Shaver

By John Pearson

On most days, Wisconsin farmer Lawrence (Shaver) Ketch works hard and fast in the mornings so he can be at his mother’s bar in the village of Wonder by noon for lunch. His routine is disrupted when a tragic accident at a nearby lake kills two teenage boys. An old nemesis would like to hold Shaver’s brother JJ, the county sheriff, responsible for the tragedy. Shaver knows that JJ has done no wrong and would like to help prove it. Steve Hardy, Shaver’s fellow bar patron, also believes in JJ’s innocence. A mysterious death at Steve’s business turns out to be a murder. Shaver, JJ, and Steve are not suspects, but they have different reasons for wanting the murder solved. Many meals that Shaver enjoys are described, and insight into the life of a farmer is explored. Before the murder is solved, a bit of humor and some romance for one of the characters holds interest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Feb 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9781977268020

John Pearson

John Pearson is the author of All the Money in the World (previously titled Painfully Rich), now a major motion picture directed by Ridley Scott film and starring Michelle Williams, Mark Wahlberg and Christopher Plumber (nominated for the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor). He is also the author of The Profession of Violence, on which the Tom Hardy film Legend is based, and the follow-up, The Cult of Violence. Born in Surrey, England in 1930, Pearson worked for Economist, The Times, and The Sunday Times, where he was the assistant of Ian Fleming, the creator of James Bond. Pearson published the definitive biography of Fleming, The Life of Ian Fleming in 1966. Pearson has since written many more successful works of both fiction and non-fiction. Biographies remain his specialty with accomplished studies of the Sitwells, Winston Churchill and the Royal Family.

Book preview

ONE

Fresh Ham, Boiled Potatoes Apple Pie

My name is Lawrence Ketch. No one calls me Lawrence, though. A few people, like my mother, call me Larry. Most people call me Shaver. When my mother and I came home from the hospital, in 1950, one of the farmer neighbors asked how the little shaver was doing. The name stuck. It does not matter to me what folks call me, as the saying goes, as long as they don’t call me too late for supper.

I live in the small unincorporated village of Wonder in north central Wisconsin, about sixty miles northwest of Madison, the capital city. At one time Wonder had a population of four hundred people. There was a cheese factory, a dairy where milk was bottled and ice cream was produced, a stockyard, where weekly cattle auctions were held, and there was a railroad depot. Wonder is about halfway between Chicago and the Twin Cities of Minnesota. The railroad made a Y in Wonder. At the Y one track went north to northern Wisconsin and the other took a more westerly track to the Twin Cities. Before my time there were up to ten trains per day going through Wonder, one way or the other. Milk, ice cream, cheese, butter and cattle were shipped both ways. Coal, building supplies and empty glass milk jugs were unloaded in Wonder.

That has all changed now. In the mid seventies the dairy plant closed. About two years later the stockyards quit using the railroad to ship cattle to market. People quit burning coal to heat their homes. So, by the late seventies there were only two or three trains per day and they did not stop in Wonder. It did not take long for the railroad company to figure out there was not a good reason to maintain the line. So they abandoned the track. Since then, they have picked up the tracks, maybe to use elsewhere, I don’t know, and pulled the wooden ties out. Every few miles there are piles of used railroad ties next to where the track used to be. If someone wants to build a retaining wall or a wooden walkway they drive out and get what they need. What is left now is quite rotten and falling apart. Sometimes when the teenagers are restless they build a bonfire and burn some of the smaller pieces.

The governor would like the state to take over the railroad right of way and create a bicycle trail. The ballast and gravel remain on the bed. It is hard to walk, let alone ride a bike on so there would have to be considerable work done before folks could ride bikes. Shortly after the track was taken out the dairy building burned. No one was ever able to prove anything but most everyone assumed the fire was set. After the fire the dairy quit paying the property taxes, so the land reverted to the county. The county cleaned up the site, hauled the debris away and graveled the whole lot. Now it sits empty. The closest business that might need parking is a bar that is about a hundred yards away. Not very often do they need that much parking, in fact, never.

What used to be the depot is now a bar, the Wonder Y. It sits in the middle of the Y because when it was a depot it served trains going both ways, to the north and to the more westerly route. The cheese factory is still in business. In fact, it is the biggest employer in the community with over thirty employees. These people haul milk in, make cheese, sell cheese in their store and dispose of the waste product, whey. Besides the Wonder Y and the cheese factory there are three other businesses in the village, two bars and a gas station grocery store. The two other bars are the Wonder Where and the Wonder When. I don’t know if the next bar will be the Wonder Who or the Wonder What. Actually, the gas station grocery store is not really in what could be described as downtown Wonder. It is about one-half mile south of the Y near the state highway.

Now that Wonder’s background is explained, a little more of my history. Since my birth I have spent thirty-two of my thirty-six years in Wonder. The farm that I live on is one half mile west of the Y in downtown Wonder. My family owned the supply yard where coal, building supplies and general freight were unloaded from the train. Gladys, my mother, and Earl, my father, ran the depot, coordinating railroad cars, selling tickets and making sure that orders were delivered and picked up. When the railroad abandoned the line, my folks had nothing to do and all day to do it. So it was not long before my dad left town and has not been seen since. My mother was able to get a bargain on the depot, so she bought it and made it the Wonder Y. By this time, I was part-time farming with my Uncle Lou, where we are now. Lou was my father’s older brother. He and his wife, Molly, never had any children. Lou always said it wasn’t for lack of trying. Aunt Molly would just smile and look at the floor when he said that.

While growing up my brother, sister and I spent more of our summers at their farm than we spent at home. We helped with the farming and gardening and even learned some household chores. Lou died about two years after Dad left town and Molly knew that I liked farming more than I liked working in the factory in Walker. So she asked us, me and my wife Connie, if we would like to buy the farm from her. Connie was a city girl and not sure, but I was able to talk her into giving it a chance for five years. This is the ninth year, and she loves it. In fact, the only time she swears at the farm is when the cattle get out. That is also the only time she calls me Lawrence or Larry.

Our farm sits straddle a town road between Wonder and Wonder Lake. By straddle I mean the house is on one side of the road and the farm buildings are on the other. We raise cattle, chickens and produce. Connie works in the office at the high school in Walker. Most of my days are spent on the farm, especially now during the calving season. During the month of March most of the cows have calves. Cows need to be watched during this time in case there are complications. A cow that does not have a calf has been kept a whole year for nothing. Beef cows do not produce extra milk that can be sold, so there is no need to keep them over the summer and into the next winter. Quite often a cow that has trouble giving birth once will have trouble again.

On my morning run this morning I jogged by the pasture where the cows are kept until they have their calves. Everything looked fine. All of the cows were up and about. The calves that were already born were nursing or butting heads or racing around as calves like to do.

Larry! What the hell is taking you so long? Connie’s voice was on the other side of the bathroom door. She did not need to say anything else. Without even looking out the kitchen window I knew what had raised the alarm. Last night I had noticed a loose board on the manger that the yearling calves reach through to eat hay. The manger acts as a fence, so when the calves get through the manger they are out. At large. Able and liable to cross the road into the lawn and flower beds. In March there is no grass to eat or flowers to trample. But the lawn is soft, muddy and susceptible to being torn up. Ruts could be made that would take all summer to smooth out. Lucky for me only two animals were out, and they were easily herded back to the feed lot.

Boy, lucky for you! Connie exclaimed. You know today is Tuesday and I have to leave early.

Yes, I smiled. Thanks for the help. What’s for supper?

You haven’t even had breakfast and you want to know what’s for supper?

Well, I know it’s cheerios and a banana for breakfast and whatever my mother is making for lunch, so what’s for supper?

Leftovers. Bye, dear. I’m late now.

Actually she was not late for school or work. She wanted to get to school early so that she could partake of the fresh cinnamon rolls that Bertha made for the school breakfast program. Other days of the week featured hot cereal, cold cereal, scrambled eggs or mini pancakes, but Tuesdays were special. Bertha came in at four o’clock to make the dough for her specialty. Her cinnamon rolls were famous throughout the county. All of the kids ate breakfast at school on Tuesdays, even the ones that had already eaten at home. Some of the parents accompanied their children to breakfast on Tuesdays. They could see the teachers and staff without making an appointment. I have gone a few times, but it is twelve miles one way, and I didn’t think I had time today. Besides, Connie would bring a couple home for me to have tomorrow.

Fixing the manger fence took about five minutes, all that was needed was to drive a couple of nails through the boards into the post. Bedding the cattle takes a little time as does taking care of the chickens. Chickens are not self-reliant in the winter, so they need food and water. Gathering the eggs does not take long. With the number of chickens we have, we get too many eggs to eat ourselves, but not enough to belong to the egg producer’s cooperative. So whenever we have four or five dozen, I take them up to the Wonder Y and Mother puts them in the beer cooler. Two or three others do the same. Mother always has eggs to sell to people who like farm fresh eggs. Regular customers bring in empty cartons when they want more eggs.

After checking the cows again and finding everything in order, I gathered the eggs, five dozen, and headed for the Wonder Y. Sometimes I walk but it is hard to carry five dozen eggs, so I took my pickup. The road was a little wet, not because of rain or snow. Frost was coming out of the ground. I don’t know if moisture was coming up through the pavement or if the road was warmer than the air and moisture from the air was condensing on the warmer road. Anyway, the road was wet.

From our farm it is slightly uphill to the village. You do not know anything is ahead of you until you crest the hill and see the cheese factory straight ahead. Wonder Lake Road ends and one must turn right or left onto the state highway, or cross over to the parking lot of the cheese factory. Behind the cheese factory are the old railroad tracks. The intersection where the tracks divide is about a half a block to the left, or west. In the middle of the y is the Wonder Y. In the parking lot of the Wonder Y sat the sheriff’s car. I walked into the bar and saw the sheriff sitting at the far-left end of the bar. It was rather light for a bar, or somewhat dark for a depot. If someone stopped in without knowing the history of the building, they would not know what to think. What used to be the platform for loading and unloading passengers was now a closed in dining area. A pool table stood halfway between the front door and the bar. Two metal four legged tables were on each side of the pool table and four metal chairs rested at each table. Fifteen empty red bar stools and one full stool were waiting for me.

H’lo Shaver, Sheriff JJ Ketch had called out as soon as I opened the door. He knew it was me without even looking. All the locals knew that on Tuesdays Gladys made lunch for her boys, so no one came in for a burger.

Hi, JJ, I greeted him as I walked behind the bar and put the eggs in the walk-in beer cooler. There were only two dozen in there, so I was glad I had brought them.

Where’s Mom? I asked as I took a seat next to him.

She had to take a pack of cigarettes to Frank. She’ll be right back.

Frank Meyson lives with our mother. Since Dad left without divorcing her, and she had no proof if he was dead or alive, she figured she could not legally marry Frank. A few years after Mom was well settled in the bar Frank’s wife passed away leaving him very lonely. He spent too much time in the bar, and he was not looking at the bartender. One night he was so out of it Mother would not let him drive home and she could not leave him sleeping on the concrete floor or the pool table. So she took him to her house, which is right behind the bar, within walking distance. JJ and I never knew and never asked any questions, but he has stayed there every night since. Since then he has not been in the Wonder Y or any other bar. That is why she gladly takes him a pack of smokes whenever he needs them. Frank does all of the outside maintenance at the bar and at the house. He mows lawn, plows and shovels snow, paints, grows a fantastic garden and even does cooking and cleaning at the house. He really keeps the pressure off J.J. and me.

When he is standing JJ is quite an imposing figure. At six foot, three inches he is four inches taller than I am. He weighs a solid two-twenty, while I am thirty-five pounds lighter. The hair that he has is cut short. His receding hairline has met his male pattern baldness so there is nothing on the top of his head. What little hair that he has matches his neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. Though his face is more round than oblong the goatee makes his head look oblong. His eyebrows do not quite meet over his brown eyes. When he was younger, he used to shave between his eyebrows but that was because his older brother told him everyone did.

What’s new at the sheriff’s department? I inquired, not really expecting to hear anything I didn’t already know.

His response did not really surprise me but it was different. Spring must be here. Some kids had a beer party at Lawson’s field road last weekend. They burned some railroad tie pieces and left about thirty beer cans lying around. I sure wish we could find out where they get the beer.

Well, it’s not here, Gladys Ketch was quite definite. I don’t let anyone carry out unless I know and trust them. Hello Lawrence. How are you?

I’m fine, Mother. That’s a nice blouse, or is it a shirt?

She looked down at her long sleeved red, and white checkered flannel covering, picked at the right shoulder with her left hand and replied It’s a top. Doesn’t it look like a top to you? Frank got it for my birthday.

Well it looks like one of the work shirts Dad used to wear, I said and then wished I hadn’t mentioned Dad. She had never forgotten or forgiven him for leaving her.

Right away JJ jumped in to change the subject and asked, What’s for dinner? He always said dinner instead of lunch because he knew it pleased her. He did not get elected sheriff without being a good politician.

She looked at him, hesitated and announced, just like on Hee-Haw, Fresh ham with gravy, boiled potatoes, buttered carrots and apple pie, still warm. Yum, yum.

Yum-yum! JJ and I repeated. And she was off into the kitchen. Before we got started on any other topic, she was back with two heaping plates of food. Back into the kitchen and back out with a smaller plate for herself. For sixty-one years old she still had, if not a girlish figure, certainly not an old woman’s figure, either. She did not have a humped back and her weight had not settled onto her butt. Her hair was the same color it was the first time I saw her, somewhat darker than the ham, but not as bright as the carrots. She needed glasses to read, but not to cook or tend bar. While she stood on the working side of the bar she was nearly the same height as her sons seated on the other side. JJ reached over to the table nearest the bar and gathered silverware and napkins for the three of us.

Man, this is good! This is the best meal I’ve had in a week. How do you do it, Mom?

Oh, JJ. I know it’s hard for you, but you really should try to find someone.

He has been looking, Mom, I put in. Connie says the new assistant principal at the junior high has had him over to her place twice.

Her car was vandalized. Some wise ass kid let the air out of two of her tires.

So you gave her a ride to school. Do you give every teacher whose car doesn’t start a ride in a police cruiser?

It was on my way. Anyway, your buddy said he could not get there until nine to pump up her tires.

You mean Steven? Mother queried.

Yes, Steven, or as he is sometimes known, Gulp, JJ responded, looking at me.

He said now that he has seen her, he’ll get over there a little quicker next time. Maybe he’ll even go over in the middle of the night and let some air out, so she’ll call him again.

Steven wouldn’t do that, Lawrence. She was correct, of course.

Well, he better not. Could I have some milk, please? Getting the subject changed was JJ’s point here.

Connie says that any mother who has a thirty-three-year-old widowed son with two daughters is going to try to find someone for him. Three years had passed since Kathy had died and JJ had not gone out with a woman yet. He said that with his job and Toni and Markie he didn’t have time. We figured that if the right woman came along he would find time. Connie really liked the assistant principal and was trying to play matchmaker without being too obvious. When the assistant principal called Connie to say she would be late for school because someone had let the air out of two of her tires it was Connie who told her to call the sheriff’s department and report the incident. She knew that JJ would still be home and that he lived only a quarter mile away.

JJ got his milk, but Gladys’s interest was now piqued. The subject was not going to be changed. This was the first time she had heard of the assistant principal. When she uses his Christian name, he knows she will not give up until she has all the pertinent information.

John Joseph, who is this lady?

As the mouth here said she had a couple of flats last Wednesday. Some of the boys must have thought that would be a good way to initiate her. Both tires on the right side were flatter’n a pancake. She actually got in and backed out into the street before she noticed the car had a slight list. What a ditz!

Don’t call her a ditz. What’s she like? Is she pretty? I’ve tried to move cars that had flat tires.

Not two flat tires. She has long legs, Which means she had been wearing a skirt, a short skirt. I took note because if JJ looked at her legs, he was probably not looking at anything else he would remember.

What color is her hair? I asked.

Short black, I think, he answered without looking at me. I did not know but at least I could tell Connie he had looked.

Lawrence said you had been over there twice. When else?

Friday morning her garbage can blew out into the road, so I stopped and put it back in the driveway. Someone could have an accident.

Yeah right, Sheriff. Is that what you told her when she came to the door? Was she wearing another short skirt?

Whoever said anything about short skirts? She saw me outside and thought maybe she had another flat tire.

He was getting a little annoyed and I didn’t want to put him off about the lady, so the conversation ended.

Thanks, Mom. Great lunch, er, dinner, I corrected myself, knowing it was too late. If I wasn’t careful, they would both be a bit annoyed with me.

Yes, Mom. Great dinner, the ass kissing politician said. It sure beats the Down Town Cafe. And the cook here is better looking, too.

Right then I knew I was not going to get on the good side of either of them, so I waved Bye and walked out the front entrance to my pickup and headed home.

I drove by the cow pasture to see if there were any additions and was pleased to see that there was one. Mother and calf were doing fine. The calf was nursing, or trying to, and mama was licking its back, nudging it in the right direction. When I stopped and got out of the pickup to watch she stopped. Her look seemed to say that everything was under control and We don’t need you so keep on going and leave us alone! So I did. There is nothing more reassuring to a livestock farmer than a new calf up and nursing. The farmer has fed and maintained the cow, the bull has done his job, and now the cow has delivered a fine healthy calf, so the process starts all over again.

March is a month of transition for most farmers. Sometimes there is not a lot to do. Many years there is snow on the ground. If there is not snow, there probably is mud. Either way no fieldwork can be done. Even if there is no snow or mud, frost is in the ground, so it is difficult to build or repair fence. Winter and spring are traditionally times when farmers fix or repair machinery. Since last November I had fixed one hay wagon, one hay rake and one grain drill. Nothing else was broken that I knew of. Naturally, something would break down within half an hour of being pulled out of the shed. Much of my winter had been occupied by taking the cupboards out of the kitchen, sanding and restaining them. That is a new type of work for me. But Connie had been persistent, encouraging, complimentary and helpful. We were done now and even I must admit they look much better.

The weather had changed as it is wont to do in the springtime. Morning sunshine and clear skies had given way to a cold north wind and there was a fine mist in the air. I considered trying to herd the cows and calves into the back of the barn but then reconsidered; cows know more about what is better for themselves and their babies than I do. Most of them were already heading to the creek and the trees growing along the bank. They would be out of the wind and protected from rain or snow, if it came to be. The drawback to that is if I want to observe them it will be impossible to do from the seat of the pickup.

The rest of the afternoon was typical of spring. Get the mail. Read the paper. Do the evening chores and head back to town. At the end of Wonder Road this time I turned right instead of going diagonally across. The Wonder