The Equalizer (26 page)

Chapter 38

I
checked Jeremy’s phone records while
Ralph checked his bank and credit card activity.

“Credit cards haven’t been used for two days,” Ralph said. “No airline tickets or purchases of any kind. No cash withdrawals from any accounts. Guy didn’t have much in savings anyway. What did you find out about his phone calls?”

“He had a few calls the days preceding from Tiffany and Naomi. This morning at 5:00 a.m. he received a call on his mobile from an untraceable number. Immediately after, he made one call to Estelle’s Candies,” I said.

“Something’s going on,” Ralph said. “Who in the heck would call him at 5:00 a.m.?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” I said.

“Me too. He’s not answering his cell phone.”

I updated Troy when he returned.

“We need to check if he’s at the lake—especially with Naomi going out there with the kids.”

Ralph said, “ First, I’m going to give Allan Moberg a call. See if they’ve heard from him. They’re already in Florida for the winter.”

We listened as Ralph told Jeremy’s parents of our suspicions. When he hung up he said, “Well, Allan was shocked. They haven’t talked to Jeremy since they left five days ago—so they didn’t know about any of it. They’re going to fly back on the first flight they can get. They suggested I check their cabin before I do anything else. I’d call out there, but they drop landline phone service while they’re gone.”

“I say we head out to the cabin now,” I said.

Troy said, “Maybe I should warn Naomi.”

I opened my mouth to disagree, but Ralph put a hand up to silence me. Troy’s call went directly to voice messaging, so he left a message for her to call him back ASAP.

“Are you worried about her safety?” I asked.

“Damn right,” Troy said. “That man is a nut job.”

Just then my phone rang. I was surprised to see who the caller was: Naomi. I could have handed the phone over to Troy. But I didn’t.

“Sheehan.”

Sobbing. Then she forced words out between gasps: “Cal! . . . Jeremy’s dead! . . . I think he killed himself.”

“Calm down. Breathe. Are you at the cabin?”

I could hear her take a deep breath. “Yes. Oh, Cal, it’s so awful.”

It was then I looked up and saw Troy and Ralph’s eyes fixed on me. I lifted my index finger to indicate I’d tell them everything as soon as I’d hung up.

“Don’t touch anything. Leave the cabin and wait in your car. Don’t drive anywhere. Is there someone who can come and take the kids?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think.” She was still sobbing in between words. “Maybe Nancy Martin.”

“Okay.” When I hung up I said, “Naomi found Jeremy at the cabin. Apparently, he’s killed himself.”

Ralph gasped. He folded his hands and put them to his lips.

“Why the hell did she call
you
?” Troy said, scowling.

Ralph and I exchanged glances and I shrugged. “I don’t know, Troy. What does it matter? We need to get out there. Let’s go,”

Ralph said. “I’ll drive myself.”

First, I phoned Nancy Martin. She said she’d be there as soon as possible. I noticed Troy also had his phone to his ear.

Since early morning,
the weather had turned bitter. It was raining hard enough to use the windshield wiper. As I followed Ralph and Troy’s department vehicles, I was left alone with my thoughts. I guess it surprised me—I thought he loved himself too much to commit suicide. I guess you never really know what’s inside people’s heads.

As I turned into the Moberg driveway, I saw the so-called cabin. In reality, it was a beautiful lake home set on a hill surrounded by pine trees. We all exited our vehicles and made our way up the steep driveway to Naomi’s Prius. I had the thought it would be a tough one to navigate when it got icy.

Naomi was sitting in the driver’s seat, the two children strapped in back in their car seats. They were watching a video on a laptop. Her eyes were red, but obviously she had calmed down. Ralph asked her if the front door was unlocked, she nodded, then Ralph headed for house. Troy, who was standing at the driver’s side, said he would stay with Naomi.

“The kids see anything?” he asked.

“No, I left them in the car.”

“Watch what you say with the kids in the car,” I whispered.

He pulled his hand behind his back and gave me the finger.

I leaned in, nudging Troy to the side. “Naomi, Nancy is on the way.”

I walked away and toward the house. Once inside, I slipped on footies and gloves and made my way down the short hallway that opened into a large open space: the kitchen dining area to the left and the great room to the right. Ralph was standing in the great room, staring at Jeremy who was slumped in recliner located near the large stone fireplace where a fire was burning. On closer inspection I saw it was a gas fireplace with artificial logs.

“Should I turn it off?” I asked.

“Later,” he said. “I want the scene intact when we take photos.”

I turned to Jeremy. The entry wound was forward of his right ear, the left side of his head spattered across the room. His right arm hung over the stuffed chair, a stainless steel pistol with black grips on the floor under his hand, a half bottle of Johnny Walker Black and an empty glass on the end table beside him.

“It certainly appears to be a suicide,” he said. “That’s Allan’s Ruger he bought at the gun show we attended a couple years back—a six-round 45.”

“Is there a note?” I asked.

“I haven’t gotten that far. Would you call Doc Swank and the lab? BRO, too. Use your mobile. I want to keep this quiet as long as we can,” Ralph said.

I made the calls and came back to Ralph.

“They’ll be here ASAP. They said they’ll want DNA samples from the family and anybody who’s been in the cabin recently.”

“Okay.”

I then walked out of the great room to the hall that led to the bedrooms. Everything was tidy in the three bedrooms and bathrooms. Glancing out one of the bedroom windows facing the driveway, I noticed Nancy Martin had arrived. Troy was helping transfer the kids, their car seats, and luggage to the Martins’ minivan.

When I returned to the great room I said, “Everything is tidy and undisturbed. You could spin a quarter on the beds.”

Ralph was sitting on the couch across from Jeremy, staring at him.

“He’s their only child. I went to his baptism.”

“That’s a tough one. Sorry, boss.”

I patted his shoulder, then I surveyed the room and kitchen: the refrigerator was off and bare, the cabinets had only a few can goods. In the corner of the kitchen cabinetry was a built-in desk with an Apple computer. I moved the mouse and the computer came alive.

I opened the computer’s recent history: someone had been researching sites of attorneys in the St. Cloud area. Next to the computer was a piece of paper with phone numbers of plumbers and electricians, but near it was a paper containing only a short paragraph that simply read:

I don’t know why I did what I did. I’m so sorry. Please tell those who loved Ronny Peterson and Ted Kohler, I have deep regrets. I only hope you can forgive me. Mom and Dad, I haven’t been a good man and you don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry, Jeremy.

“Found something, boss,” I said as I walked over to Ralph and handed the note to him.

He read it then his hand dropped to his lap. “Here’s our confession, and I’ve never felt so bad about solving a case.”

“I know what you mean.”

Chapter 39

DAY TWENTY-THREE

S
aturday morning I met Ralph
at Dotty’s for breakfast. When I arrived, he was already sitting in the booth, newspaper spread in front of him. He folded it then pushed it across the booth ‘s table so I could read the headline: “Estelle’s Executive Found Dead Confessed to Double Murders.” I read on, it stated that a source close to the family reported Jeremy Moberg left a suicide note confessing to the Kohler/Peterson murders.

“Has that been officially released?” I said.

“Nah. They don’t give a hoot.”

“Who would the source be?”

“It wasn’t me or Allan and Pat, I can guarantee you that. I talked to Allan last night and he said he wouldn’t speak to the press at all. I told them they wouldn’t be able to get into their house right away, that they wouldn’t even want to. They’ll stay with Pat’s sister until their place is cleaned up. I advised them to have a professional service clean the place after we’re done with it. ”

“Good idea. Must be terrible for parents to deal with the death of a child.”

“The worse thing anybody can go through.”

“What are you ordering?” I asked.

“A poached egg on toast.”

“You on that diet again?”

He groaned and said, “Yeah, I s’pose you’re having a heap of pancakes.”

“No, I’m having Dotty’s Saturday’s Six-Dollar Special: eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes, coffee, and juice.”

Ralph shook his head. “How the heck do you stay so trim?”

“Exercise.”

“There’s that.”

After Ida took our orders she said, “All righty then,” parked her pencil behind her ear, snapped her gum, and sashayed to the window to the kitchen and shouted “A bacon six pack and an ace on toast!”

Ralph rubbed his hands together. “If anyone would have told me the investigation would lead to Jeremy Moberg, I would’ve said their widgets were a few gears short.”

“I agree. Just goes to show you.”

“Guess he couldn’t live with what he’d done.”

“Or the thought of life in prison.”

“Allan called me last night. They don’t buy the suicide. He said he never really suffered from depression, even with his divorce and money problems. Allan said they told him before they left for Florida that for his Christmas present, they were going to pay half his credit card debt—one payment at Christmas, and for tax purposes, the other half after the first of the year.”

“So his financial problems were over?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“But one debt he could never erase—the murders.”

I got a nod from Ralph on that one. It was profound, I know.

Ida brought over our plates. Ralph was given two eggs instead of one and mine was heaped with potatoes and bacon and I got three pancakes instead of two. Dotty thinks she’s doing us a favor, so I think I need to do my part and eat it all. I’ll skip lunch.

While we ate, Ralph told me about the Mobergs’ plans.

“After Jeremy’s body’s released, he’ll be cremated. His funeral will be private.”

“I can understand that. Did they say when are they going back to Florida?”

“No, but I’d guess they won’t hang around too long.”

Chapter 40

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

T
here was pressure from the
whole community for a speedy ruling in the Moberg case. Only three days after his death, on Monday morning—Halloween day, Ralph made the official announcement in a press conference on the court house steps: Jeremy’s death was officially ruled suicide and the Kohler/Peterson murder case was closed. Shannon Benson stood next to me in the squad room as we watch Ralph’s televised conference. After everyone cleared out, she asked, “Want to buy me a cup of coffee?”

“The squad room sludge special or Northwoods?”

“Northwoods, of course.”

“Let’s take my cruiser,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

She drove down Fifth Street. We passed Kohlers’ house, then on down past Naomi’s. A small moving truck was parked in her driveway and a
For Sale
sign was in the front yard.

“She’s selling her mother’s house?” I said.

“I’m sure she’s moving back into her old house,” she said.

“That’s pretty quick work. She’s not wasting any time.”

“She has the kids to think about—what’s best for them. Have you talked to her since Jeremy died?”

“No. You?”

“Yeah, I saw her last night at Save Rite. When she saw me, she broke down. I’m not all that close to her, but it seemed she needed to talk, so I listened. I think she needs her friends right now.”

“What did she say?”

“That she feels partly responsible for everything. Says she didn’t treat Jeremy very well after her mom died . . . that she took out her anger on him and maybe that pushed him over the edge. She feels really guilty.”

“People think they have the power to stop suicide—that if they’d only behaved differently they could have prevented it. It’s all bullshit. We all do the best we can.”

She drove on down Fifth to the river and turned south to Northwoods Coffee Shop.

“Naomi said she heard Tiffany Howard quit her job and moved out of the area.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, most people think it was quite scandalous of Tiffany to move in with Jeremy in Naomi’s house. So I’m not sure she got much support when he died.”

“I thought it disrespectful to Naomi. Shannon, it’s only been three days. How do you get your house on the market that fast?”

“I don’t know. When our neighbors put their house up, it took almost two weeks before they got their sign.”

When I got back to the office,
Troy was sitting at his desk with a pout on his face.

“Why are you so happy?” I asked.

He swiveled his chair around. “I’m exhausted. Sub Shoppe burglary last night.”

“Yeah, I heard there was another one.”

“Got the call at midnight and didn’t get back home until five. Two hours sleep. Lucky me, to be on call, eh?”

“Have you talked to Naomi?” I asked.

His face turned sour. “Why?”

“Did you know she was moving?”

“Yeah, she had planned to sell her mom’s house and buy a townhouse, but I guess she’ll move back into Jeremy’s house now.”

“With the case solved, you two going to get back together?”

“Why? You want to put the moves on her?”

“No, Troy, I don’t. You haven’t answered my question.”

“No, she says it’s over. Ya happy?”

“Jesus Christ, Troy, let it go.”

The rest of the afternoon
Troy and I said very little to each other while we both completed paperwork. I know he blamed me for his break-up with Naomi and obviously thought I was still interested in her.

About five o’clock his phone rang. He listened briefly then said, “I’m on my way.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

At that moment Ralph called telling me he was with Allan and Pat Moberg at their place on Rodgers Lake.

“Is the place already cleaned up already?”

“The cleaners got in this morning as soon as the crime scene was released. Do you have time to drive out here and hear what they have to say?”

“Oh, come on, Ralph, I can’t listen to what a wonderful man their son was and how he couldn’t have possibly killed two people and himself.”

“No, it’s not like that. They found something.”

“What?”

“You gotta see it.”

I sighed. Although I had plans to meet Shannon and some of the guys at Buzzo’s, I agreed.

When she opened the door,
Pat Moberg looked spent, heart-broken. She was a small woman, about sixty, black hair evenly graying.

“I’m so very sorry about your son,” I said.

“Thank you. Allan and Ralph are in the great room.”

Ralph introduced us. I’d never met the couple and I expected one of them to have red hair. I certainly didn’t expect to see Allan with dark blond hair grown almost to his shoulders. Jeremy didn’t look like either parent. Maybe he’d been adopted.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Take a look at this,” Allan said. He pointed to the fireplace.

“What?” I said.

I crouched down and looked at the artificial logs. They looked fairly realistic. Ralph shined a flashlight onto a rear log. “There,” he said.

Allan and Pat were standing behind me as I looked for what they wanted me to see. Then I spotted it: a hole in a rear log.

“They just found it this afternoon when Allan went to turn on the fireplace.”

“And behind it I found a bullet from my Ruger, the gun that was used,” Allan said.

“Had Jeremy ever shot your Ruger?”

“Yeah, when I first got it he went to the range with me. Tell me why he’d fire a shot into the fireplace? He would have known he could have hit the gas line.”

I shrugged.

“Ralph tells me the glass doors were closed when you got here and the fire was on,” Allan said.

“Yes,” I said.

Pat said, “Jeremy liked the doors open when we had a fire. He said he felt the heat more. He wouldn’t have closed the fireplace doors.”

Allan continued, “Besides, he would have had to fire the gun toward the fireplace, then close the doors. Would anyone in that frame of mine bother to close the doors to the fireplace? So I got to thinking: maybe someone shot him, then used Jeremy’s hand to shoot into the fireplace to get residue on him so it would look like a suicide. I called the Larsens next door to ask if they heard more than one shot that morning. Bill says he thought he heard two pops that sounded like distant firecrackers about thirty seconds apart.”

“Nobody from BRO talked to the neighbors?” I asked Ralph.

“Yes, but everyone was so sure it was suicide, they may not have asked how many shots they heard.”

“Where did you keep the Ruger?” I asked.

“In a lock box in our bedroom closet,” Allan said.

“Who knew about the it?”

“We didn’t broadcast it, but Ralph and Jeremy knew, and I suppose whoever Jeremy told.”

“Where was the lock box key?”

“On a key rack in our kitchen pantry.”

“Is it there now?”

“No, it was stuck in the lock box and put back on the shelf.”

“Anything else in that box?”

“Not that particular one.”

“If your neighbors are home I want to talk to them,” I said.

Twenty minutes later
I was back at the Mobergs, and by that time, Ralph had taken photos of the lockbox and key, removed and bagged the bullet and log and put everything in evidence bags.

I asked Ralph if I could speak to him privately. “Only Mr. Larson heard the ‘pops.’ He was still in bed but thought it was about six in the morning. There were at least thirty seconds and maybe as much as a minute between the sounds. Not hearing anything else, he went back to sleep.”

“We do know Jeremy received a call at 5:00 a.m. Tiffany Howard didn’t know what time he left the house. Allan says Jeremy’s always been an early riser. He could have driven out here after the call,” Ralph said.

I shrugged. “I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know what any of this proves. He could have shot of a round into the fireplace.”

“But it’s worth looking into it,” Ralph said. “We’ll check out these items for prints. If Jeremy’s are on them, we’ll have our answer.”

We walked back over to Allan and Pat.

I asked them, “If you’re right about this, do you have any thoughts on who might be responsible?”

Pat said, “Well, we think it was the person who killed Ronny Peterson and Ted Kohler. Maybe the phone call was this person and Jeremy knew he was coming out and got the gun out to protect himself—it could have been taken away from him and used against him. You hear that happens all the time.”

“I think his murder was staged as a suicide,” Allan said. “Maybe the real grudge was against Jeremy in the first place. He was promoted over others, you know.”

That was a stretch. “You think a co-worker broke into Jeremy’s house stole his gun, went out to the park, killed two people to get revenge for a job promotion?”

Allan sighed. “Well, when you put it that way.”

“Look, you can’t discount the evidence we have against Jeremy in the Kohler/Peterson case, and the note is an admission,” I said.

Pat rubbed her husband’s hand then looked at me. “
If
he was the one who wrote it. Cal, I understand you knew Jeremy. Do you think it even sounded like him? Because we don’t—he wouldn’t choose
those
words.”

“I don’t know. When people are distressed they get pretty serious.”

Ralph put his Twins cap back on and said, “Okay, well, we’ll see what we can do. Can’t promise you anything.”

“That’s all we ask,” Allan replied.

Ralph and I left the Moberg house and stood beside our vehicles in the driveway.

“What do you think?” I asked.

Ralph said, “I don’t know. Whatever, we need conclusive evidence before we reopen. I can’t bring this to Oliver unless it’s so clear that no jury would find reasonable doubt. If we can’t do that, we won’t make an arrest.”

“If they’re right, and that’s a big if . . . we’d be negligent not to proceed.”

Instead of going to Buzzo’s, I went to the conference room across from the investigations office and wrote on the white board.

Jeremy Moberg

Nothing there proves he didn’t commit the murders or kill himself. But I underlined what gave me pause. I left work, stopped to water and feed my dog, then drove to Buzzo’s for a beer and pizza—and to get Jeremy Moberg temporarily out of my head. I didn’t mention one word about the case to my colleagues.

But later as I lay in bed, the facts in the case whirled round and round in my head. At one point I got up and made some notes. I may have managed a couple hours of sleep.