Date: Sat, 29 Mar 2014 20:41:22 -0400 From: Jake Preston Subject: Psychic Detective 26 Psychic Detective 26 By: Jake Preston This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes recreational, sometimes spiritual, and almost always described explicitly. My attention is equally divided between narrative, character development, and sex scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there are many other excellent "nifty" stories to choose from. And remember that while nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think about donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response! Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com * * * * * * Chapter 26 Timberdays Ashawa is a village that has seen better days. Forty years ago, it flourished as a farm- town, with 600 people. Now, with a population of 400, it is two-thirds its former size. What happened? In the late 1920s, the Swedish and Norwegian farmers established a Farmers' Cooperative, which built the town's Creamery, Grocery, and Dry Goods Store. The Co-op was a Scandinavian idea, transplanted to many farm communities in Minnesota. The Creamery purchased milk from all the farmers. In the Grocery, all the meat and eggs, and much of the produce, came from local farms. The Dry Goods store sold manufactured clothing and hardware, but even there one could purchase homemade furniture, quilts, rugs, and crafts of all kinds. As a result of this bootstrap-economy, the farmers and townspeople of Ashawa made it through the Great Depression and World War II without being ground into poverty. Anyone could join the Co-op by paying an annual fee, and-in most years-received a dividend at Christmastime, at a rate that was often two or three times the amount of the membership fee. Then, in the 1950s, at the behest of J. Edgar Hoover, the FBI investigated Farmers' Co- ops in Minnesota as pinko networks of Communist sympathizers. Hoover nicknamed Minnesota the 'Red Star State' because of its farmers' co-ops. During the height of McCarthyism, the local FBI Agent in Duluth investigated Finnish farmers as suspected Communists. A rival IGA Store came in, selling food products from elsewhere. Co-op memberships declined, although non- members continued to benefit from the local co-operative economy. Its mainstay was the Creamery, which allowed dairy farms to flourish. The Ashawa Co-op made a comeback in the early 1960s, but that was its swansong. It declined in the late 60s, and dissolved in 1969. What killed off the farmers' co-ops was the refrigerator-truck. A dairy conglomerate in Duluth started collecting whole milk from the larger farms, thereby restricting the co-op service to smaller farms. The Creamery went out of business. Lacking this mainstay, the Grocery and Dry Goods Store went bankrupt, too. Small farms- many of them very old homesteads-were abandoned when their owners left to find jobs on the Iron Range or in the Twin Cities. The town started losing population, too. Since the 1970s, Ashawa has had depressed economy, except for the south shore of Lake Ashawa, where summer tourists from the Twin Cities and Chicago bought lakeshore property at low prices and built expensive homes. Tom Preston and Dark Eagle, and Göran Svenson's parents, were old enough to remember a more prosperous farming economy in Ashawa, but Göran, and Jake Preston, grew up in the new, reformed Ashawa, which had become a de facto colony of distant corporations. If you're wondering why Jake Preston deeded his family's Rice River homestead to the Ojibwe Nation, or if you doubt that this could be so, you must realize that his land could no longer thrive as a viable farm. Instead he made his living as an author. Red Hawk had a different life-history. He grew up on the Res in Crane Lake and went to school in Orr, where half the students were Ojibwe and almost all were trapped in relative degrees of poverty. His gay friends in Ashawa got him into college, and Dark Eagle made sure that he played a role in the discovery and study of the Ojibwe Monument-the breakthrough in his career as an anthropologist. No one else in the world holds his title, as official Anthropologist of the Ojibwe Nation. Contrasting the ups and downs of dairy farming, tree-cutting was a reliable (albeit secondary) industry in Ashawa. It started in 1903 when the railroad came through from Virginia to the Little Fork River, on its way north to International Falls. Once the railroad came through, homesteaders who were clearing their fields could sell pine logs to the Virginia-Rainy River Lumber Company. During long winters, cutting trees was their major occupation and an important source of cash. In 1940, when the worst of the Great Depression was over, lumber camps came to the forest. A sawmill was built just across the Little Fork River from the Railroad Station. Lumberjacks and sawyers helped diversify the economy-not to mention the male population! Ashawa Sawmill is less active than it once was. For people driving from town to the lake, it's mountain of sawdust is a signature monument. In earlier years, before refrigerators came to Lake Ashawa, people would help themselves to truckloads of sawdust for their ice- houses. A Christmas-tree factory was added in the 1950s. In the 60s, when the marked for lumber declined, farmers and lumberjacks could still cut pulpwood for transport by rail to the paper mills in Cloquet. In the 70s, demand for lumber returned and the lumber camps flourished again. Lumber was transported either by rail or in trucks. The camps were deep in the forest, but lumberjacks could be seen often in stores and in Ashawa's two cafés. (In the North Country, a saloon or a sports bar is called a 'café'.) In 1948, Ashawa's Chamber of Commerce established 'Timberdays', a three-day summer festival to promote the local lumber industry. The main events are a carnival and a series of Paul Bunyan-style contests in wood-cutting, axe- and sledge-hammer-throwing, caber-tossing, and pancake-eating. Timberdays opens with a parade, with cash prizes for high school bands, floats, and children's costumes and exhibits. Ladies' auxiliaries sell baked goods and meals at concession stands, to raise money for local churches. In its earlier years, World War II vets marched in uniform and used the occasion to recruit new members to the American Legion. The Summer Solstice Powwow wasn't established until 2009. To maximize attendance at both events, Timberdays is now held two weeks after Summer Solstice. So far as Ashawa is concerned, one of the benefits of the Powwow is that it attracts more Ojibwe participants to Timberdays. Not everyone in Ashawa approved. Racism is still rampant, although it's gone underground. But in 2010, Red Hawk persuaded the Chamber of Commerce to allow an "Ojibwe Monument" float in the parade. Ojibwe people attended, dressed in elaborate Indian costumes. Their float won first prize that summer (2010), and in subsequent years was a major contender. In 2011, the Ojibwe added a second float, designed to exhibit Native American crafts. In two years, the Ojibwe transformed Timberdays into a 'must-see' event for tourists staying at the resorts on Lake Ashawa. That was more than enough to win the hearts and minds of resort- owners and businessmen. Indians were accepted, as long as they added local color. Red Hawk proposed an addition to the field-events, too: an archery contest. This was adopted with enthusiasm, as it was a manly event, and during deer season, more white men than Indians hunted with bows and arrows. Who would have known that Red Hawk was the best archer in the county? Later that summer (2011), Red Hawk capitalized on his success by organizing an Ojibwe Arts & Crafts Co-op, which opened a shop on Main Street, in the two-story site of a defunct hardware store. They called it 'The Wooden Indian' and placed an eight-foot-high carved sculpture on the sidewalk by the door. Business was brisk, even in winter after they installed a coffee-bar at the front of the store. Customers could walk through the store and observe Ojibwe craftsmen and women weaving blankets, carving toys and sculptures, or assembling jewelry. A few Ojibwe people grumbled that the wooden Indian sculpture was a relic of racism. Red Hawk's reply: "The best way to combat a racist image is to appropriate it for your own purpose. That's sometimes enough to kick the racism out of it." Red Hawk had always liked Timberdays, even before he got involved by organizing the 'Ojibwe Monument' float and the archery contest. If truth must be told, he liked to cruise lumberjacks. He by-passed the carnival, for he had little interest in twenty-somethings, and in teenagers none at all. After the parade, he'd go directly to the playing field to wait for the contests to begin-throwing the axe, throwing the sledge-hammer, splitting lengths of tree-trunk in a single blow, and caber-toss, an event borrowed from Scottish Games. Red Hawk's cruising never paid off. Eye-candy was his only reward. That changed in 2011, when Red Hawk won first prize in Archery. After the archery, a lumberjack who had won the stump-splitting contest-a strongman named Kenny Johnson-offered to buy him a celebratory beer at the American Legion concession stand near the carnival. "How about a ride on the ferris wheel?" Kenny suggested. He didn't mind being seen in public with Red Hawk. They took their beers with them. Kenny quizzed Red Hawk on some fine points of archery. "There are no fine points in stump-splitting," he said. "A sharp edge is all you need." They ended up walking the railroad tracks away from the crowd and out of town. "Two more miles down the road and we'll come to my place, if you're interested," Kenny said. "I'm interested," Red Hawk replied, "If you don't mind getting shot in the ass by Cupid's arrow." "That would be a moon-shot," Kenny laughed. It was as close to an answer as Red Hawk would get. During foreplay, Kenny made love aggressively, with a drive that was tempered only by his consciousness of his asymmetrical physical strength. He asserted embraces and kissed on Red Hawk, but stopped short of overpowering him. Whatever Kenny was, he wasn't a passive bottom- Red Hawk concluded- but Kennedy didn't resist when Red Hawk opened his ass with is fingers. Kenny gave Red Hawk a rough-whiskered kiss, and held him in his arms like a bridegroom preparing to ravish his bride, but when it came time to fuck, he opened his legs and let Red Hawk mission him. After that he was open to anything Red Hawk wanted, and Red Hawk wanted a lot. In the temporary calm of aprčs-sexe- temporary because their time together was far from over- Red Hawk asked Kenny if he was really a bottom at heart. "First you fuck the crap out of me. Then you question my sex-creds," Kenny quipped. "It's just that you make out so aggressively, not that I'm complaining," Red Hawk said. "I can be what you need me to be, if we decide to become lovers," Kenny replied, "but as for TBV, I'm not getting pigeon-holed into a category." * * * * * * Life on Lake Ashawa returned to uneasy stability. The cause of unease was the knowledge that two serial killers were still at large. In the absence of Deputy Nelson, Sheriff Matthews appointed Göran Svenson as Acting Deputy Sheriff for Ashawa and Orr, and recommended him to the County Board for promotion from Sergeant to Inspector. We wrote to the Board: "We have evidence that a pair of serial killers is again active in the Ashawa region. Therefore, I believe that the region needs law enforcement leadership at the Detective Inspector level. What we now know about the serial killers came to light largely through the investigative work of Detective Sergeant Göran Svenson. For this reason, I recommend Svenson for the position of Detective Inspector. If he is appointed, he will serve concurrently as Acting Deputy Sheriff. In the event that Deputy Nelson is able to return to his post, Svenson will continue in the Ashawa Office as Detective Inspector." Naturally Sheriff Matthews was aware of the publicity surrounding the Five Spirits / Eight Eagles crime scene. The story appeared in the North Country Advocate on Monday, and parts of it were published in other newspapers in Wednesday. He refrained from mentioning that to the Board. It was a time for diplomacy. Not only that: Matthews foresaw an objection to Göran because he is gay. He advised Göran and Jésus to take out a marriage license in the Duluth Court House. Göran moved in with his parents on the Svenson homestead. Jésus lived with them on Sundays through Wednesdays. The rest of the week, he lived in his flat in Superior and worked at Apollo's as the chief bartender. When Ron Matthews met with the Board to confirm Svenson's promotion, one of the Board members objected because of his relationship with a man, whose name was unknown to him. "I discussed that with Svenson," Matthews replied. "I interviewed Jésus García Moreno, too. It seems they're a monogamous couple. They intend to get married under Minnesota State Law. We're in unexplored territory here, but because same- sex marriage is legal in Minnesota, the Board cannot lawfully veto Svenson's promotion on account of his prospective marriage to Mr. Moreno." The Board tabled the matter pending further investigation. Events confirmed Sheriff Matthews's foresight. An inquiry in the Court House disclosed that Svenson and Moreno had taken out a marriage license prior to Matthews's recommendation of promotion for Svenson. Very likely the Board could not have barred Svenson's promotion in any case, but Matthews succeeded in check-mating them after they bought into the marriage-license as an issue. "Whatever works," Matthews told Svenson. "Of course, this means that now you'll have to get married!" "I'm ready for that," Göran said. "How ironic that a homophobic Board member ends up insisting that a Sergeant must get married to a man to prove himself eligible for promotion to Detective Inspector!" "Well, as for homophobes, logic was never their strong point," Matthews said. * * * * * * On Saturday morning, a stylish dark-haired woman named Sheila Crawford inquired about rentals at Wayward Island Resort. "Rooms in the lodge rent by the day. Cabins rent by the week, Saturday to Saturday during the summer," Tom Preston told her. She decided on a cabin for privacy, and paid for a week, but she spent much of her time lounging in the lodge and by the docks, 'people-watching' as she called it. The people she seemed most interested in were Dmitri and David. 'Maybe she has a romantic interest', Tom thought to himself. 'If only she knew how hopeless it is!' On Monday afternoon, Sheila asked Dmitri to take her for a ride around Wayward Bay in the Kris Kraft if he wasn't too busy. She got rather flirty, and asked him to take off his shirt, which he did. Afterward, she gave him a tip, and said she'd give him a bigger tip the next day, if he took her on a boat ride and modeled a red sunga that she bought in Rio de Janeiro. While they boated around some islands to look at eagles and loons, she took pictures, mostly of Dmitri. On Wednesday she asked if David could come, too. "I think he'd look better in a speedo than a sunga," she said, and tossed him a red speedo to give to David. On Thursday, she took pictures of Dmitri in his sunga and David in his budgie-smuggler while they were out in the Kris Kraft. "If you want us to pose nude, Sheila, all you have to do is ask," Dmitri offered. "What I'd really like is a trip around Five Spirits Island," Sheila replied. "I've heard it's got eight eagle nests, and it's famous. I'd like to see it." "That's a longer trip, but tomorrow is the day of the Timberdays parade, so the Resort won't be busy," Dmitri said. "We'll have to ask Tom. If it's okay with him, we can go there tomorrow and make a landing. You'll be able to get some pics on the island." Sheila pouted. "Look," Dmitri said, "if you can wait 'til tomorrow, we'll make it up to you by posing starkers." "On the island?" Sheila asked. "In the boat, on the island, wherever you want," Dmitri said. Sheila agreed.