stephanie Janzen.”

Ray took her hand, noting that her frail figure belied her obvious strength.
 

“Please have a seat,” said Ray, directing her to a chair at the conference table. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

Ray filled a mug and passed it to her, sliding a small tray of sugar and creamer in her direction.

“Where would you like me to start?” Janzen asked, stirring her coffee with a plastic spoon.

“At the beginning, please,” said Ray, carefully studying her delicate facial features: large sensitive eyes, skillfully styled hair.

“Well, as I told the detective here,” she motioned toward Sue, “I’m back in the States for a month. I live in China.”

“How long have you been in China and when did you last see your parents?”

“I’ve been working abroad since graduate school, mostly in Asia. I’ve been in mainland China almost twelve years.”

“What do you do?” asked Ray.

“I’m a translator and technical writer, although now I’m mostly doing management. I very seldom come back to the States. When I go on holiday I usually go some place in Asia or Europe.”

“But this time you came to visit your parents?”

“Well, actually, that had not been my plan. I’ve been having a few health issues, and my employer wanted me to go to Mayo Clinic, they have an excellent executive medical program. After my checkup I had a few extra days, so I thought I’d run over here and see how they are doing. My parents, they’re not getting any younger, and I thought I should make one more attempt at reconnecting.”

“I’m not quite following,” said Ray.

“We’ve been alienated, my father and I, since I was a teenager. My mother has been dead for years, she passed away when I was still in college. He remarried soon after. The new wife, Vera, seems nice enough, but I hardly know her.”

“Would you give me your father’s and stepmother’s names, please?”

“Russell and Vera Janzen.”

“So continue with your story. You arrived yesterday and…”

“Yes, it was late afternoon. I’d rented a car at the airport and drove out to their house.”

“And you hadn’t called or anything?”

“No, I thought it was better to just arrive. I didn’t want to give him a chance to reflect on old enmities.”

“When did you last have contact with your father?” Ray asked.

“It’s been a number of years. Like I said, we’ve been alienated.”

“Continue with your story, please.”

“I drove out to the house, and I was actually quite surprised to find the security gate on his road open. I knocked on the door and was greeted by this total stranger who identified himself as Reverend Gunne. He invited me in; he was entertaining a couple of women, it looked like they were having drinks. I explained who I was and told him I was there to visit my parents.

“Gunne told me that my parents had given him the use of their house for the winter and that they were in Mexico and last he heard planning to stay there until June.”

“And then what happened?”

“I thanked him and left. I went back into Traverse City and got a hotel room. I had a hard time sleeping. There is something so wrong here.”

“Ms. Janzen, it’s not unusual for summer residents to rent out or allow others to use their summer homes.”

“You don’t understand, Sheriff. My father is a selfish, suspicious old bastard. He’s never given anything away in his life. The last thing in the world he would do is let someone use his house. Just let me tell you how crazy he is. He’s got this big old RV, it’s a Bluebird. When he and Vera were going on a trip, they would move into the RV. He’d set the alarm system in the house, and then they would stay in the RV for a few days. My father wouldn’t leave until he was convinced that everything was working properly. Then he’d chain and lock the front gate before he drove away.”

“If he’s not there, where else could your father be? Perhaps he is in Mexico. Do you have any way of contacting him, cell phone, Internet?”

“My father would never go Mexico. He’s xenophobic, doesn’t like people who don’t speak English, let alone have a different skin tone.”

 
“Do you have siblings or relatives who might have recently had contact with your father or his wife?”

“I’m an only child. Vera never had children. And I don’t think my father has been in touch with relatives for decades. He had an older brother, I don’t know if he’s still living.”

“How about neighbors, friends…”

“If they have friends, I wouldn’t know. Same with neighbors. What I’m trying to tell you is that he’s absolutely misanthropic.”

“Has your father ever disappeared before?”

“Not that I know of.”

“And, again, when did you last see your father? Please be as specific as possible.”

Stephanie remained silent for a minute, and finally said, “I’m not quite sure, it’s been six or seven years.”

“Have you communicated with him by phone, letters, e

mail.”

“No, but I don’t think that’s of any significance here. There are strange people in my father’s house, and I want you to investigate this immediately. What do I have to do to make this missing persons thing official?”

“Ms. Janzen, let me give you a couple of scenarios for what we normally consider a missing person. For example, a woman talks to her elderly father on the phone around noon. Later that day after work she stops by to see him and drop off some groceries that he has requested. When she gets to his home she find the front door wide open; it’s winter. She checks with the neighbors and no one has seen him. His wallet and keys are on the kitchen table. Here’s another example, a college girl who lives with her parents goes on a date. She tells them she’s going to a concert and will be very late. The next morning they find that she has not returned. About noon they try her cell phone. She doesn’t answer. By six in the evening they have heard nothing from her, which is totally out of character.

“In both cases you will note that the disappearances are totally out of character with the persons’ normal behavior….”

“Yes, but….”

“You’ve told me that you have not had any contact with your father in years. When you suddenly pop in, he’s not there. There’s nothing to suggest that something untoward has happened to him or that he and your stepmother have gone missing.”

“You know what really amazes me,” Janzen said in a vituperative tone, “petty bureaucrats worldwide are all cut from the same cloth. You all seem determined to do as little as you can. And no imagination, none of you.”

Without losing his aplomb, Ray responded. “Detective Lawrence will ask you for some additional information about your father and get your contact information. We will make some inquiries.”

Ray came to his feet and offered his hand.

Janzen glared at him momentarily, and then followed Sue out of his office.

Ray was working through a long list of unanswered emails when Sue appeared at his door.

“When the going gets weird, the weird get going,” she said with a wry smile.

“Who are you quoting?” asked Ray.

“Richard Nixon, or someone like that. How about lunch?
 
I’ll buy. I’ll even go to the Health Hut.”

“You’re on. And after that, I want to visit Ben Reilly, and I want you with me. Let’s see how he’s doing now that he’s out of the hospital.”

29.

Ray was settled into the passenger seat as Sue drove north toward Ben Reilly’s home. Again he was struck by how much more of the countryside he was able to observe when he didn’t have to have his eyes glued to the road. He was continually surprised to see things for the first time even though he had traveled these roads for decades.

The bright sun glistened off the rolling, snow-covered fields with their neat rows of carefully pruned fruit trees and grapevines. When spring arrived, there would be a flurry of activity on the farms, but now things were still suspended in winter’s grip.

In contrast to the coastal areas and the resort lakes, much of the interior of Cedar County had changed very little over the years. Many of the original houses and barns built after the lumber had been cut more than a hundred years before still remained. Ray could see the outline of cracked fieldstones in the foundations of the barns. And although most of the farmhouses had gone through numerous remodels with many additions, he could usually identify the outline of the original structure.

This was the area and these were the people with whom he’d grown up. His parents’ farm, inherited from his mother’s family, was small and the land was of poor quality, much of it low and swampy. Although Ray’s father did some farming, the majority of the family’s modest income came from his father’s work as a handyman and jack-of-all-trades.

But Ray remembered the many years when the neighboring farms lost their cherry or apple crops to a late frost, or the corn harvest failed due to lack of rain. Farming in the region was always a gamble, some years providing a bountiful harvest, other years returning little more than disappointment and debt for months of backbreaking work.

“Are we getting close?” asked Sue, depending on Ray for directions.

“Just over that hill and down about halfway. The drive is on the left.”

Sue parked in a large plowed area between the house and barn near the back entrance to the house.
 
Maureen, Ben’s wife was at the door to greet them, pushing the storm door open as they approached. She led them through the kitchen to the family room, part of an addition they had added to the old farmhouse when their children were young.

Ben was in a large overstuffed chair, his casted right foot resting on an ottoman. He was holding an eBook reader in his right hand. He set it in his lap and high-fived Ray, then Sue.

“How are you feeling?” asked Ray.
 

“Still a little sore,” Ben responded, “and a bit caged.” He lifted his left arm, also wrapped in a plaster cast.

“How long will you be sporting those?” asked Ray.

“Whatever it is, it’s too long,” Ben answered.

“The orthopedist said probably about six weeks,” said Maureen, “depending on how he does and how good of a patient he is. So, Ray, tell him to behave.”

“The physical therapist was here this morning,” said Ben.

“Cute redhead,” added Maureen. “I’ve never seen him so cooperative. Can I get you two coffee or tea?”

“I’m good,” said Ray.

“Me, too,” responded Sue.

“So tell me about the case. What do you know?” asked Ben.

“At this point it’s more what we don’t know,” said Ray. Then he and Sue took turns providing a narrative of the investigation from the point where Ben was injured to Stephanie Janzen’s story of her parents’ alleged disappearance and Rod Gunne taking up residence in their manse.

“Where is this place,” asked Ben, “this ‘manse’?”

“It’s somewhere south of Crescent Cove. You know the area, lots of very private homes and gated drives. You can’t see much from the road,” said Sue.

“Did you ever hear of Russell Janzen?”

“No, never on my radar. Remember a few years ago when we had a burglary on some new construction in that area? A hundred thousand dollars in cabinets went missing.”

“Yes,” said Sue. “Another one of America’s unsolved mysteries. The place was very isolated, especially in February, and the contractor had really lax security. I remember he said something like, ‘This is God’s country. I’ve never lost anything before.’”

“Richard Kinver,” said Ray, moving the conversation in a new direction. “He owned the plow that crashed into us. It was found the next morning. It had been torched. He had reported it stolen, and he seems to have a solid alibi. What do you know about Kinver?”

“I’m sure you know the family has been around forever?”