Chisago Creek

By Dan Allex

The preliminary landscaping for a townhouse development digs up years of secrets. Secrets that more than one person would go away. The more the digging crew goes, the more bodies start appearing.
After six young girls are recovered in Chisago Marsh, in various states of decomposition, Lake County Sheriff, Ray Dunning, calls in for more help. His friends from their,
"Eye of the Owl," Las Vegas detective agency, fly in for what they think will be a routine murder case, but ends up nothing what they expected.
With only two of the agency's associates remaining at the office a new client offers them a percentage if lost cash can be retrieved. Along with the acceptance comes the
task of vetting a treasure map and it's owners, organizing a scuba dive team to search, and monitoring an adventure under Lake Mead and beyond.
Both cases that the agency are involved in present unique challenges. The resolution for each are not as imagined, but justice is delivered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Allex
• Release date: Dec 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370391295

Dan Allex

Dan Allex (Dan Kubicek) was born in Austin, Minnesota. I am retired and enjoy exploring the mountains of Colorado after moving here 5 years ago. My hobbies are golf, fly fishing, pheasant hunting, skiing and reading.My wife and I had lived in Las Vegas, Nv. for twenty-five years, and recently relocated to Denver to be closer to our son and his family.I enjoy telling a story, and I hope people get some enjoyment from my books. Visit danallex-com1.webs.com/ for more information about the upcoming mysteries and the author.Books in print are available now at danallex-com1.webs.com where you can order direct for less.Take a look at Chisago Creek, my latest book. It is a Minnesota mystery that is a page-turner. If you visit to Austin, stop in and browse at Sweet Reads, my favorite bookstore.

Book preview

Prologue

German Lake, Minnesota

The mist was lingering even as the morning sun promised another hot September day in Minnesota. Carl Clearwater would work the backhoe only after insisting a bed of used railroad ties was laid for a stable foundation for his equipment so it wouldn’t disappear. As he operated the bucket he thought his words might have been exaggerated, but he had worked in bogs like this before, and wanted to bypass some of the other problems he had experienced.

The steamy air hung in pockets in the lower elevations that followed Chisago Creek through the marsh. If he wasn’t starving for work, he would have never taken this job. Tiling out a low area like this was usually easy work, but Carl could never understand why a landowner would be so desperate to pick out a few acres of lowland and make it tillable. In this case the owner wasn’t a farmer, he was a developer. His acreage paralleled the creek, and in this situation the owner intended to reclaim almost ten acres from the bog that would be a landscaped green belt that would be part of Chisago Creek Townhomes.

Carl moved the backhoe with the precision of a surgeon. After twenty years of operating heavy equipment he had a reputation of being THE man to call when a delicate or dangerous dig was required. Leaving a backhoe sinking in a clay bog, was one of the worst nightmares of an excavating company’s owner. It wasn’t rocket science. Carl had done it plenty of times, and in most cases the railroad ties did the job.

Today was his second day on the project, and so far it was going well. As he swung the bucket over to drop it’s payload away from the soggier area, he instantly stopped the load and left it suspended. He stood up to get a closer look while hoping what he saw wasn’t true.

Carl crossed himself with the Sign of the Cross as he recognized what the last bucket revealed, a human tibia along with a pelvic bone.

Chapter 1

Henderson, Nevada

It was early for Jan, but Dave Johnson and his Chihuahua, Chief, had been up for a hour already. No reason for them being up at five am, just the regular time for both of them to rise. At dawn Chief had done his business, patrolled the perimeter of the townhouse backyard, and them trotted into the house to retrieve his tasty reward. The dog could catch a Hormel pepperoni slice right out of the air, and would only miss if it was a bad toss.

Jan, Dave’s wife, noticed the vibrating of his cellphone as it danced and glowed.

After seeing the display, she rolled her eyes as she said to her husband, For crying out loud, it’s Ray Dunning, in Minnesota!

For twenty-five years Dave had been the Sheriff of Lake County, Minnesota, and Ray Dunning served as his deputy for most of that time. After Dave had taken a bullet in the hip during a domestic dispute gone bad, he had retired, leaving Ray the job.

If it hadn’t been for Willard Olson, Dave’s neighbor, he could have bled to death from the femoral artery that was opened by the bullet. Retiring was not on Johnson’s mind, nor had Dunning ever considered the sheriff’s retiring-neither was prepared for the quick change. Jan’s belief that her husband ran the county and it could not run without him was confirmed by Ray frequently, sometimes daily, phoning to request guidance and help from Dave.

These calls were a pet peeve for Jan, but they tapered off after a year or so, and now after leaving German Lake for almost five years, here was Ray Dunning calling again!

Jan said nothing because she could see the concerned look coming over her husband’s face as he listened to the call.

He hung up and Dave exclaimed, Holy shit, Ray says that they’ve found some skeletal remains in Chisago Creek marsh!

Is that a concern of ours? Jan asked.

It may become one, said Dave. After the discovery of a tibia and pelvic bone, they continued to dig until dusk, and so far they’ve turned up six full skeletons.

Dave, could it be an old Indian burial ground?

I asked Ray that, and he says Carl Clearwater, a Native American backhoe operator, said that an Indian burial ground wouldn’t be anywhere close to damp soil. They’re still digging, but Ray would like me to give him some help, along with anyone else that could come.

Jan bit her lip and decided not to voice her disgust with Dunning. It wouldn’t be appropriate. She could see the way her husband had his jaw set, and that was always an indication of something stuck in his brain.

With a sly grin and a twinkle in his voice, he asked, Well, Jan, how would you like a vacation at German Lake?

Chapter 2

The delegation going to German Lake consisted of Dave Johnson, wife, Jan, and Jim Roberts, retired FBI, with Willard Olson, retired pharmacist. All the friends had moved to Las Vegas and formed a detective and investigative agency called, Eye of the Owl. Dave and Jan were the first ones that made the relocation because their son, Mike, had accepted a job with a thriving dental practice in Las Vegas. In order to see the grandkids as much as they would like, Dave and Jan made the switch. Jim Roberts and his wife, Betty, came along after Jim retired from his station chief post for the FBI in Salt Lake City, Utah. Willard and Helen relocated to Las Vegas after they were recently married. Willard still owned his cabin on German Lake that was close to Chisago Creek. The cabin was next door to the Johnson’s former residence, where they had been neighbors for over twenty years.

Willard left a used Jeep Cherokee in Minnesota with his cousin who lived close to the airport. When he left it he told his cousin, Hans, that he was welcome to use the SUV with the only stipulation being he would have to occasionally pick up Willard at the Minneapolis airport.

After they retrieved their baggage and moved out to the curb, there was Hans with the Cherokee, washed and waxed, ready to go. Willard and Helen had eventually taken his F-150 to Las Vegas. Helen drove a Wrangler in Vegas, and it was perfect for zipping around town, but the reason she really wanted a 4X4 was for off- roading and desert trails.

The five of them were snug with the luggage stacked to the roof of the back storage. Jan, Jim, and Will took the back seat with Dave driving and Hans riding shotgun. He’d be first off because he lived close to the route to German Lake.

Dave’s wife had told him to drive, because with his bad hip it was easier for him to get in the front by using the steering wheel to hoist himself in.

But, Dave had to comment, Thanks, Jan, but I could have made it in the backseat too.

Jan replied, Shut up, you would have had a hell of time getting in here.

Willard said, Yah, I second the Shut up."

Jan said, Thanks, Will. It’s nice to have someone listen to me.

Dave couldn’t be quiet, I listen to you, Jan. It’s just that I don’t always agree with you.

I miss Chiefy already, said Jan. He listens to me better than my husband.

Chief, their Chihuahua, couldn’t make the trip and was staying with Willard’s wife, Helen, and their dog, Snickers. The two dogs got along fine after the Golden Retriever learned that the Chihuahua didn’t want to romp and play. Chief, at thirteen years old, wanted to do mostly couch time.

Helen had recently started working at the Great Harvest Bakery, across Horizon Avenue from the Eye of the Owl office. She hated to ask for time off when she had only worked there for three weeks. Helen would have loved to tag along, and she so liked the lake. The timing didn’t work for her, and besides, it was impossible to fly with the dogs. Their cabin was only a two bedroom, so it would be tight even without her. When they still lived at German Lake and had more than an extra couple of visitors, they could always rent a cabin at the Beaver Dam Resort, which was across the lake. The owner of the resort, George, was cantankerous and tried to make them feel like it was an imposition to rent to them, but his wife, Fran, was quick to straighten him out, and told them not to listen to her husband.

Fran would say, Don’t pay any attention to George, we appreciate your business. He has to give you guys a bad time-he was born with a sour disposition and it never left him.

George’s wife was eight years younger than him, and she was what held their business together. Along with the rental cabins, they also had a bait and tackle, general store, bar and restaurant, all rolled into one. Along with being the stabilizing force of the business, Fran also had many of the old regulars stopping by to have a few beers and play cards. That’s what they told their wives, but if they were honest they really wanted to talk with George’s wife, and get a glimpse of her short cut off jeans and tee shirt, her normal work uniform. Fran flirted with the regulars…they loved it, and she liked the harmless old farts. Having them hanging around made the day pass faster, telling Ole and Lena jokes, and playing cards, while they nursed their beers. Local color, is what Fran called them, and George called them free loaders, beer-nursing crackpots.

Dave drove in on County Road 11 from the north to German Lake, and instead of turning onto the lake road, he slowly went on a half a mile and made a u-turn so they could get on the east side of the road. He wanted to drive by Chisago Creek marsh so they could get a first hand look at where the skeletal remains were found. Carl Clearwater’s backhoe was idle while the access road to the dig was lined with state, county, and federal vehicles, some news station trucks-even some of them were even parked on the shoulder of County 11.

Dave commented, Geez, right there is where they found them. Nuts, I can’t think of six people who have been murdered or disappeared over all the twenty-five years I was sheriff.

He drove by and then took a left onto the German Lake road so they could unpack, get settled, and then call Ray Dunning to see when and where he wanted them to start.

As he drove around the corner that led to Will’s cabin, the first sight was the change that had taken place to their neighbor’s two story Victorian home that had been leveled by a fire two years ago. Instead of charred timbers there was a log cabin that blended into the lakeside scenery. Nothing was left to remind anyone what had happened to the previous owner, Mrs. Nelson, who had experienced a fatal heart attack while she was robbed by local teenagers. The kids tried to cover the heist by indirectly starting a fire. Her heirs had sold what was left of the house, and the new owners had completely leveled the rubble and started rebuilding from scratch.

Jan spoke first, What a pleasant contrast compared to the devastation of the fire. The log home looks like it has always been here. They’ve done a great job landscaping, and the new trees and shrubs have complemented the whole look. Will, your place looks better, too. The trees that were singed have recovered, and things are looking great.

Yah, the improvement is substantial. Just cleaning up the burned timber and replacing it all with clean, new surroundings makes it so pleasant to the eye. Whoever got it done, did a great job, said Will.

Willard was hoping silently that the new neighbors were older people or closer to his age, rather than younger people with a bunch of teenagers.

He knew it was wishful thinking because it was the older folks who were selling, and the younger kids buying. Demographics were turning over at the lake, like they had for years.

It can be a hard life at German Lake, especially in the Minnesota winters. Many couples start their retirement there, but as the physical demands become more challenging, they move back to places in the cities without all the chores that a cabin on the water can present.

Dave parked in front of Willard’s garage when he heard a screen door slam. To his surprise the lady that was walking toward him was Fran, the co-owner of the resort.

Hi, neighbor, said Fran.

Jan jumped out of the Jeep, and ran to greet her while she said, I can’t believe the old Nelson’s place is yours-that’s wonderful!

Well, one of our kids lives here, John, with his family. You might say we bought it, because the kids couldn’t come up with a down payment, so we lent them money, and co-signed for them. George is still bitching about it, but I’ve got him calmed down.

That’s great.

Fran added, I already know why you’re here. News travels fast through the Beaver Dam Resort. You know what a gossip George is. Why didn’t you bring Helen along, Will?

Oh, she just got a job, plus she had to stay home with the dogs. She said to greet you, and wish she could have come along. So, you already know about Chisago Creek?

Oh, don’t you know it, Will. Probably the biggest news story since Prohibition around these parts. Everybody is scratching their heads trying to figure out who disappeared over the years. I hate to say it, but Ray Dunning is scratching his head the most.

Jan said, Well that doesn’t surprise me much, and laughed.

Fran said, I tell you Dave, we all started calming down, once we heard that you, Jim, and Willard, were all coming to help Ray. And of course, you too, Jan.

I just came along for a vacation, and to keep these guys out of trouble.

You people unpack, then come over and look around at the log cabin. It’s a beauty. It’s close enough to call it happy hour, so we can have a few drinks-just like old times.

Chapter 3

Earlier, Sheriff Dunning was having trouble figuring out where to even start. His first call was to the Lake County Medical Examiner, Evelyn Torstadt. She wasn’t his favorite person, but she was efficient, a little abrasive, some would say, a stubborn Norwegian. He couldn’t fault her for that, half the work force was like that. She was a trade up from the former M.E., Ralph Johnson, who was no relative of Dave. Ralph had been the M.E. about four years, and had no criminal convictions, but was plagued with rumors-none of them serious, but they started to affect his performance.

Ray was trying to explain on the phone what he was looking at, as he and the backhoe operator stared.

Evelyn, you better get out here by German Lake. Yah, County 11 on the east side, Chisago Creek bog. We’ve got three remains now and I’m afraid to have Carl Clearwater dig anymore. Hell, we aren’t going to have enough bags for ‘em all.

Be right there, Ray. I can round up some more bags and supplies and meet you there in about a half hour.

Thanks. Nothing like this has ever happened around here. I really don’t know where to start.

Ray, hold on. Calm down. Let me get there and give you some help. Once we sort out the remains, bag them and tag them, then you can turn it over to me.

That’s what Dunning needed-a bolster of common sense. That was when he thought about the former Sheriff, Dave Johnson, and gave him a call.

Bagging and tagging, that’s what they’ve been doing. Six in all, in different states of decomposition, but only one that was even close to recent-he’d guess maybe four to six months old in the bog. The others were mostly bones.

The next day, Ray was at the site when he saw Willard Olson’s Jeep slowly pass on County 11. It gave him an instant calming effect, to have some people around him that he could trust-people that didn’t have political agendas. Even in county politics, things can get ugly. These weren't things that he had neither time nor patience for, and he was already drawn into a State and Federal conundrum. The sight of the Jeep was just what he needed. He would give them some time to unpack and settle, and then he would go over to talk with them. It would give him an excuse to get the hell away from the news people.

* * *

The rumor mill had started days ago at the Beaver Dam Resort bar. Owners George and Fran had their usual regulars and all tried to impress the other that they had the inside track as to what happened at Chisago Creek marsh. The more the beer flowed, the more extreme the theories poured out as fast as the brew.