Ernst - Old World Murder

About the Author

Kathleen Ernst is a novelist, social historian, and educator. She moved to Wisconsin in 1982 to take an interpreter job at Old World Wisconsin, and later served as a Curator of Interpretation and Collections at the historic site.

Old World Murder is Kathleens first adult mystery. Her historical fiction for children and young adults includes eight historical mysteries. Honors for her fiction include Edgar and Agatha nominations.

Kathleen lives and writes in Middleton, Wisconsin, and still visits historic sites every chance she gets! She also blogs about the relationship between fiction and museums at www.sitesandstories.wordpress.com. Learn more about Kathleen and her work at www.kathleenernst.com.

Acknowledgments

Almost every business named in the novel is fictional. However, I have happy memories of visiting Sassos, in Eagle; and the Nite Cap Inn, in Palmyra, and so included them. To the proprietors: Thanks for the hospitality, way back when.

Many people helped make this book possible. Thanks to all of my OWW friends, then and now; to the Writer Chicks, for a decade of friendship and insight; and to Katie Mead and Robert Alexander, for giving me a place to write.

Huge thanks to Chief Russ Ehlers and members of the Eagle Police Department for their patience, assistance, and encouragement. Im in awe of what you do every day.

Im grateful to my agent, Andrea Cascardi, and to the entire Midnight Ink team, for believing in this project.

I might not be a writer today if my parents hadnt known that books are as important as food, and if my sisters hadnt shared their favorites over the years. And I couldnt make this work without the love and support of my husband, Scott Meekervideographer, book hauler, proofreader, and all-around partner.

Authors Note

Old World Wisconsin is a real place. I had the pleasure and privilege of working there for twelve years, starting in 1982. However, this book is a work of fiction. All characters, including Chloe Ellefson, were born in my imagination. I freely fabricated events to serve the story. For example, although most of the historic structures mentioned do exist, Mr. Toblers cobblestone cottage does not. To learn more about this very real and fascinating historic site, visit the website: http://oldworldwisconsin.wisconsinhistory.org/

Perhaps only one thing has remained constant: like most museums and history-related institutions, Old World Wisconsin relies upon public support. Please help sustain your local historic site!

Old World Murder: A Chloe Ellefson Mystery 2010 by Kathleen Ernst.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Midnight Ink, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the authors copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First e-book edition 2010

E-book ISBN: 9780738727370

Book design and format by Donna Burch

Cover design by Kevin R. Brown

Cover illustration Charlie Griak

Editing by Connie Hill

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For the interpreters and curators I knew,

with respect and affection;

and for Sergeant Robert J. Bord,

with thanks.

After pulling his squad car into The Eagles Nest parking lot that evening, Roelke surveyed his surroundings. The bar occupied the lower level of a small, two-story frame building. It had stood empty for most of Roelkes time in Eagle. In the past hed occasionally made a pass through the parking lot while on patrol, checking for kids huddled behind the building to smoke cigarettes or pot. Now, half a dozen cars and pickup trucks were parked in front of the bar, and three motorcycles waited for their drivers in the glow of a pole-mounted security light. Low gray clouds threatened rain, and made the neon Miller and Bud signs blinking in the front windows seem welcoming.

Somewhere inside, according to Ginger Herschorns nephew, a nameless bookie had pressured the underage kid to bet a lot of money on a baseball game. The boy had been half defensive and half surly. I wagered on a ball game, hed said with a shrug, slunk down low on the flowered sofa in his parents living room. I lost some money. No big deal.

Roelke parked around the corner to keep the car accessible without being blatantly visible. He pulled his nylon jacket on when he got out of the car. The air felt damp and cool as he headed across the parking lot. The shrieking vocals of AC/DCs You Shook Me All Night Long pulsed from a jukebox and into the night. Blues, he thought wistfully. Just once Id like to do a bar check and hear some good blues.

A wall of smoke and noise greeted him inside, accompanied by the odor of fried mushrooms and onion rings. The bar itself stood island-like in the middle of the room. A horseshoe of small wooden tables sat along the front and side walls. A waitress sporting bottle-blonde hair and tight black jeans was delivering a tray of beer mugs to a noisy group in one corner. She glanced at Roelke when he came in, but didnt stop moving.

Two pool tables sat behind the bar. And in the wall behind them, three closed doors. One no doubt led to a kitchen. One room was probably an office. And the third?

Roelke approached the bartender, a cadaverous-looking man perhaps in his fifties. The barkeep stopped sliding clean glasses into overhead wooden racks, looking wary. He had thinning gray hair combed away from a narrow face. The overhead lights yellow glow wasnt kind to his sallow complexion, or to the dark circles under his eyes.

Hows it going? Roelke asked, his tone pleasant but not jovial. Finding the friendly-balance in a bar was a knife-edge thing. If he was too friendly, regulars would come to expect chit-chat, slowing him down whenever he did a bar check while on patrol. Not friendly enough, an empty beer bottle might just come sailing from some dark corner next time he stopped by.

Ah, Jesus. The barkeep put both palms on the bar. You got some problem in here?

As a matter of fact, we have had a complaint. Underage drinking and underage gambling. Out of the corner of his eye, Roelke saw the waitress slide quietly through one of the closed doors. Are you Joe Pagenkampf? One Joe Pagenkampf had filed a request for the taverns liquor license.