Police Action
David returned after he telephoned. Not very many minutes later, a police car nosed its way into the farmyard and switched on its spotlight to check around before the officer got out. To my surprise, Officer Koenig was at the wheel. I called to him from the top of the ramp. “What are you doing up so late?”
He corrected me. “It’s not late, it’s early. I’m picking up an extra shift to cover for Officer Smith. His wife just had a baby. It’s their first.”
I offered my congratulations as he climbed the ramp into the barn. He commented about the scene. “I knew you’d turn something up, but I didn’t think it would take this many people. The report on the radio said you caught a prowler.”
I perched on the pallet of vermiculite to rest my aching knees and explained everything that happened since the last time I’d seen the officer. I was almost finished my tale when we heard a siren in the distance. It was getting closer. I asked Koenig about it. “You expecting backup?”
“That’s not one of mine. The pattern is wrong. The state police use Federal Q sirens. The sheriff’s office uses Acme Universal. That’s an Acme siren, which means it’s a sheriff’s car. My office must have put the call out to the sheriff’s office. It seems we’re about to have company.” He unsnapped the strap which held his sidearm in its holster.
“You expecting trouble?”
He shook his head. “Not expecting. Just preparing. From what you’ve told me, Sheriff Andy is starting to act like a cornered animal. He already doesn’t much like me. I’m just taking care.”
His preparation seemed wise. I reloaded my revolver with tired hands that didn’t appreciate the work and called out to the old timers. “The sheriff is coming. You four get out of sight.”
A couple of the men tried to question my order, but George herded them into the hayloft. I gathered Walt and David and Charlie and moved the four of us behind a big stainless-steel tank that I assumed was for raw milk. It was short enough to see over, but stout enough to offer some protection if things got out of hand. Koenig went back by the grain truck to stand over Cowboy Keith who was still tied up on the floor. He turned the flame of the oil lamp as high as it would go to make it hard for anyone coming in out of the dark to see. He rested one hand on his hip and the other on the butt of his gun.
The siren sounded all the way into the farmyard. The car that carried it tore down the drive and stopped with locked wheels on hard gravel. Footsteps stormed up the ramp and Andy blundered through the door into the lamplight. He shielded his eyes from it. He noticed Keith on the floor and Koenig nearby. Keith cried out. “ANDY, HELP!”
Andy didn’t answer directly. He blustered at Koenig. “I MIGHT-A KNOWN! YOU GOTTA LOTTA NERVE JUMPIN’ MY JURISDICTION!”
Koenig remained mild and calm. “I received a call about a prowler. I responded and here I am. My office coordinated with your office the way they’re supposed to. I was just assessing the scene. Would you care to join me, sheriff?”
Andy refused to play nice. “You ain’t assessin’ shit! This is my scene and you’re leavin.’”
Koenig was unmoved. “You know how this works as well as I do. You take precedent in the town, I take precedent on the highways, and we work together on the farms and ranches. I’m offering to work together.”
“I ain’t workin’ wit you in my jurisdiction! This is my scene and that’s my prisoner!”
“Do you even know what you’re arresting him for?”
Keith spoke up again. “Please, Andy!”
Andy shouted him down. “Shut up, Keith!” He pulled his gun, but he didn’t raise it. “Koenig, I’m tellin’ ya to leave.”
Koenig didn’t move. “Sheriff, we don’t have anything to argue about. I’m asking you to holster your weapon.”
I pulled my gun and stepped out from behind the tank. “Careful Sheriff.” My voice surprised him and he reeled my way and leveled his weapon. I didn’t raise my gun because he didn’t have his finger on the trigger, yet. I tried to be the voice of reason. “There’s a lot of witnesses here and a lot of guns. This is no time to be reckless.”
Andy’s trigger finger moved around like it had a mind of its own, but he kept it out of the trigger guard. He lashed out verbally instead. “YOU THREATENIN’ ME?”
“I wouldn’t dare. I’m making an observation.”
A lever action rifle click-clacked through its cycle to chamber a round. The sound came from the end of the barn where the stairs were. The sheriff reeled and aimed. Ex-Pinkerton Eli held his rifle with the muzzle low. He didn’t speak, but he remained watchful and wary, as did the other old timers who were gathered on the steps.
Andy didn’t appreciate being outnumbered. He tried to shout his way out. “THAT’S MY PRISONER AND I’M TAKIN’ HIM IN!”
Koenig shook his head. “You’re not.”
Andy leveled his gun at Koenig. “I’M TAKING HIM!”
Andy was on edge. I had a feeling if Koenig refused once more, there would be a shootout. Koenig wasn’t willing to risk lives over the sheriff’s rage. He put his hands up. “Go ahead and take him, sheriff.”
“UNTIE HIM!”
Koenig took out a pocket-knife and sawed through the ropes that bound the cowboy’s ankles and wrists. Keith struggled to his feet and stumbled toward Andy. Koenig stood and watched him go. Keith drew even with Andy to whine at him. “They know all the stuff I done. What’re we gonna do?”
Andy tried to solve the problem with bluster. “They don’t know shit.”
“They do! They know everything!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET OUT!”
Keith stumbled out the door and into the night. A truck started somewhere nearby and drove away. Andy holstered his weapon and left. His sheriff’s car started and took off with the tearing of tires on gravel. Koenig thanked me and Eli for our support and for not escalating the situation.
I offered my thoughts on the matter. “He must’ve snapped his cap. He can’t think he’ll get away with what he just did.”
Koenig shook his head. “The sheriff wasn’t thinking very clearly just now. I’m going to radio for instructions. I expect the lieutenant is going to need to talk to everyone here. I’ve never had a sheriff point a gun at me.”
* * * *
Lieutenant Joost Van Dalen of the state police ruined the parting in his slick dark hair when he combed his fingers through it in disbelief. He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a windproof lighter like the one Charlie carried. He summarized the story we told as the predawn sky grew brighter behind him. At some point, Charlie opened the sliding door to get some fresh air in the barn. The sky we could see through it was streaked with pastel colors as sunrise approached.
Van Dalen exhaled smoke in a long, frustrated sigh. “Let me get this straight, you propose a conspiracy between Simon Hansen, one of his employees who drilled the well, Sheriff Andy, and Keith Sykes. The goal of this conspiracy was to demoralize the original owner of this property into selling out to Simon, who presumably made the offer for it through an attorney in Billings.
“When Lars Krengel sold out to Mister Ploughman, the conspiracy shifted its focus to convincing Mister Ploughman that this property was bad luck or cursed or not worth having so he would sell to the same party. The goal of said conspiracy was to gain control of the property and therefore the blue sapphires which presumably exist beneath our feet.”
Old George shuffled forward and held a grimy hand out with a half dozen sapphires in his palm. Van Dalen barely looked at them. George slunk away like his feelings were hurt. Van Dalen went on with his oration. “The only proof you have of this conspiracy is the circumstantial evidence of a flare cap next to a burned house, hostility from the sheriff, vague trouble with antiquated farm equipment, and the repeated trespassing of Mister Sykes.”
I felt like we were being dismissed and got mad. “The fucking sheriff pointed a gun at me!” I waved my hand around. “He pointed it at all of us!”
Van Dalen held up the hand that had the cigarette in it. He drew on it again and talked the smoke from his lungs. “I’m not saying that you’re wrong about anything you’ve said or supposed. I merely express my consternation that you’ve managed to construct such a compelling series of events without a shred of tangible proof. I can fine Sykes for trespassing and try to make sure Andy is disciplined for reckless endangerment, but without concrete evidence or a confession, no one is going to jail.”
“What about the way he threatened all of us with bodily harm?”
He smoked some more of his cigarette and exhaled in another frustrated sigh. “Mister Edwards, is it true that you’re a homosexual?”
I was nearly bowled over by his question. I wondered how he knew, but I didn’t ask. I answered his question. “Yes, I am.” I put my arm around Walt who was right next to me. “This is my husband.”
He blew another breath out and shrugged helplessly. “I always read the arrest reports from the sheriff’s office. They’re supposed to read ours. I read yours from the other day when Andy brought you and Mister Ploughman in. One of the charges he listed against you was suspicion of consensual sodomy. That’s a jailable offense in the state of Montana.”
I blew my own breath out. “I see how it is.”
Walt leaned into my side to get my attention. “You see how what is?”
I explained. “Andy can make a lot of trouble for us. If we make trouble for him, he’ll turn things around. At the trial, if it should come to trial, his whole story will be all about how he was trying to protect the citizens from our deviance. Andy is a local. We’re city people from back east. We’re fags. They could put us in jail. If they don’t, they’ll make it so we have to leave. They might also stir up enough trouble that David and his family would be shunned in the town.” I shifted my speech back to the lieutenant. “That’s how it is, isn’t it? Walt and I ‘queer’ your ability to prosecute.”
He agreed. “I pass no judgement. What you do privately is none of my business. Brent respects you and Mister Ploughman invited you to be a guest on his farm. That’s enough for me not to be bothered about whatever your bedroom habits might be. You also know how the world works. This isn’t Philadelphia. We’re in a very small place with rigid morals. No matter what happens to Andy, it’ll be worse for you and your…uh, husband.” He finished his speech and ground his cigarette to dust on the bed of the grain truck.
David got mad. He stormed into the group from where he’d been standing with Charlie. “WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?”
Van Dalen was surprised by the outburst from David of all people. “What do you mean?”
David’s face blazed with anger as he towered over the lieutenant. “A man trespassed on my property and burned a house down. He damaged my equipment. He came here tonight to burn this barn down. I hired guards at my own expense to protect my property and my family. They did what you couldn’t. The sheriff pointed a gun at me and AT MY SON! Now you tell me in spite of everything, no one is going to get punished because two of my houseguests happen to be queer. One of those guests has been doing the job you should have been doing. I want to know WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?” He punctuated the last four words with stiff finger pokes into the center of Van Dalen’s chest.
The lieutenant coughed but stood his ground. “Would you please step back, Mister Ploughman? You are a very large man and are rather intimidating when your temper is up. I would prefer to be out of arm’s reach until you calm down.”
David did as he was asked. Van Dalen cleared his throat. “Mister Ploughman, you’ve been here a very long time.”
“Forty years, this year.”
“You know this place. You know the people and how they can be. You know how they will close ranks against outsiders. If you want to press the matter against Andy, and you want to do it in the open, I’ll do it with you, but on your head be it.”
“On my head be what?” David demanded.
“On your head be the consequences of whatever happens. I’m telling you what I can prove, and what I can’t. I’m telling you what I can do that’s sure, and what carries a great deal of risk. The law is not justice, sir. I will do the best that I can to get as close to justice as the law and circumstances allow. You have every right to be upset, but your anger doesn’t change the situation.”
David rubbed his huge hands together. “I know the law isn’t justice. I’m not a child, neither am I a fool. I know how the world works.” He took a long step forward and poked Van Dalen’s chest again. “You’re not a child either, so stop telling me what you can’t do and tell me what you can.” He realized he’d moved within arm’s reach of the lieutenant again and took a long step back.
I offered a suggestion for the lieutenant. “You can fingerprint Keith and see if his prints are on the bookcase Lars Krengel died under.”
He disagreed. “There was nothing suspicious about how Lars Krengel died. I can’t infer murder from a fingerprint. For all I know, Krengel paid Sykes to help move his furniture. I know the man. I’ve arrested him for minor crimes since he came to this area about ten or fifteen years ago. That’s how I know his last name is Sykes. He’s a cowboy and a petty criminal. He works on the ranches and does odd jobs here and there. He’s a craven sneak and a bad egg. He’s just the type of man someone would hire for a little criminal mischief.”
I wondered why Koenig didn’t know any of that. I started to ask when the lieutenant cut me off. He’d lit another cigarette to wave at the officer while he used his first name. “Brent wouldn’t know the personalities because he hasn’t been here very long. He transferred from another troop about a year ago.”
He pointed his cigarette at the floor as if he was standing on the matter we were discussing. “As for this here, nothing surprises me about any of the people you’ve mentioned. Simon Hansen is a chiseler; always has been. It’s just like him to want something, but to try to devalue it before he makes an offer because he doesn’t want to pay full price. He surrounds himself with people who are just like him. It’s not a stretch of my imagination to think that one of his drillers would find sapphires in their drill slurry and would tell him instead of the property owner. Sheriff Andy is a tin tyrant who’d be nothing without the badge he pins himself to.
“I hear everything you’re saying. What’s more, it makes logical sense. As a story, I believe it. As an officer of the law, what the hell am I supposed to do about it? I can’t haul everyone in and accuse them of arson, murder, vandalism, etcetera without proof. The prosecutor would laugh me out of his office and the chief would bust me down to traffic patrol.”
His words set me back on my haunches to think. The case was basically solved, but we had no way to prove any of what we knew. None of the conspirators would confess, not easily. I didn’t know what to do.
Van Dalen had a suggestion. “Why not establish the mine? The conspiracy falls apart once you exploit the land. The whole basis of their activities is the presumption that you don’t know what’s under your feet. Start digging and prove you know exactly what’s down there. No one will be punished, but they’ll be forced to leave you alone.”
David refused for all the reasons he previously stated. “I’m a farmer, not a miner. This land has been too good to me to destroy it for a few glittering stones.”
The lieutenant saw his point and didn’t pursue the suggestion further.
His idea gave me an idea. “What if we lay our cards on the table with Simon? He probably doesn’t know what happened here this morning. Keith is afraid of him. He’s unlikely to tell on himself. I don’t know about Andy. If I was him, I’d be fucking embarrassed about the way I handled myself, so I wouldn’t talk either. Simon probably has no idea we’re onto him. Let’s go to his office and tell what we know. Like the lieutenant says, his whole game is based on our ignorance. If we prove we’re not ignorant, he’s got to stop.”
Koenig added his own thoughts. “If you’re willing to wear a wire, we could tape record the conversation and hold it against him. It might not stand up in court, but it would be one more piece of leverage if there was funny business in the future.”
Van Dalen crushed his cigarette to dust and offered his support for the idea. “I’ll get the warrant for the wire if that’s how you want to handle things. Like Brent says, a good lawyer could get it thrown out of court, but we wouldn’t be in court. Once we had the recording, I’d have a word with Hansen on the side and the whole matter goes away. I’d still do my best to get the book thrown at Andy for his part in all this foolishness. I might even run Keith Sykes out of town.”
David liked the idea to a point. “What about poor Lars?”
Van Dalen crossed his arms over his chest in a pose of defiance. “I can’t do a thing about it. When the body was discovered, Brent told me he didn’t like how the old man died, so I read the autopsy report. His injuries were consistent with the circumstances of his death. I’m not convinced the conspirators had anything to do with it. There’s no sense in killing him. He didn’t own the property anymore.”
I disagreed. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“I don’t either. I don’t like it, but what can I do? I’m not a hard-hearted man. I went to school with Jake Krengel. I knew the family. Hell, I hauled bales on this farm for pocket money every summer for ten years.” He stomped his foot on the floor. “I shoveled shit in this barn. I spent enough time in the old house that I could draw you a picture of it from memory. Missus Krengel, God rest her kind soul, made the best kanellangd I’ve ever had in my life”
Walt seized on the bizarre word. “What’s that?”
“It’s a buttery, sweet cinnamon bread with a woven top. She used to make it for Advent, and all through the Christmas holidays. I haven’t had it since I was a kid, but I swear I can taste it just from standing on this property.” He poked my shoulder like he was disgusted with me. “You said you were on the force. Say this was your case. What would you do?”
I put my hands in my pockets and looked at the floor. “That was a long time ago. I didn’t always play by the rules back then.”
Old George cackled from somewhere in the background. “No surprise there, sonny!”
Van Dalen pressed me. “What’s that mean?”
His questions made me mad. I barked at him. “It means I would have gone to Simon’s office and beaten him within an inch of his life. I would’ve done it in uniform and with the full knowledge of my boss, Captain Marshall. That’s how we kept order in the city during Prohibition. The law didn’t mean shit to me, or the Captain. Order was the only thing that mattered.”
The lieutenant rocked back on his heels. He threaded his fingers through his hair again. “Our methods are somewhat different.” He left it up to David. “It’s your decision. I assume you’re going to see Hansen either way. Will you wear a wire or not?”
He nodded sharply. “I’ll wear it. It’s plain silly that I have to, especially after everything Law found and what we had to endure here tonight. I’ll wear the wire because you’re not willing to do what’s necessary to keep the order, so I suppose we’ll have to. When do we go?”
Van Dalen didn’t address David’s bitterness. He simply said he needed to get the warrant. He’d see to it as soon as the judge was in his office later that morning. Once he had it, he’d have to get the technicians and the equipment set up. He hoped they’d be ready sometime after lunch. He went on his way and left Koenig to take our statements about the trespassing and Sheriff Andy’s insane display.
David went first, so he could get back to running his farm. Charlie went next because he was going to work with his dad that day. Walt and I went last, after the old timers, because Koenig agreed to give us a ride to the farmhouse once he was finished. We got there just in time for breakfast.
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