Kill Six

by C. E. Nelson

  Bishop sat thinking about it. There was no way he was getting the money now. That wasn’t happening. What was happening was that he was going to jail. Probably for life. He didn’t think Minnesota had the death penalty. Probably just jail for life. How had they gotten on to him? He was sure he had left no clues. Nothing to link him to Laura’s death or Dan and Lisa’s. And he had nothing to do with the others. So how did they find out? Or were they just guessing? He was the only one left, they are just assuming it is him? It was possible. And if that was possible, then maybe he could use some of the money to hire a good lawyer. Get him off. That could work. Just wait for them to come in and arrest him. Act like he has no idea what they are talking about. Hmm.

  He had left the open bottle of whiskey on the table after pouring his last drink. Bishop took a pull from the bottle and set it down, noticing the colorful ribbon tied around the clear bag next to it. He untied the ribbon, pulled the cookie from the bag, and looked it over. M&M’s. He liked M&M’s.

  “Now what?” said Berger.

  “Shit,” muttered Krill. “If the whole state doesn’t know we’re after this guy in the next half an hour I’d be surprised. It’s going to be a bleeping circus around here. He slips out some way, or somebody slips into his yard or house? Oh man.” Krill pulled out his revolver and checked it. “We need to move in.” He looked at Berger. “You agree?”

  “Yup.”

  “One second,” said Krill. “I need to make a call.” Krill tried Trask, but the call went to voicemail. He disconnected. “OK. We go on my signal in five. You and I go in through the front, Shields and Dawson through the back.” Krill and Berger both adjusted their vests. “Let’s move.”

  Chapter 47

  Dave and Don both jumped up, Jenkins staring up from the couch.

  “I’m her husband,” said Dave.

  The doctor looked young to Dave, too young, like he was maybe in college. Long hair was pushing at his hair net. He had a tattoo inside his left arm, shapes and colors that made no sense to Dave. Like it made no sense that a doctor would have a tattoo to begin with.

  “I’m Doctor Bicknell. Doctor James is out of surgery. I believe we have stopped the source of the bleeding. We are going to watch her for a bit before moving her to recovery. Just to be sure.”

  “Will she be OK?”

  “I think we are a while from being able to say that. One thing at a time. Let’s get her stable first.”

  “What do you mean it could be a while?” said Dave.

  “Your wife lost a tremendous amount of blood, Mr. Trask. Blood carries oxygen all over the body, including the brain. We’re going to need to see how she comes out of this.”

  Dave tried to think of something else to ask. “How long until I can see her?”

  “All goes well, she should be in the ICU in a couple of hours. Maybe sooner. You can see her then.” He looked at Don and the now standing Jenkins. “If there is nothing else, I really should get back in there.” Doctor Bicknell turned and walked away.

  Dave sat back down. “I guess we wait.”

  Carlisle seemed disconnected from her body in the dim light of the room. She wanted to move but her body was too lazy, refusing. Her head was heavy, her eyes having trouble focusing. Need to get going.

  Carlisle shifted, feeling something grabbing at her arms, sticking to them. It took her a moment to peer around her chest to the side of the chair. A piece of duct tape was hanging loose. Somehow, before losing consciousness, she had cut through a piece of the tape holding her to the chair. Carlisle looked on the other side but could see nothing there. She moved her arms to that side. Tape was brushing her arms. Lifting her wrists like she had done when she worked on the tape with her ring, Carlisle’s knuckles rubbed against the back of the chair. The tape had been cut.

  Her brain was doing slightly better now, but her body was still slow to respond. With one thumb she found a loose end of tape. Squeezing it between her thumb and pointer finger, she pulled. The tape would not give. Carlisle pulled harder, lifting her head, straining, before taking a breath. And then it hit her. Wrong way. She was pulling the tape. She should have been pushing it. Still gripping the tape, she moved her hands in the opposite direction, hearing the tape peel from the slats of the chair. It was an agonizingly slow process, but eventually she could see the tape ends on either side of the chair.

  Carlisle wiggled side to side, turning her body one way and then the other, but the tape would not come free of the chair. She tried to stand but the chair only came up with her. Exhausted, Carlisle took in deep breaths, leaning forward for her next attempt to stand. A piece of tape on her left gave way. Carlisle leaned forward farther, he arms sliding up the back of the chair. The tape separated and she stood.

  She had no balance. With her ankles taped together she fell forward, narrowly missing the chair James had used, hitting the wooden floor with her shoulder. Carlisle winced in pain but held her mouth closed. She took a deep breath. Rolled to her stomach, trying to draw her knees up under her. That was not going to work. Rolled to her back, pulled her knees to her stomach, and tried to roll to her stomach without success. Thought about her situation as she lay on the floor, realizing that even if she could get to her feet, there was no way she was hopping out of here. The tape had to come off.

  Her wrists were not going to slide under her butt while she was on her side or standing for that matter. The tape on her wrists made it impossible even for the most flexible gymnast. Carlisle caught her breath again. And thought of another option. Pushing her stomach as far forward as it would go, she pulled her ankles up behind her legs and reached toward them. She grabbed the top of her foot with her right hand and then pulled, reaching for her ankle with her left hand, twisting and pulling. Her left hand touched the ankle and then the tape, a finger getting to the edge of the tape before the pain became to great. Carlisle released her grip, panting, stretching her aching back.

  She got it on the third try. Her finger slid under the tape, pulling it until she could switch hands, getting the finger of her right hand under the tape. Her ring finger went to work. The tape cut, it took her a few minutes to figure out by crossing her legs she could free the tape from one of her legs. Carlisle drew her legs in front of her, pushed up with her hands, and got into a sitting position. In a moment she was on her knees. Pulling a leg in front, she stood. Carlisle’s body ached, and she nearly lost her balance again. She blew out a deep breath and listened.

  Carlisle moved through the room, to a hallway, and to what she guessed was the front door. She peered out the small circular window in the door, making out shapes, assured at least that she could get outside this way. She could make out the door handle, and what appeared to be a deadbolt lock higher on the door. Putting her back to the door, Carlisle found the handle and turned. Not far enough. The knob rotated back into place. This time she turned her body as far to the side as she could, grabbed the knob, and rotated her body the opposite direction. The knob moved as far as it could and Danny pulled. The door moved slightly, a fraction of an inch, but would not go further. She needed to get the deadbolt.

  Danny turned her back to the door, ran her hands up her back as far as they would reach, nearly to her armpit, but it was not enough. The latch was out of reach. She was thinking better now and moved back down the hall into the living room. Putting her back to the chair where she had been restrained, she grasped the slats and lifted. The chair was heavy, banging off the back of her legs as she shuffled back towards the door. Her shoulder muscles burned, her progress agonizingly slow. By the time she was back at the hallway, she couldn’t take anymore, bending at the knees to put the chair down. The chair legs in front touched the floor and Carlisle, feeling the relief, let go of the chair back. The remaining two legs banged on the floor.

  Danny listened again. The house was still quiet but she could see the first signs of dawn through the door window. Needed to hurry. This time Carlisle crouched down, grasped the chair back slightly lower, straighte
ned back up, and then bent forward, putting the weight of the chair on her back. Reaching the door, she put the chair down carefully. She moved to the other side of the chair and turned it before pushing it towards the door. The chair made a scraping sound as it moved across the wood floor. Carlisle was quickly up on the chair, turning sideways to the door, releasing the latch for the deadbolt. She hopped off the chair, pushed it to the side with her hip. Turned sideways to the door, grabbed the knob, turned and pulled. The door opened.

  Krill kicked in the front door of Bishop’s house. He called Bishop’s name as he went into the dark house low, gun in front. “Bishop!”

  Krill moved forward slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light in the room. He began to see shapes, unsure what each might be, when a shadow blocked the light coming into the room from the kitchen. Krill’s gun turned to the shadow.

  “In here!” Shields turned and walked back into the kitchen, Krill and Berger now coming through the entry. Shields had a finger pressed against Bishop’s neck. “He’s dead. Looks like he had a heart attack eating a snack.”

  Bishop was bent over, head and chest on the table. His blank eyes stared at Krill.

  Krill holstered his weapon. “Snack?”

  “Yeah,” said Shields. “Looks like a cookie.” He reached for the remainder of the cookie on the table next to Bishop.

  “Stop!” screamed Berger. “Don’t touch that!”

  Everyone was looking at Berger like he had lost it.

  “Sorry, Detective,” said Shields. “You can have the cookie.”

  “It’s poison you idiot. It’s fucking poison.”

  Chapter 48

  “James.” Janet was pushing on her brother’s shoulder. “James. I heard something downstairs.”

  “Christ, Janet. It’s cold. You screwed my brains out last night. Let me sleep.”

  “I heard a noise. You need to go check.” Janet was out of bed now, wearing a t-shirt. She picked up a flashlight from the table by her side of the bed.

  “You do it.” James was looking at her, knowing it was no use. “OK, we’ll both go.”

  “Bring your gun.”

  “Yes, dear.” James sat up, pulled on his pants, and retrieved his pistol from the dresser. And then he heard it too. The scraping sound. Someone moving something. Moving furniture? And then he made the connection. “Oh, Christ. It’s just Agent Carlisle moving her chair around. She’s not going anywhere the way I taped her.”

  “We should check anyway.”

  “Fine. But then I’m going back to bed. And I might take her with me.”

  The Maples turned on the light for the stairway and moved down the stairs, bending as they descended to look into the living room.

  “Where is she?” said Janet.

  Just then there was another scraping sound from the front hall. James and Janet got to the hall in time to see Carlisle in the doorway. James ran to the front door, pulling it all the way open. Carlisle had taken half a dozen steps and fallen. Now on her knees, she was trying to get to a standing position.

  James and Janet moved out on the front step. Janet was shining her light on the struggling Carlisle, making her look like some actress in the spotlight of a dark stage.

  “Do we really need her anymore?” said James.

  “She might be fun in bed, but I guess not.”

  Carlisle was standing now, looking back at them, a deer in headlights. James fired.

  “Move, move, move.” Farmer gave the command as soon as Pearson had shown him the activity. Farmer raced out of the tent, Pearson close behind. “You stay here.”

  “No way.”

  Farmer paused and then said, “In the car.”

  The car was parked behind the tent. Farmer hopped in the driver’s seat, Goodin getting in the passenger seat, Pearson in back. Gravel shot out as Farmer gave the car gas. Goodin, checking his pistol, grabbed for the door handle as the car swerved. In seconds they were at the entrance to the driveway.

  Farmer was out his door, checking his gun as he moved between the trees. “Stay behind us and stay low,” he said the Pearson. As they reached the last of the woods before the drive broke out into the yard, Farmer stepped to the side, pulling Pearson behind him. Goodin was behind a tree opposite. Suddenly, there was a noise by the house, and they all turned to look. Someone was running toward them. Danny, thought Pearson. He tried to move past Farmer but Farmer grabbed Pearson’s jacket. The running figure fell, and then there was light on the person. It was her. Carlisle stood, looked back at the house. As she turned to run again, there was a shot. And then more.

  Pearson slapped Farmer’s hand away and ran. He slid to his knees beside her. Even in the semi-darkness of predawn, it was easy to see the spreading blood stain. He reached to lift Carlisle.

  “Don’t touch her!” shouted Farmer.

  Linda woke slowly, the world still far away. Sounds, beeping, dripping, quiet sounds surrounded her. Machines keeping her alive. The light was bright, any light was too bright. Trying to keep the eyelids on her sunken eyes open just a slit, filtering the light. A hand in her hand now. A strong hand, solid. She knew the hand. The hand was squeezing hers, and she tried to squeeze back, not sure if she did. A soft touch on her cheek and then a drop of water, quickly dabbed away. A voice too. Calling her. And then she drifted away.

  Carlisle woke two hundred miles away at roughly the same time. Even in her drugged state, she had no question about where she was. And she didn’t like it. Didn’t like hospitals. Memories of her last boyfriend, fellow agents, family. Ghosts circling around her. She wanted out but guessed that with the tubes in her, and the pain she experienced when she tried to move that would not happen anytime soon. She tried to capture what had put her here. Running, arms tied behind her. Falling and then getting up. And then a light on her. And then the searing pain, and that was all.

  Her eyes were closed, but she sensed a shadow moving over her. A hand grasped her hand, and she heard her name. “Danny.” She opened her eyes, the figure next to her bed out of focus. She blinked rapidly and then tried to force her eyes open wide. She looked at the figure again. Someone she never wanted to see, ever again. Pearson. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight. She closed her eyes tight and turned from him.

  “Danny, there’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”

  Carlisle moved her head back slowly and opened her eyes again. Pearson was gone but in his place a woman. A beautiful woman. The woman he had cheated on her with. Standing at her bedside, smiling at her. Carlisle was too shocked to say a word. How could he do this? Why would Pearson torture her like this?

  “Hi Danny, I’m Abby Pearson, Jeff’s sister. Jeff’s been blabbering about you so much that I just had to come with and meet you even if it is in the hospital. I hope that’s OK? I mean, we are going to be sisters-in-law, and I’ve never had a sister to talk to. Jeff is OK, but he is a guy as you know, so…”

  The woman continued to ramble on, but she had lost Danny with her first sentence. Carlisle tried to hold back, pinching her eyes shut, but it was no use. Tears welled in her eyes and flowed down the side of her head. She struggled with her breath, gasping. Her heart was pounding, the monitor by her head lighting up. A nurse rushed in, the Pearsons backing away, making room for the nurse as she checked out Carlisle.

  “I’m not sure what’s wrong. I need to get her calmed down. I’m going to have to ask you two to leave.”

  Carlisle was shaking her head back and forth. She didn’t want them to go. Didn’t want Jeff to leave. And she didn’t want to be calmed down. She tried to say something, but with the tube in her mouth, the sounds were more like a hungry seal. He hadn’t been cheating on her. She had been such a fool, and it had nearly gotten her killed. Carlisle lifted her left arm, intent on pulling the tube from her mouth. The nurse caught her hand, forcing it down, Carlisle too weak and drugged to resist. Her eyes closed, and she slept.

  Chapter 49

  Krill and Berger spent the rest of the nigh
t and a good portion of the morning at Ken Bishop’s home. When Berger got the call about someone finding a man dead, that man being Tom Bishop, he told Krill about it and left. Krill remembered Trask relating to him about the other Bishop siblings dying and called Marcy Green.

  “OK, yeah I’ve got the list right here. So, Ken Bishop is now dead?”

  “And Tom.”

  “Oh, right. Well, with Dan Bishop being shot and Helen Johnson being poisoned and Laura Maples being suffocated, that leaves Frances Naulty. She lives in Superior.”

  “OK. Call the Superior Police and tell them they need to get someone out to her house right away. This is an emergency.”

  “Will do.”

  Krill watched the Duluth crime scene personnel finishing up. He was tired, more than tired, and just wanted a few hours of sleep. Duluth had Bishop’s pistol, and he was certain ballistics would match the gun to the one that killed Dan and Lisa Bishop. What he couldn’t figure is why Ken killed his brother and sister-in-law and who killed the rest of the Bishops. Nothing made sense and in his current condition, he figured he would never add any value to what a motive might be. Krill walked outside, heading to his vehicle, pulling out his phone to call Trask again. His three previous attempts had gone unanswered.

  Before he could press the icon for Trask, his phone buzzed.

  “That was fast.”

  “Not fast enough,” said Marcy. “Fran Naulty and her husband are dead.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit. Three days ago. They don’t know what killed them, but they’re thinking poison.”

  “Oh shit! Call them back right away. Tell them it is poison, and it might have been in a cookie. The stuff is deadly. Nobody should touch it.”