‘‘Just for a while.’’
I could imagine the conversation between Johansen and the Iowa Department of Narcotics Enforcement and the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation. A state agent being murdered in the woods was bad enough, but to have heavily armed and unknown suspects to boot…
‘‘Shit, they were just sittin’ on a patch, Lamar… What went wrong?’’
‘‘I don’t know,’’ Lamar said, stopping and turning around. ‘‘I thought you might.’’
‘‘Hell,’’ I said, ‘‘I haven’t worked dope for five or six years. I don’t even known who they thought they might have.’’
That was very true. We worked all dope cases that way within the department. Need to know only. I was our intelligence officer, but I wouldn’t pressure them for the information unless I thought they might have something I needed. Lamar, as sheriff, had automatic ‘‘need to know,’’ but seldom asked.
‘‘Oh,’’ he said. He sounded a little disappointed, and turned back up the trail.
‘‘But I’ll know shortly,’’ I said. ‘‘Just a minute…’’
Since we were stopped, I took a spray can of insect repellent out of my camera bag. I sprayed it liberally on my face, hands, inside my hat, inside my shirt, on my waist, and finally on my ankles. As I was replacing the can, Lamar spoke.
‘‘Got somethin’ against bugs?’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ I said as we started back up the long, winding path to the crime scene. ‘‘I hate chiggers and mosquitoes.’’ I reached back into my camera bag. ‘‘You want some?’’
‘‘Nope. Never use the stuff. Bugs gotta eat too.’’
It occurred to me to look for my raincoat, which I’d tossed aside on the way to help Johansen. The fact that it was an olive green wasn’t going to be a lot of help, but it should have stood out because of its shape, if nothing else. I couldn’t find it, and made a mental note to look again when we came back.
We hit the crime scene proper about two minutes later. You really have to have worked a crime scene in the deep woods, with a temperature hovering around a hundred, and the humidity in the high nineties, to appreciate what a pain in the ass it can be. This one looked like it was scattered out over an area like a little plane wreck. Most of the activity was centered just up the path from where I’d encountered Johansen with the body of Kellerman.
There was one strand of yellow crime-scene tape winding its way from the path off to my right, disappearing into the bushes. Another went away to my left, and uphill, disappearing into the trees. They weren’t being used as barriers, but rather to indicate paths or tracks. Other tape was screening off small areas on both sides of the path. There was a large area to the left, where the underbrush gave way to grass. That whole area was festooned with little white boxes, covering small items of evidence. There seemed to be at least a hundred of them, maybe more. Then there were small tags, marking photo locations. Lots of those too. Plus, there were about five lab people there, as well as three Division of Criminal Investigation agents, and the deputy state medical examiner. And two young officers, a deputy from another county, and a state trooper I didn’t know, standing uncertainly around on what appeared to be a perimeter, looking a little nervous, but still spending most of their time looking at the scene through their dark glasses rather than scanning for possible bad guys in the bush. Hester Gorse, my favorite DCI agent, was there. Hester and I had worked together before, and I had a lot of confidence in her. She was kneeling down over a matted area in the underbrush, which contained a lump under a yellow disposable blanket. The medical examiner was standing beside her, pulling off a set of latex gloves. Hester looked up as we approached, and smiled.
‘‘What we got here?’’ asked Lamar.
‘‘We’re not sure,’’ said Hester, ‘‘but it looks like maybe the doper shot at Bill, Bill shot and killed the doper, and then the doper’s friends shot and killed Bill.’’
‘‘Hell, that oughta clear up who was involved, then,’’ said Lamar.
It flashed through my mind that there’s no such thing as an open-and-shut case. Little did I know.
‘‘Well, not really,’’ said Hester. ‘‘Something about this just isn’t adding up.’’
‘‘Okay.’’
‘‘Johansen has told us a lot,’’ she said, ‘‘but we need to know a lot more.’’
‘‘Where is he?’’ asked Lamar.
‘‘He and two DNE people are up toward the end of this valley.’’ Hester stood, and winced. ‘‘Almost as old as you, Houseman.’’ She grinned. ‘‘And you were the first one at the scene?’’
‘‘Naturally.’’
‘‘Good. Let’s get you together with the DNE troops, then.’’ She took off her gloves, and shook her hands to get the sweat off.
DNE. Also good. They could tell me a lot about who was growing what up here. And, just about on cue, there was a crunching noise up to the north, and two people I didn’t know came into view, with Johansen between them. He saw Lamar and me, and started over. The two DNE folks, whom I didn’t recognize, hung back for a second, and then decided that, whoever I was, they’d better be around when Ken talked to me, and overtook him in a couple of strides.
‘‘You okay, Ken?’’
‘‘Jesus, Carl. It was like a fuckin’ war.’’
‘‘Agent Bob Dahl, DNE,’’ said Agent Bob Dahl, interrupting.
‘‘Deputy Houseman, Investigator,’’ I said. ‘‘You helping out here with my case?’’ It’s always a good idea to establish the territorial limits. Right off the bat. Of course I put him at a bit of a disadvantage, because he wouldn’t ever say that he was helping me. After all, it was a DNE officer who was dead. But it was in my jurisdiction, and we were going to be fully involved. But he knew that I knew that he was supposed to do just that, and that was what counted. I decided I was going to like him as soon as he answered.
‘‘I’m helping them,’’ he said, indicating Hester and the rest of the Division of Criminal Investigation team. ‘‘But I’ll bet they’re helping you. I was his partner,’’ he said, obviously referring to Kellerman.
I nodded. ‘‘I’m sorry. And I’m really sorry about this,’’ I said, gesturing at the entire scene. ‘‘We’ll find out who did it.’’ I turned back to Ken. ‘‘What happened, Ken? Who did this?’’
Ken didn’t know. But he did tell me, all in a rush, that he was certain that he was taking fire from at least three different locations at once; that he thought the dead doper was local; and that he thought Bill had shot the doper; and that the doper’s associates, whom they had apparently missed when they came up, shot Bill, and he damned well knew that he hadn’t killed anybody. But that he’d tried pretty damned hard.
‘‘Okay.’’ I was thinking about his shots at me as I came up the trail. Well, at least now I knew that he aimed a little high. Thank God.
‘‘We saw this one,’’ said Ken, gesturing at the mound under the blanket. ‘‘He was just walkin’ through the woods, came right up the path.’’
‘‘Okay…’’
‘‘Like he wasn’t all that cautious. Had a shotgun, and that other gear with him. We saw him, then we lost him as he hit the trail.’’ He pointed uphill and to the right of the trail. ‘‘We were up there.’’
‘‘Right.’’
‘‘We saw him again, once, and Kellerman and I decided to go get him.’’ Johansen looked at us, distressed. ‘‘There are two ways to the patch from here, you know.’’
We didn’t, but we nodded just the same.
‘‘We split up,’’ he said, ‘‘and after a few seconds, I heard two shots, about the same time. I thought, maybe, that somebody…’’
Johansen gulped down some water. None of us said a word.
‘‘God, it’s hot,’’ he said. ‘‘I thought that he’d fired a couple of shots to get the doper to stop. I went running back, and hollered, but nobody said anything, and then there were a whole bunch of shots. .. Jesus, there were a lot.’’
He’d rushed on, and as he came to where the dead doper was lying, he saw someone in camouflage clothing rise up and point a gun at him. ‘‘Shit, I thought it was Kellerman, you know?’’
Oh, yeah. When you’re expecting to see a particular person, you see ’em. Even if it’s not them at all.
‘‘I said, ‘It’s me,’ and then I saw it wasn’t him, and I just dove into the bushes and the son of a bitch just started shootin’ at me.’’ He shuddered. ‘‘I fuckin’ landed on Bill, man. Right across his legs. Oh, shit, I mean, he was
