Winter of the Wolf Moon (23 page)

I nodded my thanks but didn’t dare say anything.

“How many days did you follow him around?” Maven said. “Six days? The dumbest man on the planet and it takes him what, not even a day to figure out he’s being tailed?” Maven paused for effect and then drew out his next line like a torturer who enjoys his work a little too much.
“McKnight even pulls you out of the snow when you get stuck trying to follow him?”

“You’re out of line, Chief Maven,” Champagne said.

“But now I’m still supposed to play along with you guys even though you didn’t tell me anything about the Mounties, or them seeing the plant, or any of this horseshit?”

He stopped for a breath. Champagne looked like he wanted to kill me or Maven or both. Urbanic just looked sick.

“Did they get Bruckman, at least?” Maven said. “As long as McKnight is doing all your legwork for you, did they at least pick up Bruckman in Canada?”

“No,” Champagne said.

“No?” Maven said.

“No,” Champagne said. “There were two undercover officers on the scene. The local police arrived
to break up the fight. The undercover officers attempted to apprehend Bruckman, but he had, um … he had escaped through the bathroom window.”

I raised my hand. “I think I sort of put that idea in his head,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

“There was a lot of blood on the floor,” Champagne said.

“His nose was broken,” I said. “Me again.”

“We did apprehend two of his friends,” Champagne said.

“So go talk to them,” Maven said. “Why are you wasting everybody’s time over here?”

“Chief Maven,” Champagne said, “I think I’ve been showing a great deal of patience and restraint here. This man was stopped on an international boundary with drugs and a loaded handgun in his vehicle. If you’re not going to cooperate in our investigation, then we’ll proceed without you.”

Maven looked at Champagne for a long, terrible moment. If I wasn’t so tired and sore and scared, I would have pitied the poor agent. The DEA has a district office in Detroit, so I had met a couple of them when I was a police officer there. They were good. But they
knew
they were good. They knew it maybe a little too well. So they may have come off as a little arrogant when they dealt with the local police. And that was in a major city. God knows how much they would look down on the police in a little town in the middle of nowhere, with a force so small it shared the same building as the county deputies.

Maven hated me. I knew that. But how much more would he hate a couple hotshot DEA agents who treated him like a backwoods hick?

“McKnight,” he said, “the judge will be here at nine o’clock. When you’re arraigned, I’m going to ask the DA to dismiss the charges.”

That’s how much.

“What are you doing?” Champagne said.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Maven said. “I’m kicking him.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can. There was less than a gram in that bag, so it’s a misdemeanor. The gun was licensed. It just wasn’t reported on the way over. So that’s a misdemeanor, too. Any misdemeanor charges on that bridge belong to the city. You know that.”

Champagne pointed a finger right in his face. Another great idea. “You are making a big mistake,” he said.

“The next finger you point at me gets separated from your body,” Maven said.

“This is how it works up here, huh? This is how you run a police department?”

“Excuse me, boys,” I said. “You said I could leave, right Chief?”

“Get out of here,” he said. “Just be in the court building at nine.”

Champagne stood up, knocking his chair over. “This isn’t over, McKnight,” he said. He stood right in front of me, his face just a few inches from mine. “I’ll be watching you.”

“You go right ahead,” I said. “I hope you like watching a man shovel snow, split wood and drink beer. Because that’s all you’re gonna see.”

He stood there, probably trying to think up another tough guy line.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said. “I need some fresh air.” I stepped around him and went out the door, stopping just long enough to give my new buddy Chief Maven a little salute.

I had two hours to kill before my appointment in the courthouse, so I took a walk down Water Street in a winter light that made everything look gray and soft around the edges. The snow was wet and heavy. Ten minutes of walking and I was already wearing the snow around my shoulders like an old woman’s shawl.

I stopped at a little restaurant over by the Locks Park. The locks were closed, of course, but there was just enough business from the snowmobilers and the locals to keep the place open. I sat down in a booth with the newspaper and a cup of coffee, and asked for eggs and bacon and sausage and anything else they could fit on a breakfast plate.

While I was waiting for the food, I called Leon’s home number and left a message. Two minutes later he came banging through the door.

“My wife paged me,” he said. He was breathing hard as he pulled his coat off. “God, you look awful.”

“Were you at work?” I said.

“Yeah, I can’t stay long,” he said. “I just wanted to come down and see what the hell happened.”

I ran it all down for him, starting at the bridge.

“They left you a nice little present,” he said.

“A souvenir from our visit to the bar,” I said. “It was very thoughtful of them.”

“They could have really jammed you up,” he said.

“They should have put a full gram in the truck,” I said.
“Then
I would have been fucked. I guess they didn’t want to part with that much of it, though.”

“Ha, you’re probably right.”

“If you see two guys with hunting caps walk in here,” I said, “you better duck.”

“Maven really let you go?”

“The charges get withdrawn at nine o’clock,” I said. “I hope he doesn’t come to his senses by then.”

“Those guys were feds,” he said. “I should have known.”

“I was sure they were Molinov’s guys. Those two men Bruckman was talking about.”

“Molinov,” he said. He worked the name around a few times while the waitress brought over my breakfast.

“Gotta be Russian,” I said.

“Gotta be,” he said. “I could look him up.”

“Where?”

“I’ve got a computer now,” he said. “There’s all sorts of places on the Internet.”

I smiled and shook my head.

“You can’t be a private eye in the nineties without a computer,” he said. “Or at least a partner who has one.”

I stopped eating and looked at him. “I told those agents that you were my partner, Leon. And I meant it”

“That’s good to hear, Alex.”

“But this is the only case we’re going to work on,” I said. “And I think it’s about over.”

“We make a great team, Alex. You know that.”

“This is a small town,” I said. “If there’s any business here at all, you’re more than enough to handle it. I told you that before. Look at everything you did, the way you found Bruckman. You’re a real private investigator, Leon. I’m not. And I don’t want to be.”

“I think we should find him again,” he said. “He’s gotten you twice now. Don’t you want to even the score? He might know more about this Molinov guy, too.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna get anything else out of him,” I said. “We’ll probably just get ourselves killed this time.”

“Alex, if I have to go back and sell snowmobiles every winter and outboard motors every summer for the rest of my life, I swear to God I’m gonna lose my mind. Just don’t close the door on this thing yet, okay? Wait a few days and see what happens.”

“All right, we’ll see what happens,” I said. I didn’t feel like fighting over it.

“Good man,” he said. “I’m going back to work. I’ll let you know if I find anything on Molinov.” He stood up, zipped his coat and left the place. He gave me a thumbs-up as he passed the window.

I sat there and watched the snow for a while. Then I paid my bill and went back out into the snow. I walked back directly this time, shielding my face from the wind. I saw Bill Brandow walk in the door just ahead of me, but by the time I got into the lobby he had already disappeared into his office.

I went over to the receptionist’s desk and asked her
if the sheriff was free. She picked up the phone and talked to him for a few seconds, then looked up at me. “And you would be … ?” she said.

“I’m the drug kingpin everybody’s looking for,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, not missing a beat. She gave Brandow my title and watched me as she listened to whatever Brandow was saying on the other end. “The sheriff will see you,” she finally said.

“Thank you,” I said. I went through his door and found him sitting at his desk with the newspaper.

“Every time you come in here,” he said, “you track in enough snow to make a snowman. You look terrible, by the way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me those guys were DEA agents?” I said.

He put the paper down. “They asked me to stall you,” he said. “I wasn’t happy about it, believe me.”

“They have no leverage over you,” I said. “You’re an elected sheriff.”

“They asked me for one week, Alex. I
told
them they were wasting their time following you. But come on, they’re agents from the federal government. I was just trying to do the right thing. You were a cop once. You know how it works. I really didn’t have a choice.”

“Of course not,” I said. “That’s why you sent your deputies out to search my cabins this morning, too.”

“I could have let them call in their people, Alex. They would tear your cabins apart. I figured at least this way we could be a little more careful about it.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” I said. “Remind me to pick up the tab the next time we drink together.”

“We did that once,” he said. “And only once. It’s not like we’re best friends.”

“No,” I said. “We’re not. And we never will be. Because I’m not from around here, am I? I wasn’t born here. I didn’t grow up here. No matter how long I live up here, I’ll always be a downstater to you. I’ll always be from ‘below the bridge.’ ” It was a term I had heard used many times in bars all over the county. The bridge, in this case, being the Mackinac Bridge that separated the two peninsulas. Back in the sixties and seventies, when I was down being a cop in Detroit as it burned all around me, a lot of guys up here were actually talking about blowing up that bridge. They were scared to death that we’d all come up there and ruin the Upper Peninsula.

“One more day,” he said. “I would have made them come to you directly. If you don’t like that, then I don’t know what else to say.”

“This has been some morning,” I said. “I always thought you were the good guy and Maven was the bad guy. But you’re the one who rolls over for these clowns, and he’s the one who tells them to go fuck themselves.”

He folded his hands together and looked at me. “Are you about done?” he said.

“I’m done,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”

I left his office, went out to the lobby and walked around for a few minutes, trying to make some sense out of everything that had happened that morning. It didn’t happen. At nine o’clock I went over to the courthouse and watched my charges get dropped. It would have been better if Champagne and Urbanic had been there to see it, but maybe that’s asking too
much out of life. When I was free to go, I went looking for my truck and finally found it in the parking lot behind the City-County Building. I went inside and asked for the keys. After a few minutes of poking around, an officer finally found them and gave them to me. When I opened the door to the truck, the interior door panel fell out into the snow. Everything that could be taken apart had been taken apart, just in case I had any more drugs stashed away. They hadn’t bothered putting anything back together.

I threw the door panel onto the other side of the seat and started her up. I’ll put this all back together later, I thought. Just get the hell out of here.

The sun was actually trying to shine a little bit as I left Sault Ste. Marie, but it was a losing battle. By the time I made it to Paradise, the snowclouds had returned. The agents’ car wasn’t in the motel lot as I drove by. Too bad. I wondered what they were going to do to amuse themselves now that they couldn’t follow me anymore?

Or could they? It wouldn’t have surprised me, although I knew they weren’t behind me on my way back home that morning. Maybe they’ll take the day off and start again tomorrow, I thought.

I put the plow down when I hit my access road, pushing off the few inches of snow from the night before. Vinnie’s car was parked in front of his cabin. There was maybe one inch of snow on his windshield, meaning that he had worked a late shift at the casino and driven home around dawn. Brilliant detective work on my part. I pushed the snow from his driveway all the way up to where his car was parked, and then I laid on the horn for a few seconds to make sure
he was awake. If I was tired and sore and miserable, I didn’t want to be alone.

When I got to my cabin and opened the door, I stood there in the doorway for a full minute before I could bring myself to go inside. This is too much, I thought. A man shouldn’t have to have his cabin trashed twice in one week. Every drawer was open, every single item taken out and left out. At least they didn’t intentionally break everything and slash the furniture, I thought, like when Bruckman was here. Or no, I, guess it wasn’t Bruckman, was it? It was whoever the hell those other guys were, the guys who work for Molinov. Whoever the hell he is. God, listen to me. I have no idea who I’m talking about.