The Count Of Baldpate
CSU History Professor Hank Rule - Chapter 1
*American women finally got the vote in 1920 but what in that 20thCentury struggle was motive for a 2stCentury murder?
When a business card belonging to CSU History Professor Hank Rule is found on the body of a murder victim near Baldpate Inn, Estes Park Colorado - the new sheriff wanted to know why. So did Dr. Rule. With the historical element of a skull carved from coal and a 1913 fiction classic Dr. Rule is asked to consult temporarily. But as the investigation progresses discovering ‘why’ becomes more complicated and more convoluted and more treacherous for everyone connected to the case.
Chasing clues across the country and from another century and a sly killer across Europe, Dr. Rule discovers a stunning ancient motive with a hidden history…
…ONE
“Are you ever going to answer either one of your phones?”
Cleo Rule leaned against the casing of the open outer screen door after pushing open the inside door. There was no response from her husband who remained seated at his desk.
Hank’s back was to her and the open doorway. She tried again a little louder. “This persistent tag-team ringing is disrupting my morning news!”
“Close the door! You’re letting in cold air.”
Cleo shivered slightly despite her heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. Still looking at the back of her husband of thirty-eight years, grinning she nudged the inside door open farther.
Professor Rule swung completely around, his antique oak chair squeaking. “I’m trying to think. I can’t think with interruptions–in the cold!” He patted one side of his graying, black curly hair.
“Really?” Cleo crossed from the doorway to Hank’s roll top desk. She returned the cordless phone to its cradle then dropped his cell phone onto a stack of copy paper. “Me either.”
“What is all the fuss?”
“I have no idea, but these two,” Cleo indicated with one delicate hand, “started taking turns an hour ago. And now you have the new sheriff of Estes Park waiting for you on the house phone. So, get off your butt.”
Hank stood and retied the belt around his green plaid robe. “Shit, it’s not even eight o’clock!” Curious, but puzzled he followed his wife out through the doors of his office above their garage, down the stairs and along the brick walk to the side kitchen door.
“When did Estes Park get a new sheriff?” He searched his memory. “And why does he want to speak to me?”
“Estes Park got a new sheriff when the old sheriff retired then moved to Arizona last fall.” Cleo opened the back door. “And I have no idea why she wants to speak to you.”
Heading straight for the coffee pot she topped up her cup. “Let me know if you need bail money.” Then Cleo disappeared through the swinging door to the front hall carrying her giant polka-dot mug.
“Hello, this is Hank Rule speaking. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
“Professor Rule, this is Claire Gage.”
The light and lively voice at the other end of the call took Hank by surprise.
“I doubt that you remember me, but I was one of your students when you were still a TA for Dr. Rupert. You had just published your Masters’ thesis on Leadership - The Influence of Historically Flawed Command. My maiden name was Parker. I graduated from CSU, May 1983, so it’s been a while.”
Hank opened Cleo’s laptop on the kitchen island. “Yeah - 1983? That’s about thirty-plus whiles ago.”
He stalled for time as he signed on then checked Colorado State University’s alumni list. “But fortunately, your alumni profile has your graduation photo. I remember you now. I heard from someone that you went on to law school after leaving Colorado.
“Yes, OU in Norman, Oklahoma and then I joined the FBI. I only retired from the FBI two years ago. After twenty years on the east coast, I still missed the Rockies, so from DC, my husband Ken and I moved to Estes Park for a quiet, relaxing mountain retirement.”
“Oh? My wife got the idea you were the new sheriff.”
“I am. I’ve been in office a whole five months. Ken was a pediatrician in DC and got bored soon after we settled with so much time on his hands and he began writing and illustrating children’s books.”
“About six months after that when I was well beyond stir-crazy, a neighbor talked me into running for local sheriff. Obviously fifty-six was too young to retire. But Dr. Rule, I didn’t call you to catch up.”
“Okay?”
“I realize it’s a grey, miserable March day, but would it be possible for you to drive up to Estes now to Baldpate Inn? I have a dead body behind the inn, and we found one of your business cards tucked in with his other personal effects.”
Silence.
“Professor Rule? I understand it’s extremely short notice, but I’d prefer not to move the victim or disturb the surrounding area until you’ve been here. Sending you a photo really isn’t the same as seeing the site firsthand.
Hank was still trying to collect himself. What else was in…You said him?”
“Yes the deceased is an elderly male, Hugo Lanze,” Claire spelled his name, “L-A-N-Z-E, age 97. His ID address is, 1010 Liberal Park Lane, Reading, Pennsylvania. Does any of that mean anything to you?”
“Not a damn thing. Unless some of my former students have moved to Pennsylvania. I don’t know anyone there and I’m pretty sure my wife doesn’t either. With that man’s name I’m drawing a complete blank. I have no idea why he’d have one of my business cards.”
“Well, the card is an old one. It’s at least as old as the one I kept from my years in Fort Collins at CSU.”
“Now I’m really stumped.” Hank scrolled through the Ls still accessing the university website student lists. “There isn’t a Lanze or any name even close to that spelling in the alumni records or current student enrollment. But at ninety-seven I wouldn’t expect death to come as a surprise.”
“Professor Rule, Hugo Lanze was shot in the back.”
“If I don’t shave, I can leave in ten minutes and be there by nine.”
“Sir, that’s perfect. Thank you.”
…………
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