October Fest

“They are, and so are her people. And Swydecker. Deputy Wohnt told them it would be in their best interest to remain in our fair city.” She sighed. “Doesn’t he look great? That man has put on weight in all the right places since he left.”

I ignored her. “So Glokkmann and her crew and Swydecker and his crew are in town indefinitely but everyone else in the motel was sent on their way?”

“Yes and no. Swydecker doesn’t have a crew. But otherwise, you got it.”

“So those two are the main suspects in Webber’s murder?” I circled their names in my notebook and drew unhappy faces next to them.

“Not sure. The Deputy and I don’t share all our information.”

“But you’re the Chief!”

She purred. “I certainly am, but a smart woman knows to let a man feel like he’s in charge.” She tried to switch subjects. “Have you seen all the national news reporters in town? Bronze and Bond is going to be a huge success.”

“What’s Swydecker’s alibi?”

“I’ll tell you after you help me spray-tan strangers.”

I groaned. “Can’t you tell me now?”

“And risk you not showing? No way. Free help is hard to come by.”

“You said I’d make $250 an hour!”

“No, I asked you if you wanted to make $250 an hour. Completely different than offering you $250 an hour. One is a commitment, and the other is small talk. See you tomorrow at 6:00!” And she hung up.

Agh. No use worrying about what I couldn’t change. I channeled my frustration into researching Bernard Mink, my last total unknown. I first located a series of Register articles he’d written. He didn’t seem to have a beat, covering sports, local news, and community events equally. More interesting than the articles he’d written were the ones he appeared in. They weren’t news stories so much as police logs, and I unearthed two of them, one from three years ago and one posted the previous month. The oldest blotter entry:

Police were called to a Lincoln Street residence on a report of domestic dispute. Officers arrived to find Fergus Falls residents Bernard Mink, age fifty-three, and Andrea Lang, age forty-two, arguing over meatballs. Mr. Mink was charged with fifth-degree assault for threatening to choke Ms. Lang with a Crockpot power cord and fourth degree assault for resisting arrest. Ms. Lang left with the meatballs.

And the most recent:

Police were called to a Lincoln Street residence on a report of domestic dispute. When officers arrived, they discovered a belligerent Bernard Mink, Fergus Falls resident, age fifty-six, in a physical altercation with Pelican Rapids resident Claude Wayne, age thirty-two. Mr. Wayne claimed he was a neighbor who’d interceded in a physical fight between Mr. Mink and Roberta Kennedy, Fergus Falls resident, age sixty-three. Ms. Kennedy declined to press charges. Mr. Mink was charged with third-degree assault.

The police logs left my hands shaking. They painted a portrait of Bernard as an abusive creep. I had figured I would find something like this, but I didn’t want to be right. I had to tell Mrs. Berns, but how?

13

I strode into Mrs. Berns’ hospital room and was happy to find that her family wasn’t around. “Here.” I held out the pumpkin-and-spice colored mums I’d bought for her, trying not to wince at the sight of her harsh bruises. “How’re you doing?”

She shushed me and pointed at the TV. The evenings news was on, and if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, this national news station’s cameras were panning downtown Battle Lake. “And it’s here that the campaigns of Representative Sarah Glokkmann and her challenger, Arnold Swydecker, took a precarious turn.” The camera found the face of the commentator and widened slightly to include an appropriately somber-looking Glokkmann.

“Representative Glokkmann, can you comment on the death of Bob Webber, the man behind The Body Politic?”

“It’s terribly sad, Craig. This whole town is shook up about it. My staff tells me it appears to be suicide. He must have been a desperate man.”

The commentator nodded sagely. “There’s been some talk that this was a murder.”

Glokkmann looked shocked. “Well, I’ll leave the investigative work to the police force.”

The reporter tightened his lips. “Will this unfortunate tragedy affect your campaign?”

“I’m always saddened by an early death, but I didn’t know Mr. Webber personally. My condolences go out to his friends and family. In the meanwhile, I have a job as a representative of Minnesota, and I have a duty to fulfill. I will fulfill it.”

“Thank you. I’m Craig Clutch, live from Battle Lake, Minnesota.”

I stared at the image of Glokkmann appearing properly sad but not weak. She was a polished act, and I became aware that I needed to speak with her, and soon. Swydecker, too. They wouldn’t be in town for much longer, and I had a strong hunch that one of them knew exactly who’d killed Bob Webber.

“That woman is as slick as pirate snot, isn’t she?” Mrs. Berns flipped off the TV.

“I didn’t know you watched that channel.”

“Gotta get my laughs somewhere.”

I smiled. “You never answered me from before. How’re you feeling?”

“That’s a stupid question. My face is purple, my leg is broken, and my ribs are cracked. I’m feeling like a half- eaten lobster. They tell me I get out Wednesday, though, so you better come pick me up.”

“Really? That soon?”

“Insurance doesn’t want to pay to keep an old lady around. They say the rehab facilities at the Sunset will be enough. You bring me any wine with those flowers?”

“Sorry. Doctor’s orders. You must have much better stuff here anyhow.”

She shook her head sadly. “Used to, but I don’t any longer. Got my morphine privileges revoked yesterday. Seems the hospital staff has a different definition of ‘as needed’ than I do. So tell me what you know about who killed the bobber.”

“Blogger. And first you gotta tell me why Elizabeth was in town, remember?”

“Blogger to you too.” She sighed dramatically and flattened her bedspread. “Fine. You know that it’s Conrad’s fault I was checked into a nursing home a few years back, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, that same bug has bit him again. Somebody told somebody about our wild antics at the State Fair, and it got back to him. He’s putting his foot down.”

“ Our wild antics?”

“I’m an old lady. You’re going to put all this on my shoulders?”

I rolled my eyes and got back on topic. “But that doesn’t make any sense. You’re already in a nursing home. What more can he do?”

She handed me a brochure from her nightstand. “Shady Acres Retirement Home” was emblazoned across the top. I flipped it open. It looked like a bucolic place. “I haven’t heard of this one. Where’s it at?”

“South of the Cities. And it’s a maximum security place for elderly patients with dementia. He wants me declared mentally incompetent and shipped off for my own safety. His words.”

“Noooo!”

She furrowed her brow. “He needs at least two family signatures on the commitment form, which is why Elizabeth flew up. She wanted to see firsthand if I was as loony as Conrad was saying.”

I thought back. “That’s why you were wearing granny clothes last time I saw you at the Sunset?”

“Among other things, like going to church regularly and getting a marriage license I didn’t intend to use to