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“And how do you like living in Norton Shores, Ashley?”
“It’s ok. My grandpa and grandma come to visit us sometimes. My grandpa likes to take walks with me. We usually pick flowers. He even saved my life one time.”
“Cyrus jumped in and laughingly said, “Ashley, it's not a good time to tell old stories right now. Jeff just lost his brother, and our purpose here is to pay our respects. Let’s save the stories of our walks for some other time.”
“It’s ok,” Jeff said.
Martha then spoke up and said, “Other than our recent cruise, Cyrus and I like to stay close to home normally. However, we visit Vince and their family at least twice yearly. I have to see my grandchild as much as I possibly can.”
Cyrus then said, “Well, guys, I think we should be leaving. I know this is a tough time for you all, especially you, Jeff. Let me know if I can help you in any way or if anything breaks with the case. I hope they nail the bastard who did this real soon.”
Cyrus and his family left the cabin. On the way home, Cyrus reflected on Grant and the cancer his wife Martha had been diagnosed with. Cyrus had not told anyone that Martha’s cancer had aggressively spread throughout her body. Doctors diagnosed her with stage four pancreatic cancer about three months ago. The doctors gave her anywhere from two months to one year left to live. They ended up cutting their trip short when Martha felt ill on the ship. She knew she had only limited time remaining, and wanted to spend it on the farm where she’d lived for over 50 years and raised her family. Cyrus remembered the promise he had made to his beloved wife. He promised he would help her pass if the pain ever got too intense. She would let him know when that time came. His goal for whatever time she had left focused on making her last days as comfortable and fulfilling as possible.
When they arrived back at Cyrus’s farm, he helped Martha out of the truck while Vince and Ashley went to feed the horses. After Martha retired to her room, Cyrus went outside. He padded quietly in the cold snow down a well-worn path to an old wooden bench on the back edge of the property. The bench overlooked a beautiful valley below. The valley featured an opening with red pine and spruce trees dotting the landscape. This was Cyrus’s favorite spot on the farm. His dad called it Pineview Valley. His father used to bring him out here and tell him stories about the old days. Cyrus could listen to these stories for hours. He liked to come here when troubled or when he needed to think. Somehow this place could comfort him whenever the stress of living seemed overwhelming.
After Cyrus left, the guys commented on how much they appreciated the Campbell’s visit. Jeff indicated he planned to head back to town. He had a few loose ends to attend to. He bid goodbye to the guys and drove away.
***
One of those loose ends turned out to be something Jeff had forgotten to mention to Deputy Stassin. It involved that bear poaching incident with Stanky that Jeff read about in Grant’s office when they met to discuss the work bee. During the Michigan bear season, Stanky shot a black bear on the Roads End property. He drove past numerous Keep Out signs on a 4-wheeler, shot the bear out of a tree, then hauled it out. Grant and Jeff would have had no idea this even happened, except for the fact there were several game cameras along the route when Stanky drove off. One of the pictures showed Stanky’s face, clear as day. Stanky was known around town as a “cedar savage,” a term the locals used for someone who lived off the grid in the woods, similar to a hermit. He was the same person for which Grant coined the name “Stanky” when they were back in grade school. He had a small cabin deep in the woods bordering 2,000 acres of state land. Stanky, a well-known violator, had been in trouble with the DNR many times over the years. He received a year’s suspension of his deer and bear hunting privileges, and they confiscated his 30-06 hunting rifle after being convicted of bear poaching. He vowed to seek revenge against Grant when the sentence came down, but neither Koehler had seen him since the court date.
Jeff called Stassin and reminded him about the poaching incident and Stanky’s threat to Grant. Stassin first said he would go see Stanky himself. Jeff insisted on accompanying him because he might be one of the few people who could actually locate Stanky’s cabin. Jeff knew the location from the poaching incident. He couldn’t possibly describe the location to Stassin. To get to his cabin, you had to turn off the main road and follow several different two-track logging trails way back into the forest. The unmarked trails were so numerous in the area that even Jeff doubted he could find the place after dark. Jeff and Stassin met up at the police station and drove out north of town toward the cabin. They turned off the highway and proceeded for five miles on the two-track roads before coming to the end of the road marked by a huge earthen berm. About 50 yards past the berm, a small cabin sat with smoke wafting upwards from the chimney. They’d finally reached the cabin Stanky called home.
The old cabin, built of cedar, couldn’t have been more than 700 sq ft. The chinking between the logs looked almost as dark as mud. Junk was strewn almost everywhere in the yard. They could see old rusted-out vehicles and what appeared to be an old-style wood stove lying in the mud. They had to step around the junk in order to approach the cabin. As they reached the porch, Jeff called out, “Stanley, it’s Jeff Koehler and Deputy Stassin. We need to have a word with you.” After a moment’s delay, the wooden door creaked open, and a man stepped out onto the porch with a 12 gauge shotgun.
“I’ve got nothing to say to any Koehler or the law. Get the hell off my property unless you have a warrant.” Stanky stood about 5ft 8 inches tall with long straight black hair that extended to his shoulders. He sported a full beard that looked like he rimmed it as often as he cleaned up his yard. His skin looked like leather, and his deep voice belied his small stature.
“Stanky, we’re gonna have a little talk right now,” Stassin said. “If you refuse, I’ll get a warrant and come back. If I return with a search warrant, I’m sure what I’d find might be very interesting. I may even invite Kevin Schliebert, the county conservation officer, to come too. I’ll bet he’d love to poke around here and see what you’ve got going on. Now put that shotgun down before I arrest you for threatening a police officer.”
Stanky had no desire for the police nor the DNR to be poking around, so he changed his tune immediately and set down the gun. “Alright, I’ll give ya a few minutes and answer your questions. Then you get the hell out of her and leave me be.”
“That’s fine. That’s all we need. Can we come inside so we can talk?”
“Suit yourself.”
Jeff and Stassin stepped into the small unkempt cabin and were immediately shocked by the smell. Jeff later described it as a combination of Old Spice, ball sweat, and death! He wondered what caused the foul odor until he saw skins and animal mounts hanging throughout the small cabin. A small sink with a hand pump on a wooden counter provided Stanky’s water. The cabin lacked a toilet, but Jeff had spotted an outhouse in the back. A single bed made from pine with a stained mattress sat in the back corner. An old tattered lounge chair sat next to the bed. This was the only furniture in the cabin except for the wooden table and chairs where the three men now sat. A few pots and pans were on the counter, with a couple of dirty plates beside them. Cans of beans and corn filled the open cupboard, along with a couple of cans of Spam.
Stassin went to set his notepad down on the old table but realized it was covered with hardened food particles. He asked Stanky, “Can I bother you to wipe this table off so I can set my notes on it?”
“Stanky looked down at the table and smirked, “It don’t come off, Deputy.”
Stassin then began questioning Stanky about his whereabouts on November 16th. While this happened, Jeff caught a glance of something very interesting. Nestled in a corner of the cupboard, he spied a liquor bottle. That wasn’t surprising by itself. Jeff found it surprising when he realized Stanky had a fifth of Johnny Walker Black, Grant’s signature drink. That same scotch found in the poisoned flask.
“So Stan, I see you like Scotch. I pegged you more as a Kessler or moonshine guy, not the expensive stuff like JW Black,” Jeff remarked.
“Yeah, well, every man has at least a few vices, Koehler. What’s it to you anyway?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. I just noticed it because that’s Grant’s favorite drink. Have you heard that he’s dead?”
“I may live in the woods, but I still hear a few things around the area. Guys have been talking about his death. I heard about the heart attack. If you’re looking for sympathy from me for your brother, you’ve come to the wrong place. I never liked Grant, and I’d be lying if I said I mourned his death. I’ll bet that’s not what you came to hear, Koehler. Am I right?”
“Quite frankly, I could care less what you think about Grant. I know you two had a history even before you decided to poach on our property. What I am here for is to ask a few questions. You shot the bear on our property with a 30-06. Somebody took a shot at Grant last October, and the bullet came from an 06. Do you own one now?”
“Let me refresh your memory, Koehler. After the trial, the court confiscated my gun, so I don’t own a 30-06 anymore.”
Jeff knew about the confiscation but wanted to see how Stanky would answer the question. “Have you been on or around our property since your trial?”
“No, I have not. I want nothing to do with you assholes.”
