Lars Krengel
David came to check on us after lunch. The boys showed him everything they found in the machine shed. We also showed a similar pattern of small sabotage in the barn. The refrigeration plant was out of commission again and the milking apparatus was damaged.
He took his hat off and smoothed his grey hair with a worried hand. “If I had any doubt before, I don’t have any now. Something is very wrong.”
I recounted the tale of the cowboy who came up the drive with pretend truck trouble and Mitch told of the ‘hailed out’ ranch pickup. David rubbed his hands together like he wanted to start a fire between them. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. What do we do, Law?”
I thought aloud. “The sheriff has already demonstrated he’ll be no help. He didn’t believe the evidence of the flare cap. I doubt he’ll believe anything we found today because none of it is overt. From what I’ve seen, this was a tidy, well-cared for operation. I don’t see Krengel as the type of man who would be careless enough to leave bolts loose and belts slack and risk damage to his equipment and his person.”
David agreed. “He wasn’t. Lars was one of the most careful men I knew. He took maintenance very seriously. He even used a torque wrench on all his bolts. I don’t even do that.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a ratchet with a calibrated spring in it that clicks when a bolt is tightened to specification. Every fastener on a piece of machinery has a torque requirement in the manual. Lars always made sure he followed them to the letter.”
I remembered the manuals on the work bench in the machine shed. They added credence to David’s story. “If the police won’t help us, or if they won’t help without more proof, we’ve got to get it. I want to understand when this started and why and how. Maybe if we build a big enough body of evidence, we can get the sheriff to do his job. We need to talk to Krengel. Will you take me to see him?”
He checked his watch. “I’m supposed to help rebuild a dyke this afternoon. I’m already late. We got rain coming in the next couple-a days and the runoff has to have somewhere to go.”
Charlie spoke up. “We’ll do it, Dad.”
“Will you? That’ll be a big help. Use the radio in my truck to talk to Eddie. He’ll tell you where to meet him and what needs doing. You’ll have to load some of those railroad ties in his truck and run down by the big sluice. Do a good job and don’t cut any corners, clear?”
The boys nodded and answered in unison. “Yes, sir.”
“Get a move on. Oh, and tell your mother where I went if I’m late for supper.”
They started to leave but I called after them. “Hey, you two! Good job today. We made big progress. Thank you.”
They basked in the praise. I reminded them to unchamber the rounds in their sidearms and sent them on their way.
David was upset that I had them carry with rounds chambered. I explained my reasons to mollify his concerns. We closed-up the barn and made it outside in time to watch the Jeep rattle away.
“They’re good boys. You raised them very well.”
“I did the best I could. I wish I would have spent more time with them, but running this place is a full-time job and then some. I want to leave them something they can be proud of. I hope they’ll forgive me for focusing on the farm.”
“They obviously love you.”
“You think? I hope so.”
“They do. I can see by the way they look at you. Charlie just volunteered to work their butts off in the mud so you could take me to see Krengel. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
He held the door to the Suburban for me and got himself in. “You’re right. I know you’re right. Thanks.”
“I’m surprised you had another. You already had nine when you came to Philly in ’53. I guess Charlie was an infant back then. You must have had Mitch right after you got home. Did you plan for ten?”
He started the vehicle and nosed it down the drive. “We never planned any of them. We left it up to the Lord and had as many as He wanted to give us. When I got back here with Larry after his trouble in Philly, I was worried about how I’d feel toward Abby. I wanted to prove I would still enjoy her as a husband should. Mitch was the result.”
David was obviously alluding to the threesome he had with me and Walt. I worried our tryst had harmed him somehow. “Did we do something wrong?”
“No, not at all. You and Walt gave me an amazing gift. I cherish the memory of our time together. I’ll admit it shook me in my pretend straightness. I worried I wouldn’t want Abby after I experienced you and Walt…especially Walt. AHEM!”
He seemed to lose the thread of what he was saying and trailed off into silence. I prompted him out of curiosity. “You enjoyed Walt, huh?”
“What?” He glanced over nervously but nodded in spite of himself. “He’s so sexy. He’s bigger than me, not taller but thicker I guess, and that pelt of hair…I still think about him more than I should. I think about both of you. I didn’t lie when I said I loved you. I do, and I’m attracted to you, but Walt’s fur made me feel like I was with something wild.”
“I’m glad you had fun. I did too. I don’t take any offense if you’re more physically attracted to Walt than to me. I’m attracted to him, too. I want him now just as much as we did when we met, probably more because I know him so well.”
“That’s how I feel about Abby. Back when her father pushed us together, I was so scared to be with a women, but it turned out not to be a problem. It wasn’t a problem when I came back here after being with you. I still loved my wife and was able to perform as I needed to.”
“I’m glad.” I said as we drove into town.
* * * *
Grass Range wasn’t really a town, it was more of a spread-out village. It had a main street named for the town founder, a Swedish name with too many vowels and not enough consonants for me to even try to pronounce or remember it. There was a row of brick buildings, one gas station, a big saloon, a farm implement dealer, a repair shop, a tiny post office, and an oversized general store. There were cars on the street and people on the sidewalks. It was a bustling community despite its diminutive size.
Modest homes were arranged over a few blocks on either side of the main street. Most were bungalows, but there were a few smaller cottages and a few larger colonials thrown in for variety. Lars Krengel’s place was the cottage type. It was two blocks back from the main street and very close to the center of town.
The yard needed to be mowed, and mail overflowed the box next to the front door. Half-a-dozen newspapers were piled on the stoop. A pickup truck was in the driveway and one of the tires was low. It looked like it had been standing for a while.
I didn’t like the look of the place. “You said he had a son in Billings. Could he have gone for a visit?”
David shook his head. “He would have driven. Lars was as independent as they come. His boy offered him a room when he sold up to me, but Lars refused. He wanted to live on his own. He bought this little place for cash. I hope he’s alright.”
I doubted he was alright. I used my handkerchief to try the door. It was locked. David didn’t think it should have been. “Lars is a God-fearing man. He never locked anything. He believed everyone was basically good and the Lord would protect him from evil.”
I was struck by the apparent conflict between a man who would use a torque wrench on every fastener, but who wouldn’t lock his doors. He seemed to trust people more than he trusted bolts. “Let’s try the back.”
We went through the weedy yard and tried the back door. It was unlocked. I opened it and stuck my head through to sniff the air. It smelled of corruption. I almost hated to go in because I knew what I’d find. I told David to wait, but he didn’t want to. “What if he needs help?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s beyond help. Let me do this. It won’t bother me like it will bother you.”
He waited on the patio, and I went in on my own. I crossed through a spotless kitchen into a small living room. A heavy bookshelf was turned over. An old man was pinned beneath it. I didn’t have to touch him to know he was dead. I went back onto the patio and sat in one of the woven outdoor chairs under the shade of the metal awning. “Don’t bother the sheriff. Call the state police. I’ll wait here.”
David didn’t want to believe. “You mean…”
“Dead. Dead and cold and starting to fester. Pinned under a bookcase. It looks like an accident, but I’m just about sure it’s murder.”
David went to telephone from a neighbor’s house. I raised my eyes to the metal awning over the patio and crossed myself to speak to the Lord. “I’d like to offer prayers for the soul of that poor old man inside the house. From what I understand, Lars Krengel was a God-fearing, church-going man. Receive him into your kingdom, Lord. Ease his journey from this world to the next and console his family that he is in a better place. Amen.”
David was back very quickly. I’d barely finished my prayer when he came around the house. He asked the obvious question, and I wasn’t sure how to answer. I repeated it to turn it over in my mind. “Do we tell them we think it’s murder? I don’t know. What proof do we have? None. I know what I think, but there’s nothing to point to, no smoking gun. I don’t think you should say a word. We came over to see Lars because you wanted to talk about getting the dairy back running and hoped he’d offer some advice.
“This could be a coincidence. The old man might have wanted a book on a high shelf. He couldn’t reach it, so he climbed to get it and the case turned over on him. I don’t believe in coincidence, but the police aren’t going to open a murder investigation over my hunch. Let them do their jobs as they see fit and we’ll see where we stand after.”
He agreed and sat in the chair next to mine. “I’m scared. I’m afraid for my family. People who are willing to sabotage equipment and burn houses and murder harmless old men aren’t going to stop until they get what they want.”
“Has anyone approached you about buying the property?”
“My lawyer phoned once I settled with Lars. The same party who tried to lowball Lars offered five percent more than what I paid. I wanted the land, so I refused.”
“That was the last word on the matter?”
“My lawyer called again to say they raised their offer to ten percent more than what I paid, but I told them the land wasn’t for sale at any price. That was over a month ago. I haven’t heard a word about it since.”
“Why?” I asked the air. “Why would anyone go this far to get their hands on an old dairy farm? I don’t know the value of any of the equipment or buildings I saw today, but all of it was old. The cows were probably the most valuable thing on the farm, and I suspect the bad guys deliberately infected them. They sabotaged the equipment and burned one of the buildings. It doesn’t make sense. The property is ten miles from town. It’s too far out for a highway overpass or a housing development.”
David didn’t understand my comment. I explained. “Walt grew up in Reading, Pennsylvania. It’s coal country and very rural. When Eisenhauer signed the highway act, the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike was planned to run nearby. Anyone who had land close to the right-of-way cashed in. There was a lot of crooked dealing back then. Some government people were caught buying land through shell companies so they could sell it to the government at a steep profit. It’s an old game.
“The trouble is, there’s no need for a highway around here. There’s also no need for a suburb. If there was a factory being built, that would draw people to work, and those people would need housing. New factories attract the same kind of crooks the highway projects do. Unscrupulous dealers buy up every foot of land so they can subdivide for homes once the factory is built. I can’t imagine anyone building a factory way the hell out here. There’s no roads to transport the goods and no raw materials to make them. You grow crops and the ranchers raise meat. No one would open a steel mill or glass house or a lumber mill around here.”
He agreed. “We’ve got no need for factories. They’d only take up valuable farmland. Let them stay in the cities where the land is no good. The railroads move the crops out and they do it well. I sell to the grain dealer who owns the elevator. He deals to the manufacturers all over. They take the grain on special train cars. About ten years ago, when China had all their trouble, grain from our elevator went to feed their people. Isn’t that crazy? Some of my wheat went all the way to China!”
“That’s interesting, but back to the dead man in the living room…”
He rubbed his hands together and swore mildly. “Damn! Poor Lars. I can’t believe he’s gone. We were neighbors for years. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be murdered.”
“I don’t understand why they did it. He didn’t own the property anymore. If the land is what they’re after, how does this help them get it?”
We didn’t have time to explore the subject because we heard a car pull up out front. A door opened and shut. An official-sounding fist beat on the front door of the house. When no one answered, the party came around to the back. It was Sheriff Andy. He tucked a clipboard under his arm and pointed an angry finger at both of us. “You’re in trouble! I’m takin’ you in, both of you!”
David was dumbfounded, but I wasn’t. “On what charge?”
He pointed directly at me. “I’m booking you on trespassing, criminal mischief, theft of the evidence out of my car last night, suspicion of consensual sodomy, and contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”
He switched his finger to David. “I’m booking you on trespass, theft, criminal mischief, and anything else I can think of.”
I didn’t bother with Sheriff Andy because he was nothing but a blustering fool. I asked a question of David. “I told you to call the state police. What’s he doing here?”
“I did call the state police. They must have contacted Andy out of respect.”
“I guess they never met him.”
David chuckled but Andy turned purple under his campaign hat. “I’M TAKIN’ YOU IN!”
Another car pulled up out front and another door opened and closed. The state police had arrived, and they wouldn’t give a damn about Andy and his petty grudges. “You’re not taking me anywhere. You’re not even going to be on this case more than another minute or so. Settle down before you pop a blood vessel.”
He seemed ready to attack me, but he heeled when the state trooper entered the back yard. The trooper was a short young man with broad shoulders and a smooth-shaven square jaw. He removed a pair of sunglasses and hung them in the pocket of his khaki uniform shirt. The cop looked around with steady blue eyes and introduced himself. “Officer Brent Koenig of Troop 11. I understand there’s been a death.”
I stood up and offered my hand. “Law Edwards. I’m visiting my friend David Ploughman. I found the body. As far as we know, it’s Lars Krengel. David recently bought some property from him, and we came to get some advice on how to run it. We couldn’t get him on the telephone and when we came over, things looked unkempt and we got worried. I opened the back door with my handkerchief and went in. I didn’t touch anything inside. The body is in the living room under the bookcase. He’s been dead for at least a few days.”
Officer Koenig didn’t take a single note, but he seemed to follow the thread of my oration. “That’s a good summary. You in law enforcement, Mister Edwards?”
“I was, twenty-five years ago. I was a beat cop and later a detective out of the Snyder Avenue Station in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Philly stations didn’t have numbers when I worked them.”
He nodded toward the back door of the house. “From one professional to another, do you suspect foul play?”
I shrugged helplessly. “Looks like an accident.”
“Fair enough.” Koenig addressed himself to Sheriff Andy for the first time. “Howdy, Sheriff. I appreciate your help securing the scene, but I can take it from here.”
Andy wasn’t satisfied. He was still mad. “I’M TAKING THOSE TWO IN!”
Koenig seemed surprised by the sheriff’s shouting. “On what charge?”
David answered. “Officer, I can help you there. The sheriff is my wife’s cousin. We had him over to the house for a visit last night and ended the evening with a disagreement. Andy’s just grinding his ax.”
Koenig nodded crisply and wished the sheriff a good day. Andy didn’t take the hint, so Koenig insisted. “Sheriff, this is very much your town and your jurisdiction, but there’s been a death and that gives us the prerogative to investigate. I exercise that prerogative and wish you a good day.”
Andy grunted angrily and stormed off. Koenig smirked a full-lipped, attractive smile. “Wife’s cousin, huh? My condolences, Mister Ploughman.” He set his clipboard on the chair I’d abandoned and put on a pair of white cotton gloves so he wouldn’t leave fingerprints. He went into the house and came back quickly.
He didn’t say what he thought. He opened with a question. “Mister Edwards, you opened the door with your handkerchief. When I asked if there was foul play, you said it looks like an accident. What is it that you’re not saying?”
I answered with a question. “What makes you think there’s something I’m not saying?”
“You’ve got an opinion about this that you’re keeping to yourself. Not saying is as good as shouting. We had to listen to the sheriff’s shouting. Let’s have yours.”
I asked David for permission. “What do you think?”
He rubbed his hands together and nodded. “We’ve got to tell someone. May as well be him.”
I spent a few moments to sketch the outline of the bad luck on the Krengel farm, the subsequent sale of the land, the house fire, and the sabotage I found with the boys that morning. Koenig listened intently.
When the time came, he finished the story for me. “You came here to talk to the previous owner about your suspicions. When you got here, you found the grass overgrown and too many newspapers on the step. You assume the worst and let yourself in to check. You find out you’re right and call me to avoid dealing with the sheriff. My dispatch called him out of courtesy and he got here first. I show up just in time to avoid a scene. Alright, fine.
“Here’s what I can do, and what I can’t. I can’t open an investigation into this bad luck because there isn’t any proof. Mister Ploughman bought a piece of property from an elderly man and found a lot of the equipment in disrepair. There isn’t anything suspicious about that. I can’t do anything about the man who was on your property today with vehicle trouble. It’s curious in light of the other events but may have been coincidence.”
I grunted in disagreement. Koenig nodded at my grunt. “As you say, Mister Edwards. Personally, I suspect the man was there for foul play, but he didn’t do anything and he left peacefully. There’s nothing I can do about that. I also can’t open a murder investigation into this death. It’s too open-and-shut.
“All that said, from one professional to another, I acknowledge your suspicions and agree you should investigate. I’m within my discretion to call the white coats and have them process the scene. They’ll take photos and dust for prints. Their work will establish a record, or a body of evidence in case you come up with something more solid later.
“The other thing I can do is take possession of the evidence Sheriff Andy so carelessly left behind at your home last night, Mister Ploughman. I’d also like to have the roll of film from the photos you took. They’re not official crime scene photos, but they could serve as an unofficial record of the scene as you saw it. Please bring both to the state police outpost on Highway 23 just outside of town and leave it with the dispatcher. I will enter it into our file as shared information from another department and if any prints show up, I can have them checked against the prints from here.
“My department will retroactively share the information back to the sheriff’s office, and we’ll both have it on file. That will nullify Sheriff Andy’s accusation of theft. He can’t blame you for stealing something once you turn it into me. I can’t do another thing for you, because the actions I listed bring me to the ragged edge of my discretion.”
I shook his hand and thanked him. He went out front to radio for the ‘white coats’ to process the scene and the coroner to collect the body. I sat back down next to David. He was pleased by our exchange with Koenig. “I like him!”
“Agreed. He’s pretty, too. A little short for my taste, but I’d make do.”
David scolded and looked around like someone might be listening. “LAW!”
“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. Fair skin, blue eyes, square shoulders, nice jawline, well built, and there’s no slack in the back of his pants.”
He whispered agreement. “There’s no slack in the front of them either.”
“Oh, yeah? Is the young officer packing heat? No way he’s as well-equipped as you are.”
“Law! Please.” He blushed to the roots of his hair.
“When you fantasize, are you on top or on the bottom?”
He whispered his answer. “Usually on top. How about you?”
“Depends on the man. I’d happily put Officer Koenig on top if he’d leave his hat on and maybe wear those sunglasses.”
David broke up into peals of merry laughter. “You’re incorrigible! I can’t believe you said that. I won’t be able to look at him with a straight face.”
I was going to say something about me not having a straight anything when Koenig came back around the house. “Everything is in motion. I’ll take preliminary statements from you and include them when I file my report tomorrow morning. You’ll both be contacted to give complete statements with a tape recording and a stenographer. Mister Edwards, you said you’re visiting. How long do you plan to stay?”
“A few weeks at least.”
“We can reach you at Mister Ploughman’s residence?”
“Yes.”
“Good enough. Please tell me in your own words what brought you here, what you saw, and what you did. Don’t draw any conclusions. Leave that to us.”
We spent the better part of an hour with the officer. Our statements didn’t take that much time, but they kept getting interrupted as the white coats arrived and the coroner came later. The teams were still working when David and I left.
We didn’t go right home. We stopped by David’s lawyer’s office instead.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
