Superior Storm (Lake Superior Mysteries) (14 page)

It was now full dark, but the lake still shimmered, lighter under the dark sky to the east.

Lund let out a breath slowly. “Then, my license got pulled.”

I looked him. “What?”

“They pulled my private investigator's license. Just suspended it for a couple days. I know a guy, and we got it straightened out, but I don't think it was an accident.”

“Because now you're being audited.”

“That's right. There's someone
who
doesn't like me poking around, and he's got strings to pull to send me the message.”

“Are you sure the audit couldn't be a coincidence?”

“And my PI license?”

“Could be.”

“In my business, I'm not real big on coincidence
s
. Two of them together really sets off the alarm bells. There's really three coincidences, if you count the fact that all of sudden no one knew anything about this
Holland
guy.”

“What, you think there's a conspiracy between the police forces and administrative assistants of two states to cover up the past of a guy who is already dead and in the grave?”

“No. I think there's one or two people who don't want this line of questioning pursued. Whoever they are, they have the
muscle to get people to shut up
and to give me legal hassles. The individual secretaries and cops probably don't know what it's about – they only know that their boss told them to shut up about
Holland
. And the bosses probably don't know why either.”

“And someone told someone to pull your license and audit you.”

“I don't know about the audit, but I pretty much know for sure that's what happened with my license.”

Sometimes I wished I chewed tobacco. Now seemed like good time to chew thoughtfully, and then spit. “Why would someone try to cover for a guy who's already dead?”

“It wouldn't be about him. It would about someone who is still alive, who has connections to the dead guy.”

Again, I wanted to spit. Or swear admiringly or something. I settled for scratching my cheek, which an imaginative person might have called “unshaven.”

“So where do we go from here? I mean all this stonewalling makes me think we're on to something.”

“Yeah,” said Lund. “But what? This feels a lot bigger than simple bank robbery.”

“Simple bank robbery.”

“You're the guy supposed to be good with words. You know what I mean
,
though. Your average Bonnie and Clyde wouldn't be folks with any pull in the government to hush things up like that.”

“Is it possible that it's just that no one really knows anything about this Charles
Holland
? I mean, we're pretty good about documenting birth and death, but maybe no
one
really knows anything else about him.”

“I thought you said your dad was a cop. Unless this guy never went to school, never got a driver's license, never got a social security number, never went to the doctor, never used a credit card – there would be some record of his life.”

“Any ideas on what to do next?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Why did you drive all the way up here? You could have called me.”

“This kind of stuff going on, they might have a way to listen in on a phone conversation, or bug my office, or whatever. Seemed safest to talk in person in a place like this.”

“How'd you get here anyway? I didn't see your car.”

“Parked down at the Superior Hiking Trail trailhead. Hiked up here.”

“How did you know how to get here from there?”

“Give me some credit. I investigate stuff for a living.”

“You really think my house is bugged?”

“Naw. But if they can get my investigator's license pulled, they could probably bug your house if they wanted to.”

“Any reason they'd want to? I'm not the one doing the investigating right now.”

“Like I said, I doubt your house is bugged. But it's better for me to be safe, you know?”

“I really want to make this right for the lady who lost her money,” I said. “And
the
police don't seem to be getting anywhere.”

“Well, maybe there's a reason they aren't getting anywhere. Maybe they're hitting the same thing I am.”

“Can you justify me paying you for another week, to see if you can come up with another angle?”

I saw a flash of white teeth in the dark. “I think I can always figure a way to justify another paycheck. But seriously, yeah, give me another week. I'll play it straight with you if I can't find any way to use that time.”

After some discussion, and against my sense of dignity, I drove away from my house and met Lund coming out of the woods a hundred yards down the road from my driveway. I took him down to his car, and then, feeling silly, pretended to do some evening grocery shopping to justify
the
trip away from my house.

When I went to sleep that night, I dreamed of spies watching me from the next room.

I met Alex Chan for lunch the next day. We were at Lorraine’s. Though I normally only went there for breakfast, they did have a pretty decent Philly Cheesesteak sandwich. I had a milkshake and fries with mine. Lorraine’s was my main source for serious cholesterol.

“Can the federal government choose to audit people for reasons other than tax issues?” I asked him.

“I’m not a tax attorney,” said Chan. He was eating Lorraine’s version of sweet and sour pork.

“So you don’t know anything about audits?”

“Only in general terms. I’m pretty sure that audits are supposed to be chosen randomly, or because of irregularities in tax returns. They aren’t supposed to use audits as a way to hassle particular people.”

“But they could.”

Chan shrugged. “They do. I’m sure of it. But it’s impossible to fight them on it.”

I thought for a minute. “You heard about Ethel Ostrand’s money?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “This is Grand Lake. You and I are the only two people who keep secrets in this town.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to run a little side-investigation. I have some angle that the police don’t seem to be able to chase. But we’re getting some push-back, maybe from the federal government.”

“You saying the federal government doesn’t want you to investigate the bank robbery? You’re nuts.”

I told him a little about the investigation, leaving Lund’s name out of it.

“Huh,” he said when I was done.

“People pay you three hundred dollars an hour for that kind of insight?” I asked.

“
I never said it was
morally
right,” said Chan. “Besides, you aren’t paying me anything right now.”

“OK. I don’t have unlimited resources. But maybe you could poke around a little for me and see if you can figure out what’s going on.”

“Sure,” he said, taking another bite of rice and
pork
.

“How can you eat that stuff?” I asked him. “That isn’t even remotely like real Chinese food. Generally, I love the food here, but they should never even have attempted that kind of cooking.”

“I’m not really Chinese,
though
,” said Chan. “Well, I mean, my grandparents
emigrated
from China, but my parents were so big on integration that they never even let me have Chinese food as a kid. I think they were kind of ashamed that they had married each other, and not real Americans.”

“They
are
real Americans,” I said.

“That’s what I tell them,” he said.
“
But a
nyway,
they made me as generic American – especially non-Chinese – as they could. For instance, t
hey’
d be thrilled if I can get something going with Julie, because she’s their stereotype of a good old fashioned American girl.”

“Whoa there, Silver,” I said. “Number one, starting a relationship to please your parents is a horrible idea. Number two, I don’t like this talk of ‘getting something going’ with Julie.”

“Why? Are you into her, or something?”

I grinned at the thought. “No, I’m not into Julie. Think of me more like her big brother. Maybe I’m a little protective.”

“So I need your permission to date her?”

“Well, no. But I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

He looked at me intently. “In all seriousness, Jonah, I really like her. She’s got…”

“Spunk?”

“Yeah, something like that. She’s vivacious. And pretty.”

“
Just don’t be flippant about this. Under all that verve, she can be a very sensitive soul.”

“I’m not flippant,” he said.
“So,” he added, “I hear you have a cat.”

“Boy, word really does get around this town,” I said.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said.

“You’ve got to give him a name. An old Chinese proverb says it’s bad luck to have a cat with no name.”

“I thought you said your parents tried to raise you as non-Chinese as possible.”

“OK,” he admitted, “I made that up. But really, you should name the thing. How about Luther? You know, ‘cause you are a Lutheran pastor and all.”

“Alex,” I said, “You’re brilliant.”

“So you’re going to name him Luther?”

“No.”

There was a short silence. “Then why am I brilliant?”

“He shall be called Melanchthon.”

“Muh-what?”

“
Muh-lank-thon
,” I said, sounding it out for him. “Philip
p
Melanchthon was Martin Luther’s right hand man. He was a talented scholar in his own right.”

“So if the cat is Melanchthon, that makes you…”

“Martin Luther, of course.”

The Farmer's Credit Union of Moose Lake was robbed the next day.

I heard about
it
when I had lunch with Leyla at Dylan's. Even though the
Grand Lake Gazette
was published only three times a week, they did do special editions for significant news, and Leyla was an inveterate news hound.

“They robbed another bank, Jonah,” she told me while I munched on a mozzarella, tomato and avocado sandwich on grilled
Panini
bread. I decided happily that I was on an avocado kick.

“Did someone rob the bank or the customers?” I asked.

“Sorry, the customers.” She sipped some
C
oke. No diet for her. I appreciate a woman who can take her sugar and caffeine like a man.

“Why don't you start from the beginning?”

“It sounds exactly like the Grand Lake job.”

“'Job?' What, are we in
Ocean's Eleven
now?”

“You can be a very frustrating person to talk to,” she said. “I thought you'd want to hear this.”

“Sorry. You thought right. I do. I just can't restrain my natural ebullience around you.”

“Whatever.” She tossed her hair.

“So someone robbed the customers, like in Grand Lake?”

“Yes.
Two
people, dressed all in black, armed with automatic hand guns. They came busting in, got everyone on the floor, and then robbed from the customers, but left the bank alone.”

“
Two
people? There were three in Grand
Lake.”

“You shot one, remember?”

Suddenly I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. “You think he died?”

“Oh
,
Jonah, I'm sorry. I didn't really think of that. I don't know, of course.”

“Do you think it was self
-
defense, my shooting at him?”

“I don't think anyone is going
to
file charges against you
,
Jonah, and I don't think you'd be convicted if they did.”

I looked down at my sandwich. It was odd that food could taste so good, even when contemplating things so tragic.

“I didn't exactly mean the legal thing. I mean, was it justified?”

Leyla cocked her dark head and looked at me carefully. “Is it bothering you, Jonah?”

“A little. Yeah.”

She took my hand. Hers felt slim and small, but somehow I was comforted. “You did what you had to do.”

“That's what I'm telling myself. But is it true?”

Leyla took her time answering. “I wasn't there. I didn't experience what you did. But I k
now you. I know what drives you
and what doesn't. I didn't know those things before – when I let you down. But I know them now, and I trust your heart. If you shot at those bank robbers, it was because you had to, to protect yourself, and even more
,
to protect Arne and the others.”