In the Nicholas of Time

By Richard Zimdars

Nicholas Jones was a young resident of Lake Mills, Wisconsin, who chose to leave his boyhood home to fulfill his desire to become a police detective in the nearby city of Madison. Nicholas is asked to return back to Lake Mills one Christmas by his friend, the chief of police, to help solve a baffling mystery. Something has happened to the city's most prominent Christmas icon, and Nicholas must hopefully help solve the case before the Christmas holiday could be ruined for the entire community. His search for answers lies not only within the city, but also in his history of this notable city icon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387271504

Book preview

In the Nicholas of Time

In the Nicholas of Time

Richard 77 Zimdars

In the Nicholas of Time

Copyright © 2017 Richard Zimdars. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-387-27150-4

All events and characters in this book are fictitious.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A portion of the proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated to the National MS Society, St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and Outstretched Hands of Romania, New Berlin, WI.

Other Works by Richard 77 Zimdars

The Baby Ballers Series:

The Baby Ballers

Mother’s Night

Janie and the Basketball

Future Works:

Three Baby Threat (Book 3 of the Baby Ballers Series)

Saving Ava

An Act of Weighted Murder

https://www.facebook.com/TheBabyBallers/

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Richardstrek

For Holly Cristina.

For one brief moment, we walked with God in friendship.

In the Nicholas of Time

Chapter 1. August Rain

The meteorologists had predicted it for days. So it was no surprise to anyone when the thunderstorm rolled in around ten-thirty on a humid, mid-August evening, blanketing the entire southeast counties of Wisconsin two hours later in a torrential downpour. At two-o’clock that morning, the fire sirens in Lake Mills began to blow, waking over half the residents who usually couldn’t return to sleep whenever the sirens went off at this God-forsaken hour. In several homes around the city, beepers and cell phones began to ring, waking their owners to the call of an emergency somewhere in or around the city limits. Within moments, men and women of the city’s volunteer firefighters raced with speed and dedication to the fire station. Once there, they quickly donned their gear, climbed into their rescue vehicles, and drove as fast as the storm allowed to a location five miles north of the city. Their destination was the public hunting grounds at the far end of Conservation Lane, a one-lane, stone-encrusted dirt road just off Springer Road.

Upon reaching the hazardous area, they met up with the fire departments of Waterloo and Johnson Creek, who were already cutting their way through the dense woods. Together, these three crews worked during the morning hours to contain and extinguish the massive flames erupting from an abandoned tractor that appeared to have been struck by a bolt of lightning. The resulting explosion of the tractor was so large, it had begun outlying fires in the nearby trees, grass, and shrubbery, despite the rainfall and regardless of how soaked the surrounding plant life was. The entire scene was so intense, both entrances to Springer Road had to be cordoned off by two police vehicles from the Lake Mills Police Department and a Jefferson County Sheriff’s car.

The Conservation grounds were rarely used for hunting anymore, which made getting to the blazing tractor difficult with their vehicles, hoses and equipment. The area had been in disarray for years, and the resulting congestion of so many vehicles in an extremely small parking lot made it problematic, but not entirely impossible for the combined departments to do their jobs efficiently and effectively. The storm, weeds, and rough terrain drastically slowed their progress, allowing the blaze to spread further in every direction. Moving cautiously through the unkempt parking lot and the rocky landscape, the firefighters could not believe their eyes. Even at their distance from the location of the blaze, the tractor on fire was gigantic, and was almost as large as a two-story building, complete with a driver’s cab which was nearly the size of an attic.

During the next several minutes, the three crews managed to put out some of the smaller fires in their path, before attempting to confront their main objective. At the same time, EMTs from Johnson Creek remained behind in a make-shift safety area, ready to assist with first-aid treatments, should one of their comrades suffer injury or illness while combating the fire. It was a time-consuming task, and a few of the firefighters were becoming concerned that they might not be able to contain the fire. Their worries were short-lived however, as the intensity of the storm began to diminish, making it easier for them to focus on putting out the burning monstrosity.

By the time the sun rose and the rain had ended, almost everything was back to normal, as the three crews extinguished the last of the remaining fires. The tractor—charred, soaked, and demolished beyond recognition—sat corroded in a pool of melted rubber and twisted steel. Once a proud and distinguished vehicle, it had now become an unsightly and unsalvageable hunk of metal. It had been a long morning, and the battle with the blaze had been frenzied and challenging. Everyone, hungry and tired from their endeavors, shared a sense of accomplishment that they could save as much of the wilderness as they had. Soon, both departments from Waterloo and Johnson Creek packed up their equipment and returned home, leaving the Lake Mills contingent to remain for an hour or two to make sure the fires from the now-battered remnants of the dead and blackened tractor chassis were finally finished.

For some unexplained reason, it had taken the use of several fire extinguishers to put out some of the smaller fires, which wouldn’t or couldn’t go out from the morning storm. But since the incident had been classified as a lightning strike, the fire investigators paid little attention to this minor detail, concentrating on the cause of the tractor fire. In the conclusion and estimate of the accident, the investigation eventually regarded the explosion of the tractor as improbable cause, and the file on the occurrence was closed a few weeks later. Though the explosion and fire was talked about for a couple of days, everyone in Lake Mills quickly forgot what had taken place that morning, as newer events soon replaced old news. If only the investigators had realized the relationship between the smaller fires and the extinguishers, no one in Lake Mills or Jefferson County could possibly realize the connection between the fire that day and the event that was yet to come…

Chapter 2. A Monday to Forget

Kathleen Paign awoke to the alarm on her cell phone playing the theme to Star Wars, with its loud French horns and crashing symbols. A quick glance at the calendar told her that today was, ugh, Monday, the Monday before the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. Three days ago, the city of Lake Mills had been covered by nine inches of snow from a passing cold front. The streets had finally been dug out the day before, when it was learned that the forecast called for another six to eight inches to arrive the following Sunday. As one of the administrators for the city, it was Kathleen’s responsibility to coordinate city crews in plowing the main streets of the city and keeping the roadways travelable. Having spent the last seventy-two hours working with her road crews, she was thankful that there would be enough time between storms for the rest of the city crews to get around the downtown area and put up the yearly winter holiday decorations that adorned the streets of Main, Lake, and Madison, as well as Commons Park.

Pulling herself out of bed, she got cleaned up and dressed in her warmest attire, then headed downstairs for a quick breakfast. On days like this, she usually enjoyed a good breakfast at the Café on the Park on Main Street, but today would be a busy one, so she settled instead for a slice of cold summer sausage, toaster pastries, an orange, and a sports drink. Forty-five minutes later, she was at her desk at City Hall, getting ready to begin her day. After the usual morning of shuffling papers, reviewing the daily road maintenance reports, and the casual swapping of inter-office stories of weekend activities with fellow co-workers, Kathleen decided to take her lunch break at the Water House Bistro.

As she made her way from Water Street to Lake Street, she noticed something peculiar. Looking about the lampposts, not one of them had been decorated with a single ornament.