Mining for Justice Read online

  Copyright Information

  Mining for Justice: A Chloe Ellefson Mystery © 2017 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.

  As the purchaser of this ebook, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s 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 author’s 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 © 2017

  E-book ISBN: 9780738753652

  Book format by Bob Gaul

  Cover design by Kevin R. Brown Cover illustration by Charlie Griak

  Editing by Nicole Nugent Map on page xvii by Llewellyn art department Images on pages 357–361:

  #1–2 by Wisconsin Historical Society

  #3–4 by The Mining and Rollo Jamison Museums #5–7 by Pendarvis Historic Site

  #8–9 by Pendarvis Historic Site, courtesy Wisconsin Decorative Arts Database

  Midnight Ink is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Ernst, Kathleen, author.

  Title: Mining for justice: a Chloe Ellefson mystery / Kathleen Ernst.

  Description: First edition. | Woodbury, Minnesota: Midnight Ink, [2017] |

  Series: A Chloe Ellefson mystery; #8

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017012759 (print) | LCCN 2017022004 (ebook) | ISBN

  9780738753652 | ISBN 9780738753348 (softcover: acid-free paper)

  Subjects: LCSH: Women museum curators—Fiction. |

  Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3605.R77 (ebook) | LCC PS3605.R77 M56 2017 (print) |

  DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017012759

  Midnight Ink does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

  Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to current author websites.

  Midnight Ink

  Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  2143 Wooddale Drive

  Woodbury, MN 55125

  www.midnightinkbooks.com

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Dedication

  With thanks to the many people who have worked so hard to preserve Mineral Point’s fascinating history; and in honor of those daring Cornish mining families who created new homes in the Lead Region.

  Author’s Note

  Pendarvis is a real historic site in Iowa County, Wisconsin. The buildings were originally preserved in the 1930s by Robert Neal and Edgar Hellum, who transferred the property to the State Historical Society of Wisconsin in 1970. I’ve tried to present an accurate picture of the site, but as always, minor details have been changed to serve the fictional plot. For example, the old mining slope is today called the Merry Christmas Mine Hill, or simply Mine Hill; I renamed it. The possible closure of the site was a point of contention in 1982, not 1983. Happily, the site is still welcoming visitors.

  Pendarvis is located in Mineral Point, the first city in Wisconsin to be named to the National Register of Historic Places. Other sites mentioned in the mystery include Orchard Lawn, which is in Mineral Point; Shullsburg’s Badger Mine and Museum; and Platteville’s Mining Museum. Taking a mine tour at one or both of these sites perfectly complements a visit to Pendarvis. To learn more, visit:

  Pendarvis https://pendarvis.wisconsinhistory.org

  Mineral Point https://mineralpoint.com/live-here/why-we-love-it-here/history-highlights/

  Orchard Lawn http://orchardlawn.org

  Badger Mine and Museum http://www.badgermineandmuseum.com

  The Mining and Rollo Jamison Museums http://mining.jamison.museum

  You’ll find photographs of some of the artifacts mentioned in the story on 357–361.

  You can also find many color photographs, maps, and other resources on my website, www.kathleenernst.com.

  Cast of Characters

  Contemporary Timeline (1983), Mineral Point, Wisconsin

  Chloe Ellefson—curator of collections, Old World Wisconsin

  Adam Bolitho—Chloe and Roelke’s friend

  Tamsin Bolitho—Adam’s grandmother

  Lowena—Adam’s great-aunt

  Winter—Adam’s friend

  Investigator Higgins—officer and investigator, Mineral Point Police Department

  Claudia Doyle—curator, Pendarvis

  Dr. Yvonne Miller—freelance historian

  Gerald—interpreter, Pendarvis

  Rita—interpreter, Pendarvis

  Audrey—gift shop clerk, Pendarvis

  Evelyn—volunteer receptionist, Pendarvis

  Loren Beskeen—director, Pendarvis

  Midge—archivist, Mineral Point Library Archives

  Contemporary Timeline (1983), Villages of Eagle and Palmyra, Wisconsin

  Roelke McKenna—officer, Village of Eagle Police Department

  Libby—Roelke’s cousin

  Justin and Deirdre—Libby’s kids

  Dan Raymo—Libby’s ex-husband

  Chief Naborski—chief, Village of Eagle Police Department

  Marie—clerk, Village of Eagle Police Department

  Skeet Deardorff—officer, Village of Eagle Police Department

  Greg and Marjorie Trieloff—Eagle residents suspected of selling drugs

  Michelle Zietz—young woman arrested by Roelke

  Troy Blakely—officer, Village of Palmyra Police Department

  Historical Timeline (1827–1838, 1866), Cornwall, England, and Mineral Point, Wisconsin

  Mary Pascoe —bal maiden (female mine worker)

  Andrew Pascoe—Mary’s older brother

  Jory Pascoe —Mary’s younger brother

  Elizabeth and Loveday Pascoe—Mary’s two younger sisters

  Mr. Penhallow—surface mine boss

  Mrs. Bunney—representative of the Christian Welfare Society

  Ruan Trevaskis—Cornish blacksmith, the Pascoes’ friend

  Jago Green—itinerant painter and wood seller

  Ida—Cornish girl brought to Mineral Point by her father

  Will—young miner

  Ezekiel—an enslaved boy

  Parnell Peavey—sucker miner, slave owner

  pendarvis mineral point, wisconsin

  One

  “I’m worried about Libby,” Roel­ke said.

  Chloe Ellefson glanced sideways at the man she loved. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left home almost an hour ago, so she’d known something was on his mind. “Because she canceled at the last minute?”

  “Yeah.”

  Chloe waited. They�
�d known each other for a year and half now. Been officially living together for almost two months. She’d gotten pretty good at reading his moods. Although Roel­ke wasn’t on duty today, he was in cop mode. Mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes. His jaw was tight. Officer Roel­ke McKenna, Village of Eagle Police Department, looked like he wanted badly to arrest someone.

  “What did Libby say when she called?” Chloe prompted. “Did her ex-husband blow off another date with the kids?”

  “No. He picked them up.” Roel­ke glanced in his truck’s mirror, flicked on the blinker, and pulled out to pass. Having skirted Madison, Wisconsin’s capital, they were heading southwest to the community of Mineral Point.

  “Oh.” Chloe digested that. “I just assumed he had.” Roel­ke was close to his cousin Libby, and to her kids Justin and Deirdre. Chloe loved them, too, and was accustomed to plans changing because the kids’ dad was a jerk.

  She swiveled in the seat. “So … why did Libby cancel?”

  “She just said that something came up.”

  “That doesn’t sound like her.” Chloe wrinkled her forehead. Blunt was a euphemism for Libby’s conversational style. “Maybe she didn’t want to be two hours away from home if Dan decided he was tired of acting like a father.”

  “Or maybe she didn’t want to see Adam.”

  Chloe scootched down in the seat and propped her toes on the dashboard. It was late September, but the sky was gray as slate, muting the golden maples and garnet sumacs as if in sympathy with Roel­ke’s mood. “Did Libby and Adam have a fight?” Libby had met Roel­ke’s friend Adam Bolitho last summer. Chloe and Roel­ke both thought the two would make a good couple.

  “Not that I know of. But her tone was … I don’t know. Funny. Something’s wrong.”

  “We’re just going to help out with the cottage he’s restoring,” Chloe mused. “It’s not like it’s a date.”

  “Maybe she felt like it was. She did tell me that she wasn’t willing to date anybody until her kids were grown.”

  Chloe sighed. “Since Deirdre’s only four years old, that seems a little harsh.”

  “Yeah.”

  And I thought this was going to be such a nice day, Chloe thought. She seriously needed a nice day. Maybe even two or three. Mineral Point was a charming town she was eager to explore. She didn’t know Adam well, but he seemed like a nice guy. He’d helped fix up the old family farmhouse Roel­ke had recently purchased, where she and Roel­ke now lived. Since Adam worked construction and ran a small contracting business from his Eagle apartment, his help had been invaluable. Now he’d invited them and Libby to see the old stone cottage he was restoring in his hometown.

  “Do you want to cancel the trip?” she asked. “Go back and see what’s going on with Libby?”

  Roel­ke’s thumbs beat a mindless rhythm on the steering wheel. “It’s not fair for us to bail on Adam too. Beside, you’ve got the work thing.”

  “I do.” Mineral Point was home to Pendarvis, one of the historic sites administered by the State Historical Society of Wisconsin. Chloe was employed as curator of collections at Old World Wisconsin, a sister site located just outside Eagle. With over fifty furnished structures to manage, she had more than enough to keep herself busy. Still, when site director Ralph Petty announced that he was loaning her to Pendarvis as part of a “sites support” initiative, she’d been pleased. It would be fun to help out at another site. September was a quiet-ish month at Old World, so this was a good time to be away.

  Besides, she and Petty despised each other.

  Her maniac boss had wanted to fire her pretty much since the day she’d started working at Old World sixteen months earlier, in May 1982. Back in July she’d given him good reason to do so, and she’d felt herself teetering on the edge of unemployment. Inexplicably, he hadn’t acted. She’d spent two months tiptoeing around, wondering if today would be the day. It was exhausting.

  “This is going to be a good week for me,” she announced. “Claudia Doyle, the Pendarvis curator, is a friend. I’m ready for a break. It will be restorative.”

  Roel­ke threw her a sardonic look. “I know it will be a break from Old World, but you’re still working at a historic site. It seems to me that there’s a good chance you’ll get sucked into some kind of mess. Site politics or something.”

  “No, I won’t,” Chloe vowed. “I’m just a guest. I will not get involved in anything even faintly problematic. If something comes up, I will refuse to take delivery.” She was determined. Being on loan to Pendarvis wouldn’t just give her the chance to learn more about this community’s history and help out a colleague. She desperately needed to engage in museum work without having a micro­managing megalomaniac hovering over her shoulder. And she needed a chance to gain back a little curatorial credit. I’ll show the Pendarvis director that I’m good at my job, she thought. If he made a good report of her time here to the Historic Sites Division Director, it would make it that much harder for Petty to malign her.

  And that was essential. She’d made a commitment to Old World Wisconsin. She’d also made a commitment to Roel­ke. The farmhouse they now shared had been built by his ancestors near Palmyra—a short commute from Old World. She’d have a very hard time finding any other museum job within driving distance of the farm.

  She tried to rid herself of gloomy thoughts. “Well,” she said, “talk to Libby when you get home tonight. If something’s going on, you’ll both feel better when it’s out in the open.”

  “Yeah,” Roel­ke said. “I will.” But his thumbs still beat a troubled tattoo.

  Less than an hour later, Chloe pointed to a sign: Shake Rag Street. “Turn here.”

  Roel­ke did. “What kind of name is Shake Rag Street?”

  “It has to do with the area’s mining history,” Chloe said. “Supposedly women stepped outside and waved rags to let their men know a meal was ready.”

  “Well, hunh.”

  “That may be just a legend. Miners working underground couldn’t see women waving rags. But it’s very cool that Adam’s house is on Shake Rag Street. He must be close to Pendarvis.”

  The narrow road descended through a shady ravine. Despite a few modern houses, the road had an old feel.

  “There’s Adam’s truck,” Roel­ke said. He pulled over and parked in front of a small one-and-a-half-story stone cottage built into the hillside behind it. A ladder stood against the eaves, the windows were empty holes, and piles of rubble were visible in the side yard. A low stone wall ran along the sidewalk.

  “Oh,” Chloe breathed reverently as she slid from the truck. The disrepair didn’t hide the magnificent stonework.

  “Hey, guys!” Adam strode from the open front door, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Welcome to Chy Looan.” He met Roel­ke with a handshake before turning to Chloe. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

  Adam Bolitho was wiry, well-muscled, deeply tanned, not classically handsome but good-looking in a rugged kind of way. He had dark hair, a thin face, and blue eyes that often sparkled.

  They weren’t sparkling today. “I’m sorry Libby couldn’t come.” Adam’s tone strove for casual but didn’t quite make it.

  “Yeah,” Roel­ke muttered. “Something came up.” His tone wasn’t even remotely casual.

  Chloe felt compelled to intervene. “What does Chy Looan mean, Adam?”

  “It means … well, it’s Cornish, but I don’t actually know what it means.” He shrugged apologetically. “This house has been called that as long as I can remember. Look.” He pointed to a stone above the door.

  Squinting, Chloe made out chiseled letters, weathered and worn but still visible. “Very cool. Adam, your cottage is charming.”

  He looked pleased. “I’m not moving back to Mineral Point full time, so once this place is restored you’ll be welcome to stay here.”

  Chloe grinned. “When was it built?”
<
br />   “Sometime in the 1830s.”

  Roel­ke whistled. “Holy toboggans. My ancestors came from Germany in the 1850s, and I thought that was early.”

  “The Cornish weren’t the first white people here,” Adam said. “Miners, mostly Americans from the Southern states, started arriving in the 1820s to look for lead. But the Cornish, who were world-class miners, showed up in the 1830s after word of mineral deposits here started circulating. And unlike most of the original miners, who were single men looking to strike it rich and move on, many of the Cornish immigrants brought their families and settled down. Lots of descendants still live in the area. The first Bolithos got here in 1837.”

  Chloe felt her spirits rise. Immigrant history was her specialty. Her passion, really. She especially loved searching out evidence of everyday people whose stories would otherwise be lost.

  Roel­ke studied the cottage. “Has this place always been in your family?”

  “No. We’re not sure where my mother’s people settled. The Bolithos had a place that dated back to the same period, but it was across the road.” He gestured widely with his arm. “In the 1820s and ’30s, that whole hillside was being mined. At first the men scratched about, looking for easy hauls. The Cornish introduced deep mining to the region.”

  Chloe eyed the wooded hill. There was something compelling about it, something that made her want to leave the men to their rehabbing and go exploring. If she squinted her eyes, she could almost see the miners digging for lead. “How lovely that you’ve got such a great view,” she said. “Pretty much all rocky ridge and prairie landscape back then, I take it?”

  “Right. Not many trees in the area, and what wood there was went to smelters or cookfires. But Cornish stonemasons in that first wave of immigrants had no trouble building cottages—and later on, bigger homes—from local limestone and sandstone. There were maybe thirty little homes along Shake Rag Street at one time, plus the ones over on the hill.” Adam’s gaze became faraway. “I’d give anything to have the original Bolitho place, but it was destroyed in the 1930s. They built the municipal pool with local limestone—including stones from the old cottages. It was one of Franklin Roosevelt’s projects to put men to work.”