Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [38]
‘‘Where is Howler these days?’’
‘‘I don’t know, man, but if he’s hidin’, you’ll never find him. They got him scared, man, they really do.’’
Hey. An Army-Navy SEAL would scare just about anybody.
I started looking for Howler. First person I contacted was Beth Harper, Turd’s surviving girlfriend. She told me that Howler had moved in with Nan, the girl Hester and I had seen at Beth’s place. I next called the Freiberg police, and they told me the same thing. Hardly seemed to be hiding. I got to Nan’s place about half an hour later. Howler answered the door. Artfully concealed.
His first question was ‘‘How’d you find me?’’
We talked for almost an hour. It turned out that he actually had seen three men, in cammo clothing, on the road near the area where the marijuana patch had been. Armed with rifles, he said, that appeared to be M-16s. M-16s used 5.56 mm ammo, one of the types found at the scene. Hats, boots, and web gear. That’s what he said.
‘‘Any idea who they might have been?’’ I didn’t want to hit him with the SEAL stuff, as it might give up my source.
‘‘Navy SEALS. Had to be.’’
‘‘Why’s that?’’
‘‘They were in a blue jeep, man. You know. Blue. Navy.’’
‘‘Navy jeeps,’’ I said, ‘‘are gray.’’
He paused a few seconds. ‘‘You sure about that?’’
‘‘Yep.’’
‘‘You think they were Air Force, then?’’
We concentrated on the date. He wasn’t certain, but he thought it was on the 17th of June. Two days prior to the shootings.
‘‘What were you doing up there anyway?’’ My reserve question.
After a couple of minutes hemming and hawing, it developed that he’d dropped Turd off to tend the patch. Of such stuff are co-conspirators made.
‘‘For Johnny Marks?’’
Well, yes, as a matter of fact, but don’t tell Johnny. And, anyway, he wasn’t sure I’d be able to find Marks as quickly as I’d been able to ‘‘find’’ him.
I asked if he’d told Johnny about the cammo troops. Yes. And Turd? Yes.
‘‘That’s why he had the shotgun,’’ he said. ‘‘But I don’t think he really believed me. Otherwise he wouldn’t have gone up there.’’
Aha.
‘‘Did you ever think they were cops? When you saw them.’’
Actually, no, he hadn’t. Howler apparently was one to go with his first impressions.
‘‘What,’’ I asked, ‘‘did you think a SEAL team was doing in a state park in Iowa?’’
Training. That’s what he said. Along with ‘‘Hey, who knows what the Feds are doin’.’’
We had that in common anyway.
On Sunday, the 7th, with all the state and federal cops off, I had nobody to talk with about the investigation. I wanted to talk to Johnny Marks again, but I wanted to have his probation officer with me when I did. He was off, of course, and wasn’t answering his home phone. I really had nothing else to do, so I went back to the scene of the crime. I told Lamar where I was going to be.
There was a light rain, and everything in the woods was shiny in a gray sort of way. It was very hot, very humid, of course, and I had to wear my infamous rubberized raincoat just to protect my recorder, walkie-talkie, gun, notepad, and to keep my reading glasses dry. Trouble was, I was so hot under that damned thing, it was probably as wet inside as outside the rain gear. I had two cans of bug spray with me and sprayed under the coat frequently. Didn’t help the moisture, but I didn’t get eaten by mosquitoes.
I got to the area where the killings had taken place and hunkered down under a big tree, where I could see most of the area. I just looked around, trying to place myself in the position of both officers, just before they saw Turd. The vegetation was a little different, having grown a bit, and the grass was no longer matted down in places. I could see the problem they would have had in acquiring the little doper in the first place. I looked toward where the shooters had been. They could have come to their positions at any time, and if they had been quiet, they would have remained undetected until they stood up. That made me wonder. I got up, and took a long walk over to where they had been lying in wait. Sure enough. They couldn’t have seen the cops get in position either. The more