The Equalizer (7 page)

What the hell was Jack doing? Why did he chastise me for questioning Brutlag as a suspect? Was something else going on? I wanted Ralph’s feedback after he viewed the tape. Regardless of Jack’s opinion about Kohler’s alleged sexual impropriety with Lisa Kelly, if she had a boyfriend and she told him Kohler molested her, the boyfriend was definitely a suspect.

After showering and changing, I gave Ralph a quick call to brief him how the interview went. He said he’d review the tape and would contact Ms. Kelly and her boyfriend, if she had one, and set up interviews. Shortly after, I received a text that he’d set them for 1:00 p.m.—the same time I was talking to Ronny Peterson’s parents.

Chapter 8

P
eterson’s two-story house was on
Eighth Street, a couple blocks north of Kohler’s. More and more of early twentieth-century homes in this area were refurbished, Peterson’s included. A round, middle-aged woman who stood about five feet tall let me in the front hallway. Dark circles underscored her red, puffy eyes. When I introduced myself, she said she was Ronny’s mother but to call her Ellen. She showed me into the living room and introduced an older, heavier version of Ronny as her husband. He stood as I moved across to shake his hand. Like his son, Mr. Peterson was five-foot-seven at most.

“Ron Senior,” he said.

“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” I said. “You both have my deepest sympathy on your loss.”

“Just find the maniac that killed my boy,” he said.

“We’re doing our best, sir.”

As Senior went back to his Lazy Boy, he gestured for me to be seated as well. I sat on a high-back chair and Ellen the sofa.

“He shouldn’t have even been out there,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “He was supposed to be at the dentist, so when Naomi Moberg came by to tell me he’d been killed, I didn’t believe her.”

Senior waved his finger at me. “I think they walked into something bad going on out there—a drug deal, or something.”

“We’ll certainly look at all the possibilities,” I said. I thought of the drug stash and paraphernalia in the storage garage that could be their son’s.

Ronny’s clone came in and sat down on the other end of the sofa. Senior introduced him as their son, Kevin.

“I lost a brother too.” I said.

Kevin nodded.

“Then you know how we’re suffering. Our boys were eleven months apart and were always very close,” Ellen said.

Kevin put his arm around his mother.

“I know this time is very difficult for you all. Thank you for taking time to answer my questions this afternoon.”

I pulled out my small recording device. The family sat quietly as I recorded the date, time, place, and those present, then placed it on the coffee table.

“Did Ronny mention anyone he was having a conflict with?”

The three Petersons looked at me blankly, as if they didn’t understand my question.

“The more information we get, the faster we can solve the case,” I said.

“You think our Ronny was a target?” Senior asked.

Your son was an asshole, so yeah, could be.
“We don’t know what happened out there, so if you can give us any information as to who he may have had problems with, we’ll be able to make more informed decisions.”

“People liked Ronny,” Mrs. Peterson said, “He was a good boy.”

Kevin pointed at me. “Snake.”

His parents’ heads whipped toward their son.

“Do you mean Nevada Wynn?” I asked.

Snake was the street name for a known drug dealer—an all around bad guy. I’d heard he’d moved to Minneapolis when the multi-agency task force turned the heat up on the dealers and traffickers doing business in the county. His name had been mentioned in connection with Pierce Redding the guy Ronny had a fight with.

“Yeah, that’s his name.”

“Tell me about it.”

“All I know is Snake and a buddy of his didn’t like Ronny for some reason and picked a fight with him last summer.”

“What was it about?”

“I guess he looked at them wrong, or something.”

Or something.
“Ronny buy from him?”

“What do you mean
buy
?” Mrs. Peterson asked.

“He means drugs, Ma,” Kevin said.

Mr. Peterson stiffened. Mrs. Peterson shook her head. “Ronny didn’t use drugs. He was a church-going boy.”

Right. The other days he drank himself ornery and looked for fights.
“Anyone else come to mind who might have
picked
on him? Any coworkers, for example?”

“Everybody loved him at work. His boss said he’ll be highly missed,” Mrs. Peterson said.

“Would you write down a list of his current friends so I might question them?”

“Kevin, you do that. There’s a pad of paper on the counter in the kitchen,” Mrs. Peterson said.

Kevin lumbered out of the room. I was curious how long that list would be.

“I understand he lived with you,” I said.

“Both boys do because they take classes at the Community College.”

I nodded.
And I’ll bet mama takes mighty good care of her boys so they didn’t ever think about moving out.
“Did Ronny leave his mobile phone home by any chance?” I asked.

“No, I’m sure not. That thing is glued to his hand.”

“Does he have another cell phone beside the one the county provides?”

“No, he said he didn’t need another,” Mrs. Peterson said.

“May I look through his things?”

“The lab people took a bag of stuff from his room last night, but you’re welcome to have a look.”

I nodded then followed his mother down to the lower level. She said the boys’ bedrooms were across from each other. Both were very neat, vacuumed, and dusted. Mrs. Peterson stayed to watch as I went through Ronny’s closet, searched pockets of clothing, and tidy drawers. Hunting magazines were stacked neatly on his bedside table and photos of hunting and fishing trips were taped to his mirror.

“I don’t know what they took in those bags that could possibly help to find his killer,” she said.

“Did you clean up his room before the lab people got here?”

She hunched her shoulders. “How did you know?”

“Because I know moms—and this room is too tidy for most guys in their early twenties.”

“I just got rid of garbage—nothing that’ll help you.”

“I’d like to see it.”

I followed her upstairs and into the garage. She didn’t seem happy to hand me the stuffed white kitchen garbage bag.

“Those BCA people already took our garbage from the cans.”

“You never know what clues can be found in trash.”

I grabbed the list from Kevin, told the family we’d do everything we could to find their son’s killer, and drove back to the department.

I found Ralph in the hallway near the interview rooms. “Whatcha got there?”

“A bag of trash from Ronny’s room that his mother hid from the BCA, and a list of his friends.”

“First, let’s have a quick look at the bag,” he said.

“Three Playboys, beer cans, a half eaten bag of Cheetos and Little Debbie wrappers. No wonder she picked it up,” Ralph said. “Ah, just dump it.”

Then I showed him the list Kevin had written: Max Becker, Aaron Young, and Todd and Chad Hackett. The first two must manage to stay out of trouble because I didn’t know them, but the Hackett brothers had juvenile records and connections to Wynn.

“How’d it go with the secretary and her boyfriend?”

“Surprising development,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Come watch her interview then we’ll take Johnston on. He can sit and cook a little longer.”

Lisa Kelly was attractive
and looked younger than her years. For a petite woman, she had voluptuous curves emphasized by her clothing: a short jeans skirt and a white blouse that pulled across her full breasts. Her curly, light brown hair was cut just below chin level. When Ralph mentioned to Ms. Kelly he was video-recording the interview, her eyes nervously darted around the room. When he turned on the small cassette recorder on the table, she began to chew on her lower lip.

“I understand you were Mr. Kohler’s secretary, Miss Kelly.”

She leaned in toward the small recorder to speak.
“Yes, sir.”

“When did you first find out about his death?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Kohler called and told me. I was so shocked, but I’d been wondering where he was because he didn’t show up at the office. I almost called his home to find out if he was sick or something.”

“How did you get the job with Mr. Kohler?”

“I answered an ad in the paper last year. He hired me on the spot—even helped me find an apartment.”

“In that time, have you witnessed any instances of conflict or confrontations he had with anyone?”

“No. He was very friendly and had good relationships with all his clients. Is that what you’re asking me?”

“Yes. It’s been reported to us that Mr. Kohler molested you. Is that correct?”

Lisa looked startled and immediately blushed a deep red.
“Um . . . yes.”

“Tell me what happened.”

She swallowed. “Well, late one afternoon . . .”

“The date?”

“Uh, it was Thursday, September 29th, just before I was ready to go home and change for work out at Cadillac Jack’s. I work out there to earn money for my wedding. Anyways, Mr. Kohler asked me to get the Olson’s file, but he followed me right into the file room. He came up very close behind and . . .” Lisa Kelly broke into sobs.

“It’s okay. Take your time,” Ralph said.

“You don’t understand,” she said through her tears.

“What don’t I understand?” Ralph asked.

“I—I made it up. I was trying to make Mike jealous and it worked.”

Oh, boy.

“Mike?”

“Mike Johnston—my fiancé.”

“Does he know you made it up?”

“Not exactly,” she said.

“Why did you feel you had to do that?”

“Mike was going out drinking with the boys again. I called and told him. I needed him, then the words tumbled out of my mouth . . . that Mr. Kohler had touched me—you know—inappropriately.”

“What did Mike do at that point?”

“He was really mad, wanted to come right over—but I stopped him—calmed him down.”

“Then?”

“Then he said he’d be at Cadillac Jack’s later. He proposed to me that night.“

Holy shit.

“Did you tell anyone about the molestation?”

“Molestation? Well, I sorta told Ben, my boss, and right away he insisted on calling his dad, you know—the sheriff. I got real nervous when he came over from his house next door and talked to me. I didn’t want to get Ted in trouble with the law so I told the sheriff I needed the job, so maybe I should just forget it.”

“Anyone else you told?”

“Oh, I think Bob heard me too, but I did tell everyone to forget it,” Lisa said.

“Bob who?”

“I don’t know his last name.”

“Where were you on the morning of Friday, October 7th? The morning your boss was killed” he asked.

“Mike stayed over on Thursday night. Then we went to Dotty’s for breakfast, and then I went to work.”

“What time did you get to work?”

“About 9:00,” she said.

“And Mike was with you all that time?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t he go to work that day?”

“He had a doctor’s appointment at ten, so he took the morning off.”

“What for?”

“Huh? Oh, the appointment . . . he had a mole removed.”

“Miss Kelly, were you aware of any relationships Mr. Kohler might have had? Any women happen to drop by the office? Call him?”

“Just business appointments.”

“Did the Kohlers seem to get along as far as you know?”

“Yes . . . well, sometimes I could tell they were fighting, but doesn’t everybody?”

“Can you think of any instances where he had irate or upset clients?”

“No, not really,” she said.

“Well, that’s all I have for you at the moment. Mind waiting here?”

“No.”

Ralph stopped the tape. “Unbelievable eh?”

“Who lies about that kind of thing?”

“It happens.”

“You know even if it wasn’t true, Johnston doesn’t know that and he has motive.”

“My thought exactly. So now, it’s Johnston’s turn. You want to take it? I’ll sit in. I’d like to bring these two together for the end of the interview.”

“Okay.”

Having Ralph sit in
was a whole lot different than having Jack there. Johnston was already waiting for us in Interview Room Number Three. At first glance, I thought he was bald, but his blond hair was buzzed to maybe a sixteenth of an inch long. He was dressed in a body-hugging plaid shirt and black slacks. He was about five-foot-ten, weighed at least 225 pounds, and had a neck the size of Colorado. This boy was a body builder and definitely could do someone physical harm.

I explained the taping process and gave the case number, time, date, and then asked him to state his personal information. He said he worked at the tile plant in Brainerd and lived with his parents. Lot of that going around.

Johnston leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“
Let’s get on with it. I have things to do.”

Jesus Louise.
Things to do?
I leaned forward, cocked my head, and stared into his eyes. “Is that right? Well, Mr. Johnston, I think you just better sit back and relax, because you’ll be here answering questions for as long as needs be. Understood?” I asked.

Johnston didn’t acknowledge he understood and he didn’t move a muscle except to clench his oversized jaw.

“Why don’t you tell us why you’re upset?”

I heard foot tapping. “I’m not upset. I’ve just been sitting in here for a goddamn hour.”

“Golly, sorry to keep you waiting while we question others in a double murder investigation. So, what’s your relationship with Ted Kohler?”

“He was my girlfriend’s boss.”

“How did you feel about him?”

He looked at me for a good ten seconds before he answered. “He was okay.”

“Ted had a reputation for being a real nice guy, but I suspect not everyone held that opinion. How about you? Did you have any reason to dislike the guy?”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t you enlighten us?”

“What am I? A suspect or somethin’?”

“Why would you be a suspect?”

A red hue creep swept across Mike Johnston’s face and down his tree stump neck. “Why else would you haul me in here?”