Murder Book

by Weber, Frank F. ;

  “Now you can tell them they found the body on your parents’ farm.”

  I appreciated her attempt at humor. Her spunk gave me hope she’d eventually be okay.

  She murmured, “Why do you work all the time?”

  “I need to know what happened to Mandy.” I hurried to keep talking, so she didn’t have to keep asking questions. “But it’s not just that. You know how my family struggled. At times, my parents would send me to the store and ask me to put things on credit, only to find our credit wasn’t any good anymore. That’s pretty embarrassing for a thirteen-year-old boy in a small town. All of our vehicles barely worked. We missed out on events sometimes, simply because we didn’t have a trustworthy vehicle to get us there, and my dad didn’t want to ask anybody for help. I still receive some satisfaction at actually arriving at my destination. I hate to complain, because my parents are good people. They were just trying to make it farming, during a time that no longer supported the family farm. So I decided my life wasn’t going to be like that. When I marry, I want to be financially set. And now I am.” I paused. “Or at least I was, until I had to come up with bail money.”

  I could hear that her breathing pattern had changed, and when I leaned into her, I could see she had drifted off into a light sleep. I whispered, “And the only woman I proposed to turned me down.” I prayed, God, please help heal her wounded soul.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Eight

  JON FREDERICK

  10:00 A.M.

  TUESDAY, APRIL 15

  PIERZ

  ONCE I DROPPED SERENA safely off at work for the day, I returned to Pierz. I was furious, and the last place I wanted to be was in a church, which convinced me it was exactly where I needed to go. A special prayer vigil was being held at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church for Brittany Brennan, which I decided to attend. The assault on Serena angered me much more than the attempt on my own life. I prayed for God’s guidance to keep from overreacting.

  St. Joseph’s was packed with Christians praying for the revival of the girl who was left for dead. The choir performed a heartfelt version of “Angels Among Us” in front of the altar, leaving the choir loft empty. The loft was above and behind the congregation. I thought this was the perfect place for me to pray, undistracted, so I made my way up there. Tony must have spotted me, as he joined me within minutes.

  Tony was already aware of the brutal assault on Serena, so I shared that she had an argument with Clay only four days prior. Serena had asked me this morning if it was common for a rapist to forcibly sodomize his victims. Her assailant had never attempted to turn her from the prone position. According to Tony’s notes, he believed Mandy died facedown, though she wasn’t found that way. A man who beats and anally rapes a woman is getting aroused from her pain. But a sadist isn’t going to go ten years without other victims, and Tony wasn’t aware of any reported sexual assaults against women in Morrison County that met this description.

  Tony suggested the man who shot at me was afraid I had discovered something. If this same man assaulted Serena, was he afraid she knew something? What could Serena have known?

  We grew silent again as the service continued. The fact that Tony and I were having a conversation about such brutality in the sacred setting of a church was not lost on me.

  AFTER MASS, AL BRENNAN immediately exited out a side door. Mary headed toward the cameras on the church steps, while Jason remained in the front pew. The elderly priest returned from the sacristy and, after observing Jason alone, sat with him. It made me feel good that someone was reaching out to him, beyond the people looking for a story.

  Tony and I made our way down the steps of the choir loft toward Jason and Father Oliver. As we closed the distance, it was clear that Jason was not faring well. He looked disheveled, and the dark circles under his eyes suggested he had been having difficulty sleeping. Jason’s decompensation bothered me. His sister was recovering, and the alleged perpetrator was in jail. Shouldn’t he be sleeping better?

  Father Oliver smiled at us, and we left him to work whatever magic he could on Jason.

  As Tony and I exited the church, he shared with me that a rift was forming between the BCA investigators and the Morrison County investigators. The BCA was committed to proving Jeff Lemor assaulted Brittany. I perceived this as a thinking error. Deductive reasoning involved starting with a suspect, and looking for evidence to convict him or her. Great detectives used inductive reasoning, which allowed the evidence to lead them to the perpetrator. So why is Sherlock Holmes known for his powers of deduction? Because the author, Sir Conan Doyle, used the term incorrectly. “Deduction” is still used incorrectly in the Robert Downey Jr. portrayals of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock’s powers were of induction. Sorry for the tangent.

  Tony suspected Brittany was assaulted by Jason. Jason’s alibi at the time Brittany disappeared was that he was installing a new stereo in their vehicle, but even though the van was burned, the lab crew was able to determine that the original stereo had never been removed. In addition, the front seats had been completely torched, particularly the passenger seat. Tony intended to continue initiating conversations with Jason until Jason finally gave up some incriminating evidence.

  TONY WAS RETURNING to the investigation center, so I called Serena to make sure she was doing okay. The swollen bruise on the back of her head was making her head pound, but she was determined to complete her work for the audit.

  Serena’s voice sounded hollow, like someone who could burst into tears at any moment, when she told me, “After I fell asleep last night I had that nightmare again, where that creepy man is looking down at me, staring in my face.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “No. I get a chill down my spine just talking about it. I hope it doesn’t come back every night, now. I keep telling myself that God doesn’t give us any more than we can handle.”

  I didn’t want her to try to resolve this all on her own, so I responded, “I think God gives me more than I can handle every day, with the expectation that I won’t be too proud to ask for help. You’ve taught me that I certainly do better with your guidance.”

  Serena’s coworker lived near my apartment and had offered her a ride when they were finished. Serena expected it to be a later day than usual, but when it was finished, she would be able to take a couple weeks off. Serena promised to let me know when she was on her way, and I promised to be at my apartment when she arrived.

  5:00 P.M.

  EDINA

  I DROVE TO CLAY’S steel-sided house in Edina. The house was dark, so I guessed he was still at work. I’d seen him enter his security code in the past, and of course, I had no difficulty remembering it. I searched his garage and found some zip ties, but there was no exact match for the one used on Serena.

  A careful search through his laundry, garbage, and house offered a shirt in the laundry with a dried bloodstain on the sleeve, and a significant number of empty Grey Goose vodka bottles in the recycling.

  About ten minutes later, I heard Clay’s truck pulling into the driveway. I anticipated this situation was going to end poorly, but I couldn’t walk away from it. Maybe I hadn’t learned anything since I’d beaten up that bully on the playground.

  I turned the kitchen light on and waited for him at the table to give the illusion of composure. Showtime.

  When Clay entered, he wasn’t surprised to see me. His long-sleeved undershirt and jeans bore the signs of a hard, dirty day’s work. Appearing exhausted, he ran a hand through his hair as he told me, “I was expecting you.”

  As I sat, the picture of calm, cool, and collected fury raged maniacally through my veins. I was certain I could beat Clay to death with my bare hands. In Pierz, we were taught to take care of our own, and Serena was closer to me than anyone. I forced myself to remain seated as I confronted him, to keep this from immediately becoming a brawl. “What’s wrong with you? What could possibly make attacking Serena okay in your brain?”

  In typical Clay fashion,
he responded in anger. “What are you doing here? You broke into my house. I could shoot you and have no legal consequences for it.” Clay went to a drawer and opened it.

  Not knowing what he was retrieving, I unbuttoned my jacket and reached for the gun in my shoulder holster.

  Clay pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He shook one out and lit it, holding the nicotine in for a beat before exhaling angrily through his nostrils. If he had noticed me going for my gun, he ignored it as he continued. “I never assaulted Serena. I didn’t have to.”

  Unable to contain my frustration, I abruptly stood up, slamming my palms on his sleek tabletop. “You always overreact out of your own damn hubris.” My composure huffed out of me like Clay’s cigarette smoke.

  Clay looked for something to flick his ashes into. He finally stalked back to the drawer and retrieved a glossy black ashtray. In between deep pulls from his cigarette and dragon-like exhales, he continued. “You should be thanking me. I didn’t tell the police this, but I believe that crazy bitch killed Mandy Baker. I think Serena’s been leading you around on a puppy collar, and you’re so excited to be with her the chain never gets tight.” He stubbed out his cigarette and, with his hands in the air, backed away. “You’re right. I used to overreact. But I’m not like that anymore. Owning my own business has made me realize you never get even. You just move on with minimal damage.” Clay studied me for a moment and gestured to where I’d been sitting. “Grab a chair and let’s reason through this. It’s what you’re good at.”

  I was still smoldering, and reluctantly returned to my seat at the table.

  Clay leaned in and looked directly at me. “You’re my best friend, Jon, and even though I don’t trust Serena, I wouldn’t hurt her.” Clay gathered his thoughts for a moment. “What do you want to know? Ask.”

  “Do you have an alibi?”

  “No. I was a little hungover, so I worked part of the day, and went home to sleep it off. The crew and I had finished a multimillion dollar home in Eden Prairie the night before, so we celebrated.”

  “Can I look at your head?” I stood up and challenged him to deny me.

  “Have at it. The police did the same thing. What’s that about?”

  A closer look at his head indicated there were no cuts. “Whoever assaulted Serena should have a nasty cut on his head.”

  Vindicated, Clay smirked. “Okay. Do you want to see my balls, too? The police looked at them.”

  I couldn’t resist a barb. “No, even if they’re swollen, they’d only be average size.”

  Clay smiled at the insult and said, “Fuck you.”

  I noticed a padded area under his left shirt sleeve that appeared to be a bandage, so I asked, “Can I see the injury on your left arm?”

  Clay was losing patience. “My arm got pinched in some of our metal scaffolding at work.” He pulled his sleeve up over his forearm and then pulled the bandage away, revealing a deep half circle of a cut, obviously made by the end of metal piping.

  It occurred to me that maybe Clay didn’t hit his head, as Serena thought. Maybe he put his arm out to break the fall and reopened a wound. I sat back down. “Tell me about Mandy. You told Serena that you were with Mandy.”

  Clay re-covered his forearm as he appeared to consider his story.

  I interrupted his train of thought. “Honesty is easy to recall.”

  Clay purposely hesitated before suggesting, “I was just thinking that you could apologize for being such a dick.”

  I stared hard at him. “When I’m convinced, I’ll apologize.” I firmly said, “The truth.”

  “All right. But don’t go bat-shit crazy if you don’t like what I’m saying. I was with Mandy a couple nights before she disappeared. She called me to ask if there was anything she could do to save her relationship with you. So I took her for a ride, and I told her you were dumping her for Serena. I took her to Devil’s Canyon. You remember how the pitch in that road increases—you can’t see more than ten feet in front of your car driving into it. I thought if anything could scare the pants off a girl, that place would. It was an overcast night, so she couldn’t see anything but the dash lights. I was thinking fear and arousal sometimes work together . . .” he stopped, shrugging at his logic.

  I summarized his statement. “So you tried making out with her.”

  “She was a better match for me, anyway. You can’t argue with that. But her exact words were, ‘Mandy’s whorehouse is shut down.’ I tried kissing her, and she slapped me, so I gave her a ride home. I don’t need to force women. I guess something about being with you makes women not want to have sex. She turned into a raging tomcat in a flash, and I hadn’t done anything but try to kiss her. If she was like that with the wrong guy . . .” he turned his wrist palm up and didn’t finish his statement.

  “You didn’t see Mandy the night she was killed?”

  “Absolutely not. I never saw her or heard from her again.”

  “What did you do after you dropped me off at home on the night Mandy disappeared?”

  “Are you kidding? We lived in Pierz. There was nothing to do. I cruised up the main drag a few times and headed home. I wasn’t feeling too good that night. If you remember, we beat Mora, but we didn’t play well. That game made me realize we weren’t going anywhere. Our conference was so physical, and we dominated it, because that was our game. But when we had out-of-conference refs like we had in Mora, who called everything, we were in trouble. We couldn’t adjust. What did we have, four guys foul out? And unfortunately, our playoff games were going to be all nonconference teams. The writing was on the wall, but it was too late to change it.” He looked away, lost in a decade-old memory.

  Without realizing it, Clay had just convinced me he hadn’t killed Mandy. He was talking about something that happened on the night of Mandy’s murder that bothered him, which was completely separate from the murder. This is something innocent people do, but guilty people seldom do. The game bothered him, because nothing more significant happened to him that night.

  I told Clay, “Our friendship is done. I can’t be a friend to a guy who had sex with the woman I want to marry. And, by the way, why did you tell me to use my imagination? You knew it would torment me.”

  “I figured if you’re going to be a prick, think whatever you want. I know you think I just use women, but it’s not like that.” I gave him a doubtful look, and he quickly added, “Okay, it’s like that sometimes. But it wasn’t like that with Serena. There are so many times when I start talking to a woman I convince myself she’s exactly what I need. But by the next day, I look at her and realize she isn’t anything special, so I just keep looking.”

  “It bothers me that you pursue women who are in relationships. Who do you think has ruined more relationships, you or your mom?”

  Clay’s eyes flashed with anger. “I could hit you so hard, you’d starve to death bouncing.”

  “No, you can’t, because I’ve been your only friend. And I’m going to miss insulting you.”

  Clay quietly considered what was lost, before saying, “Me, too.”

  There’s an irony about Clay I found perplexing. The same women who criticize men for pursuing ladies with movie-star bodies are the ones who pursue Clay for the exact same reason. It was all too easy for Clay, and it ruined him. Great lovers aren’t easy, and easy lovers aren’t great, and that’s why love never lasted for him.

  Clay asked, “So do you finally believe I didn’t assault Serena?”

  I thought for a moment and answered, “I believe you didn’t kill Mandy. I’m going to let the investigators handle Serena’s assault.” I warned him, “I know you’re angry at Serena, but stay away from her. She’s been through a terrible trauma, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect her. I have no vendetta against you. I just want the guy who assaulted her locked up.”

  “I’ll stay away,” he conceded. “But remember this—maybe Serena was that sweet girl back in high school, but that all ended when you chose Mandy over her.” />
  It was time for me to leave. As I started my car, a text from Serena announced that she’d be at my apartment in a half hour. It was perfect timing, so I made my way home.

  10:30 A.M.

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 16

  PIERZ

  SERENA CAME NORTH WITH ME, so she could collect her car and meet with her parents’ home insurance investigators in Pierz. When we arrived at the burned-out shell of her parents’ home, we sat in reverent silence at the loss for a moment. Then Serena straightened herself up, kissed me goodbye, and climbed into her car. Even though the snow had all but disappeared, warnings of a major blizzard lit up the news. I asked Serena to stay close until we decided where we’d spend the night. I needed to meet with Tony.

  Since I didn’t want Victor to see Tony, and I was no longer welcome at the investigation center, I met Tony on the dirt road by the Brennan farm. The sky was overcast, and the cold seeped into my bones. Tony’s relationship with Paula had cleaned him up. He looked rested and ready to go, and wore a crisp white shirt and khaki pants with his tan work boots.

  I told him everything, because I needed as much help as I could get.

  Tony asked, “So now you’re okay with Serena having been with Clay?”

  “It was before we got together. And in the greater scheme of things, who cares?” I loved her more than I thought I was capable of loving.

  Tony thought it over, then reluctantly agreed. “I think when you get older, that kind of stuff matters less. When you’re young, it’s easy to get emotional about the wrong things.”