The Equalizer (8 page)

“So
did
you kill Mr. Kohler, Mr. Peterson?”

“
No!” he said and pushed back in his chair.

I waited a few seconds then said, “I understand Kohler molested your girl in the file room.”

Johnston’s legs started bouncing. “She tell you that?”

“Yes. So, what did you do about it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

“So, let me get this straight. He feels your girlfriend up and you do nothing?”

“Sure, I wanted to beat the crap out of him, but Lisa made me drop it.”

“Mr. Johnston, Mr. Kohler sustained injuries around his midsection approximately a week ago. That would be about the time of the file room incident on Thursday, September 30th. You want to know what I think? I think you taught him a lesson. I believe you had a fight with him and didn’t tell your girlfriend about it.”

Johnston’s forehead started showing beads of sweat. “No, sir, I did not.” He moved his head in tiny jerks he spoke as he spoke. He was lying.

“So, you didn’t defend your girl?”

“I let it be because she promised me if it happened again she’d quit the job and sue the bastard,” he said.

“Where were you on that Thursday?”

“I worked late. Afterward, I went home to clean up, then drove to Cadillac Jack’s.”

“Weren’t you going to go out with the boys?”

“I changed my mind when Lisa called.”

“What time did you see Kohler that night?”

“I didn’t.”

“Where were you on Friday morning, October 7th?”

“I took Lisa out to breakfast. Then she went to work and I went to the doctor.”

“Did you know Ronald Peterson?”

“No.”

“How did you learn about Kohler and Peterson’s deaths?”

Lisa called me. She was upset because there were reporters trying to ask her questions, so I told her to go to my parents’ house until I got off.”

“How did you take the news?”

“Look, I didn’t like the guy, but I wouldn’t wish anybody dead,” he said.

I let some silence pass before I asked, “What would you say if I told you Lisa made up the story about Kohler molesting her to get your attention?”

Johnston jaw muscles slackened as he stared at me. After a few seconds his jaw started pulsing. Finally he said, “I’d say you were wrong.”

With that, Ralph said, “Excuse me,” and left the room.

I let Johnston sit and stew.

“Are we done here?” he asked.

I smiled. “No.”

Johnston fidgeted in his chair and studied his fingers.

When Ralph brought Lisa into the room, Johnston looked meaner than a junkyard dog. She sat on the edge of her chair across from him looking extremely uncomfortable.

“
All right, Lisa. Suppose you tell Mike what you told me?” Ralph said.

She immediately started sobbing.

“Lisa, they said you made that whole thing up about Kohler. That true?” Mike asked.

She nodded.

He tossed his head back and said, “Why would you do that?”

“Because you wanted to be with the boys more than me!” she said through her tears.

Johnston looked confused, then looked at Ralph and me. “You think I killed Kohler—because of what she told me. Don’t you?”

“This is what I think: I think you were so angry that Kohler touched your girl you confronted him. Punched him a few times but that wasn’t enough, so you took it further. Lisa knew her boss went fishing every work morning, so you knew. Emmaline is an isolated area. You went out there and shot him. Unfortunately, the park worker shows up and you had to shoot him too,” I said.

“No, sir. I’ve never even been out at that park. Tell him, Lisa.”

“I told you he was with me until nine o’clock. Eleanor told me the shooting was before eight,” Lisa said.

“Don’t you get it? They think you’re covering for me.”

“It happens,” Ralph said.

“All the time,” I said.

She looked stricken, “I’m not covering for him!”

“You don’t want to protect your man?” I asked.

“No . . . I mean, yes . . . I mean I didn’t lie when I said he was with me.”

“We know you are capable of telling lies, now don’t we? You felt guilty for telling the whopper about Mr. Kohler, and you know in your heart that Mike wouldn’t let him get by with that behavior.”

“No, he’d never hurt . . .”

“Forget it Lisa. Look, I didn’t kill anybody. I’m not crazy,” Johnston said.

“We’ll find out shortly. We have a search warrant and we’ve already confiscated your rifles, and running DNA evidence found on paper, vehicles, etc.”

“What? Are you arresting me?” Johnston asked. Then he looked at Lisa like he wanted to punch her lights out.

“No, Mr. Johnston, for now you’re free to go, but as they say in the movies, don’t leave town. Deputy Sheehan will walk you out,” Ralph said.

Johnston got up with a huff. “Stupid bitch,” he murmured, leaving his girlfriend behind. I walked him out and just before we reached the door he said, “This is so un-fucking-believable.”

“She gets hurt, I’m coming for you,” I said.

He turned and faced me. “Look, I’m mad, but I’d never hurt her. Okay?”

“Just a warning,” I said.

Johnston’s eyes were focused on something behind us. I turned and saw Ralph and Lisa entered the lobby. Johnston shoved the door open and took off.

“I think you may need a ride,” I said to Lisa.

Her eyes were full of tears, as she said, “No, thanks.”

As Ralph and I walked back to the Investigations Office I said, “Wow, that was quite the revelation. Yeah, I’d say that relationship just crashed and burned.”

“Glad to help,” he said laughing, which made me laugh.

“So, what do you think?” I asked.

“I think he could be our man but we need to tie him physically to the shooting.”

“Have they run ballistics on the rifles yet?” I asked.

“It’s on for this afternoon.”

“Trouble is one can always get rid of the murder weapon.”

“You just had to say that, didn’t you?”

Chapter 9

A
bout four o’clock, Ralph and
I drove to Buzzo’s to question the patrons. Everyone was willing to turn away from the football game on the big screen to give their opinions—and some were bizarre. One local concluded it was a mafia hit because he saw
Soprano
types at the Sportsmen’s Café.

Connie Hackett, one of the barmaids, called Ronny a “doll” and Kohler a “charmer.” According to her, neither victim had any conflicts—despite the fight she’d admitted she’d witnessed in July. “Boys will be boys,” she cooed.

I asked her how her sons, Chad and Todd, were.

She smiled and said, “Real good, do you know them?”

I nodded. Every law enforcement officer in the county knew them.

She smiled. “They’ve both straightened up their act, take classes at Community, and have real good jobs, now. I’m so proud of them.”

The woman never did think her sons did anything wrong. She lives off and on with their abusive loser of a father. I remember the night one of her neighbors in the trailer park had reported hearing screams and loud noises coming from next door. Even though Connie needed six stitches on the top of her head, the result of a “little shove,” she begged me not to take Kent Silva in. It was out of her hands.

Lake Emmaline was my last
stop for the day. It was after five o’clock when I knocked on the front door of Brutlag’s large log home. Bob looked caught off guard when he saw me standing on his porch stoop.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I need to speak to your wife,” I said.

“Did ya think I was lyin’ when I told you she was in Texas?”

“No, I was thinking you could give me a phone number where I can contact her.”

He sighed. “You drove all the way out here for that? I don’t even get why ya need to talk to her.”

I want to tell her she’s married to an asshole jerk
. “She worked in a bar both victims frequented. She may know something that can help us,” I said.

Bob waved me through the door and into a large great room open to the kitchen. Although there were a few dirty dishes in the sink and a couple empty beer cans on the counter, the place was orderly. As I moved further into the room I caught a whiff of marijuana. He walked to a built-in desk on the edge of the kitchen cabinets, pulled out a Post-it note from the top drawer, and wrote down two numbers.

“Top one is her cell phone and the bottom is her mom’s. Personally, I think it’s a waste of your time.”

“I also drove out to get your rifles. Hopefully testing them will also be a waste of time. I don’t have a search warrant, but I figure you won’t mind surrendering them.”

“When will I get ’em back? It’s huntin’ season pretty soon.”

“As long as one isn’t the murder weapon, it shouldn’t take long. They’ll give you a call.”

“I’ve got nothin’ to hide.” He walked over to a gun cabinet, unlocked it, and pulled out two rifles. They were both beauties, each with scopes. First, I examined the Remington, then the Winchester: both cleaned and oiled.

“I haven’t shot either since last hunting season.”

I smiled and said, “Thanks for your cooperation, Bob.”

He put both guns in cases and handed them to me, and as I walked toward the door he asked, “Hey, do you want a beer?”

What?

Bob went into the kitchen and pulled open his refrigerator. It looked emptier than mine: beer, soda, jam, ketchup, and not much else. He pulled out two Buds.

“No thanks, Bob.”

“Coke then?”

“All right, thanks,” I said.

He handed me a can of Coke and gestured toward the matching dark-red leather couches parallel from each other. He stoked the fire in the large stone fireplace then put another log on. He took a seat across from me, picked up a pack of Camels, lit one, shook the match and threw it in a colorful ashtray on a large oak coffee table. He took a deep drag and after exhaling he said, “Mind if I smoke?”

“It’s your place,” I answered. Actually, I did mind, but didn’t say so.

“Do I come across as an asshole to you?” he asked.

Didn’t expect that—I had to laugh. “Yeah, you do.”

“Well, sorry ’bout that. I apologize. I just don’t get why I’m a suspect?”

“Because you were at the scene.”

“So what?”

“So maybe Kohler and Peterson saw something you didn’t want them to see. Maybe there was some transaction going down in the parking lot.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m not. You’re a pothead, Bob.”

“I’ve been straight since Enza was born. Pretty much, anyway.”

“I smelled marijuana on you yesterday, and again when I came in your place today.”

His mouth pulled up into a crooked grin. “You gonna arrest me?”

I shook my head. “I’m here regarding the murders, not your pot habit. But I suspect you have to keep your stash outside the house so your wife doesn’t throw it.”

He laughed hoarsely. “You’re right. I hide it in my garage. I’m out now anyway. You can check if you want.”

I shook my head.

“Guess I better air out the place before Juanita gets back.”

“Good idea. Did you ever buy from Nevada Wynn?”

“Ah, no. I stayed away from that dude.”

“You said you saw Ted Kohler out at Cadillac Jack’s on September 30th. What time was that?”

“Late afternoon. Maybe around 5:00 or so.”

“Anyone follow him out the door when he left?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Mike Johnston around then?”

“Didn’t see him that night until much later,” he said. “You know, all this makes me nervous. You hear of innocent dudes spending years in prison.”

“The rifles can eliminate you.”

Bob changed the subject by reaching under the table to get a photo album of his family. As he showed me the pictures of his wife and daughter, his eyes filled with tears. He turned to a picture of him as a little kid with his parents. He said his mother died from breast cancer on Christmas Eve when he was six. Then gave me a brief history of his childhood and all the trouble he gave his dad. I sort of related to him and left liking Bob a whole lot more.

On the drive back into town
, I thought about my date tonight and how my life was simpler when I was in a committed relationship with Adriana Valero. For some reason, I wasn’t up for this dinner date with Naomi Moberg. Maybe I’d cancel—say I have to work too late. After I checked the rifles into evidence, I drove the Taurus to my designated parking spot in front of my apartment building.

Adriana had urged me to move out of my cheap efficiency on the east side of town, to a condo in West Wind on the southwest side, so she could be more “comfortable” when she stayed over. Seems like I’m paying a whole lot more money because of Adriana, and now she’s living in Minneapolis working for a high-powered law firm for double the salary. When she’d accepted the job, she’d just assumed I’d move down with her. I briefly considered it, but there were no job openings and even if I had been offered a position, I’d be starting all over seniority wise. That’s when we amicably parted ways.

West Wind, two L-shaped buildings, enclosed a well-landscaped center courtyard with an outdoor pool with a waterfall feature, and a Jacuzzi. The buildings had interior corridors and each large apartment had either an exterior small patio or balcony. My one bedroom was a large corner unit on the ground floor with an open patio facing the street. I did like my apartment, but unfortunately now I couldn’t save as much money each month for my house fund.

After I took Bullet out for a walk and fed him, I called Naomi. I had intended to renege, but when I heard the anticipation in her voice, I couldn’t do it. We agreed to meet at the small restaurant called Minnesota Fare in Birch County Park South. I’d eaten there only once. They featured organic and local foods, especially fish. Naomi was instrumental in building the new and successful restaurant in the park near the falls.

I took a shower, shaved, dressed, then cracked a beer to relax before leaving. I was about to take off when my cell phone rang and Caller ID displayed Hope Sheehan, my mother.
Oh, boy.
If I picked up—I’d be on the phone for an hour. I decided to let it ring over to voice messaging.

Before I went into the restaurant, I sat in the parking lot and listened to Mom’s message:
“Cal honey, this is your mom. How’s the murder case going? When you get this, call me back on my cell. It’s important. Please!”
Since hangnails are important to my mother, I figured it could wait.

Then my mind flipped to our suspects: Bob Brutlag and Mike Johnston. I was leaning more toward Johnston at this point but we needed strong evidence, like a positive ballistics report. Then I realized I’d forgotten to mention to Ralph about Kevin Peterson’s comment about Nevada Wynn. With all this rolling around in my head I wasn’t going to be a good date.