Red Jacket (38 page)

“Why do you need a lawyer if you're innocent?”

“It's my right.”

“Is it? Why pay a lawyer when all you have to do is be honest with us. You claim someone named Hedyn is the property owner, not Gerlach?”

“Yes. I'm in pain, and I think you're trying to trick me.”

“Trick you into what?”

“I'm not sure,” the man admitted. “I feel confused.”

“We know who owns the property, and when it was purchased,” Echo said.

Bapcat said quietly, “Nesmith of Houghton claims he killed all the deer, and he took total responsibility for the boxes.”

“So I can go?” the man asked, hope in his voice.

“Of course not,” Echo said. “You're under arrest for trespass.”

“That's not fair. I have permission. Ask the Hedyns.”

“The Hedyn of Copper Harbor?”

“Central Mine,” the man insisted, “not Copper Harbor.”

He said Hedyns, plural.
“Thank you,” Bapcat said. “Was that so hard?”

“Was what so hard?”

“Telling us what we wanted to know,” Echo said, touching the man's shoulder. “You're under arrest.”

“For a trespass that wasn't a trespass?”

“For trying to elude game wardens and an officer of the court.”

“How was I to know who you were? Times are dangerous, you know.”

“We met on the train recently,” Zakov reminded him. “Talked about wooden boxes and their ore contents.”

“I don't remember you,” the man insisted.

“Don't say any more,” Echo said. “Save what you have to say for your lawyer.”

“I'm telling you I have verbal permission. Why would I lie?”

“Permission given when?”

“I don't remember the exact date.”

“You're still going to jail,” Echo said. “You fled.”

“Nobody told me stop.”

“You looked right at me and fled.”

“I didn't know who you were.”

Bapcat said, “You're a railroad man. Do you run away from every passenger you don't know?”

The man hung his head. “It's not the same thing,” Davidov protested.

Echo said, “A judge and jury will decide what is and isn't.”

Zakov helped the prisoner into the truck and Echo pulled Bapcat to the side. “Why did you go after trespass?”

“I wanted to get him talking. We had Nesmith's confession, but this guy fled town, and today he fled us. He's scared. I wanted to get him off balance, then go back to the boxes.”

“What do you think you have?”

“An opening back to Reverend Hedyn.”
Maybe to both brothers.

“He'll deny giving permission.”

Bapcat grinned. “I don't give a damn. This will give me a chance to squeeze him.”

“To get his brother?”

“I'm guessing it will at least get his attention.”

“Your interview style would shame most senior law students. Maybe you should consider a career in the law.”

“I don't want to steal my wife's dream,” Bapcat said.

Echo asked, “You're married?”

Bapcat pointed at Zakov. “My fine wife.”

Echo exhaled loudly. “I don't want to know any more. Do you still need to stop in Painesdale?”

“Yes.”

“I'll put the prisoner on the Copper Range from there.”

“No need. We'll take you into Houghton so you can book the man. We can come back afterward.”

104

Painesdale, Houghton County

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1913

The prisoner was lodged into custody late Friday, and the game wardens spent the night at a hotel in Houghton. Saturday morning they drove south to Painesdale, where they spent all day in the woods behind the school, along the Little Otter River, eventually discovering eight headless carcasses. Obviously the operators were not abandoning their plan.

It was approaching one in the morning as Zakov drove the truck through the north end of Painesdale. Suddenly they heard volleys of shots from the west. Both men pointed in the same direction, and the Russian turned sharply down the nearest road, which turned out to be Baltic Street. As they drove, they heard another fusillade. “Rifle,” Zakov said, “heavy caliber.”

Bapcat heard at least twenty shots and guessed there had been more. “Sounds like someone is killing a herd,” he said as they heard a final shot and jerked to a stop at the dead end, a heavy wooded area on a low hill directly in front of them. Both men grabbed their weapons and moved to the thick cover, where they separated slightly and moved in slowly, listening for sounds that didn't belong. In the distance they heard crows, human shrieks and screams. Bapcat was tempted to go back, but the shots had come from the woods, and they needed to search there first.

The game wardens emerged from the woods two hours later to find the area swarming with Houghton county deputies, all of them armed and edgy.

They identified themselves to a deputy and told him they had gone to investigate shots, thinking there were poachers at work.

“They were poachers, all right, but they were hunting men. All the shots seemed to go into the two end houses on the south side,” the deputy said. “Got two dead, a third who probably won't make it, and a little girl who got hit twice, but she'll probably live. You find anything out there?”

“Nothing,” Bapcat said, and looked up to see Dr. Robair Labisoniere, the Barber, come out of the first house, rolling a cigarette.

“Goddamn ambuscade,” he greeted them when they joined him. “You boys sure do get around. Where the hell did
you
come from?”

“Sergeant over there said people are dead,” Bapcat said.

“Inside the house it looks like an abattoir.”

“Victims?”

“Two dead, side by side, and near as I can tell the same damn bullet killed the both of them. Went all the way through the first house into the third floor of the second and blew their heads apart. What're the chances? We've got two wounded, one mortally.

“The man of the house ran down to Siler's Hotel to use a phone, call for medical help from a mine doctor, and I got called after the doctor got here and found the bodies. The doctor drove his buggy like a madman, which seems somehow fitting. This whole Painesdale lot is mad. How many murders will it take?” The Barber didn't finish. Instead he sucked deeply on his cigarette.

“We heard shots from the woods,” Bapcat said. “We were less than a minute behind the shooter.”

“More than one,” the doctor said. “One neighbor claims thirty rounds.”

“I counted twenty at one point,” Bapcat said. The doctor was no doubt right about multiple shooters.

“You fellas find anything out there?”

“Nothing,” Bapcat said.

“This is the death knell for the strike,” the doctor said. “Most mines are already digging rock again. Both the dead men are scabs, brothers, supposed to start work Monday morning. You can bet WFM men are involved in this, and now they've given the lunatic Citizens' Alliance a cause. Retribution will be in the air. MacNaughton hates Finns, and everybody knows this. Expect them to catch the brunt.”

“You think these people were murdered?” Bapcat asked.

“If I had to guess, I would think the shots were fired to intimidate and deliver a message, but bad luck turned it into murder.”

Big Jim Cruse came out of the house closest to the woods and waddled over to them. “I hear you State boys are trying to make some trouble for Deputy Raber, one of my best men.”

“Made trouble for himself,” Zakov retorted. “Perhaps you should focus on the case at hand.”

Cruse said, “Go on and git before you foul up my investigation.”

Bapcat looked at all the deputies and soldiers and neighbors milling around and said, “We wouldn't want that.”

“Sass me,” the sheriff said, “I'll run you in for interfering with a police investigation.”

“Almost be worth the trouble, just to see if you
can
run,” Bapcat said, and steered his partner away before both their mouths got them into trouble.

“You make me weary,” Zakov said as they got the truck started.

105

Central Location

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1913

It had snowed all night. They drove the Ford down into Allouez, but reports said the roads ahead were badly iced and the going slow. They grabbed their packs and weapons, took the electric out to Mohawk, and transferred to the Keweenaw Central to Central Depot, Central Location's rail station.

Philamon Hedyn was splitting wood behind his church. Although he was a small man, he swung the long-handle double-bit ax with ease and power.

“Reverend,” Bapcat greeted him.

Hedyn ignored them, drove the ax into another piece of wood, and sent two halves hopping into the air.

Bapcat rolled a cigarette for Zakov and himself, lit them, and blew smoke into the icy winter air.

Eventually the minister buried the blade into a large stump and glared at them. “We don't abide evil weed,” Hedyn said.

“We, meaning you and the Lord?” Bapcat countered. “I don't remember anything about evil weeds in the Good Book.”

“Blasphemer,” Hedyn said, spitting.

“Is that any way to talk to people who are trying to help you?” Bapcat asked.

The man continued to glare.

“We asked around about your stepson's involvement in an illegal deer case. Now we find out you gave hunting permission to one of your son's confederates and fellow suspect, a railroad man named Davidov.”

No reaction from the reverend. Keep pushing
, Bapcat told himself.
Get a reaction of some kind, anything.
“The Houghton County prosecutor saw Mr. Davidov on
your
Redridge property.”

Hedyn smiled. “ 'Ave yer fun, ladies, 'ave your fun whilst you can.”

“Davidov has given a written statement that you gave him permission, and as you well know, illegal activity on your property also implicates
you
.”

“Don't waste your smoke, lads. This will all come to naught.”

Said Bapcat, “Well, you might be right, Reverend, but next time we come back, we'll be with Sheriff Hepting, and we'll have statements from multiple witnesses. We'll be coming for
you
.”

Hedyn snatched up the ax. “Be gone, Satan.”

“We'll be bringing search warrants.”

The minister turned his back on them and went back to splitting wood.

“Our intent here?” Zakov asked as they boarded a southbound train.

“Fuel.”

“For?”

“Remains to be seen.”

“He's more irritated than intimidated.”

“Those two things are cousins,” Bapcat said, and the Russian smiled and nodded.

106

Red Jacket

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1913

Bruno Geronissi sat at a small table against the back wall in Vairo's saloon with Lute Bapcat. Two days ago, all the mine operators had given their employees an unexpected paid day off to enable them to attend Citizens' Alliance rallies. The
Gazette
reported that ten thousand had turned out in the streets of Houghton, and an astounding forty thousand in Red Jacket, which seemed ludicrous until Geronissi pointed out that the operators had rented trains to carry miners north to Red Jacket from the other mine areas. A recent
Gazette
headline had proclaimed
foreign agitators must be driven from the district at once
.

“That thing down Painesdale,” Geronissi said, “those Alliance guys, they say it's mainly Finns make and keep the strike. They say all Finns are poisonous slime.”

“You believe it's mainly Finns?”

“No. There are plenty of
Italianos
right in middle of the whole thing.”

Since the killings in Painesdale, there had been four days of mass beatings, street assaults, and random shootings, but so far, no more fatalities. Bapcat and just about everyone could feel a surge of energy in the vigilante efforts, and it seemed sure to worsen. Bapcat knew in his gut that the union strikers would not back off. Couldn't the operators understand their stubbornness?

Harju had come over from Marquette for a night and brought the new badge for Zakov. Bapcat had asked him to have one made, identical to his own. The partners pinned their badges on under their coat lapels. Trading the one badge back and forth had become a burden and now they could both present a badge when it was needed. Bapcat chided himself for not taking care of this detail earlier, and took it as more evidence of his need to smarten up.

Harju explained that when he had gotten warrants and gone to serve them to the railroad people in Champion, with the help of county deputies, the four suspects were gone, allegedly to Detroit, where more—and better-paid—work awaited. The warrants were no good that far away from the county where they had been issued, unless a capital crime was involved, which meant the four men were safely away from Upper Peninsula, Houghton, and Marquette County courts.

Raber had been charged with complicity in an illegal deer-killing scheme by prosecutor Lucas, and the deputy had been arrested, but the judge had released him on his own recognizance and Sheriff Cruse had put him right back on the payroll, history repeating itself.

Nesmith continued to insist through his lawyer that he had killed all the deer in the boxes. He was out on bail and his building physically released after the evidence had been transferred to the county, but the evidence had quickly disappeared and charges against Nesmith dropped by order of the judge. Rollie Echo sent a messenger with a note:
Lute—Nesmith attends Hedyn's church. Raber too, but not regularly. Keep in touch. Rollie.

Hepting refused to help Bapcat squeeze Hedyn's brother, and the two of them had gotten into a heated argument, with Bapcat challenging the sheriff's lack of grit, and the sheriff accusing Bapcat of trying to “soldier through the case without evidence of any kind.” Hepting added: “You ain't up on that Cuban high ground this time, Lute. You got to use your brain instead of that bloody Krag you drag around all the time.”

“What good's a brain without resolve?” Bapcat threw back at his friend.

They had not spoken since.

Back at Vairo's, Bapcat said, “Bruno, another favor. You got a man who can follow people pretty good?”

“Perhaps I know such a man.”

“I need such a man.”

Geronissi smiled and touched his wineglass to Bapcat's. “
Si,
for you.”

But when Bapcat got down to specifics, Geronissi balked and started acting nervous. “Favor or not?” Bapcat pressed.

“Listen, my friend. Hedyn's preacher brother, he's no problem, eh? But this captain, he got the long arm and a longer memory
, tui
capisce?
”

“You afraid?”

“Is only prudent. You know this word,
prudent?
” Geronissi said.

“Yeah, it means coward,” Bapcat said.

“No, you wrong! Good hunter, he better have the caution, patience.”

“I just want their movements tracked, nothing else. Information only.”

Geronissi mulled it over, said, “I get back to you,” downed his wine, got up, and strode out of the tavern.

Dominick Vairo brought over two bottles of beer. “On me.
Salute
.”

“
Salute
. You feel what's in the air?”

“All the damn time, and violence, it make me sick, but Christmas, she come soon, everybody takes break, step back, take care of
bambinos,
go to church, pray.”

The two men clicked bottles. “Peace,” Bapcat said.

Fig Verbankick came in wearing a black bowler and a black overcoat that stretched almost to his ankles. He sported a bushy drooping mustache.

“BEER!” the little man shouted.

Bapcat said, “Hey Fig, how's Herman?”

The strange little man looked confused. “ASK HERMAN!” he yelled, then, “BEER!” Verbankick put a handful of money on the bar and Frank Rousseau asked, “Beer for just you, or the whole damn house, Fig?”

“EVERYBODY BEER!” Fig shouted enthusiastically. “FIG BUYS BEER!”

Bapcat remarked, “That's real generous, Fig; where'd you get all that money?”

Verbankick's hooded eyes narrowed and a sneer formed. “ASK HERMAN!”

“Who looks after Fig?” Bapcat asked Vairo.

“Nobody. He seems to do just fine himself. He's just a little slow, not stupid, but put him out in the bush and he's the equal or better of any other man.”

“He come in here often?”

“No, he just started showing up recently. Why?”

“No reason.”

Geronissi popped through the side door from the stairwell up to the Italian Hall and motioned for Bapcat, who went over to him.

“Talk outside,” Geronissi said, and they went into the wide hallway and pushed open the doors. “Okay, I got this guy, Judah Capicelli, but
you
tell him what you want. I don't want no details, okay?”

“Agreed. Send him up to the hill tonight.”

•••

Capicelli appeared at the house on the hill just before midnight. “Our mutual friend sent me,” he announced.

“You know Captain Madog Hedyn?”

“Everybody knows him.”

“He's got a brother, a minister up at Central Location. I want both of them followed everywhere—who they meet, where, how long, everything—every day, every detail.”

“That ain't no one-man job,” Capicelli said. “I'm just one man,
Dottore
.”

“You know others you can rely on?”

“I got four brothers.”

“Use them.”

“Start when?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Until?”

“We'll have to see.”

“What about the cops?”

“They won't bother you. Their hands are full with the strike. Just don't be obvious.”

“When you want reports?”

“Nine, Friday mornings, down in the woods behind the cabin at the bottom of the hill. But if the captain or his brother take off into the woods, I want to know that right away.” Bapcat pointed, told him where.

“You want we should follow these men into the bush?”

“Nope, that's our specialty.”