Chapter 6
1012 Words
Chapter 6
Keplar spent the rest of the day interviewing as many of the other boys he could find. Three of them, the parent or parents had no idea where they were, so he asked them to call when their son got home.
As soon as he stepped into the office, Trish asked, “Learn anything useful?”
“Maybe, have to wait and see though.” Walking into his small office, he shouted over his shoulder, “Anything I should know about going on around town?”
“No, but both Rose and your mother are expecting a call. I would recommend you call your mother first.”
Picking up the phone, he dialed, “Hey, honey, was there anything special you needed?”
“No, just wanted to hear your voice and find out what you wanted for supper.”
“How about I take you out to dinner and then dessert at home?”
“Dessert first and then dinner. How does that sound?”
“Sounds wonderful. See you at about six. Love yah!”
Trish stood at his door, “So much for listening to my recommendations.” With a stern look, “Now call your mother.”
“Yes ma’am. He then picked up the phone again and had a pleasant chat that lasted about fifteen minutes.
It was almost three thirty when he got a call from one of the parents informing him that their son just got home and that they would keep him there until he arrived. Michael Anderson lived with his parents just over the Robbinsdale line on Forty-Eighth, so he pulled into their driveway fifteen minutes later. The house was yellow with white trim. The father was outside clearing snow with one of those new-fangled snow throwers that Keplar had seen advertised at Sears. It cut a perfect path from the driveway to the front door.
Getting out of his vehicle, he walked over to Mr. Anderson. “That is one neat machine. You happy with it?”
“Boy, it sure saves a lot of backbreaking work. Don’t know how I got along without it all these years. I’ll never go back to shoveling.” Taking his right glove off, he held out his hand, “You must be Chief Keplar. Never met you, but I sure read a lot about you last year. Sounds like you had your hands full.”
“Yeah, it was touch and go for a while.”
“I read that you are a veteran too. I think I read that you served in the Pacific.”
Keplar smiled, “So you served too.”
“I did in Europe toward the end of the war. Never saw any action myself.”
“Count yourself lucky. Too many young men died, but here we are, a couple of the lucky ones.”
Patting Keplar on the shoulder, “I guess you are here to see my son.” Pointing toward the side door, “Let’s go in this way.”
Entering the kitchen, they found Michael and his mom sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee and a plate of cookies in front of them.
“There you go, Chief. I’ll bet you could use some coffee and cookies,” Mr. Anderson said as he pulled a chair out for Keplar. Nodding toward his wife, “Thanks, hon, a nice touch.” To Michael, “Why don’t you get a couple more cups and bring the pot to the table.”
With a blank expression, “Happy to, Dad.”
Once they were all seated and sipping coffee, they talked a little about the weather and how the Minnesota Gophers were doing. Michael then spoke up, “I already told my folks about us racing around on the lake and drinking a little beer.”
“Good, I’m glad you were man enough to do that, but that’s not the reason I’m here. I imagine that you have talked to Jerry Clark about the killing. Did you know it was Bishop Dorland who was killed?”
“Jerry told me as soon as he found out.”
“Did you know Mr. Dorland?”
“I saw him around a couple of times.”
“Did you ever speak to him?”
“Not that I recall. I may have said hi to him, but I’m not even sure of that.”
“Do you have a job, Michael?”
Mrs. Anderson was getting upset. “What does that have to do with this?” she asked.
“Probably nothing, I just want to get to know each of the boys a little. I’m investigating a murder, so I need to be thorough. I’m hoping that one of the boys can shed a little light on what exactly happened.”
“Okay, Chief, I understand.” Looking at Michael, “Just answer the chief’s questions.”
“I work at the Sinclair station on West Broadway in Robbinsdale.”
“Have you been there long?”
Tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling, “A little over a year now.”
Noticing the grease under his fingernails, “Do you do much mechanical work there?”
“A little, but it’s mostly pumping gas, checking oil levels, and washing windshields. The boss has been teaching me a few things about repairing cars, but he hasn’t had a lot of time for that. In fact, I’m usually there alone in the evenings.”
Switching topics, Keplar asked, “Do you happen to know any of the guys that hung out with Mr. Dorland? It seems a couple of them may also have been mechanics. They dressed a lot like you, dirty blue jeans and greasy fingernails.”
Mrs. Anderson jumped up from her chair, “Now wait a minute, are you suggesting Michael may have had something to do with what happened?”
Mr. Anderson rose and went to his wife’s side and put his arm around her waist. “It’s okay, honey. Let the chief finish his questions.”
Keplar said, “Believe me. I’m not suggesting any such thing. I was only hoping that he might know who these guys were who were seen with Dorland. Just one more question. Do any of your buddies also work at gas stations?”
“Yes, Shawn Monday works at a station in North Minneapolis.”
“Do you know which one?”
“It is the Mobil station just off Memorial Drive in Camden.”
Standing, Keplar said, “I want to thank the three of you for your patience.” Looking at Michael, “If there is anything you think of that might be useful in my investigation, please call the station.”
Mr. Anderson walked him to the door. “I wish you luck.”
“Thank you. I’m going to have to look into getting one of those snow throwers.”
“You won’t regret it.”
- Writer
