I’m a sucker for cold cases. I grew up in the era of “Law & Order,” “FBI Files,” “Unsolved Mysteries” and Robert Stack’s voice lulling me to sleep until the impending background music woke me up to believing someone was in my house with a kitchen blade.
I fell in love with “Murder, She Wrote” and dreamed that I could be as clever as Jessica Fletcher. Even my most recent reading journey has taken me on a trip through some of Agatha Christie’s greats along with current-day mysteries, including those written by Richard Osman and Louise Penny.
When it was time to choose the next title to review, I was struck by a book that was beckoning me to read it. The setting being nearby Mackinac Island, which I had just visited six months prior, coupled with the words “Cold Case” on the cover left me no choice.
So I began reading “Grim Paradise: The Cold Case Search for the Mackinac Island Killer” by Rod Sadler.
The setting brought me back to when my family and I were on the island. I fell in love with the walkable nature and stunning 360-degree views of the place.
My family and I biked all over. I believe we clocked 20 miles and hoofed it in the places where biking would’ve been more cumbersome.
Navigating the island’s tourists on a sunny day in June didn’t take away from the beauty but didn’t add to it either. I think this is why this case has been so difficult to solve.
The book is about Frances Lacey, who was on the island with family members one weekend in July 1960. She makes an eerie comment right before she leaves her home in Dearborn, insisting her house has to be clean “in case something happened.” It would be her first vacation in three years and the only one since her husband died. She was looking forward to it, but she chose not to lodge in the same location as her family members, so as not to be a bother.
The family had a relaxing weekend walking, riding the carriage and eating in restaurants. Frances, who was in her mid-50s, was supposed to meet up with her family after checking out of her lodging place on Sunday morning. She was going to walk to meet the family members before taking the ferry back to the mainland to grab her car to return home.
By midday, however, she had not shown up, and her daughter Kay began to worry. Frances’ family members searched the island, filed a report and then waited for hours.
Frances’ body was eventually found about 72 hours later — along with shoes and denture pieces — in an area that is usually off limits for visitors to the island. There were a couple of hairs found on her body that were not hers, according to the forensic analyst. Beyond those small clues, the evidence was limited and the list of possible perpetrators was limitless.
The seemingly quiet island was the perfect spot for a murder. As I read account after account of the visitors and workers on the island on the weekend of Frances’ death, I realized how transient this place was in the 1960s — and may still be.
Workers, bartenders, horse tenders and gardeners would come and go. Men with rap sheets and assault records would inhabit the island for a time until their temper flared or their money ran out. I mean, the murderer could’ve been anyone.
Adding to the mystery is the fact that detectives and investigators and police officers are also somewhat transient in nature. They accept promotions, move to other agencies and retire, and the institutional memory of a case is easy to fade away.
Read “Grim Paradise” for an account of a murder case that’s colder than the typical U.P. winter.
