Authors: Midge Bubany
Chapter 7
B
ob Brutlag was my only
suspect, and he was due in twenty minutes. While I waited for his arrival, I looked over my notes and questions I’d written on note cards. Jack forged into Interview Room 3, dropping what was left of the doughnuts and a carafe of coffee on the small table, then left without a word.
I guess we’re having a coffee party
. Man, I had a bad feeling about Jack being in on this interview.
At 10:03 a.m., a deputy escorted Bob Brutlag in, and I asked if he’d let the sheriff know we were ready. I shook Bob’s clammy hand. He smelled of cologne and Listerine. His beard was trimmed down to about a half-inch, and his hair, still damp on the ends, was pulled into a ponytail. He wore a black down jacket, black slacks, and cowboy boots. No Harley gear today.
“How are you this morning, Mr. Brutlag?” I said.
He smiled crookedly. “I’m good. And you?”
“Dandy, thank you.”
“There’s a real media circus outside, huh? Jack warned me not to say anything to the reporters.”
Jack entered carrying three white mugs that clanked as he placed them on the table. Nothing quiet about Jack.
“Take off your jacket and stay a while, Bob,” Jack said. “Coffee?”
Bob gave him a wide smile and nodded. Jack poured coffee into a mug and pushed it across the table toward our interviewee leaving a wet streak. Bob took off his jacket revealing sweat stains under the armpits of his blue cotton shirt. He slung the jacket on the back of his chair.
“Those Dixie’s doughnuts?” he asked flashing a smile.
“Help yourself,” Jack said.
“Great. Dint have breakfast this mornin’,” he said as he reached across to grab a doughnut out of the bag. He left a trail of cinnamon sugar and as he lifted the doughnut to his mouth, more dribbled down his shirt. He bit off half in a single bite. He brushed the sugar off the table and from his shirt onto the floor. He sniggered and said, “Sorry ’bout that.”
The second bite finished off the doughnut. I impatiently waited until he chewed and swallowed before I started furnishing the case information for the tape. I turned on the small recorder on the table and while I stated the case number, those present, date and time, Bob grabbed another frickin’ doughnut. I was pissed Jack brought them into the interview.
“Dixie makes the best damn doughnuts. Don’t she?” he said.
He’s trying too hard to cover his nervousness—or he’s an idiot.
I ignored him and shuffled my note cards.
“Investigator Sheehan will be taking your statement,” Jack said.
Bob nodded, his mouth still stuffed with doughnut. Ridiculous.
I said, “We’re also video recording for future reference. When you’re finished chewing, Mr. Brutlag, we’ll start with your name and address.”
Bob looked for a camera as he swallowed. He took a sip of coffee, cleared his throat, and then complied, giving his name and address.
“Where were you were Friday morning, October 7th?” I asked.
A corner of his mouth turned up—as if the question was humorous. “You know where I was. You saw me.”
Jack leaned forward and whispered, “ Just part of the process, Bob. Answer the questions even if you think we already know the answers.”
Bob snorted. “Gotcha. I was going to go for a walk in the park.”
“The park meaning?”
“Emmaline County Park. That what you want me to say?”
“I just want you to answer the questions. What time did you leave your house?”
“Maybe quarter to eight.”
“You said you were going for a walk. Where exactly did you plan to go?”
“I walk the trails.”
“How often?” I continued.
“Most days, but not always in the morning.”
“On October 7th specifically, where did you walk?”
“Down my driveway a ways then I cut across to the landing. I was going to take trail loop and back, but then I saw Ted Kohler laying there in his boat . . . so I stopped and walked home to call 911. Well, actually, I ran.” He gave out a little hoarse laugh.
“No mobile phone with you?” I asked.
“I usually carry it, but wouldn’t ya know, that morning I forgot the damn thing.”
“How close to the victim did you get?”
“On shore next to the boat.”
“Did you enter the boat at anytime?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone else in the vicinity?” I asked.
Bob shook his head and said, “Nope.”
“Did you hear the gunshots that morning?”
“No, sir.”
“You live what? Five hundred yards from the park? And you didn’t hear rifle shots?”
“No. I sleep pretty sound.”
I stared at him and watched him fidget. “Every little sound could be important. What do you remember seeing or hearing as you approached the park?”
Bob moved his head back and forth in little movements, his eyes cast upward as if he were trying to retrieve the information. His shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry I can’t be of more help to youse.”
“Do you own firearms?” I asked.
Bob’s face dropped as if it was the first time he considered he might be a suspect. “I have two rifles, a Winchester and Remington, plus I have a Browning 410 shotgun.”
“Caliber of the rifles?”
“Both .30-30s.”
“Would you be willing to surrender your rifles so we can eliminate them as the firearm that killed Mr. Kohler and Mr. Peterson?”
He nodded assent.
Jack sat back in his chair. Bob took another slurp of coffee.
“Did you know either victim?” I said.
Bob eyes jumped to Jack, then me. “Sure, I knew ’em both. I’ve seen ’em both at Buzzo’s and Cadillac Jack’s. Plus, Kohler always requests me as the mechanic to service his vehicles.”
Buzzo’s was a popular sports bar hangout on East Main. Cadillac Jack’s was located on Clooney Lake two miles north of town, adjacent to Jack’s home.
“Tell me about your relationship with the men.”
“What’s to tell? Ronny and me got along okay. We weren’t pals if that’s what you mean.”
“And Mr. Kohler? How well did you know him?”
“Talk to him about his cars is all.”
“What was your opinion of Mr. Kohler?”
“He wasn’t exactly my favorite person.”
“Why?”
“He was a hypocrite, you ask me.”
The sheriff adjusted in his chair. He was staring at Bob.
“How so?” I asked.
“He acted all superior and churchy, but I think underneath he was a prick.”
Jack shifted in his chair.
“Can you be more specific?” I asked.
“Yeah, he went after Lisa Kelly, his secretary.”
Whoa. Our model citizen went after his secretary?
“You know this for a fact?” I asked.
Jack brought his hand to his forehead and sighed. He didn’t look happy.
“Sure! Jack knows too.”
Jack sat forward and rapped his knuckles on the table. “No basis. Move on. We’ll discuss that later, Cal.”
Bob’s eyes flickered. I couldn’t let that kind of information slide.
I avoided eye contact with Jack as I leaned forward. In my peripheral vision, I saw him lean back. “Tell me what you know about it.”
“Well, about a week ago, Lisa came into Cadillac Jack’s all upset. Said that Ted trapped her in the file room and felt her up.”
“How did you feel about that?” I asked.
“It pissed me off. She was young.” Bob had raised his voice and started using his hands. “He was all fatherly toward her at first. Helped her find an apartment and all. Then he come on to her like that?”
“That kind of behavior would make a guy angry,” I said.
“Definitely.”
“Where you were yesterday morning when you heard the shots?”
“I told you I dint hear no shots.”
“Who did you see?”
“No one . . . see that’s why I walk there,” said Bob with an edge to his voice—just what I wanted.
“Mr. Brutlag, two men were brutally murdered and you’re the only person we know who was at the scene. You live a short distance but didn’t
see
anything
and didn’t
hear
rifle shots. You stated you didn’t like Kohler and his behavior made you angry. Now, I put that all together and well . . . I’ve got a suspect.”
Bob drew his head back and said, “ A suspect? Pftt.”
“Bob, answer the question,” said the sheriff in a patronizing manner.
“Was there a question there?” Bob said. A corner of his mouth turned up. His tone was like a sassy kid’s. I believed he was fueled by Jack’s attitude.
“I don’t have to prove I’m innocent for Christ’s sake.
You
have to prove me guilty, and that’s gonna be pretty damn hard, ’cause I dint shoot nobody.”
With that, he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. Jack stifled a smile with his hand. I felt a spike of anger, but I tried not to react. Jack was undermining me. His face would not be caught on camera, but mine would. Jack began tapping the eraser tip of his pencil on the table. Tap, tap, tap, tap. I wanted to grab it and break it in half and throw it across the room.
Brutlag’s expression made me think he’d become overconfident. “Ted was already dead when I found him. End of story.”
I had to regain control. “Not quite. What did you do after you saw Kohler in the boat?”
He punched his words out: “I went home to call 911.”
“You a married man?”
“Yeah.”
“Can your wife verify when you left the house and returned?” I asked.
“No, she’s in Texas visiting her mom.”
“Your wife’s name is?”
“Juanita.”
“She works at Buzzos. Is that correct?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Bob.
“Did she ever have problems with either man?” I asked.
“I know Kohler flirted with her and the other waitresses,” said Bob.
“More reason to not like him, right?”
“Right. Look, I’m not hiding anything here.”
“He flirted with your wife and molested his own secretary, which made him a hypocrite in your eyes.”
“Yeah, so?” Bob said.
“So he should have been stopped, right?”
“Damn right!” he shouted.
“And you stopped him!” I said.
“No!” Bob shouted. He sniffed, jerked his head, and glared back at me. After a few seconds, he said, “I know what you’re trying to do. It wasn’t
me
who killed either one of ’em.”
Bob was like a rubber band pulled tight. I remained silent and kept eye contact. He’d look at me for a few seconds then down at his hands, then back at me. It was only about fifteen seconds before he looked at Jack and asked, “Can I have some more coffee and another doughnut? Damn they’re good.” He laughed a little. Jack was right. I would not underestimate this man.
“Sure,” Jack said. “Help yourself. I have to go to the can. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as Jack left the room I pulled the bag of doughnuts away and said, “Let’s hold off until we’re through.”
He nodded.
“So, did you ever confront Kohler about your wife or his secretary?”
“No. I seen him out at Cadillac Jack’s about a week ago but I dint say nothin’ to him about anything. Didn’t think it was my business.”
“What night was that?”
“Actually, it was the night after Lisa’s trouble with him—toward the end of September sometime.”
“Did you see him talking to anyone that night?”
“No, he didn’t stay long—dint even have a drink.”
“Why do you suppose he was out there?”
“I think he was lookin’ for somebody.”
“Lisa?”
“Didn’t seem like it.”
“Do you have a good marriage?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Yes, actually it is. I’m entitled to ask you any question that I think necessary to help bring this investigation to a conclusion,” I said.
Bob shifted in his chair and said, “We’ve been working on our marriage.”
“Did she go to visit her mother because of that?”
“Guess so.”
“Did you ever fight with Peterson or Kohler?”
“No, sir.”
Jack walked back in Bob said, “Hey, you ever go out to Jack’s restaurant on rib night? They have the best ribs. Good steaks, too,” said Bob.
What?
“That’s quite a commercial, Bob,” Jack said.
Bob had a real knack for diverting the focus. This behavior was absurd and I was done with Bob and Jack’s tag team.
“Mr. Brutlag, that’s all I have for now, but I may need to speak with you again,” he said.
“Anytime,” he said as he grinned. “Maybe I’ll see you out at Jack’s place sometime,” he answered.
I handed him my card. “Just in case you might remember or hear something that would help with the investigation.”
I watched Bob walk out of the conference room and signaled for the recording to be terminated.
“Sheriff, what’s this about Kohler and his secretary?”
“Cal, first thing you better learn is to sort out facts from hearsay.”
“You mean about Kohler molesting his secretary?”
“I talked to Kohler and he said it never happened.”
Unbelievable.
“Like men don’t lie about things like that?”
“Trust me. Kohler wouldn’t have touched her. He was a real Christian.”
“Right.”
“Why did you go at Bob like
he’s
a suspect?”
“The person who discovers the body is always a suspect until eliminated.”
“That what you learned at those classes I paid for? A good investigator intuits who he needs to look at and so far you’re batting zero as far as I’m concerned,” he said and stalked out of the room.
This investigation was the first time I’d experienced the controlling, demeaning, manipulating side of Jack, and I didn’t like it.
“Don’t you worry, Bulldog, I can sort out facts from hearsay,” I mumbled as I gathered my things together.
Jack popped back
.
“Calvin, I see where you’re going with this. Don’t waste time on Bob or Eleanor Kohler or Ham Fairchild. They aren’t responsible. Period.”
I said nothing and he left without waiting for my comment. “Okay you figure it out, asshole,” I whispered.
Every muscle in my body felt tense. I needed a workout so went down to the gym in the basement of the department next to the firing range. I normally run and work out opposite days and had missed a couple. My muscles were complaining. I changed into my sweats and pushed the machines with a vigor that came from pure frustration.