Mystery On Twin Lakes

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was sixty five degrees when he woke at six. Mick's sheets were soaked with sweat, another nightmare, another tough night. This one was not as bad as some, but bad enough. He needed sleep, but didn't want to experience another nightmare, so he rolled out of bed and into the shower. This refreshed him some so he began to think about the investigation.

It was seven fifteen when he wheeled into the station parking lot. The forecast was for another ninety plus day. The sun was barely above the horizon, but burned into his back as he walked across the lot. Trish had not yet arrived, “Hi Sal, anything interesting?” He asked the night dispatcher.

“A quiet night Chief, nothing to report.”

“Good,” he said pointing to his office as he walked through.

“Yeah, I'll ring you if necessary,” she said going back to her crossword puzzle.

His office was a drab little cubicle about ten by ten. His metal desk was gray and functional. Three drawers on each side and a small pencil drawer in the middle. He was sure his chair on wheels was war surplus. There was one picture on the wall behind his desk that Trish had donated. It was a colorful still life with flowers and fruit resting on a beat up wood table. He wasn't sure why he liked it, maybe because it was a thoughtful gift. A beat up four drawer gray file cabinet sat against the wall to the right.

He pulled out the directory from his desk drawer, paging through looking for Center, Joe and if there were any other Centers. There were no others. The address matched the one Rose had given him. He was hoping that his parents might be listed. He'd have to ask the wife for that. After writing down the phone number, he closed the directory and shoved it back into the drawer. He puttered around making a list of questions he might ask Mrs. Center.

At eight, Trish walked in and relieved Sal. She then walked over to the chief's office. “Ya like a cup of coffee?” She asked studying his intense expression.

“That would be great,” he answered looking up casting a quick smile at her. She started walking off, “Wait, do you remember that list I made up of sample questions a while back to ask when interviewing people?”

Swiveling around with a large grin, “Ya mean that one that said, who, what, when, where, why and how?”

Grinning sheepishly, “That would be the one.”

“Okay then,” she said continuing toward the coffee pot.

Fifteen minutes later, he had a steaming mug of black coffee sitting in front of him.

When nine am rolled around, he rang up the Center number.

“Hello.”

“Is this Mrs. Center?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady, but slow. “Who is this?”

“Chief Keplar. Is it possible to drive over and ask a few question?”

“The police have already been here.”

“I know, but there are still some questions I have.”

“Okay then. When?” She asked seeming unsure.

“I could be there in about ten minutes.”

“That would be okay, I guess.”

“Thanks,” he said and hung up.

The house on Zenith avenue was a tidy small ranch style. It was a faded yellow with white trim. A row of shrubbery blocked out the foundation along the front to the right of the cement stairs leading to the front door. There were similar houses that lined both sides of the avenue. There was no garage. The gravel driveway led right up beside the side door. Toys and tricycles were scattered around the back yard.

Mrs. Center stepped out the back door when Keplar got out of his squad car. Her long strawberry blonde hair was ragged and oily looking. She was about five foot six, 125 pounds. Two little boys were attached to her legs with her hands resting on their heads. “Go play now,” she said brushing their heads. “Come in Chief.”

Once they were seated at the kitchen table, “I'm awfully sorry about your husband.”

“Thanks, it's been awfully hard on the boys. They don't understand. Do you know who killed him yet?”

“No, the investigation is young, but we are working hard to find out who killed him and we will.”

“I hope so, cause I'm a little freaked out here alone with the boys.”

“Is there anyone who could come and stay for awhile or someplace you could go?”

“I'm considering going back to Brainard, where I grew up. My parents are still there.”

“That might be wise. How about your in-laws? Are they in the area?”

“They live in Robbinsdale, but we're not close. They never approved of me.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'm going to need to talk to them. Do you have their phone number and address?”

She got up, “I'll write that down for you. Hold on, I'll be right back.”

At that moment, one of the boys bounded through the screen door, “Mommy, mommy, Billy hit me.” He raced through the kitchen.

A minute later, Mrs. Center came back holding her little boys hand and had a slip of paper in the other. She sat back down and lifted her son up onto her lap. She handed the note to Keplar.

“Thanks, that's a big help. A few more questions please.”

Looking into the eyes of her son, “Why don't you go back out to play.”

Slipping out of her lap, without a word, he walked slowly out the door.

“Did your husband have any enemies that you know of?”

Lifting her head slowly to look into his eyes, “I don't think so, but I really don't know what he was into. A couple times there were a couple of rough looking guys that he met in the driveway. It was dark both times and I didn't get a good look at them, but they talked rough, ya know taking the Lord's name in vain, that sort of thing.”

“Was there ever any shouting?”

“Yeah, once.”

“Who was shouting?”

“I just know it wasn't Joe.”

“Was he providing financially?”

Waving her arms around the room, “Look at this place, it isn't even ours. We rent it,” she said as though Joe were still alive. Tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them away with the palms of her hands. “He was always looking for another, better job. It was only during the last month that he started bringing home more money. I tried to find out how and he told me he got a raise.”

“Where was he working?”

“He wouldn't tell me, but he seemed happier.”

“Was there anyone he hung around with? Maybe fishing or hunting buddies.”

“He played football in high school and would go watch a game with the boys on the weekend. After coming home from the war, he was never the same and he wouldn't talk about it. He had changed a lot.”

Keplar listened and understood. Lowering his head, “Is there anything else, anything at all that might help me find who did this?”

“Not that I can think of,” she said and then stood up.”

Following suit, “Thank you for your time and if I learn anything, I'll let you know.” He then walked out into the heat of the morning. Jumping into his 53 Ford black and white with red light on the roof, he picked up his mic for his two way radio.