OFFICER DONALDSON'S DILEMMA (PART 7)

Back in Fredonia Officer Doanldson cursed in frustration. Fredonia was his home. He was born and raised there. These days he was the only police officer in the small town. He had a gruesome double homicide on his hands - something that was absolutely unheard of in his home town. And after nearly a week, he still had no leads. There were no suspects, no witnesses, virtually no evidence, no nothing. To say that Donaldson was frustrated would be an understatement. The local residents as well as the Milwaukee news media were pressuring him for results. Yet even with the state's top investigative minds working the case with him, they'd come up with nothing. The case was in serious danger of growing cold while it was still fresh.

While pouring over the crime scene photos looking for something - anything that might shed some light on the perpetrator responsible, his mind suddenly flashed back to the words of Old Pete. "Find Richard Grassman's son. He's the only one that can stop the plague of murder."

"What the hell does that mean?" he wondered out loud.

Richard Grassman had run the Grassman Meat Company in Fredonia for 50 years. It was a family-owned business started by his grandfather in the 1800's. Grassman had shut down the factory in the early-1980's shortly after his 70th birthday. There was a belief that he'd always wanted his only son Gary to take over. But Gary had never shown any interest in the business. So when Richard's health took a toll on the business, he opted to simply close up shop. Last he heard, Grassman had moved to Florida to retire. Gary had lived in nearby Port Washington for several years. But when his parents moved to Florida, Gary followed suit.

Donaldson pulled up 411.COM on his computer and put the name "Grassman" in the search engine for Florida. 35 listings popped up. Sure enough, there was Gary Grassman with a listed number in Palm Bay, Florida. Not sure exactly what he was going to say, Donaldson picked up the phone and dialed the number.

GARY: "Hello?"

DOANLDSON: "Hello... Gary Grassman?"

GARY: "Yes?"

DONALDSON: "This is officer William Donaldson from the Fredonia Police Department."

GARY: "Fredonia, Wisconsin?"

DONALDSON: "Yes sir. I was actually in grade school when your father closed up shop."

GARY: "That was 1981. My father passed away 12 years ago."

DONALDSON: "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know."

GARY: "Thank you. So anyway, not to beat around the bush here, but I'm guessing this isn't just a social call?"

DONALDSON: "Well no it isn't. Unfortunately we've had a horrible situation happen here. A few weeks back we actually had a double homicide."

GARY: "Oh my God... in Fredonia?"

DONALDSON: "Yes. It was particularly brutal. The Milwaukee press is all over me too. We've got a dozen people working this case and have thus far come up with nothing."

GARY: "Can I ask why you're calling me? I haven't been back to Wisconsin since my aunt's funeral back in the mid-1990's."

DONALDSON: "Well... this is going to sound odd. But do you remember Pete Maxwell?"

GARY: "Old Pete?"

DONALDSON: "Yeah yeah, Old Pete. I'm not sure he has all his marbles these days. But a few days after the murders I found him running up and down Fredonia Avenue yelling incoherently. When I stopped him, he babbled something about finding you and that you were the only one who can help. I know this sounds crazy but do you have..."

GARY: "Stop. Did he mention the name Buster Koons?"

DONALDSON: "Yes! Not to me. But I did hear him screaming that name as I drove up. Do you know what that means?"

Gary paused for several seconds before finally uttering, "Officer Donaldson, I'm taking the first flight out of Orlando in the morning. I'll be in Milwaukee by noon. Officer, listen to me closely. You've got a big problem on your hands. God help us all."

Officer Donaldson sat there stunned as he listened to the click of Gary hanging up the phone. An overwhelming sense of fear crept over his body. He didn't know what to think. But he knew that he was suddenly frightened.