Murder Book

by Weber, Frank F. ;

  I turned to Tony. “I’m not a big fan of Friederick Nietzche. Nietzche had a concept of the ‘overman,’ which suggested that man has an intrinsic will to power, sometimes expressed in violent or sexual behavior. Nietzche admired Napoleon.”

  Tony glanced at Lemor and, chagrined, told me, “I don’t see this hombre as that deep. I think everybody uses the quote ‘What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger’ at one time or another.”

  We watched another twenty minutes of useless banter before Tony turned to me and asked, “Do you want to watch any more of this?”

  I shook my head. “No. Do you figure Jeff was out drinking with someone else who was also on probation?”

  Tony smirked. “My bet is he was cheating on Vicki.”

  Tony was probably right. There’s very little honor among thieves. Jeff would give up another parolee to have a reduced probation violation, but he wouldn’t risk losing Vicki, since she was now his only friend.

  BEFORE LEAVING LITTLE FALLS, I drove to St. Gabriel’s Hospital. As I strolled down the sky-blue hall, I spotted a police officer sitting on a chair outside of Brittany’s hospital room, paging through the Morrison County Record. After some small talk, the officer shared that Mary was inside with Brittany, but there hadn’t been any other visitors.

  My heart sank upon seeing Brittany’s thin little body covered up to her shoulders in a pink blanket. She was such a small girl. Mary was awkwardly settled in a chair next to Brittany; both were asleep. Brittany was breathing on her own. I went to the window to pull the shades. I briefly looked out at the sky and said a silent prayer before closing them. God, we need some help. I know we’re all a bunch of irresponsible mutts, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d help this kid out.

  As I was leaving, I met Alban in the hallway. Al was wild-eyed, unshaven, and his thick hair protruded out in a variety of unruly directions. He was agitated, and walked directly toward me. “Your name didn’t register the first time we spoke. You’re Jon Frederick— the same guy who was accused of killing a girl, here, ten years ago. How does a killer get a job as an investigator?”

  I responded to his attack with a simple, “He doesn’t.”

  Al pointed a finger at me. “My daughter was raped by a sex offender you guys had in jail, but let out, and then you have the gall to harass Mary.”

  Mary must have shared her feelings about our visit to their home. I was a little taken aback, but, trying to be professional, I told him, “I’m sorry. We were desperate for information, because at that point, we hadn’t found Brittany.”

  Al sensed my apprehension, and it seemed to escalate his attack. “Your family couldn’t even run a farm. How are you gonna get a conviction?”

  I didn’t respond. After being accused of being a killer for years, being a bad farm manager didn’t seem like a great insult. I simply said, “I’m praying for Brittany,” and departed.

  VERBAL ATTACKS AREN’T UNCOMMON in investigative work. People want every case to be solved in an hour, as they are on TV. I called Tony and recounted my run-in with Al.

  Tony gave me credit for walking away without making a scene, and eventually got around to asking, “Do you have anything new on Mandy Baker’s disappearance?”

  “I do.” I wasn’t sure how he was going to take this. “Serena Bell drove the white car that picked Mandy up on the night she disappeared. They hung out at Serena’s home and drank a little. When Serena woke up, Mandy was gone.”

  Surprised, Tony said, “I didn’t see that coming. Maybe you’ve never been able to solve this because you’ve always refused to consider that Serena was involved in Mandy’s disappearance.”

  “I don’t believe Serena killed Mandy. You know as well as I do that ninety-two percent of violent crimes committed against women are committed by men.” Additionally, sixty percent of men who abduct and murder women they don’t know well are employed in construction, but I didn’t say that to Tony.

  Tony paused a beat before responding. “Most crimes are also solved within forty-eight hours. Maybe the remainder of them aren’t solved because they don’t fit into the statistics. Why didn’t she come forward? And why didn’t you tell us ten years ago that you had another girlfriend? We could have made the connection back then.”

  “Serena and I didn’t date. We were just friends.”

  Tony dismissed this. “I get the impression it was more than that. It’s time to gather information on Serena. Maybe some of your old friends have something they’ve never told you.”

  “I’m not a guy who has a lot of friends.” I considered Serena as a suspect from a physics perspective and said, “We both know dead weight is a real phenomenon. Bodies are heavy. How did Serena get rid of the body?”

  Tony chuckled. “Hell hath no fury like that of a scorned woman. You better let me handle investigating her. You’re too close to have the proper perspective.” He added sardonically, “You’re sleeping with the prime suspect.” I heard him laughing as I ended the call.

  I HEADED BACK TO THE HOTEL to pack up. On my way there, I called Clay. I wanted to hear what he had to say about Vicki. She might have brought up her encounter with Clay as a teaser to a longer story.

  Without hesitation, Clay responded in a gruff voice, “What’s she saying?”

  His failure to take any time to offer any information convinced me he had sex with her. “She told me she was with you at a party right after we graduated.” She would have been fourteen, and he would have been eighteen.

  “Are you recording this?”

  “Clay, someone’s trying to kill me. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your indiscretions. I just want to know how much of what she’s telling me is the truth.”

  Clay begrudgingly said, “Just promise me you’ll never bring this up again. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

  “Have I ever embarrassed you before?”

  “Just that one time, when you killed your girlfriend.”

  I responded, deadpan, “I guess there’s that.”

  “Okay, Vicki was at a graduation party. Pretty, young girl. Kinda skinny, reddish hair, cute freckles, but a lost soul. She was hanging around with a bunch of stoners who were burning something illegal that she wasn’t into.”

  “Ultimately, she got into meth and ended up pregnant,” I said. “Claims she’s clean now.”

  “Good.” Clay paused, and then added, “Vicki was a mess and looking for someone to cling to.”

  “Tabula rasa”

  Clay growled in irritation, “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s Latin for ‘blank slate.’ I know this isn’t my business, but Vicki insinuated something happened between the two of you, and I want to know if she’s being honest or if she’s a drama queen.”

  “We didn’t do anything she didn’t eagerly go along with. I felt like I had a lot of leeway to do whatever, but it was all normal, vanilla sex. I feel bad about the way it ended. She wanted to hang around the fire with me and my friends, but I told her I needed to go. She was fourteen, and I really didn’t want anyone to see me with her. She said she’d go with me, but she had to go tell her ride she was leaving. It took her a while, so I chilled and drank some more. By the time she returned, I had just convinced our classmates I wasn’t with her, so I just kind of ignored her. She didn’t make a scene. Just took the hint and left.” Clay added, “What a dick, huh?”

  I groaned. “You’re a jerk.”

  Clay thought out loud, “You’re right, but it was the right thing. I didn’t respect Vicki. If I would’ve stayed with her, I would’ve just used her. She would’ve hung around. I can pat myself on the back for ending it that night. One more good choice that might send me to heaven.”

  “I’m not sure how the scoring works in heaven, but it seems like you shouldn’t get any points for using a fourteen-year-old girl and then ignoring her.”

  “I heard Vicki got a tattoo on her hips, of someone holding her doggy style, and guys used to bark at her at parties. Drunks can re
ally be pricks.”

  It was time to switch gears. “I have some interesting news about Mandy Baker. Serena was the one who picked Mandy up on the night she disappeared.”

  Clay immediately went into a furious rant. “Are you kidding me? Serena puts on that act like she’s a saint and instead, she was just saving her own ass. What have I always told you about her? She just uses you. I think she loved being with you when you got attention in sports, but as soon as you were in trouble, she turned her back.”

  I laughed. “Let’s not rewrite history, here. First of all, I wasn’t a standout, and she was too busy to even go to my games. Serena didn’t care about any of that. She just wanted to be alone with me. I made the mistake of taking it as an insult, when it was a tremendous compliment.”

  Clay hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay, you want to know about the real Serena? Here it is. Your sweet little Serena has come knockin’ on my door, late at night, and I didn’t turn her away. Has she told you about that?”

  It was a punch in the stomach. “I doubt it.”

  “That’s rich. After she’s lied to you for a decade, you don’t believe me.”

  I thought out loud, “If you honestly believed she killed Mandy, why would you sleep with her?”

  Clay slowly said, “Why does a wolf chase a rabbit? Because that’s what wolves do.” We endured a painfully long silence before Clay tried smoothing it over. “Look, I’m sorry I even said anything. You’re just so blind when it comes to her.”

  I was struggling to keep my breathing even. He wasn’t sorry for doing it. He was sorry for telling me.

  Oblivious to my misery, Clay continued on. “It’s sort of a compliment, when you think about it. Think of it this way—I found someone you liked attractive. I’m not going to punish you with details. Use your imagination.”

  Unfortunately, I could imagine a lot, and like most obsessive people, my imagination was my worst enemy. I closed my eyes and said in a low warning, “That’s enough.” I couldn’t stand to listen anymore. When he started talking again, I hung up.

  MY OBSESSIVE, JEALOUS THOUGHTS were stuck in an endless loop, forming ruts that threatened my stability. I called Serena. She told me she had to finish what she was doing, but would call me back in ten minutes. I paced back and forth while my imagination tormented me with a wicked carnal brew for what ended up being thirty minutes before she finally called back.

  Sounding relaxed, Serena purred, “Right now I’m stretched out on my old high school bed just down the road from your farm, with a smile on my face, thinking about our last night together.”

  I paused, but I couldn’t hold it back. “You slept with Clay?”

  She took a deep breath. “Once. It was a mistake.”

  I seethed in silence, waiting for her to continue my torment.

  Serena softly said, “You’re not saying anything. You’re really mad. What?”

  I tried to keep my voice quiet and steady. “You and Clay?” I paused and tried to explain. “You’re entitled to be with whomever you want. I get that. But it bothers me that the information I get about you doesn’t come from you.”

  “I carry a ton of shame over not telling investigators I picked Mandy up that night. For years, I thought I’d rather we didn’t talk at all, than to have you hate me.” It was quiet for a minute before Serena continued. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again when I was with Clay. I was a single college student at the time. He and I got together a few times, and I realized it was a mistake and that was it.”

  “So, now it’s a few times. I can’t do this.” I felt physical pain in my heart as we spoke.

  Serena sounded dumbfounded. “We only slept together once, but we went out with friends a few times. What have I done that I can’t be forgiven for?”

  “I guess that’s a question only you can answer.” I agonized over the possibility that Tony was right. I was being taken for a fool.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “First you dropped the bombshell on me that you were with Mandy on the night she disappeared, and you just left me hanging out there to be ridiculed by everybody. And now tonight, I find out you’ve slept with my best friend, and your response is you didn’t want me to be mad at you?” I paused, trying to keep myself in check, then asked, “Do you think I’m happy, now? Because this is how dishonesty feels.”

  She softly said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m done,” I said flatly.

  “Whoa, Jon—wait. That’s not fair. Where are you? I can come to you.”

  I didn’t want to talk to her tonight. It was too painful.

  When I didn’t respond, Serena continued. “We can work through this, Jon. I’ll stay at my parents’ tonight. Just come to me. I know I should have said something, but I wanted to give you time to get to know me again first. For what it’s worth, I’ve been just sick about it. Clay told me if I said anything, you would never forgive me.”

  “It’s nice that you can be so open with Clay. Right now I feel like a jagged piece of metal is cutting through my heart. I can forgive a lot, but I can’t stand being lied to.”

  “It was a mistake I’ll never make again. It’s in the past, and I wanted to leave it there.”

  I ranted on, “I feel like you dragged me back into that incestuous small-town bullshit we both hate, where if one person cheats, it’s probably with someone who is a friend or related to the other.”

  Serena softly said, “This is going to get worse before it gets better, isn’t it?”

  “I think you’re being optimistic.”

  Serena was silent.

  “Goodbye, Serena. I wish you well.” I waited for thirty seconds, thinking of the song lyrics, “Say something, I’m giving up on you.” When she didn’t respond, I hung up and shut my phone off. I’d never hung up on anyone prior to that night, and I’d done it twice in a half hour. I needed to find a way to stop being a prick. I just couldn’t shut it off.

  I DIDN’T HAVE A LOGICAL EXPLANATION for turning back and driving to the hotel in Little Falls, other than being angry and self-destructive. I wasn’t convinced the person who shot me was in custody. But I did know that, if the shooter came after me tonight, he’d have more than he bargained for. I could have stayed under armed guard with my parents, or behind secure locks at home, or even with a lover who wanted to console me. But instead, I was lying in a hotel next to a loaded gun, thinking, Bring it on.

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  PANTHERA

  2:15 A.M.

  MONDAY, APRIL 7

  PIERZ

  IN THE COVER OF NIGHT, I remove my gloves and press my bare hands against the siding of the old Bell farmhouse. Serena lies in her nightwear, inches away, on the other side of this wall. Her reading light has gone out, and now the two of us are sharing a moment. At some level, she senses my presence. I feel it.

  Friedrich Nietzche wrote that the greatest aspiration of a woman should be to give birth to an Ubermensch—a man who would reign supreme over others. If I impregnated her, she’d have my child. Even if she didn’t appreciate the prince she was carrying, she would never give him up. But it’s not my favorite way to have sex, and I’d be better off rid of her. Still, imagine the power of walking into a teenager’s life and telling him, “I’m your father. Do you want to know me? We don’t have to tell anyone.”

  The light comes back on. “I dare you to step outside for a breath of fresh air . . .”

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  JON FREDERICK

  4:00 A.M.

  MONDAY, APRIL 7

  LITTLE FALLS

  AT FOUR IN THE MORNING, there was a knock on my hotel room door. A light sleeper, I quickly threw my jeans on and went to the door, gun in hand. It could have been Jada, who was sleeping just down the hall, or better yet, Serena, but friendly faces didn’t find investigators at four in the morning—only bad news did. I roughly rubbed the sleep out of my face and looked through the peephole. Tony wa
s standing outside my door, dressed for work.

  When I opened the door, Tony looked at the gun at my side. “You’re actually here. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I didn’t feel like driving back to Minneapolis last night.”

  “Get dressed. I’ve got to go to a fire on your side of the county.”

  THE GLOW OF THE FIRE was visible from miles away in the darkness. The black silhouettes of trees in front of the bright orange fire looked disturbingly eerie. The only person on the scene was the state trooper who had spotted the flames. It wasn’t surprising that we beat the fire department there, since it was a voluntary force. Thick, black smoke billowed from Lemor’s burning trailer as Tony and I approached it. We stepped into the muddy sludge surrounding it. Alban Brennan’s van was stuck in the mud next to the trailer. It, too, was engulfed in flames. Seeing the van burning gave me an uneasy feeling. It didn’t help that the scene stunk like burning plastic and all things toxic. The CSI team had gone through Al’s truck, but when Jeff became the prime suspect, we moved on, and the CSI team never got to the van. It wasn’t a priority because we’d been told it wasn’t drivable. Yet here it was, and the tire tracks indicated it had, in fact, been driven here. If Jeff Lemor was guilty, it wouldn’t matter that the CSI team hadn’t gone through it. Still, the burning van ate at me.

  Tony immediately contacted Paula. He turned away and, in that moment, I realized Tony had been with Paula at the hotel. I considered the times Tony showed up to my room with hair unaffected by the blustery April winds and realized this likely wasn’t the first time. He turned slightly toward me, and I could hear him say, “Did he leave it here to make a statement that he’s coming for Lemor, or did he just leave it because he got stuck?” Tony hesitated as the fire trucks rolled in. He commented to Paula, “We’re going to have a dead suspect if we continue to allow Al’s anger toward Lemor to escalate.”