The Girl Who Slept with a Nuke

By William Wresch

It’s a tiny county park in the farthest corner of Wisconsin. Two men are dead and a deputy sheriff is badly wounded. The dead men? One is a mystery. The other is Kat’s former commanding officer in Germany – a man she hasn’t seen in years. The FBI wants to talk to Kat. Kat Johnson has retired after twenty years with the military police and now operates a business in northern Wisconsin. Northwoods Experiences is a chance for women to gather and explore outdoor options from wildlife photography to fly fishing and bird watching.
But the FBI is more interested in Kat’s former job and her time in Germany’s Fulda Gap. Nuclear mines were used to bar the way of potential Soviet invaders. Now a YouTube series is tracing those mines. If Kat wants to find out why her old friend was killed, she needs to travel back to Fulda and investigate those YouTubers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Wresch
• Release date: Jul 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463935897

William Wresch

I have three sets of books here. The first is an alternative history of the US, envisioning how things might have gone had the French prevailed in the French and Indian War. That series comes from some personal experiences. I have canoed sections of the Fox, and driven along its banks. I have followed the voyageur route from the Sault to Quebec and traveled from Green Bay to New Orleans by car and by boat. My wife and I have spent many happy days on Mackinac Island and in Door County. The Jessica Thorpe series is very different. It takes place in the tiny town of Amberg, Wisconsin, a place where I used to live. I wanted to describe that town and its troubles. Initially the novel involved a militia take over of the town, and it was called "Two Angry Men." But both men were predictable and boring. I had decided to have the story narrated by the town bartender - Jessica - and I soon realized she was the most interesting character in the book. She became the lead in the Jessica Thorpe series. I restarted the series with a fight over a proposed water plant with Jessica balancing environmental rights and business rights. I put Jessica right in the middle of a real problem we are experiencing here in Wisconsin (and most other places). How badly does a tiny town need jobs? How much environmental damage should we accept? The third series changes the lead character. Catherine Johnson solves mysteries. She also travels. It took her to many places I have been. The last several books take place in Russia. I admit I have no idea what is motivating the current madness there. Catherine looks, she tries to help, she struggles. What else can any of us do?

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The Girl Who Slept with a Nuke

A Kat Johnson Mystery

By William Wresch

Copyright 2021 William Wresch

Smashwords Edition

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It’s a tiny county park in the farthest corner of Wisconsin. Two men are dead and a deputy sheriff is badly wounded. The dead men? One is a mystery. The other is Kat’s former commanding officer in Germany – a man she hasn’t seen in fifteen years. Kat Johnson has retired after twenty years with the military police and now operates a business in northern Wisconsin. Northwoods Experiences is a chance for women to gather and explore outdoor options from wildlife photography to fly fishing and bird watching.

But the FBI is more interested in Kat’s former job and her time in Germany’s Fulda Gap. Nuclear mines were used to bar the way of potential Soviet invaders. Now a YouTube series is investigating those mines. If Kat wants to find out why her old friend was killed, she needs to travel back to Fulda and investigate those YouTubers.

Chapter 1

Another Death at Dave’s Falls

To the local historians, Dave’s Falls was where a young logger – Dave – was crushed breaking up a jam during the old logging days. To the local teenagers, Dave’s Falls was a convenient place to drink beer. They generally arrived after dark loaded with Miller Lite. The drinking age in Wisconsin is twenty one. The drinking age at Dave’s Falls is sixteen or seventeen.

That particular July night a carload of boys met up after working minimum wage jobs. Midnight was their time. One had an older brother who would buy them beer. They could sit along the rocks at Dave’s Falls, drink beer, and tell jokes about their bosses and customers. After two beers, every adult was hilarious. Every boss had no idea how to run his business, and every customer was whiny and cheap. The mosquitos were annoying, but the beer tasted good.

About midway into their third beer they heard a splash. Something big hit a rock at the top of the falls, spun around, then dropped. All four had cell phones handy and switched them to flashlight mode. A person had bobbed up at the base of the rocks and was beginning to move with the current. Two of the boys immediately waded into the river and grabbed the man. They pulled him to shore, then flipped him over onto his back. The other boys lit the scene with their phones. All four screamed when they saw half his head was gone.

Shit! The two who had been in the water scrambled out. Shit seemed the word of the moment. All four said it multiple times as they stood back from the man. The two who had pulled the man from the water were now wiping their hands on their pants. They had touched a dead man. Shit.

Call someone. They all agreed that needed to happen. Each of them said it at least three times, until finally one of them hit 911.

What’s your emergency? Ed was the youngest, but he was the first to press 911, so he did the talking. He stared at the other three, wondering how to describe their emergency. We are at Dave’s Falls. There is a dead guy here. We just pulled him from the river.

The lady on the phone told them to stay calm and wait for a deputy to arrive. Ed held the phone so all four could hear. When she asked about the man’s condition, all four responded, creating a cacophony of Shit, head, head gone, one eye, brains, shit, at which point one of the boys turned and vomited. She repeated they were to stay calm, then ended the call. The boys backed away from the dead man. Ed continued to hold his phone as if he were still talking to the 911 lady. It felt like their lifeline. They decided maybe it would be better if they waited out by the road for the deputy to arrive.

Dave Kekkonen had the night shift – four to midnight. Usually he was in bed by twelve thirty. The empty end of Marinette County was a very quiet place. Marinette County is stretched out along the northeast corner of Wisconsin. Just over the Menominee River is the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The county seat – Marinette – is at the southern corner, along the banks of Green Bay. Amberg, and Dave’s Falls, is pretty much at the opposite end. It was an hour’s drive up from Marinette. But Dave worked the northern half of the county – the empty half – and lived on County K, just three miles from the falls. It was midnight, his shift was ending, and he was pulling into his drive when he got the call.

He backed around, switched on his circus lights and sped back down K. He called his wife as he drove. Last minute emergency, headed back to Dave’s Falls, probable death, likely to be gone all night. Bonnie didn’t interrupt with questions. She got dressed and walked to the kitchen. She would make him a sandwich and a thermos of coffee.

Dave pulled into the parking area and looked at the boys. A joke? He pulled his Chrysler 300 tight up against their bumper. If this was a joke, he would hold them there until their parents came for them.

Dave was mid-forties. He had two boys about the same age as these kids. He thought he recognized one or two. Wausaukee High. Rangers. He got out of his car and pulled a portable search light from his trunk. The boys all moved closer to him. He let them gather around, then began his questions.

First, I need all your names. He got out a pad and pencil. The boys hesitated. They wanted credit for finding the body, but they knew what their parents would assume when they heard the location. This is where teens went to drink. But after initial hesitation, each of the boys gave their name, even spelling last names where necessary.

Now, will someone show me where you found the body? Ben, the oldest, was first to agree, but in truth, all the boys wanted to go back and take some credit for the find. So all of them went back into the woods, following Kekkonen and his search light. This was where the boys got nervous. They had been away from the body for five or ten minutes. What if he was not dead, and had gotten up and walked away? They would look like fools and liars.

Fortunately (from their perspective), the body was still there. Kekkonen set his light on a rock and knelt down to feel for a pulse. He could see that half the man’s head was gone, but procedure is procedure. He also did a quick examination of the man’s condition. Yes, his head was about half gone, but there was also a blur of blood on his shirt in two places. Exit wounds. Large caliber. Shot up river, floated over the falls, might have gone farther down the Pike if the boys hadn’t grabbed him. Pretty good current this time of year. He moved the light slowly over the man. Not much else he could tell. There would be experts up here in the morning to make a closer examination.

Tell me what you saw. All four boys answered at once. Dave raised his hand. They stopped. You. Dave pointed to the tallest kid. Tell me.

Ben described the noise at the top of the falls, the splash, and how they pulled the man from the river. Two of the boys added points here and there, mostly to explain that they had been the ones to actually wade into the river to get the man. But there was really nothing to add to the story. The man dropped over the falls, they pulled him out, they called 911.

Dave nodded, and thanked the boys for getting the man out of the water. Had he been alive, they might have saved his life. It was obvious they liked hearing that. Then he told them to go home, but to clean up their beer cans first – including the empties. They all grabbed cans in both hands and went back to their car. Dave moved his car so it no longer blocked their exit, then he positioned it so no other cars could pull into the lot. The call back to dispatch took time. Dispatch woke a sergeant, then a detective. There was a protocol for how deaths were handled, but it wasn’t a process they had to use very often. So things took longer. Finally Kekkonen made his report and initial assessment. Unknown male, shot at least three times. He was told to maintain his position until relieved – probably around dawn.

He called Bonnie again and explained the situation. She said she would bring him a sandwich and some coffee. Procedures called for all civilians to stay clear. Marriage called for her to bring him a sandwich and for him to accept.

While he waited, Kekkonen walked back to the falls. He needed to be careful. He didn’t want to step through any evidence. Of course the boys had been all over, but that was them. This was him. His boot prints obscuring other boot prints would not go over well.

So he stayed where he and the boys had been. His search light had a strong beam. He pointed it up river, and then slowly did a complete three sixty. When he completed the loop, he thought he saw something. Eyes at the top of the falls. Woods were full of eyes. Deer, raccoons, even the occasional wolf. He kept the search light on the eyes, but slowly swung his arm out, away from his body, an act that saved his life.

The first bullet took him in the forearm. The second bullet took the light. He leapt away from the river and into the shelter of the trees. His arm was broken and bleeding. His right arm. He was right handed. He needed to wrap something around the wound, get the arm stationary against his body. He also needed to draw his weapon and defend himself left handed. It felt like it took forever just to unholster his weapon. He also had to pull back the slide to chamber a round. He ended up putting the grip between his knees and pulling back with his left hand. It took three tries to hold the pistol tight enough for him to hear the solid click as a round successfully chambered.

If you know what you are listening for, the click of an automatic can be deafening. In this case, it revealed his position, but it was also like a rattler’s warning. Come close and you will get bit. As much as he wanted to get the guy who shot him, he also wanted to survive the night. Shooting left handed in the dark was not a fair fight. He needed the bad guy to go away. They would tangle another time.

Kekkonen was squatting down behind a fairly good sized birch. He froze in that position and listened. Mosquitoes buzzed – and landed. The falls made a constant shh as it dropped from boulder to boulder. He ignored both sounds. He would either hear brush being pushed out of the way as the man came through the woods, or he would hear boots landing as he stepped down from rock to rock.

What he heard instead was a car horn. His wife arriving with his sandwich. Every possible action he took now likely resulted in death. He stays in positon, and his wife comes to him. She is heard and shot. She stays where she is, and the killer comes around to her. She is seen and shot. He moves toward his wife. He is heard and shot.

He decided he would rather die protecting his wife. He stood slowly. He had broken his arm before. He knew to secure it. Any motion of bone on bone was agony. He opened two buttons of his shirt, and slowly pushed his hand into his shirt and against his stomach. Not much help really. He still needed to hold the right arm in place with his left hand – his pistol hand. Now jammed against his stomach, supporting the broken arm, held in the wrong hand, his pistol was basically useless. He waited, listened, then turned and moved as quickly as he could, back toward his wife.

Bonnie was standing next to his cruiser, looking towards the woods, her headlights showing the path through the trees. Dave was holding his hands over his stomach and running in an odd way, like his feet hurt. She started toward him, and then stopped when she saw another man at the edge of the woods.

Dave!

He dropped, turned, and fired three times. Bonnie saw the other man fire, and she saw Dave get hit. She ran the last twenty steps to him, slid down at his side and took his weapon. The man from the woods had his gun raised and was walking directly to them. Bonnie sat up, braced her elbows on her knees, and put two bullets in his chest.

Chapter 2

A Workshop Plus the FBI

Saturday was a heavy day for Kat. Her business was to provide outdoor experiences for women. Mostly weekends. Fly fishing in summer, some hunting in the fall, but lots of art activities too – ice sculptures, pine decorations, woodland water colors. Her lodge was a massive log structure with huge windows facing a lake. Massive, beautiful, stunning. It took Kat’s breath away when she first saw it. Built by a fishing guide who believed he was so famous wealthy men would fly to Amberg, Wisconsin to spend a week fishing with him. It turned out he wasn’t famous enough to lure them from Montana and Canada. Six owners later, Kat bought it with her life savings and kept it going with her retirement pay. Twenty years as an Army officer got her a monthly check big enough to keep her in food while the business grew.

The small lake in front of her lodge was not striking enough for the rich and famous (and who would brag about being the first in their social circle to explore Amberg, Wisconsin?), but it worked for Kat. Women could practice casting before going off to several local trout streams. Women could practice canoeing or kayaking. Women could swim if they wished. Or, women could stand on the shore and make ice sculptures, or paint water colors, or take pictures.

And, if they walked a short ways to a marshy area, they could see clumps of lady slippers. That’s where Kat had taken them Friday night just before sunset. They had to swat mosquitoes, but they could capture those flowers from multiple angles and multiple light levels.

It was a challenge, and an opportunity. There were ten women that weekend. Enough so they had to stay out of each other’s way, and they had to stand in mud, and kneel in a little dampness, but they could choose any background they wished. Several worked the setting sun. Several played with images of the lake. One got down on the ground to get the flowers with a clump of birch trees rising above them.

Kat didn’t think of it as a test, but it told Kat everything she needed to know about the women she would have in her lodge for the weekend. Did they cooperate with each other as they moved? Did they show respect for the other plants as they stepped through the fragile marsh? Did they show creativity and artistry as they worked? Would they put up with mosquitoes for an hour? All ten passed with pretty high marks.

Back in the lodge’s two story great room, they sank into huge leather chairs left from the original owner, sipped white wine, and passed their digital cameras and phones around. Another test, really. Could they comment seriously, and even critically, without offending? Could they be helpful? Could they be supportive? They could. Ten happy women climbed the stairs to the guest rooms a little before midnight.

Saturday was history day. Kat took them into Amberg, and they walked each street. Sometimes they talked to locals who might be out on their porch. They got pictures of each of the buildings and all three of the stores. Kat took them into the Amberg bar and had Jim talk to them about the role the bar played in the town and some of its history. They had lunch next door at the restaurant.

Then out to the abandoned granite quarry. They sat on blocks of granite while Kat told them about Bill Amberg, the man who had owned the quarry and the cutting sheds back in town. The man who had taken the train out of town when the men went on strike. He never came back. The business closed and the town emptied. In desperation the town leaders changed the name of the town from Pike to Amberg. They invited him to the renaming ceremony. He never returned. Somehow the new name was used anyway. The women photographed the quarry and the abandoned equipment.

Then it was off to Dave’s Falls for pictures of the logging era. But it was barricaded by several sheriff’s vehicles. Police tape was everywhere. Kat stopped her van along the road and got out to talk with a deputy who was standing by the squads. She didn’t know him. Two deputies worked the northern half of the county. She knew both of them well. She didn’t know this man. And he didn’t seem very interested in her.

Closed. We are investigating a death. Please leave. Emphasis on leave, not on please.

Kat got back in her van. She turned onto County K. As she drove east, she explained the police were investigating a death. She explained the river could be tricky, and someone might have gone over the falls. She told them about unlucky Dave and the logging days. A couple women had questions she couldn’t answer. She had been too busy to check any of the news websites that morning. She said she would check later, and that seemed to satisfy the women. Kat suspected by the time they got back to the lodge, all interest would be gone.

Down County K was her favorite destination – an old one-room school house. Kat parked out front. Women were instantly out of the van and all over the school house taking pictures. Kat dragged a bag from behind her seat. Time to dress as a school teacher might have a century earlier. Over her jeans and polo shirt she pulled on an old skirt, length down to her ankles, a white blouse with frills down the front, and a large straw bonnet. When the women saw her get out of the van, they applauded.

Kat had a key to the school house and she led all inside. Significant effort had gone into putting older desks, blackboards, and books in the space. Grade school kids were brought up on field trips. But July was no time to be inside an old building. By afternoon it was stifling inside. Kat was especially hot in the extra layers of clothing, but she pointed out some of the work that had gone into restoring the building (it had been used to store hay for years), and waited while the women took pictures of the school and of her. But everyone was sweating, so she quickly led them outside and had them sit on the front steps while she described the history of the place.

It ended up being two discussions. First, teaching. Since several of the guests were teachers, there was quick discussion of teaching in one room schools. It started when one of the women told Kat she looked just like a teacher. Several of the teachers laughed, and Kat explained.

Ladies, correct me if I am wrong, but most of these teachers were sixteen or seventeen years old. Twenty at the oldest. I’m forty six. These teachers were local girls who finished eighth grade and were then sent to a normal school for two years. Tuition at normal schools was free, and they often did house work to earn their meals. There were no high schools in the area or in any of the rural communities, so normal schools gave the girls a bit of high school and a bit of teacher training. Back they came to Amberg and taught for two or three years until they were married.

They hadn’t even gone to high school?

One of the teachers handled that question. Eventually the normal schools required high school graduation, but that created its own problems. Since only cities had high schools, only city girls could become teachers. So now, instead of local kids teaching, city girls were brought in. Sometimes that worked, and sometimes it didn’t.

And what happened to the normal school?

Kat took that one. The closest one is now called University of Wisconsin Stevens Point. My brother teaches there. That’s what happened. The normal schools grew and became universities. Okay?

That resolved, Kat moved to the farming era – 1900 to 1930. Kat walked them through the period of European immigrants coming to the U.S. They usually settled by ethnic origin since it gave people a common language to use. Mostly Germans here. Brought up on trains and showed the land in the winter when it was snow covered. The sales pitch was If it grows trees, it will grow corn. Whatever it would grow, it wouldn’t grow it until all the stumps hidden by the snow were taken out – a backbreaking job that took years.

Let me show you something. Kat got them up and moving. She led them across the road.

By 1930 it was clear the land was poor and the growing season short. Along came the Depression, and most lost their farms to back taxes. All the woods you see around you used to be farms. You can see the foundations of one of the old farm houses in this field. She had them look across a fence at a small hay field. Look for the ridges where the stone foundations once stood. She pointed and motioned the shape of a square. See it?

It’s right across the street from the school, so maybe the teenage girl who lived here became a teacher. Kat paused. She could see the women struggling to get a picture of the ridges in the field. It would not be easy to capture.

Now, let me show you the one thing I hope you remember from this weekend. She walked a little ways down the road to a lilac bush rising next to the fence. It was thick and gnarly, twisted away from the west wind, maybe fifteen feet tall. There were no blossoms on it in July, but it was clearly a lilac bush.

We know women had it tough a century ago. It still ain’t easy. But I sometimes think about the woman who planted this lilac. She cooked, she cleaned, she gave birth to babies in a tiny cabin, she helped out in the fields. And then, when the kids were asleep and the husband was inside smoking his pipe, she came out here and planted a lilac. She added beauty. I know it doesn’t look all that beautiful now, but think of what she did. She added beauty to their world. I like to think as they drove away for the last time, bankrupt, their farm gone for taxes they couldn’t possibly pay, she looked back at this lilac and felt a little bit proud of what she had done for her family.

Kat moved out of the way and watched ten women take pictures from every angle. She stood out in the road watching them, and then watching a gray sedan slowly roll towards her. GSA plates. Government car. The car stopped. Two occupants, one man, one woman, both mid-thirties, both wearing government suits and government haircuts. She walked to the driver’s side.

Major Johnson? The driver