Old World Murder - Kathleen Ernst [78]
Chloe shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t you care?”
“Nope.” She didn’t. Her first-day dream of finding normal was long gone—splintered in a car wreck, bashed in the head.
Byron shook his head. But when the waitress returned with the check, he snatched it from her hand. “Give it to me,” he said. “I’m buying.”
____
“Well, I’d consider it a courtesy,” Roelke told the Dane County detective assigned to Mr. Solberg’s murder. “I know Ms. Ellefson’s problems are likely unrelated, but you never know … yes, you can reach me here. Thanks.” He dictated the Eagle Police Department number before hanging up.
“What was that about?” Chief Naborski asked from behind him.
Roelke had waited until Marie was on break before making the call, and he’d wanted to get as much information as possible before talking with the chief. So much for that plan. He swiveled to face his boss. “It’s a long story.”
Chief Naborski jerked his head. “Come into my office.”
Fifteen minutes later, the older man knew everything that Roelke did. He had listened in silence, his chair tipped back toward the wall. Now he let the chair rest on four legs and put both palms on his desk. “So. You’re indirectly connected to a murder in Dane County because a friend of yours found the body.”
“I think it might be tied to the events at Old World Wisconsin.”
“You’ve got an unlocked trailer that might have been left that way by the employee. A possible intruder alert from an outdated system that often gives false alarms, at a building that appears to be undisturbed. Still no burglary report from the site director.” The chief picked up a pencil and began playing with it.
“Yeah,” Roelke admitted. “That’s about what I’ve got.”
They heard Marie come back from break and slam her purse into a drawer in the next room. “Let me know if you hear anything from Dane County,” Chief Naborski said finally. “But you probably won’t. Roelke, this is not your concern. We do not have jurisdiction on state property. You will not involve yourself further.”
“Right.” Roelke kept his best cop face in place.
“Any luck tracing the bookie who ripped off Ginger Herschorn’s nephew?”
“Still working on it. I’m pretty sure we don’t have enough to convince a judge we need a warrant. There’s one other angle …”
“What’s that?”
“A guy came into the bar that first night, acting squirrely. Stanley Colontuono. Lives at the end of Marigold Court. Neighbors have been complaining about a surge in traffic into his place over the past couple of weeks. Skeet and I have been keeping an eye on it.”
“What kind of vehicles?”
“All kinds. More beaters than anything else, but a couple of high-end jobs as well. If Colontuono is our bookie, he might have moved his operation home after he found out we’d had a complaint. Or it could be drugs. Or nothing at all.”
The chief nodded. “Keep me posted.”
Roelke headed out on patrol, hoping the Dane County detective would call back by the end of his shift. If not, Roelke would get in touch with him later, and leave his home telephone number instead.
____
Chloe was working in the trailers that afternoon when the phone rang. She glanced at her watch: ten to five. Maybe Ralph had waited until the end of the day to fire her. She answered in her most courteous and professional tone: “Chloe Ellefson.”
The voice in her ear was definitely not Ralph Petty’s. “I need you to get over here. Right now. Before I explode.”
Chloe blinked. “Nika?”
“I will not be treated this way. You hear me?”
“What way?” Chloe began, then interrupted herself. “No, wait. You’re at the church? I’ll come over.”
By the time she reached the main entrance the site was officially closed, so Chloe took the liberty of driving out to St. Peter’s Church. Nika stood by the fence, rigid.
“What is this all about?” Chloe asked as she got out of her car.
“I’ll show you.” Nika turned and marched down the basement stairs. With every step the white wooden beads adorning the bottom of each cornrowed braid bounced for emphasis.
In two short weeks, Nika had made amazing progress in transforming the church basement