Blueprint for Murder

By Dave Sullivan

Forty-four year old Jake Kingsley is a Minneapolis trial lawyer who became dissatisfied with the practice of law or at least the way some lawyers practiced it, and "retired" early to live aboard a sailboat in the Apostles Islands of Lake Superior. Occasionally handling a case for friends or relatives the way he thought they should be handled has kept the creditors at bay.
While at a mid-summer costume party in Bayfield, a woman is murdered a few feet from where Jake is standing with friends. She is also a Minneapolis trial lawyer. From Jake's old law firm, he was her mentor before he "retired." Overcome by the shock of the brutal murder of someone he knew well, Jake determines to find out who did this and why.
Alexandra Van de Meer was, he learned, on her way to find him when she was murdered. Since she had no other connection to Bayfield or the Apostles, Jake reasoned that her murder was somehow connected to her life or work in the Twin Cities. While attending her funeral, Jake is approached by his former partner and Alex’s boss to help the firm by taking over Alex’s heavy construction litigation caseload, something Jake wants no part of. But, he reasons, her murder is likely connected with one of her cases. So he agrees to help on a purely temporary basis.
Alex’s cases are mostly lawsuits involving the construction industry or the ownership and management of commercial properties in the Twin Cities metro and greater Minnesota. She represented owners, design professionals, contractors and suppliers in a variety of contract, negligence and professional liability disputes. She had cases involving steam heat damage to asbestos insulation in an elementary school, inadequate construction of fire retardant walls and a disastrous fire in a housing complex for the elderly, failure to follow design specs in stud wall construction, leaky insulating windows and more.
Which case is it? Is it one of her cases or some other part of her life that has brought about her tragic end?
As Jake temporarily works his way back into the practice of law, he finds that the lack of civility and the acrimony that caused his early “retirement” are still there and have even worsened, but he experiences a familiar feel and gratification with the process. He is joined by Charles Stanton, his old law professor and friend, in the pursuit of answers.
Who knew construction litigation could be so dangerous?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dave Sullivan
• Release date: Mar 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781005640385

Dave Sullivan

Dave Sullivan is a retired Minnesota State District Court Judge. After practicing law for thirty years in Duluth, Minnesota, he was appointed to the District Court Bench and was chambered in Duluth for ten years until his retirement in 2006. Dave and his wife, Kath, live in Madeira Beach, Florida and Bayfield County, Wisconsin.

Book preview

BLUEPRINT FOR MURDER

By Dave Sullivan

Copyright © 2017 by David P. Sullivan

All rights reserved. No chapter of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author except for the inclusion of brief quotations in review.

Published by Dave Sullivan at Smashwords.

Smashwords Edition License Note

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

To lawyers everywhere and their difficult and challenging pursuit of justice and truth.

FOREWORD

This is a work of fiction. The story takes place in the Apostle Islands, on the Bayfield Peninsula on Lake Superior's Wisconsin South Shore and in the law offices and courtrooms in Minneapolis. The characters are fictional.

Raspberry Bay, Point Detour and Raspberry Point are real, but the village of Bay Harbor in Raspberry Bay where Jake Kingsley's Ketch Resolution is docked is entirely fictional.

Maggie's on Manypenny in Bayfield is real and the food is excellent.

As usual, Jake Kingsley and friends are confronted with a problem the solution of which proves difficult to find.

Dave Sullivan

August 2017

CHAPTER ONE

It was nearly two in the morning when the clock in the Bayfield Pavilion struck one. A big dog crouched down and examined the body closely. Then the dog stood and said, This was no accident, Jake. A clown pushed through the gathering crowd and knelt beside the woman's body, the painted smile and round red nose not fitting the grim scene. The clown's examination was more thorough than that of the dog. When finished, the clown looked up at the dog and Jake. Corrine Cortland Cadotte said to them, This is murder.

The dog pulled his mask over his head. Still holding the vicious-looking Doberman Pinscher head in his paws, Special Agent John Denton said, Thanks, CoCo, I think I just said that.

Well, if you said that, Jack, you were right, said CoCo the clown. Jake, do you know who she is ... or was?

Jake Kingsley leaned in between his two friends. CoCo pulled the hair away from the victim’s face and looked to Jake for an answer.

Jake leaned in close to look. Then it hit him as he recognized the face. He gasped. He could hardly breathe! Struggling to hold back his emotions, his voice suddenly hoarse, he rasped, That's Alex Van de Meer!

Alex Van de Meer? Oh no! CoCo stood and stared after Jake who had started to walk away.

Who? asked Denton.

A pirate approached. Looking down at CoCo and the woman’s body, his shoulders began to shake. He put a hand on Denton's shoulder to steady himself. Charles Stanton straightened his glasses over the eye patch he wore. Then he answered Denton’s question, shaking his head. It’s Alex Van de Meer, Jack. She’s a trial lawyer in Minneapolis. Works in Jake’s old law firm. She was there when he was still there. Before he quit to move up here. I had her as a student at the U of M Law School. He looked at Denton and then back at CoCo still kneeling by the body. What happened? How did it happen?

Jake Kingsley's knees felt weak. Shock took over his body. The warm July evening had turned cool with a slight breeze off Lake Superior. He shivered, but not just from the temperature. He had known Alexandra Van de Meer well, had been her mentor when she started at Stratton, McMasters & Hines. Jack Denton and CoCo couldn’t be wrong. Their combined experience in law enforcement exceeded fifty years, CoCo at Minnesota's Bureau of Criminal Apprehension for more than thirty and Denton's twenty-five plus in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They both said it. Alex had been murdered.

What was she doing, here? Denton asked. She is not in costume. Does she have a connection to Bayfield or the Apostle Islands? Vacations here or owns a boat?

Not that I know of, Jake answered. I did get an e-mail from her a while back that she wanted to talk to me about a problem with one of her cases. I assumed she would call. I doubt she would come here because of that. I don't know why she is here.

Well, something brought her here, said Denton. Something pretty important, I guess. I don't think this was just a purse snatching or some kind of a random thing.

Did you see her purse? asked Martha Hoskins, CoCo's life partner who was dressed like a lion tamer, whip and all.

Do we know she had one? asked Charles, who had lifted his eye patch to see better.

Charles, said Martha, she was not in costume. I am sure she was carrying a purse.

Denton looked back toward the body. Let's look.

The scene was interrupted by a loud and authoritative voice as its owner pushed through the onlookers.

All right! Out of the way! Give us some room, please! Move out of the way!

The voice belonged to Officer Jerrold Baldwin of Bayfield Police. Charles and Jake had encountered him before out on Stockton Island in connection with the body of a young woman found there. In fact, thought Jake, Charles, CoCo and Jack Denton were all there at that time, too. Coco had nearly come to blows with Officer Baldwin and might have if Jake hadn't restrained her.

Oh, God! It was CoCo. Not again! She spoke to Jake. Do you remember this guy?

We all do, CoCo, said Charles. I remember that you didn't like him at all and, as I further recall, neither did some of his own department's personnel. Jake, do you remember Jim Brennan?

Officer Brennan?

The same. He didn't think much of Officer Baldwin, either.

And here he is.

Who? asked CoCo.

Officer Brennan, Jake answered. Hi, Jim.

A man of medium height and build approached. He wore tan chinos, plain brown leather cowboy boots, a plaid sport shirt and a green and gold nylon windbreaker with a Bayfield P.D. patch sewn above a left front pocket.

Hi Jake ... Charles. He was clean shaven with heavy eyebrows over clear blue eyes. He wore no hat. His hair was cut short and looked like it may once have been blond but was now mostly gray. He turned back to Jake.

What have we got, Jake? You looked at the body?

We all did. CoCo's examination was the most thorough.

Yeah, said Denton, and we were about to examine the crime scene and look for her purse, but Officer Baldwin has fixed that pretty well.

Jim Brennan nodded. With this crowd, there isn't much of a preserved crime scene, anyway, I guess. And, there's not a lot I can do about Officer Baldwin. He is what he is, unfortunately. That's why I came to you. I'll probably learn more here than over there.

Jake, Coco and Denton all gave Brennan a detailed account of what each had seen and experienced. It wasn't much. All they knew is that Alex Van de Meer had been killed in the middle of the crowd within a few feet of where they had been standing, that a sharp tool or thin-bladed knife had been plunged into the back of her neck apparently killing her instantly. Apparently no one in the crowd had seen anything out of the ordinary and didn't even realize what had happened when she fell.

You know, Jake, said Brennan, I retired up here from Minneapolis P.D. to get away from this kind of thing. I put in my time there and was just as happy to relax up here in a more laid-back life style. Kind of like you. We don't need this kind of thing up here.

Well, you have it now, said Jake.

I know.

And, Jake added, unless this is some kind of random killing which Jack doubts and I agree with him, it probably has roots back in Minneapolis where you used to work. That's where she was from and that's where she did business. I don't think she had much connection with Bayfield.

That being the case, I probably will need more from you. You'll be around?

Whenever you need me, Jim.

Thanks, I'd better get over with Baldwin, then.

I'll be talking to you, said Jake.

The crowd was beginning to disperse. Whether that was because of Officer Baldwin, the lateness of the hour, or the horrible event that had occurred in its midst, Jake wasn't sure.

The Killer was satisfied that his plan had gone off without a hitch. The killing had occurred quickly and only moments before Jake, Jack Denton and CoCo Cadotte found the body. It had occurred within feet of where they were standing.

Alexandra Van de Meer was speaking on her cell phone and moving through the crowd in the general direction of Jake Kingsley. It had to be quick.

Caught in the crowd before she could get to Kingsley, a long thin dagger was plunged into the back of her neck and up into the brainstem killing her instantly and with no sound. Revelers in the crowd jostled each other trying to move from one location to another with little or no direction. Many were feeling the effects of drink over the several hours since the evening party had begun at the Pavilion. No one noticed Alex go down or those who saw her thought she had too much to drink like most of them.

A French fur trapper grabbed Alex's purse and hurried away. He moved through the crowd with ease. He heard the clock strike one as he left the scene. In the shadows not reached by the party lights, the trapper discarded his costume in a dumpster. A clean-shaven man with a pale complexion and close-cropped yellow blond hair walked up the hill. Wendell Stockman drove an older, plain, nondescript Toyota out of Bayfield.

In Hayward an hour and a half later, he found a motel and went to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Jake's group at the party consisted of his date, Mary Pelletier, dressed like an Indian maiden, which she was, actually; Charles Stanton, a pirate, and his date, Joyce Becket who was not in costume; Coco Cadotte and Martha Hoskins, the clown and the lion tamer; and Jack Denton, the Big Dog. They all began walking toward their respective lodgings. After walking Joyce to her apartment building and Mary to her car, Jake and Charles headed down to the public dock and Jake's boat, Resolution. They weren't going any farther that night.

It was after eleven the next morning when Jake woke Charles. But, it was still way too early for him. The last night's horrible events hadn't started until after two, he recalled. It was after four when they crashed on Resolution still moored at the public dock just a few yards from where Alex Van de Meer's body was found. Charles reflected that he was no longer used to those kinds of hours, if he ever was.

Get up, Charles! We need to see CoCo and Jack Denton right away!

What? What for? He tried to clear his still muddled brain and come fully awake.

Listen to this. Jake held his cell phone to Charles' ear.

Charles listened, came wide awake and found his own phone. Martha Hoskins answered in a sleepy voice. When he inquired after CoCo, Martha said, Charles, she is still asleep, but I will try to get her.

A minute later, another drowsy voice answered, Hello? Charles, this better be good. I was still asleep.

Charles told her Jake had something important to discuss with her and with Jack Denton and asked if they could meet them at Maggie's for lunch, brunch, coffee or whatever within the hour and could she find Denton.

I don't suppose you'll tell me what he wants to discuss, will you?

Jake said to just try to get you there. Have I succeeded?

I can't speak for the great Special Agent John Denton, yet, but you've got me and I will try to get him. See you there. Twelve-thirty?

Twelve-thirty.

From the public dock, it took only a few minutes to walk to the restaurant. They had been at Maggie's not more than a few more minutes when CoCo arrived followed by a dreary looking Jack Denton. He was out of uniform in blue jeans and a pullover sweatshirt that proclaimed that it, or he, was the Property of the U. S. Government.

Coffee, he told the waitress. Strong and black and keep it coming.

The same, said CoCo as they joined Jake and Charles in their favorite back corner booth, but I'll have a little cream.

So, Jake, said Denton, why did you call this meeting at what, after last night, is such an uncomfortable hour?

Because of this. Jake produced his cell phone. I left this on the boat last night. This morning when I checked it I found this message. The phone says it was made about 1:50 a.m., when we were at the party.

The corner booth was fairly secluded. The adjacent booths and tables were empty. Jake put the cell phone on speaker and hit play. Her voice came through the tiny speaker clearly.

Jake! It's Alex!

The anxiety in her voice heightened the urgency of the message. Denton and Coco leaned forward close to the phone.

I'm here in Bayfield, Jake! I can see your boat at the dock. It's all locked up so I guess you are somewhere in this crowd. I need to see you, Jake! Right away! It's about my e-mail to you, but worse! I need to see you right away! I couldn't call before and maybe shouldn't be calling now. I think I am being followed. I think I am in trouble, Jake. I need your help!

The message stopped.

Holy shit! CoCo exclaimed, trying to keep her voice in a whisper. She looked around to see if anyone overheard. Apparently, not. In a lowered voice she asked, What do you think she was scared of? What e-mail is she talking about?

Alex sent me an e-mail the other day, I told you. She wanted to discuss a problem she thought she had with one of her cases. I told her to give me a call when it was convenient for her.

She was scared to death, it sounds like. Scared of what? asked CoCo.

Denton agreed. She sounds terrified.

I have no idea, said Jake, but apparently things changed and somehow or some way, I think we need to find out what changed and why.

Sorry, but I probably can't help, officially.

Oh, shit, said CoCo. Too bad, I think we could use you."

Well, unofficially, I can certainly have conversations with you all. But right now, it's a local matter being handled by local law enforcement. I can't do any investigation or use any Bureau people the way it stands now. And, also, I will be back in Milwaukee.

In Hayward, Stockman, usually an early riser, slept in. He hadn't gotten to the motel until nearly four o'clock. He couldn't figure out where he'd lost an hour. It can't have taken that long to drive to Hayward. But he had been too tired to think about it anymore. He had a late breakfast at Cooper's Family Restaurant on the main drag and got back on the road. Just outside of Hayward, heading south on U.S. 63, he called to report. He listened on his cell phone to the ringing on the other end of the call. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the phone to his left ear. Before the call, he had closed the driver's and passenger's windows to deaden the highway noise so he could hear clearly. This call was important to him.

Hello?

It is done.

Good. Any problems?

None.

Did she talk to anyone?

Nobody.

Are you sure?

Positive.

How do you know for sure?

I know.

We have another job for you, now.

The one we talked about?

Right. Ms. Van de Meer was somewhat of an emergency in terms of timing. We are not so pressed for time on this one, although it must be soon. Can you make it look like an accident?

If you wish. I can make it look like anything you want.

I know. Your earlier work has been fantastic. No one had a clue. Your services are and will be appreciated. Same rate and the same deposits, half now and half on your report?

That's right.

The balance on this one and the first half of the next one will be deposited before the end of business on Monday.

Stockman closed the call on his cell phone and continued driving south alongside the Namakagon River. A highway sign alerted him to an approaching scenic rest stop along the river. He parked the Toyota off the highway near a garbage dumpster. Standing beside the dumpster, Stockman looked around to see if anyone was near. No one. The cell phone he had used to report was a pre-paid, untraceable phone from Walmart. Throwing the phone to the blacktop, he stomped on it until the case was smashed. The broken phone went in the dumpster underneath other refuse. He was back out on the highway in five minutes. He lowered the windows, found an FM station playing oldies and hummed along.

The rest of Sunday and all of Monday, Jake spent in a blue funk aboard Resolution. Sunday afternoon, he and Charles had motored Resolution around Red Cliff Point and back to her dock in Raspberry Bay, hardly saying a word for more than two hours. He thought Charles knew better than to try to cheer him up. When dock lines and spring lines were cleated and fenders set, Charles left with little more than a nod. Jake went below and stayed there.

On Monday, he didn't take his usual morning run on the beach out to the Raspberry River and back. It was a typical, beautiful day in paradise in the Apostle Islands. The morning sun cast its golden rays over the lush green islands and the sparkling blue waters of the big lake. But, Jake stayed down below aboard Resolution wrapped up in his blankets up in the V-berth. At dinner time, he got up just long enough to heat some soup, eat most of it and go back to bed.

Tuesday morning found him up early. He had slept enough. He sat in the cockpit with a large mug of strong, hot coffee and a stale doughnut he found in a cupboard. Jake sipped his coffee and took another bite of the doughnut. It was truly stale. Any tougher and he could have used it for a dock fender for the boat. There was still another one below. He stepped into the hatch. Down below he brewed another cup of coffee, grabbed the other stale doughnut, turned on an oldies station playing music from the seventies. Adjusting the volume on the cockpit speakers, he sat back with coffee and the doughnut. Helen Reddy belted out the incredible lyrics of the Last Blues Song. Like Helen, Jake had been cryin' and my-oh-my-in and now, may be with her help, he was doin’ some thinkin’ and it was startin' to sink in that life goes on.

Jake shut down the volume and finished his coffee. The remnants of the doughnut he threw to a gull waiting somewhat impatiently on the dock. Action was indeed the answer. What? It almost didn't matter. Helen was right. He reached for his phone and punched in Charles' number.

Hello?

Charles? How are you doing? He said it as if he meant compared to what or whom?

Charles caught the inflection. I'm doing okay. I think the question is how are you doing?"

I know. I've been out of it for a while.

Bert says you went down below in that boat of yours and didn't come out for two days.

Bert Hanson is a fine harbor master and a good friend, but maybe he should try minding his own business. Jake immediately regretted the statement. Maybe he hadn't the full benefit of Helen Reddy’s therapeutic counsel, yet.

Jake, you are Bert's business and mine, too, I hope you know.

I know, Charles. I'm sorry I said that. You don't need to tell Bert.

I won't ... for his benefit, but maybe not for yours. You need to get it together, I think.

I agree. And I have. I've been listening to the advice of Dr. Helen Reddy this morning and I think I am cured or at least on the road to recovery.

Dr. who?

Never mind. Are you free, today?

Jake, I have been free and waiting since yesterday morning. I, too, had the blues, but recovered faster than you, apparently. Besides, no one would let me alone. Here I am in the solitude of my cabin on the hill and my phone was ringing off the hook. First it was Mary. Then it was CoCo. Even CoCo's mom, Gus Cadotte, called me. Then Bert called to tell me that Mary and CoCo were calling him. Everyone wanted to know what was going on with you but were afraid to ask … you, that is. They asked me frequently.

Okay. I've been out of it. I'll make some calls. Let's get everyone together. Maggie's okay again?

For lunch? You bet. I'll make the calls and pick you up in half an hour.

As Jake and Charles arrived at Maggie's on Manypenny, Jake looked toward the marina. Sailors and crews were leaving their docks, heading out into the islands in warm sunshine under a clear blue sky interrupted only by the occasional light puff of white cloud. For a moment, Jake wished he could be going out with them, but, no, he had things to do and finally the drive to start doing them.

Mary Pelletier was there, waiting. She had a large table in the screen porch area off the bar. No other diners were on the porch. Bert and Sandy Hanson arrived right behind Jake and Charles. Jake sat beside Mary.

I've been worried about you, she whispered.

I know. Thanks. I'm okay, now. I've been listening to the advice of Dr. Reddy. He allowed himself a slight smile.

Helen Reddy? How is Women's Lib and 'I am Woman, hear me roar' helping you?

Different song. Bert and Sandy were staring at them. I'll explain later.

CoCo and Martha Hoskins arrived.

Your mom is not coming? asked Charles.

She wanted to, said CoCo, as she pulled up a chair. I told her, No. She would have brought her cat. The management might have minded.

At Maggie's? I doubt that.

A waitress came and took lunch and drink orders. When she left, CoCo broached the subject on everybody's mind. So, Jake, what's the plan? They all turned to look at him, waiting for his response. He guessed they had been waiting a couple of days.

I am hesitant to tell you all that I don't know, but I don't really. What I do know is that I have got to do something. I appreciate your offers of help, but I suspect almost everything to be done will be in Minneapolis where Alex lived and worked. I told Jim Brennan the night of the murder that I thought the solution to Alex's murder is in the Twin Cities somehow connected to her life there or the work she did as a member of my old law firm.

But it happened here in Bayfield, said CoCo.

It happened here, but I'll bet you it's a Twin Cities case.

So you will be going to the Twin Cities? asked Mary.

Just long enough to talk to my old firm and see what I can learn. Maybe longer if I find anything worthwhile.

I hope you're not planning to go alone, Jake, said Charles. That is, without me.

Thanks, Charles. I welcome the company.

Jake, I forgot to tell you, said Sandy. A Jim Decker called the marina this morning. Said he was your law partner. She pulled a note from her purse and put on her reading glasses. He said that Alex's funeral is this Friday at 11:00 am at St. Matthew's Presbyterian Church in Minneapolis with a graveside ceremony after. He said you'd want to know.

Jake looked at Charles. We'll start then.

The next day, Jake saw Officer Jim Brennan.

I'll be going to Minneapolis to talk to my old law firm about Alex and her cases, he told Brennan.

I'll be interested what you find out. Your work may give us a motive. Meanwhile, I'll do some old-fashioned police work right here and keep questioning witnesses.

CHAPTER TWO

The funeral at St. Matthew's Presbyterian Church was in the Morningside area of Minneapolis. Interment followed at Maple Knoll Cemetery on south Lyndale Avenue. Charles drove in his Cadillac Escalade, which he told Jake he found more comfortable for long trips, or short trips for that matter, than Jake's Jeep Cherokee. Jake liked the old Cherokee and was not ready to part with it, yet.

We're not talking Grand Cherokee, here, Charles would explain to others. Jake's is an old Cherokee that preceded the Grand Cherokees, he would say, and rides as rough as any Jeep ever did, perhaps even in WWII. But he likes it. Myself, he would add, I prefer the comfort and quiet of my Escalade, especially for long trips. In this case, Jake agreed the Cadillac was the better vehicle for the occasion. Its elegance and black color were quite suitable for a funeral procession.

They drove south through Hayward, turning west at Spooner to cross over to Minnesota and take I-35 south to the Twin Cities.

The sky had turned overcast. Looking south, dark clouds threatened rain. It was a funeral type of day. Jake hoped it would not be raining at the cemetery.

They had said only a few words all the way through Wisconsin and into Minnesota