“Just a sec,” he said, and I could hear paper being shuffled in the background. “Ah … Donna Sue Rahll.”
“Get a DL on her, will you?”
“Will do.”
“Thanks. This is good.”
I normally hated to be called at home, but I loved it when it was something I could use. I didn’t know Donna Sue Rahll, but the last name rang a very faint bell.
I joined Sue in the living room.
“Did I hear you say Rahll?” she asked.
“Yeah. Know anybody by that name?”
“Well, John Rahll is the man who runs the Maitland Economic Development Center.”
“Oh, sure … tall man?”
“Yes.”
“Any kids?” One of the many benefits to being married to a teacher.
“Oh, a girl who graduated a while ago. Becky, maybe,” said Sue, absently, as she shuffled through some tests she’d brought home to grade.
“Or, how about Donna?”
“That’s right, Donna.”
So. Tomorrow’s schedule was shaping up.
“You know where Donna might be, these days?”
She looked up. I usually didn’t pursue her information so far. It was an agreement we had. You don’t have to tell me about school stuff, I don’t have to tell you about cop stuff.
“Last I knew, she was working at the Maitland Library. She had a year of school, dropped out. Came home. I think she might live with her parents.”
“Okay. Thanks. That’s plenty.”
“So, now I get to ask a question?”
“Uh, maybe.” I grinned.
“They said in school that you were flying in helicopters today, looking for another body. True?”
“Yes, I was in a helicopter today. It was really, really cool. But, no, we aren’t looking for any more bodies.”
“Thanks,” she said, and went back to her papers.
Rumors can plague an investigation. Especially in a town like Maitland and a county like Nation. One of the seldom appreciated effects is that it retards the flow of information. Somebody has a truly important bit, but they hear through the grapevine that something else entirely is really important. They dismiss what they know, and begin to rely on what they hear. Consequently, they don’t tell you their information, because it doesn’t seem important. In our case, for example, the third body bit might convince someone that a snowmobile sighting they had on the night in question might not be significant. Because we weren’t looking for snowmobile sightings, after all, we were looking for a third body. So that’s where that triple homicide nonsense came from with the media.
“We were looking at snowmobile tracks,” I said, hinting. “Not for a third body. If anybody asks…”
“Oh,” said Sue, absently. “All right.”
You do what you can. I went to bed. But before I did, I turned off the police scanner.
I made an appointment with Donna Sue Rahll for 0915, at the Sheriff’s Department. I went in out of uniform, to put her at her ease. That worked about half the time, and blue jeans were a lot warmer than uniform trousers.
Art was in Oelwein, interviewing the mother of the two victims, so I got to do the preliminary interview of Donna Sue all by myself. As it turned out, she was a bright, fairly attractive girl, who considered Freddie to be a phase of her life she’d just as soon forget. About the first sentence out of her was to the effect that she hadn’t wished to associate with Fred for the last seven or eight months.
“So, I don’t know why I’m here,” she said. The second sentence.
I could tell that she was hoping for a short interview, because she’d left her blue parka on. Unzipped, though, to reveal the orange lining. There was hope. “Any particular reason you broke up?” She looked me right in the eye. “I don’t see that that’s any of your business.”
“It isn’t,” I replied. “But it may be the state’s business. There’s a lot of interest in Fred right now.”
She sighed. “This is all confidential?”
“Unless it has a direct bearing on facts material to the investigation. Then you may be questioned regarding things, in court.”
“If I know something about the case, you mean.”
“That’s right,” I said.
She stood, and said her good-bye line. “Well, since I don’t know anything ‘material,’ about any kind of case, I’ll leave, now.”
“I think you might know more than you think,” I said. “Why don’t you sit back down for a minute.”
She stopped, but didn’t sit. At least the parka hadn’t been zipped yet.
“I want to ask about Fred’s two cousins, Dirk and Royce…”
She flicked out an insincere little smile. “The Colson brothers? The ‘Weasels’?”
“Pardon?” I said.
“The ‘Weasels.’ That’s what we call them.”
“Why?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. I had her.
She sat back down. “Because they’re greasy little shit-heads who have no respect for anybody, and lie and steal and stick their noses in and think they’re just great.”
Well. It came out in a rush, and I suspect she felt a lot better for having said it. It sure helped me.
“Stick their noses in what?” I was already pretty sure about the “steal” part.
“Everybody’s business.” She exhaled hard, and started to shrug out of her coat. “They just cause a lot of trouble.” She looked at me. “Why? What have they done now?”
It took me just a second. Then the little lightbulb came on in my head. We hadn’t released the names of the victims yet. And if she’d severed relations with Fred, she might not have a way of knowing.
“You don’t talk to Fred and his crowd much these days?”
“I have no time for them. If I saw one of them coming toward me, I’d cross the street.”
“Ah.” I gave her my most serious and concerned look. “Well, I’m sorry. Really. I assumed…”
“What?”
Had her good. “That you knew they were dead.”
I figured I was ready for about any kind of reaction, but was surprised when she simply said, “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“It doesn’t? Why not?”
“They ‘party hearty,’ and they drive too fast. We’ve all been telling ’em that. For years.”
“Wasn’t a car wreck,” I said. I paused for effect, for all the good it did me. “They were murdered.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Murdered? Like, by somebody else?”
“That’s what it looks like.” By somebody else, indeed.
“Well,” she said, “well, shit. Huh. Whadda ya know…” She paused. “That’s something. Well, you guys know who did it?”
“It’s beginning to look like it might be Fred.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no way. Oh, no,” and she started to chuckle. “No, not Fred. No.”
In about ten minutes, she explained to me just what a foolish idea it was. Fred, in her experience, was absolutely determined to avoid conflict at any cost. He would take the path of least resistance every time. She’d known Fred since high school, and he’d always been that way. The only times she’d ever seen him angry, it was at himself.
“He’d do things like let the other kids keep their beer in his locker. Really. Just so he wouldn’t have to argue with them. He’d fidget all day, worried that the principal would find out. But he’d never say no.”
“Because the principal was one step removed, and the kids were right there?”
“Yeah,” Donna Sue thought for a second. “Like that. You know he was busted for DWI back in high school?”
“Oh,” I said, “yeah … I’m the one who got him.”
“Well, you know the only reason he drove that night is that the kid who was the designated driver had gotten it for DWI before, couldn’t afford to get busted again, and got drunk at the party anyway?”
“Didn’t know that.”
“Just like the beer in the locker. Knew he shouldn’t do it, but just to avoid the hassle…” She shrugged. “Like I say, he’s always been that way.”
Judy came in with the coffee. It helped.
“What if,” I said, “somebody asked him to do something he just couldn’t bring himself to do? Could he get violent?”
“No way. If it got that bad, I swear to God, he’d just move to California or somewhere.” She sipped her coffee. “He’s just not aggressive at all.”
“How about his two cousins? The ‘Weasels’?”
“They’re mostly just liars. Were, I guess.” She shook her head. “They’d get him to do shit, you know? Like keep stuff for ’em that was hot.”
“Were they violent?”
“Not really.”
“I mean, like, if they got caught at a burglary … do you think they’d get violent then?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “They’d just try to lie their way out of it. They could get pretty outrageous, sometimes.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. They used to laugh about one time, in Oelwein, when they were caught behind a store one night. They were thinkin’ about sneaking in through the rest room window, and the owner came out with, like, the garbage. He started to jump in their shit in a big way. So they told him they were undercover cops. Convinced him, too.” She giggled.
Bingo. Oh, Bingo indeed. “Really?”
“Oh, sure. They did that more than once, I think. It worked.” She shook her head. “They could convince you the sun came out at night. Look you right in the eye and lie, lie, lie. Never blink.”
When Art got back from Oelwein, I ran my interview with Donna Sue by him.
“And?” said Art, sort of impatiently.
“It explains a bunch of the stuff that’s been bothering me,” I said. “Why people kept assuming the two victims were cops, for one thing. Why it just didn’t ring true. Why there had to be somebody involved we weren’t aware of.”
“Why’s that? I must be missing something,” said Art. “I didn’t think she provided any other names?”
“Impersonating cops,” I said. “If the wrong person was in that house, he might have killed them because they convinced whoever it was that they were cops.”
“What you’re doing is this: You have a theory that says Fred didn’t do it. Okay? Yet all the real evidence points to the fact that he did. Then you feel that a story told by Fred’s ex-girlfriend, about two dead men who can’t contradict her, that you have no proof ever even happened … confirms your theory.” Art shook his head. “This now requires the presence and the involvement of a third party based on a supposition by you, based on a tale by another party.” He shrugged. “Can’t buy that, Carl.”
I gritted my teeth. “But I think that’s what happened.”
“Based solely on your instinct,” he said. Just a bit too sarcastically, for my taste.
“You have to start somewhere,” I replied, evenly. “Your so-called instinct tells you where to dig. You dig, you get the evidence, you may solve the case. I don’t guess a case. I never guess. You should know that by now.”
“I didn’t say ‘guess,’” he said.
“Do you realize the ramifications here? If I’m right, that would mean that Cletus had prior knowledge of the murders before he got to the house. He said something about the dead being cops.” I paused, to let that sink in. “And that would mean, in turn, that he had contact with the killer or killers, who was the only person who would have heard them say they were cops. Of course, you would then have to characterize the killer as someone who would kill cops, as opposed to someone who would be relieved if they said they were fuzz.”
“All based on a conversation that we can’t prove ever occurred,” said Art.
“You gotta admit, though, it does cover the territory,” I said.
“So did the theory,” said Art, “that had the sun revolving around the earth.”
Well, he had me there.
“Tell you what,” said Art, finally. “Make you a deal. You do this lead, your lead, and we’ll do the straight-up case. If you score, fine. Okay?”
No way. If I did that, I’d take myself out of the mainstream investigation. Let him proceed, without me, the local yokel, getting in the way.
“Naw,” I said, in my best aw shucks voice. “The officer with primary jurisdiction makes the deals.” I said it very pleasantly. I couldn’t afford to be offended. “I’ll follow that lead, but not exclusively. I’ll still work on the main case. But I’ll go into my theory, at the same time.”
He thought a second. Legally, it was my case all the way, and he was assisting. He knew that. But he also knew that without DCI, we were going to be left high and dry. He had to know that. God knows, I did.
“Damn it, Carl. The last thing we need is for the defense to get hold of something like this. As far as I can see, it’s only going to be enough to confuse a jury. Which means that a killer walks.”
The bit about a killer walking sort of pissed me off. I hate that sort of melodramatic crap.
“Look at it like this: If it occurred to me, it can occur to the defense,” I said. “Even if my lead goes nowhere, we can at least be ready for the other side when they bring it up. Show ’em just why it doesn’t work.” I shrugged. “I don’t mind the extra work.” Top that.
“Okay. Fine. Fine with me.” He held up his hands. “But don’t come up with another theory. This is plenty.”
A peace offering. Tentatively accepted. “Promise,” I said. “What did you find out in Oelwein?”
Not a lot, as it turned out. Nora, the mother of the two victims, was distraught, but had no idea who might have done it. A female cousin of the victims thought it might have been “some farmer.” Oelwein PD had nothing on file indicating that there was a feud or any other sort of problem that had anybody mad enough at the brothers to kill them. One of the more remarkable things, apparently, was the tacit acknowledgment by just about everybody that the brothers were, in fact, thieves.
“Fred’s involvement in the burglaries or thefts never came up,” said Art. “They may be grief-stricken, but they aren’t stupid. Which means that we still have only his word that he drove for them.” He stood. “I have to be getting back to Cedar Falls. We’re going to be doing a polygraph on a suspect in a murder from Mason City. I have to be there.”
Understood.
“When will you be back up?”
“Tomorrow, I hope. Why don’t I just touch base with Davies, while I’m there?”
“Did you talk to Sergeant Thurman in Oelwein?” I asked, as Art was going out the door. He hadn’t. I put in a call to him. Phil Thurman was an excellent officer, and had originally worked for our department before transferring to Oelwein PD. More money, better hours. His first cop job had been with us, I’d been sort of his training officer, and he’d been a real breath of fresh air. We’d hated to see him go.