The Case of Peanut Noyer
by Francis Gene Collins
part 1
The door to the office was open about twelve inches, and the woman seated at the desk heard a voice say, “The chief will see you now.”
A man entered the room. He was tall and slender enough that he would have easily fit through the opening between door and the frame.
The woman stood up and offered her hand. “I’m Sarah Baumgarten, chief of police here.”
As they shook hands, the man said, “Pleased to meet you, chief. I’m Clive Peterson.”
The woman said, “I much prefer being called Sarah, if you don’t mind being called Clive.”
“Well then, pleased to meet you, Sarah.”
“Please have a seat, Clive.” The man picked a chair directly in front of the desk.
The chief said, “I’ve been going through your application package. You have exceptional qualifications and references. Moved here from Texas?”
“Yes, San Antonio.”
“I see that you enlisted in the Army?”
“Yes.”
“When you were nineteen?”
“Yes.”
Sarah looked down at the document in front of her. “You specifically asked for infantry training?”
“Yes.”
“And you made E-7 in nine years?”
“Yes. Closer to ten, though.”
Sarah looked up from the document. “Okay. Ten years to E-7 is exceptional. Then, as an E-7 your MOS would have been 11B40.”
“Correct.”
“You deployed to Afghanistan three times as an Army Ranger?”
“Correct again.”
“Then you’re reasonably familiar with handheld and shoulder-fired weapons.”
Clive gave a hint of a smile. “No, not reasonably familiar. Very familiar.”
“You graduated at the top of your class from the San Antonio Police Academy?”
“Yes.”
“Why pick San Antonio as a place to begin a career in law enforcement?”
Another hint of a smile. “I was born there.”
“And now you want to live and work in North Dakota?”
“Yes.”
It was Sarah’s turn to give a hint of a smile. “You know you’re trading warm weather for brutal winters?”
“Well, it’s not always warm in San Antonio. Plus, I’ve had cold weather training, compliments of the United States Army, so I’m familiar with the type of environment you have here during the winter months.”
“I assume that training was at the NWTC in Alaska.”
“Yes.”
“How does your wife feel about moving to a cold climate?”
Clive said, “Her grandparents live here. She has spent time here during several winters, so she’s familiar with the environment, too. Plus, her grandfather isn’t doing well physically and intellectually. His diagnosis is Lewy body disease. That’s a type of dementia like Alzheimer’s disease, but with abnormal movements, too. Sherry’s a nurse, an RN. She’s going to help with his care. She could explain his condition way better than I can.”
Sarah looked up from the document. “As a member of this Department, how would you feel about working for a woman?”
He laughed. “I already work for a woman: my wife.”
“What kind of employment is that?”
“Easily the best. My dad explained how to stay married for forty years. He said, ‘I just do what she tells me.’ And that’s what I do, too.”
“You’ve been married twelve years?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re thirty now?”
“Yes.”
“So, you got married when you were eighteen years old? Just graduated from high school?”
“Yes. Both of us, new graduates. To be fair, though, Sherry was only seventeen.”
Sarah said, “You needed her parents’ permission then?”
“Yes. But from the moment I saw her, I knew she was the one.”
“Explain, please.”
Clive adjusted his position in the chair. “There’s a great word; Old English origin, I think: smitten. And I was. Smitten, that is. There’s another word, too, also Old English or maybe Scottish: gobsmacked. And I was that, too. I just knew. So did she. And I think all four of our parents did.”
“You were married when you did three tours in a combat setting?”
“Yes.”
“How did that that affect your marriage?”
Clive said, “Stronger, I think. Sherry had great family support. She has two older brothers, one Army vet and one currently a jarhead. Marine Corps, that is. And her grandfather is a Vietnam vet.”
“If I offer you a position here, when would you be able to start?”
“Today.”
“Do you have any questions about salary and benefits?”
“Already reviewed that. It’s fine.”
“And you understand how the probationary period works?”
“Yes.”
Sarah pushed her back chair a few inches. She said, “Our current sidearm of choice is the Sig Sauer P320. Are you familiar with that, too?”
“Yes. Again, very familiar. Excellent weapon.”
“Do you have any questions for me?”
Clive sat up straighter. “Two questions. One, how is it that you seem so familiar with military terminology?”
“Both of my older brothers are on active duty right now. One in the Army and the other is a ‘jarhead.’” She smiled as she said that. “Plus, my father was part of Desert Shield and Desert Storm. And your other question?”
Clive’s smile this time held a bit of mischief. “How is it that a chief of police keeps an open wine bottle on her desk?”
Sarah said, “To explain that, I’ll need to tell you about Peanut Noyer.”
* * *
“Daddy, can I ask you something?” I was sixteen years old and taller than my mother. Dad was four inches over six feet then, but he had lost some height over the years, something about the discs in his back shrinking, he said. I was well on my way to being a six-footer, too but, at age fourteen, I stalled at five-ten. Daddy was sitting at his desk.
“Go ahead. Ask away.”
“Can I be like you, Daddy? A policeman? No, a policewoman? A policeperson?”
“Are you sure about that? And is that your question, can you be like me?”
“Yes, I’m very sure. And, yes, I want to be like you. I want to be the Chief of Police someday. I’m very sure about that, too.”
“And why are you very sure?”
I walked over to the bookcase, selected two books, and returned to the desk. I set the books in front of him. “I’m very sure, because I want to be like you, and because I read these.”
Daddy said, “Textbook of Police Procedures and Police Investigative Techniques. And you read these? Both of them?”
“Yes. Both. Three times. You know I’ve always been advanced in reading, but I still had to look up a bunch of words and terms. There are a few I still don’t understand.”
“What did you have problems with?”
“Well, most of it. I had to read it over and over.”
“When did you start reading these?”
“Two years ago.”
“When you were fourteen?”
“Yes. And one of the things I didn’t understand was the Reid Technique for Interrogating.”
He smiled. “What part of the Reid Technique didn’t you understand?”
I smiled back. “The part about positive confrontation. I had to look up confrontation to be sure I understood the word and the context. I didn’t understand how confrontation can be positive.”
“Was there anything else?”
“Yes, I’m getting to that. Sometimes you’re just like Mom, butting in before I’m done.”
“Sorry. Please proceed.”
“Okay,” I said. “Using that technique, you risk prematurely narrowing an investigation or getting a false confession. I had to look up prematurely and narrowing in that context, too, and then I read the whole thing again. The biggest risk for false confessions is when the accused is young, like me, or someone whose first language isn’t English. Do you want me to go on?”
“No. I’m very impressed. You read both books?”
“Yes. Cover to cover. Three times.”
“And you had to look up a bunch of words and terms?”
“Yes, a whole big bunch. Words and context, and I still don’t understand everything... yet.”
“Would you like me to tutor you?”
“Yes. That was going to be my next question. I think the word ‘tutor’ is too strong, but yes, I want you to teach me everything. Everything about how laws affect your job, and how you do things when you investigate. Can you do that, Daddy?”
“Sarah, the short answer is yes. I can teach you, but the job is a bit more than just investigating. There is much more than just book knowledge. You’ll need to have exceptional interpersonal skills. You’ll need to be physically fit and strong to complete police academy training. You’ll need to be exceptional with weapons, and you’ll need to write reports that should be both concise and complete. You’ll need to be computer-savvy and be able to touch-type on a computer keyboard.”
“Daddy, you know that I’m already pretty good with handguns. You taught me. I can already type forty words per minute but, Daddy, what you said sounds like a contradiction in terms.”
“And what exactly did I say?”
My turn to smile. “I believe you said that reports should be concise andcomplete. That doesn’t make sense to me, and that’s the contradiction.”
“Point taken, but it is possible. This summer I’ll give you cases to review, with names redacted, and you can write reports on them. Make them all concise and complete.”
“Daddy, you already know that I have a summer job at the nursing home.”
“I know. This will be good practice. It will teach you time management. You’ll have to carve out time to do the reports, just as we do in real time here. And while I think of it, you should read the novels about Sherlock Holmes, the master of deductive reasoning.”
I suppressed a smile. “Daddy, I’ve already read all four of Doyle’s books, and a bunch of his short stories about Holmes, but you already knew that.”
“Yes. I did know that. And I should have known that you already knew that I knew, Miss Detective. In addition to being book smart, you’ll need to be fit. Are you still involved with that girls’ running club?”
“Come on, Daddy, you know I am. I see you trying to secretly watch our practices. And you also know that I’ve been lifting weights in the garage. And I see that look on your face. No, I’m not doing bench presses when you’re not there. Free weights only, and yes, low weight and high reps. And now I can do twenty-five pushups with pretty good form.”
“Do you still have plans for college? North Dakota State?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Why maybe?”
“I don’t want to waste a lot of time over redundant material. I think that I’ll be well prepared after my studies now and after the Police Academy.”
“Maybe.”
“What? Why maybe?”
“Because NDSU offers a degree in criminal justice, a broad curriculum that would serve you well.”
I started to interrupt, but he held up his hand.
“Four years in college will give you life lessons that you can’t get anywhere else.”
“Daddy, I’m not looking to be a party girl at some college.”
“Not saying you should or would. But there will be immeasurable benefit from the exposure there. Plus, they have an excellent wellness center that includes access to personal trainers. Before you say anything else, I want you go on line and check what’s available.”
“Sounds like it will cost a lot of money.”
“Not really. Apply for a scholarship. Plus, you have your grandpa’s trust fund that you can start using when you’re eighteen.”
“Daddy, are you saying that I can use the trust fund to pay for college.”
“Yup.”
“It’s a four-year program, right?”
“Yup again.”
“And would there be enough in the trust fund to pay for all four years?”
“Yup. Three yups in a row.”
“Okay, Daddy. If there’s enough to pay for all four years, then I don’t need a scholarship. I don’t want to take that away from someone who’s not as well off.”
“Very noble, Sarah. Very noble.”
“Okay, Daddy. When can I start on my case reviews?”
“As soon as the school year ends, but this will not take the place of anything you’re already doing. You’ll have to attend to your physical fitness. And you’ll still have to help your grandmother in the evenings and for a few hours every weekend. It’s a big workload. Do you think you can handle all of that?”
I nodded and smiled mischievously. “Yup, yup, and yup. Three yups in a row.”
* * *
I was a senior in high school when the threats started coming in. They were printed in pencil in block letters on cheap white paper, and each came in an unmarked envelope. There were no fingerprints on the paper or envelope, and there was no DNA on the envelope or on the back of the stamps. It was called the I-94 Threat Barrage since all of the postmarks came from towns along Interstate 94, starting with Fargo in the east to Beach in the far west. There were no duplicate postmarks.
There were ten of them, and the first was longer than the rest. It said:
It is I, Peanut Noyer, coming for you. You ruined my life, and now I’ll ruin yours. I’m going to take your life, and maybe your wife and that stunning beauty you call your daughter, but to enjoy, not to kill, if you get my drift.You won’t know when I’m coming. It could be today. It could be tomorrow. It could be ten years from now. No, not ten years. I don’t want you to have those years. I want you to suffer for a bit. So maybe I’ll take your wife first, or maybe that tasty piece who’s your only child.
She is quite an excellent runner, too, winning all those cross-country races. Yes, I’ve seen most of them. She would make a, well, you know what. And let me now sign this, ‘Affectionately, Peanut Noyer.’ Coming for you someday. Someday soon.
At the bottom of each sheet was a vertical column of numbers, starting with ten at the top and one at the bottom. The first threat had the number ten crossed off. The second threat had the numbers ten and nine crossed off. And so on, all the way to the tenth threat where every number was crossed off. That note concluded with block letters that said, “It won’t be long now. Coming for you. Soon. And you’ll never see it coming. Affectionately, Peanut Noyer.”
Copyright © 2025 by Francis Gene Collins
