Figure Eight Read online

  In this case, the potential for disaster was incredible. The scientist from the USGS had included detailed maps of waterways that would be impacted by the mine. Most of them flowed directly into one of the largest bodies of freshwater in the world, Lake Superior. The hydrogeologist was willing to stake his reputation on the fact that the mine as proposed would cause long-term irreversible damage to one of the Great Lakes.

  Should this happen, the north country would never be the same. The place Uncle Nick and Aunt Rose had loved would be destroyed, the splendor of the northern lake region lost—maybe forever.

  The last folder was a little confusing. It was several pictures of a small bird. Along with the photos was a log that gave GPS locations, times, and dates that corresponded to the photos. As should be expected, the documentation was meticulous, likely part of his ongoing nature observations. There was nothing in that file that connected it to the mine. It must have been a big deal for him in his birding life to put it in the safe.

  It looked like everything he could have done had been done. The mine was too big, too powerful, and had too many lawyers. The situation was just going to be another case of a little guy getting his butt kicked by a big guy.

  So why kill him? According to his own lawyer, he was beat. Why not just wait him out? Tie him up in court until he ran out of money? And what was the deal with someone breaking into the house and trashing his desk? I had more pieces of the puzzle, but not everything. Something was missing.

  When you embark on a great and all-consuming task, clear your plate, if you can, before you start. When murder is involved, and you are trying to find a killer, a clear head may be the only thing that keeps you from being another victim. It was with this on my mind when I saw Julie’s car pull into the yard. I walked out of the shop and toward her. She turned to face me. Her eyes were red from crying. We were only a few feet apart staring at each other, her skin-blistering glare now replaced by something else. We were both exhausted. The events that had transpired had taken a toll on each of us in our own way. We were too tired to fight. I walked into the house and came out with two cold beers, opened them, and sat them down on the picnic table. She sat across from me.

  “Julie, I’m sorry. I’m a jerk sometimes, and I can’t help it. I don’t try, but I sure do it well.”

  “No, John. I should have told you the truth upfront. I just felt like you would think I had manipulated Nick into naming me on the policy. I didn’t want you to think I was another Derek Anderson. I loved Nick and Rose, and the last thing I wanted from them was money.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

  The nightmares I live with when I sleep are proof that there is no such thing as a do-over. But there is such a thing as a start-over. With Julie Carlson and I, a start-over was clearly needed.

  So I said, “My name is John Cabrelli. Nick and Rose were the closest I had to family in the world. I am here because they have died, and I have inherited this beautiful place. Coming back here has been a blessing and a curse. I loved Uncle Nick and Aunt Rose. I was not as good to them as they were to me. I feel ungrateful. I wish that I could have spent some time with them, but that is an opportunity I lost. I hope they will forgive me.

  “Since I arrived here, I have learned many things. The most difficult is that my uncle was murdered. The one thing I can do for him is find the person, or more likely persons, responsible and make them pay. To stop me, they will have to kill me too.”

  She blinked back her tears. “I am glad to meet you, John. I am Julie Carlson. I have heard a lot about you. I am a teacher at a local environmental school that serves kids who people call ‘at-risk.’ Nick and Rose were kinder to me and my cousin Bud than anyone in our life had ever been. Nick told me that he wanted to endow the school. We always struggle with finances. He listed me as the beneficiary of his life insurance policy and trusted me to use it to help the school. There are no other restrictions. The money is in my name, and Nick told me to use my best judgment. The only condition that he put on the funds was that I buy a new car that was four-wheel drive and big enough to haul kids to all the places I take them. All of the money is in an account at the bank downtown. I haven’t used a penny. I loved Nick and Rose. I am going to help you find the killer, and nothing you can say will stop me.”

  So began my relationship anew with Julie Carlson, one of the best people I have ever met. I thought if I was ever lucky enough to find a girl like her, I’d never let her go. Fat chance. The John Cabrellis of the world never end up with the Julie Carlsons of the world, but a guy can still dream.

  I took her into the shop and showed her the hidden safe, then the files that had come from them. As she went over them, I could envision her correcting student papers. I sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, and we went through things together. We didn’t say much until she got to the folder that contained the photos of the bird.

  “Amazing, these are photos of a very rare bird called the Kirtland’s warbler. It is a federally listed endangered species. My students did a project on endangered species of the north, and this bird was one that originally lived in this area. These are GPS locations? Oh my gosh! Give me the mine map.”

  We spread out the mine map. Julie took one location from Uncle Nick’s notes and scanned the first map, and there it was, a corresponding GPS, a few points off of Uncle Nick’s but close enough. The locations he had noted were all within the proposed mine area and half of them on his property. Uncle Nick had found his ally with deep pockets, a government lawyer. Julie filled me in on some of the history of the Endangered Species Act, how successful legal challenges had been mounted against huge companies all in the name of protecting rare and endangered species. She relayed a couple of incidents that her kids had researched.

  Presence of an endangered owl had darn near shut down the whole logging industry in the Pacific Northwest. Protesters on both sides had amassed in the hundreds. Those trying to protect owl habitat had gone as far as chaining themselves to the bumpers of logging trucks. The loggers who were trying to make a living and support their families fought back, and the controversy went on for several months before the federal government made a decision. They decided in favor of the owl and dispatched adequate law enforcement to make sure their ruling stood.

  Probably on one of Nick’s daily outings he had seen this unusual bird. Who knows whether he knew what it was, but being a very astute observer of wildlife, he likely did. The first date of observation preceded the correspondence with the law firm and investigator from the cities. It was his ace-in-the-hole card; he’d probably thought that just simply not selling would stop the project, but had found out later that it likely wouldn’t. His lawyer and friend had said that there was no way to fight the mine’s lawyers without going broke. But he had the bird. He must have known that they would challenge anything that he put forward without an over-the-top amount of documentation. He was acquiring evidence, building his case, and by the looks of things he was almost ready. If he wanted to stop the mine, bringing the full weight of the U.S. Department of the Interior against them was sure a step in the right direction.

  Uncle Nick had them. He was going to win. They were going to lose out on billions of dollars. Somebody knew he had this stuff. They gave the information to someone high up from the Northern Mining Company who would decide they needed to do whatever they had to do to prevent this information from coming forward. Uncle Nick was about to shut them down, and they’d killed him to keep him quiet. The search of the desk had been an afterthought just to make sure his former cop nephew wouldn’t uncover anything.

  The burning question was who had Uncle Nick confided in? Who had he told?

  Julie and I sat for a long while, each immersed in our own thoughts. There is always some feeling of satisfaction when you are working on a case, and the why has become clear. It is at that point that you can focus your efforts, and most often you will be successful in finding the bad guy or guys. My mind was buzzing, ready to go on the hunt.

 
There was no doubt that Nick had shared his information with someone. We needed to start with a potential list and then draw links between them and the mine. Nick’s group of trusted confidants was small: Julie, Bud, Ron Carver, Chief Don Timmy, and that was about it. What about his lawyer, Derek Anderson? Would he have confided in him? It didn’t seem likely that he’d liked or trusted him much, but there was a link between Uncle Nick, Derek Anderson, and the mine. Maybe in his conversations he had threatened David Stone with the release of the information unless he backed off. Certainly Stone wouldn’t hesitate to make sure this information never saw the light of day. Maybe he contacted the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and told them what he had found. Maybe he had confided in one of his close friends, and they had sold him out. Money made normal people do strange things all the time.

  The task became more defined.

  Julie still had the contact information for the local USFWS biologist who was in charge of the Endangered Species Act for the area. I gave him a call. When you call a government office, you come to expect some degree of formality when they answer your phone call. Not so with this guy, who answered the phone with a very cheery, “Quack! Charlie Newlin, endangered species specialist.”

  Sometimes when you’re under stress, the dumbest thing breaks the ice; Newlin’s phone answering did it for me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I explained that I had gotten his number from Julie Carlson and was interested in a bird.

  “Julie Carlson sent you? How is she doing? How are her kids? I love that school. I wish there had been something like that when I was a kid. Sure had fun working with them on their endangered species projects. Any chance they’re going to do it again this school year? I sure hope so. You tell Julie that if she wants to, I’m her man. I got some great ideas for things we could do. I thought maybe we could include a plant identification unit along with the endangered species. Not to say that plants can’t be endangered species, not to say that at all. Lots of plants are on the list, but Julie and the kids were mostly interested in the furry or feathered. Say, where did you say you were calling from?”

  “I didn’t, but I’m in the Spider Lake area.”

  “Spider Lake? Man, I really like that area. Have you seen any ducks or geese around? I love ducks and geese; they are so tasty. Anyway, Mr. … ah Mr., what did you say your name was?”

  “Cabrelli, John Cabrelli,” I answered.

  “Well, Mr. John Cabrelli, how can I help you?”

  “I am interested in whether or not you have heard any reports of Kirtland’s warblers in the Spider Lake area.”

  “Kirtland’s you’re interested in? Are you a birder? I am a bird watcher myself. They are fascinating creatures. I have several feeders out my back window. I could watch them for hours. Do you have feeders set up? The Fish and Wildlife Service has several sets of plans available for properly constructed feeders. I could send you some plans, if you give me your address.”

  “Maybe some other time, I am not quite settled here yet. Back to the Kirtland’s warbler. Any reports?”

  “Well nothing, nothing at all. The agency put out a bulletin to be on the lookout a few years ago. But nothing was reported. Now in Adams County, a couple hundred miles south of you, they have confirmed a handful of nesting pairs. But nothing here. Have you seen something of note? I haven’t had much this year. There were a couple of reports of a Canadian lynx here or there, and, of course, wolves everywhere, but nothing as exciting as a Kirtland’s. I can come out and take a look if you want. We would set up some observation spots and see what we could see. Do you know the general area of the sighting?”

  “No, no idea. I am just interested in whether someone has seen any Kirtland’s warblers and reported those sightings to you. Did anyone report any sightings?”

  “Sorry to say no. But if you should see something, I would be happy to follow up. I can’t be everywhere, so citizen observers like you are very important to our work. I can send you some information on the warbler if you like. Give me your address, and I’ll get it right out.”

  “Mr. Newlin, thanks for the information. If I need anything more I will get back to you. But that’s all I need for now.”

  “Mr. Cabrelli, call anytime. Glad to hear from you. And always remember the magic words: please, thank you, honk, honk and quack, quack, quack.”

  If Uncle Nick had found an endangered species, and no doubt he had, he had not reported it to the authorities responsible for wildlife’s well being.

  Bud showed up while we were sorting this out and joined us.

  At this point a decision had to be made. The only way to keep a secret is to never tell anyone, nobody.

  When you are launching an investigation like this one, it is damn tricky because your list of possible confidants and helpers are on the same list as your suspects. The only choice is to use your best judgment and forge ahead.

  Julie and I brought Bud up to speed on what we found. He listened without comment. When we were done, the big gentle man across from us became a bigger and now very angry man.

  “I’m helpin’ you guys. When we find the guy, I am going to straighten him right out.” As he talked, he flexed his massive hands.

  This was a guy that would and could do serious damage to anyone that needed it. A good man to have on your side.

  My old academy instructor taught us to gather, assess, and prioritize your resources. Use those resources that have the most potential gain and require the least amount of hands-on work by the investigative lead. Use your existing resources to their full potential before you run off chasing new untried possibilities.

  With this in mind, I called my old partner J.J. Malone. Malone answered in his usual uplifting and cheery way:

  “Malone,” he growled.

  “Bear, it’s John.”

  “As I live and breathe, Nesmuck of the North has seen fit to call upon me, his long-lost partner. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Bear, I got something going on here, and I need a little help. I am convinced that my uncle Nick’s death was a homicide. The local gendarmes have written it off as an accidental hit-and-run fatality. I have got some new information, and that theory no longer washes with me.”

  “No shit? Someone did your uncle in on purpose?”

  “I am sure of it.”

  “What can I do to help?” Just like always, Bear is there, no screwin’ around. You’re my friend. You need me, I am there. They don’t make them like him anymore.

  “Do you still have that buddy with the feds that follows corporations, LLCs, and businesses figuring out who’s who and who’s laundering what money for what crook?”

  “Sure do. I just talked to him the other day. He’s helpin’ us take down some drug dealers and the phony companies they are using. That guy is really good at what he does. He turns up solid stuff that no one else could ever find. What do you need from him?”

  “I need to know who the principals are in two different companies: Northern Mining Corporation and ST Trust. Somehow one or the other, or maybe both, are involved in this. One guy, David Stone, is supposed to be a very bad man, and he employs heavily-armed security, pros by the looks of them, guys who don’t come cheap anyway. There are two other guys, Derek Anderson, attorney-at-law, and Brian Lawler currently serving as one of Musky Falls’s finest. I think these guys are both involved up to their ears in this thing.”

  “Anything else?’’

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “I will see what I can do under one condition. Set Tanya up with a first-class musky trip up there. She’s nuts to go fishin’, and her birthday is coming up.”

  “Consider it done. Thanks, Bear. I knew I could count on you.”

  “No problem, John. I’ll get on it. Meantime, don’t forget to keep your ass covered.”

  I told Julie and Bud about my conversation with Malone. “This guy is as good as gold,” I told them. “We can count on him.”

  The question we needed to answer was who else
was on our side? Who else could we trust?

  “Your uncle knew a bunch of people, but I think his only real close friends were the chief and Ron Carver,” said Julie.

  “Which was the closest?” I asked.

  “Ron, without a doubt,” Julie and Bud answered together.

  “They were really two of a kind but totally different, if that makes any sense,” added Julie. “They shared the entrepreneurial spirit and are both super smart. Ron would come over all the time, and he and your uncle would talk about all sorts of things, but mostly they shared creative ideas. Have you ever seen that surveillance system in Ron’s jewelry store?”

  “Just the other day I saw it in action.”

  “That whole thing started out as a conversation one night here in front of the fire. I was helping Rose sort through a couple of boxes of old photos. We were having our own conversation when Nick and Ron got going. Ron was saying that practiced thieves were still hitting him and other merchants hard. Cameras in the corners of rooms were a great help in identifying them later, but by then, whatever they took was long gone. By the end of the night, those two had developed a plan to solve the problem. They came up with the idea of small cameras that produced clear images of the products. They coupled that with a discrete switch at each counter that could be activated by the sales staff, causing another camera to focus in on the counter. The backroom calls 911 and before the crook leaves the store, the police are there waiting. The best thing about it is they put this together using inexpensive components they bought online.