In a Pickle: A Family Farm Story

27 Another Mystery

205 Dewey John walked into the newspaper office the morning after he visited the pickle factory. He heard the phone ringing and expected the call was from someone asking if he thought it might freeze tonight. Dewey didn’t know why people thought he’d know about the weather. It had rained all night, and a cold front was blowing through. And it could freeze. Here it was only September 17, and much of the corn was not yet ripe. An early season frost would really cap it off for the farmers who had lost their cucumber crops to disease and now could lose their corn crops as well. Early autumn weather in central Wisconsin was unpredictable, always had been, probably always would be. After endless days of warm, summery weather, just like that, a cold rain will blow in from the northwest, the sky will clear, and the temperature will drop like a lead sinker in a barrel of water. “This here is Marshal Quick,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “Just got a call from Tiny Urso, one of Jake Stewart’s hired men. He’s the big guy who stutters—took him forever but 27 Another Mystery he finally spit out that Jake has come up missing. You wanna ride out there with me? Might be a story.” Dewey said he knew who Tiny Urso was and that he’d be ready when the marshal stopped by the newspaper office. He grabbed up his Rolleiflex camera, several rolls of 120 Tri-X film, and his clipboard. They drove out to Jake Stewart’s farm with the marshal doing most of the talking. He jabbered on about kids who’d just gotten their drivers’ licenses and were driving up and down Main Street on Saturday nights. “They drive down by the grist mill, turn around, and then head on north by the Standalone Cemetery, turn around, and do it again. They ain’t speeding, just creating a nuisance, especially for the tavern-goers who wanna cross the street. These guys with half a buzz on, they’re the ones who think I oughta fine these kids for driving on Main Street.” “Yup, I’ve noticed the kids on Saturday nights, too,” Dewey said. But he wasn’t thinking about kids; he was thinking about what they’d find at Jake’s farm. He wondered if Jake had up and run away. It wouldn’t be like him, though. But he’d really gotten himself in a financial mess. The marshal went on. “Yeah, those same guys that complain about the kids driving on Main Street, they’re the ones who would really snort if I stopped them for driving drunk. I stopped old Jeremy Aldrich the other night, and he started yelling like a stuck pig. He stunk like a brewery. Said I had no right to stop him. He reminded me that his taxes were payin’ my salary. I agreed that he probably paid some of my salary and then I gave him a ticket. He was mad as hell. Said he was gonna bring it up with the mayor. I said, ‘Go ahead.’ Some days this job can be a bitch.” 206 Another Mystery 207 Another Mystery “Sounds that way,” Dewey said, not really listening to the marshal’s litany, but more concerned about Jake Stewart. “You know this hired man, Urso?” the marshal asked, finally changing the subject. “Know who he is, that’s about all,” Dewey said. “Well he’s got quite a story. He’s a big guy, maybe six-and-halffeet tall and weighing right around two-fifty, and you know he’s got a stuttering problem.” “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him.” “And I bet you didn’t know what happened one day at the Link Lake Cooperative Store.” “No, I didn’t hear that story,” Dewey answered, now well aware he was going to get all the details. “Well, one day the co-op hires a guy who also stutters. Tiny stops at the cooperative to pick up something, and the two stutterers , neither knowing the other has a speech problem, face each other. “‘Wh-wh-wh-what c-c-can I do for you,’ the fellow at the cooperative asks. “‘I-I-I-I n-n-n-n-need some block salt,’ says Tiny. “‘You-you-you-you...