Blow Up on Murder

by Linda Townsdin

  I texted Ben about Chloe and my plans to stay in Spirit Lake tonight and asked him to call me. Local law enforcement would be second string on this investigation, but he’d be in the loop. Barry hadn’t said she wanted my services beyond today.

  *

  My two-bedroom log cabin sat a few yards from the lake. Being back in Spirit Lake after assignments for the LA Times balanced my life. It allowed me to be with family—that included Rock, friends and Ben. His job as a forest ranger kept him busy protecting the national forests surrounding Spirit Lake and the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness—a million acres of woods with more than a thousand lakes and streams bordering Minnesota and Canada. That meant he was often away when I was home and home when I was away, but we were making it work. The alternative wasn’t an option.

  I stowed my camera equipment in the cabinet next to the door, Rock went to his bed near the antique Franklin stove and I lit a fire.

  In a few minutes the warmth spread, taking the fall chill from the room. The comfy old sofa, well-worn rug and homey touches were the same as Gert had when she was alive. Feeling her presence in the home she’d left to me was a comfort and I’d never change it.

  She’d always watched out for me during my turbulent teenage years. When my home life got me down, she’d suggest we hunt for agates on the railroad tracks. The two of us and her dog, Rock’s predecessor, would set out together. Gert with her walking stick and me, doubled over and fully focused, scanning between the ties.

  Although I never forgot the world’s horrors, spending time in this place allowed me a chance to regroup. My personal mission was to show people what was happening in places of poverty and war so they could see the toll that greed and religious fanaticism took on the most vulnerable—women, children and elderly. Powerful photographs like those from the civil rights movement and Vietnam War had changed the world. I firmly believed the ones my colleagues and I took make a difference as well.

  And now the horror had invaded this serene world. I snagged my Nikon and went out to the deck. My last shot of the day couldn’t be from the scene at Branson, of Chloe lying helpless. I sat on the deck swing, gazing out over the water, rocking back and forth in rhythm with the waves. The crescent moon made a silver path as if beckoning me to step out onto it. A loon floated by calling out its haunting song, its wake shimmering in the moonlight. I raised my camera.

  *

  I’m shooting an explosion in a mosque in Nigeria. Jon gets a call from a source saying another one was about to happen in a market a block away. We jump on our scooters. I get there first and hop off screaming “Run!” Merchants glance at me and hurry to pack up their wares, mothers herd their children away. A young girl walks through the market facing my direction, oblivious to the chaos, the only one not running...

  The ringing phone woke me, muffled by the pounding of my heart. I blinked away the familiar nightmare and choked out a hello.

  Ben said, “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was midnight. Your voice sounds funny.”

  I fell back against the headboard, grounding myself in the picture of Ben and me on my nightstand, the breeze rustling the curtains and handmade quilt clutched in my left hand. I let go of the quilt. “Bad dream. Any details on who did it or why?”

  “Not so far. The student who died was Jeremy Powers. Another is still critical. We’re going through current and past student and professor files for possible radicals, mental illness, anger issues, all that.”

  There would be a mountain of work ahead for law enforcement unless someone or some organization came forward to claim responsibility for the attack.

  We talked about Chloe. “I’m going back to the hospital first thing tomorrow. Little will be there, too. I’m not sure about her dad. He’s in bad shape.”

  “I’ll check on her, too.” His tone gentle, Ben asked, “You doing okay? You know you don’t need to jump every time Cynthia or Marta calls. You’re here to recover before you leave again. That should be clear after the way you reacted when we first got to the scene today.”

  I didn’t want to talk about the flashback. “Cynthia only needed me for today and I doubt if Barry will call me again. She wanted to get her photo in the paper, make sure people knew who’s in charge.”

  “Good, take it easy. Let Little fatten you up. It makes him happy.”

  “I don’t think anything’s going to make Little happy for a while. Chloe’s like a kid sister to him and Lars wasn’t near the explosion, but he saw the aftermath.”

  “The last thing he needed.”

  Rock’s nose bumped my hand hanging over the edge of the bed, asking for a head pat. “Do they think one person or a group was specifically targeting one of the rallies, or maybe this guy hates colleges or students? Maybe he had a failed love affair or was kicked out of school?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, lots of unknowns.”

  I swung my legs to the floor. “I’m going to find out some of those unknowns. For Chloe.”

  “We all care about her, but that doesn’t mean you need to get involved.”

  “You can stop with the advice, Ben.” Rock followed me to the kitchen. I drank a glass of water and filled his bowl, those actions banishing the dregs of the bad dream still clinging to me. Ben and I murmured about missing each other and said goodnight.

  It had been easy to fall into the comfort of being together day and night if only for a few days. Could I get used to that on a regular basis, or would he always be trying to tell me what to do?

  With our jobs, being together fulltime wasn’t likely to happen any time soon. At least we’d had our camping trip. I settled back in bed and pulled the quilt up to my chin.

  No one was aware of my flashbacks but Ben. I’d had nightmares on our camping trip and had to confess what was going on before he’d let it go. Marta couldn’t know. She’d stop sending me on assignments. It would get around the small world of photojournalists and that would be the end of my career and of me. The work justified my existence, made my life seem worthwhile.

  I picked up the camera on my nightstand and the market opened up in front of me again. I set the camera down and banished the scene. A camera had always been my safe place.

  We later learned that Boko Haram used a ten-year-old girl to blow up the Nigerian market. She was wrapped in an explosive vest covered by an oversized dress. They threatened to kill her family if she didn’t do everything she was told. The bomb was remotely detonated. She didn’t even know which step would be her last. My camera had continued to click. First the girl coming toward me with the wide, terrified eyes was there, and then she was everywhere.

  I leaned over the side of my bed and grabbed the wastebasket, losing my chicken dinner. When it was over, I lay back on the bed panting.

  Rock poked his head up, one ear lifted. I patted the covers and he jumped on the bed and settled by my feet.

  *

  Little had already left for Branson Hospital when I arrived at the café in the morning. My nose told me he’d made his famous cinnamon rolls. The place was already packed. I’d once jokingly accused my brother of piping the aroma directly into the street.

  I sat at my usual place at the counter and paged through the story and collage of my photos in the StarTrib over a cup of coffee and of course, a warm cinnamon roll.

  Chloe’s made page one. I’d texted Cynthia to run it. Maybe a fellow student had seen something and that picture would make them want to come forward.

  Gesturing in front of the blasted building, Barry’s commanding image stared up at me from the jump page. I hoped it would encourage her to call me again, my best option for staying close to the investigation.

  Lars refilled coffees along the counter. I folded the paper and watched one of the regulars hold his phone out for Lars. “You gotta get out there on the lake. The guys are catching some giant perch.” He tapped the screen. “Lookit the markings on this one.”

  Lars’s eyes lit up, then dimmed. “Nice.”

  Fishing wa
s Lars’s favorite activity, but he hadn’t been on the lake since the beating. He set the pot down, moved toward a couple who entered and picked up some menus. “Window booth?”

  He hadn’t been his usual jovial self lately and now, with the news about Chloe, the welcoming smile he offered to customers was more like a grimace. The whole situation saddened me.

  I was ready to head to Branson when my ears pricked up. Two women a few seats away, a mother and daughter if I remembered correctly, were talking about Bella. The white-haired woman said, “Violet’s running herself ragged keeping up with the customers and visiting Bella up in Cooper every day.”

  The younger woman bobbed her head, cutting into a corner of the cinnamon roll.

  Alarm bells clanged in my head. The crusty old beautician was a fixture in Spirit Lake and a friend. I leaned over and touched the older woman’s arm. “What happened to Bella?”

  She looked me over. “We heard you were back. Broke her hip. They’ve got her convalescing at The Pines in Cooper.”

  “Thanks.” It must have happened while Ben and I were camping. No cell service where we were. I set my empty plate in the bin under the counter and waved goodbye to Lars.

  Little said he’d call me as soon as Chloe woke from the surgery. He hadn’t yet, so I pulled into the salon to find out more about Bella.

  The lavender scroll across the window proclaiming Bella’s Beauty Salon appeared freshly painted. The bell tinkled above the door when I walked in. Violet looked up from her customer. “Hi Britt, I’ll be finished in a minute.”

  I dropped into a chair. Bella’s rocker facing the front windows was empty, a first. Her slight Parkinson’s kept her from cutting hair, but she’d never missed a day as Spirit Lake news gatherer.

  I swallowed, not wanting to accept her absence no matter how temporary it might be.

  Violet’s emotions never far from the surface, she teared, and said, “Terrible about Chloe.”

  “I’m on my way to see her now. How’s your mom doing? I just heard.”

  The features on her round face scrunched together. “She’s crabby. We both expected her to be home by now.”

  Violet bent toward her customer in the chair. “How does your skin feel, Trish?”

  Trish touched her cheek and peered into the mirror. “Soft. What’s the name of that moisturizer?”

  “It’s called Wild Raspberry by Emmaline’s Organics. They’re natural products made by a woman here in Spirit Lake.” Violet pointed to a display table with a basket of vials. “I’m selling her products if you want to buy something.”

  After Trish left with her own bottle of Wild Raspberry, I said, “Violet, your mom’s tough, she’ll come through this.”

  Her lower lip popped out. “I don’t like being here by myself. Mom always helps with the decisions and takes care of the till and ordering things. This is making me nervous.”

  She checked her watch. “I’m booked with appointments all day. It will be hours before I can close up and visit her.”

  “I’m headed to Branson to see Chloe. How about if I stop in Cooper and take Bella one of Little’s cinnamon rolls? That should help keep her happy until you get there.”

  Violet brightened. “Would you?”

  Before I was out the door, Violet handed me a package. “This is one of Emmaline’s healing lotions, for Chloe. Please let me know how she’s doing.” I wasn’t sure how a bottle of lotion would help, but thanked her and slid it into my jacket pocket.

  *

  Cooper was sixteen miles north of Spirit Lake. Give or take a few souls, Spirit Lake’s population was five hundred, Cooper claimed a thousand. I passed it every day on my way to and from Branson, population a whopping fifteen thousand. Those were winter stats. In the summer, the entire county swelled with summer residents and tourists crowding the towns and lakes.

  The Pines was a few blocks west of downtown Cooper. I drove up the hill and pulled into a parking space. Trees surrounded the single-story building A few golden leaves drifted down. I opened the car door for Rock. “C’mon, boy. Bella likes to see you.”

  The nametag on the woman behind a raised counter said Faith.

  “Hi Faith, I’m here to visit Bella.”

  She stared at Rock, wagging his tail for her. “We only allow pets on Pet Day, and that’s not until Thursday.”

  “This dog is special to Bella. I’ll bet she’ll be more cheerful after a visit from this guy.” I scratched Rock’s ear. Faith said, “All right. Maybe he will help calm her down. She’s been a handful.”

  Faith told me the room number and pointed to a hallway on the left. A hint of pine-scented disinfectant made my nose crinkle, but the place seemed cheery enough. A few people sat on couches staring at a television. Outside in the courtyard, wheelchairs had been arranged in a circle; elderly faces lifted like fading flowers to the late morning sun.

  I found Bella’s door and tapped lightly. Focused on a television mounted on the wall, the remote firmly in her hand, Bella scowled at me under the helmet she called a hairdo. Then she saw Rock and softened. “Hi, fellah. Come on over.”

  He put his front paws on the bed. She rubbed his ears, her frown disappearing. He always calmed me down, too.

  “What’s this about you causing trouble around here?”

  “They won’t let me watch my news shows. They make me share the TV with her.” Her head inclined toward the bed next to her, partially curtained. “All she likes is the soaps. I switch it when she takes a nap so don’t be too loud and wake her.”

  I passed the cinnamon roll to her, she peered inside the bag and I was blessed with the smile she reserved only for my brother. “Tell Little thank you.”

  “Would you like me to see if we can get you into a private room?”

  She sniffed. “No need. I’m not going to be here that long. Now pull up a chair and tell me what happened up in Branson. I hate being cooped up here. No one knows anything.”

  Bella always knew the who, what, where, why and how of everything that happened in the county. She must miss gathering intel from her usual perch at the beauty salon.

  I dragged a chair to her bedside and when she’d ingested all the info I had on the explosion along with half the roll, she set it aside and licked her fingers. “Reminds me of Summer Fest last year. Some nut blasted the stage. No one killed, though.” She picked up her remote and flipped to CNN. I took that as a goodbye and headed for the door.

  Focused on the television, she said, “I don’t like leaving Violet all by herself. It makes her skittish.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You might check in on her a little more often.” She gave me a once over. “It’s not like you couldn’t use some sprucing up.”

  “Enjoy that cinnamon roll, Bella.” I called to Rock and slipped out. Why was I so fond of that ornery old bat? And what about the explosion at Summer Fest?

  Chapter 4

  Little met me in the hospital corridor, thunder in his voice. “Dr. Ansari couldn’t get Ray on the phone this morning. I had one of the restaurant staff go to Medicine Falls to bring him here. Ray didn’t answer the door, so my guy went inside to check on him and Ray was still passed out.”

  If this was LA, I’d question why his door was unlocked, but no one locked their doors around here. I said, “If I get a chance, I’ll check on him later. How’s Chloe taking the news about her toes?”

  “She’s still so groggy and drugged from pain meds, I’m not sure she fully understands.”

  “Are you going back to the café now?”

  He nodded. “Dr. Ansari said she’d sleep for several hours.”

  I hugged him and he left.

  Chloe was barely awake, a cinnamon roll too large for the plate propped on her lap, dripping with gooey goodness and filling the room with cinnamon aroma. No longer pulled back into a ponytail, her brown hair hung around her face, bangs limp against her forehead, making her appear years younger than eighteen.

  I sat on the
chair Little had just left. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  Her words were barely audible. “I don’t remember anything but a boom. I’m trying to find out what happened to my friends and no one’s telling me.”

  “What are their names? I’ll check into it right away, I promise.”

  It hurt to see the young woman in front of me so upset, and yet it was typical of Chloe to be worried about classmates.

  Something clattered in the hallway and we both jumped. Chloe cried out in pain. I put my hand on her arm. “It sounds like someone dropped a food tray.”

  Chloe was normally very composed, definitely more adult than most people twice her age, but it would take a while for her to return to normal. I’d only witnessed a horrific explosion, I hadn’t been hurt but I still didn’t sleep at night.

  She collapsed against the pillows, her cinnamon roll forgotten.

  “I’ll come back later, okay?”

  She let her lids drop. I set the roll on the side tray, remembered the lotion from Violet and added that, too. I’d hoped to ask Chloe a few questions but didn’t want to traumatize her any more than she’d already been. I hadn’t gotten her friends’ names either.

  *

  A police officer stood between brick pillars at the college entrance. I flashed my StarTrib ID and he waved me through with instructions about where to park. I pulled in across from Ben’s truck, the sheriff’s car and other official vehicles and slung my camera bag across my shoulder. Rock had waited in the car when I went to see Chloe, but this time he came along with me.

  Bomb experts were going over the area where the detonation occurred. Yellow tape still circled the quad and communications building. I shot the leaves, flyers and other debris blowing around the space like mini-tornados. A ghost town.