Chapter 8 #2
“It couldn’t have been more pleasant,” Laurie remarked falling in behind.
“Particularly the last hour or so after leaving the thruway. It’s so much more rustic than either of us expected, especially when we started getting into the mountains.
I can’t tell you how nice it is to get out of the city, which neither of us have done very much over the last number of years. ”
“What’s astonishing is how woodsy it is until you drive into Essex Falls itself,” Jack added from behind Laurie.
“It’s part of what makes the place so special,” Bob agreed.
Once they got into Bob’s rather spartan office, he had Laurie and Jack sit in two of the four aged straight-back chairs while he sat behind his equally aged metal desk.
On it was a sleek iMac and a group of framed photos of his three children when they were youngsters and his wife.
“Yes, that’s Carol,” Bob said of his wife’s pic when Laurie questioned it.
“Obviously it was a few years ago. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys tonight as we have planned a barbecue this evening, if you’re willing.
We’ll be having my personal favorite: double-thick loin lamb chops. ”
“By all means,” Laurie said after glancing at Jack, who nodded enthusiastically.
“But first I have a confession to make,” Bob said.
“On the phone I promised you that I would get the posh, old Bennet Estate for you while you are here. Unfortunately, that is not going to happen. I didn’t know at the time that the property was already being rented by our local militia group, the Diehard Patriots. ”
“We saw signs for the Diehard Patriots,” Laurie remarked. “We were wondering what it was. So, it is a militia group. That’s what we suspected.”
“I’m afraid so,” Bob said with a mildly despondent shrug.
“I mentioned on the phone that we’re having a bit of an issue with a small right-wing extremist group.
It’s an attempt at a local version of the Oath Keepers or Proud Boys but not nearly as scary, as the Diehards have less than a couple of dozen members.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan, but they stick to themselves, doing survivalist nonsense, drinking beer, and shooting their AR-15s. ”
“Why would they be renting a fancy estate?” Jack questioned.
“A good question,” Bob said. “First of all because it’s surprisingly inexpensive through Airbnb.
A year ago, a private equity real-estate development company bought the old Bennet Shoe factory building next door as well as a number of the associated, empty, high-end homes that are outside of town, including the Bennet family estate, for a relative pittance.
The concept is to turn the empty mill building into a five-star, four-season resort, which I think has a good chance of success with what the area has to offer, although all they’ve done so far is update the homes. ”
“But again, why would a fledgling militia group rent a mansion?” Laurie asked.
“I’m getting to that,” Bob said. “It’s for a rather strange reason, which to find out, I had to ask Bill Hargrove, the chief of our five-man police force, who makes it a point to know everything that’s going on in town.
What he told me was that four supposedly experienced militia members from Holland, of all places, came all the way over here to Essex Falls specifically to instruct the Diehard militia in combat tactics, whatever that means.
And as strange as all that sounds, it was all arranged by none other than Ethan Jameson, the pest control technician we’re going to be autopsying tomorrow morning.
He and several of his close friends are the Diehard Patriot founders. ”
A simultaneous, sardonic smile appeared on both Jack’s and Laurie’s faces as they exchanged a quizzical glance.
“Okay,” Laurie said in a drawn-out style as if she didn’t quite believe what Bob was saying. “Tell me this: How was all that arranged by Mr. Ethan Jameson all the way up here in the middle of nowhere? And why Holland?”
“A sign of the times,” Bob said. “Apparently Mr. Jameson had been spending a lot of time online in various right-wing militia-oriented social media platforms and chat rooms like VKontakte and Telegram, interacting as these people do while augmenting and fanning their prejudices and conspiracy theories. Supposedly the Dutch militia guys contacted him out of the blue on one of these chat rooms and offered their professional services to the fledging Diehard Patriots on the condition they were provided a place to stay and a means of transportation while they were here. The rest is history, but to specifically answer your question of why they are Netherlanders and not from another country, I have no idea.”
“Holland does seem like a strange place for right-wing militia people,” Jack said. He’d been there once. He remembered Amsterdam as being inordinately friendly, open, and a very welcoming, tolerant city.
“I think that all of Western Europe is seeing a surge in right-wing activities,” Bob said, “including Holland.”
“That’s probably quite true,” Laurie said. “Same here in the United States.”
“What’s the current accepted term for people from Holland?” Jack asked. “I’m confused that you called them Netherlanders.”
“For good reason,” Bob said. “They used to be called either Dutch or Hollander as I remember, but Chief Hargrove specifically used the term ‘Netherlander.’ When I questioned it, he said that’s what these militia members called themselves.”
“So Chief Hargrove spoke with them directly?” Laurie questioned.
“He did indeed,” Bob said. “I’m not surprised.
He takes his job to heart, and when he heard that there were foreign—‘fa’ren,’ as he’d say—militia members in town interacting with some of the local ne’er-do-wells, he went out there and met them and even checked on their IDs.
He described all four as being genuinely cooperative, respectful, and even polite, and he found their passports were all in order. ”
“How long have they been here?” Jack asked.
“I was told more than a month,” Bob said.
“But they keep to themselves out there at the Bennet Estate, and there hadn’t been any trouble with them whatsoever.
But apparently that was about to change.
According to Mr. Jameson’s live-in girlfriend, Janet Huber, whom Bill Hargrove interviewed on Monday, the day Mr. Jameson died, Mr. Jameson had been furious at the Netherlanders to the point that he was going to have all four of them kicked the hell out of the Bennet Estate that very day. ”
“Did she say why?” Laurie questioned.
“She did,” Bob said. “She said he was convinced that they weren’t fulfilling their side of the bargain in that two of them, apparently the commander and his lieutenant, had failed to show up for a big training exercise the night before, and it had been a chronic problem.
She said what had made Mr. Jameson particularly pissed was that the Netherlander commander was more interested in the brewery he’d put together in the Bennet barn than instructing and supervising the Diehard Patriots. ”
“A brewery?” Jack questioned with a spontaneous laugh.
“I know,” Bob admitted. “It sounds a bit off the wall.”
“Do you think the Netherlanders are operating on a shoestring?” Jack further asked. “How are they feeding themselves if they have to make their own beer?”
“That’s the strange part,” Bob said. “Quite the contrary. The woman claims that Mr. Jameson said that they had all the money they needed to buy a bunch of impressive beer-making equipment, which makes me wonder why the Diehard Patriots were paying for the Bennet Estate. I don’t have any answers.
Of course, the bigger question is how did Mr. Jameson manage to kill himself and whether or not it was his anger that made him careless.
Supposedly, at least according to the girlfriend, he was well aware of the toxicity of the products he worked with and was a stickler about washing his clothes and showering every day after work.
That’s what’s so confusing for me, especially if what she says about his habits is true.
But this is why I am so appreciative of you coming up here to lend a professional hand.
I know I’m probably going a bit overboard, but as an essentially untrained coroner, the last thing I want on my conscience is a rash of preventable organophosphate deaths popping up with any of Mr. Jameson’s co-workers. ”
“Toxicology is going to be key,” Laurie said.
“No doubt,” Jack said.
“I do have an account with NMS Labs, which is terrific,” Bob said.
“After the autopsy we can send off blood, urine, and various organ samples to them. The problem is that getting their results takes significant time. What I’m hoping is that you guys might have an idea from the autopsy itself.
What do you think? Is that at all possible? ”
Jack and Laurie exchanged a quick glance.
“I’m sorry to say that’s probably not possible,” Laurie responded.
“Death from an organophosphate, irrespective of the particular type or brand, is death from an anticholinesterase, which is what organophosphates are and which interrupt nerve function throughout the body. Grossly, there might be a variation in the degree, with some organs affected more than others, but that’s not going to point to any specific agent. As I said, toxicology will be key.”
“I was afraid of that,” Bob said with a fleeting expression of disappointment. He shrugged. “Well, we can only do what we can do. A least we’re trying, and regardless, it’s certainly a pleasure to see you guys.”
“If speed is an issue,” Jack said, “what we might think of doing is getting some body fluid samples down to the OCME after the autopsy rather than sending them off to NMS Labs. Our toxicology lab director can do wonders if he’s motivated, and lately he’s been motivated.
Do any of the overnight delivery services operate out of Essex Falls? ”