Killer Blonde

by Allan Evans

  “Looking for Gordy. You seen him tonight?” he asked.

  A large black man with salt and pepper hair stepped forward. “He in trouble?”

  Cade shook his head. “He witnessed a crime early this morning, so I had some follow-up questions. No big deal.” Cade held his palms up and waited.

  The man searched Cade’s eyes and shrugged. “It’s early for Gordy. He’ll be here. Can I tell him who’s looking for him?”

  Cade smiled. “No, I’ll wait. Appreciate your help though.” He walked back to the lot, finding a vantage point where he could watch the entrance without being too obvious. Swanson pulled into a nearby spot and joined him.

  “Thanks for coming. Your girlfriend didn’t sound any too happy with you.”

  Swanson laughed. “Just another day. She’ll get over it. That movie, though…”

  Cade grinned. “You know how you can tell if it’s a chick flick you’re watching?”

  Swanson shook his head.

  “When you wake up, your girlfriend is crying.”

  Swanson laughed. “Too true, too true.”

  Cade caught a glimpse of color. He grabbed Swanson’s arm. “C’mon. He’s here.” Stensrude’s Hawaiian shirt was an orgy of color: pink, fuchsia, red, white, green and orange. The blue flannel shirt he wore underneath didn’t exactly match, but Cade wasn’t sure if anything would have. It must be tough to be such a slave to fashion.

  Stensrude spotted him right away and stepped away from the group. “I knew I’d see you again,” he said.

  Cade glanced at Swanson. “Gordy here is psychic.”

  “No,” he said. “I just figured you hadn’t been exactly thorough this morning.”

  Cade raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Really. Most cops ask the same questions at least three times. You and the other guy only asked once. So, I knew you’d be back. It didn’t take psychic abilities to see that.” Gordy took out a well-used handkerchief and blew his nose, loudly.

  Cade couldn’t help but smile. “I wanted to ask you about the man you saw. You described him as muscular, and military like.”

  Stensrude coughed up something and spat. “Sorry dude, I have sinus issues.”

  Cade waved Swanson to step closer. “Hey Gordy, this is my friend, Mike.”

  Stensrude looked him up and down, before reaching out a hand. “Hiya, Mike.”

  “I like your shirt,” Swanson told him with a slight grin.

  Stensrude laughed, a high-decibel braying sound. “People probably think I’m doing the walk of shame every morning. It’s worse, they’re actually my clothes.”

  Swanson laughed and hooked a thumb toward Stensrude. “I like this guy,” he said to Dawkins. “He’s different. In a good way.”

  Cade stepped closer to Stensrude. “How does Mike here compare to the man you witnessed this morning? Hold on.” Cade pulled out a baseball cap from his jacket and handed it to Swanson. “Put this on.”

  Shrugging, Swanson pulled the cap over his head.

  Cade pointed to the parking lot. “Could you walk over to that Jetta and walk back? I want Gordy to see you in motion.”

  Both men pivoted toward the lot and watched as Swanson walked away. At the Jetta, Swanson gave a self-conscious wave and started back. Cade studied Stensrude on Swanson’s journey back.

  An educated observer didn’t need the uniform to distinguish a cop from a regular citizen. It’s the build, the haircut, the alert eyes, the swagger. Cops look like cops. However, they also look like military personnel at a superficial glance. Cade hoped to make the distinction clear for Stensrude.

  “What do you think?”

  “He’s close, you know. The guy was darker. The hair color, the skin too. But they both have the same aura.” He looked between the two men. “They have the same movement, the same kinda attitude.”

  “Would it surprise you if I told you Mike here is a cop?” Cade said. He looked at Stensrude for a reaction.

  Stensrude folded his arms. “No. And it wouldn’t surprise me if the guy I saw was either. Damn, I knew he was badass.” He shook his head.

  Cade put a hand on Stensrude’s shoulder. “I’d appreciate you keeping this quiet. We’re desperate to catch this guy and if word gets out that he’s a cop, he’ll disappear.” Cade handed him some bills. “Why don’t you go hit some of the skyway shops on me. Go enjoy yourself.”

  Stensrude tucked the bills into his front pants pocket. “Awesome, I love the skyway. Can’t wait to spread joy and creepiness all day by smiling and staring at strangers for uncomfortably long periods of time. Life is good, my friends.” He gave a little bow and ambled off toward the group of men by the mission’s entrance.

  “And that was Gordy Stensrude.” Cade laughed as they turned and headed for their vehicles.

  Cade’s face turned serious as the implication of Stensrude’s confirmation hit him. He knew this killer was exceptionally dangerous, but finding out he was also a cop brought it to an entirely new level. He’d have to proceed with extreme caution going forward. Clearly, his life depended on it.

  The killer plotted.

  With the stakes so insanely high, the killer’s game brought together everything that mattered. Pitting his mind against a worthy adversary while satisfying his carnal desires made this a game he couldn’t walk away from. Ever.

  When he bested Dawkins, as Sweetwater knew he would, it would be time to leave. Sweetwater already had things in motion. An Albuquerque police detective recently had solved a series of cartel-style killings through the use of their Real Time Crime Center. Modeled after systems adopted in Chicago, New York and Boston, this state-of-the-art center allowed Albuquerque officers to look up fingerprints from the field and use FBI facial recognition software. It also allowed analysts to send intelligence from dozens of public and private databases directly to the officers in the field. A detective using this high-tech crime center would make an interesting and unusual opponent. Knowing his time in Minnesota was coming to an end, he’d already initiated his transfer request.

  Sweetwater always imagined himself to be the consummate chess player. Able to easily strategize a dozen moves ahead, combined with his ability to unerringly react to his opponent’s fumbling, should make him a master chess player. However, the act of sitting two feet across from someone for an hour at a time was far too intimate. It made his skin crawl to picture being so exposed to someone. He simply couldn’t do it.

  Watching Reynolds DeVries relate the story of yesterday’s events got him thinking. Sweetwater rewatched the broadcast a dozen times, carefully studying DeVries to make sure. He was sure he saw something in her eyes when she spoke of the investigator Dawkins. Combined with the fact she wasn’t speaking ill of him—despite the fact that most others were—sparked a thought in Sweetwater: there was something between the cop and the reporter. Something he could use to his advantage.

  Sitting in the dark with the house completely still, the killer’s mind raced with possibilities. He’d have to orchestrate the situation, but he could use DeVries to lure Dawkins into his trap. In the final moments of Dawkins’ life, with the last of his warm blood flowing, the detective would see the light and know he’d been outplayed. Delicious.

  And so, the killer schemed.

  Morning coffee in hand, Cade walked through the deserted Patrol headquarters and found Rob at his desk. “May have something here,” Rob said as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Remember the night Stephanie Harding was murdered?” Rob’s voice was breathless and Cade could sense his excitement.

  “Yeah.” Cade handed over Rob’s coffee. “That was a bad day.”

  “The Patrol caught a lot of heat because Harding was allowed to leave—despite considerable evidence of intoxication—after the trooper stopped her for a DUI.”

  “Sully appeared to be a bit distracted by Harding’s appearance.” Cade laughed. “Not our finest hour.”

  “I can sympathize,” Rob said. “God gave us men both a penis and a br
ain, but unfortunately not enough blood supply to run both at the same time.”

  “I’m guessing with you being married and all, you don’t have much opportunity to run either.” Cade grinned.

  “I shouldn’t dignify that with a response, but I will.” Rob cleared his throat, pausing dramatically. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re missing out on the carnal playground that is the marriage bedroom. Let alone the deep, soul-stirring conversations that happen between two starry-eyed lovers.”

  “I’m no medical professional, but it sounds like your testosterone patch might need a booster.” Cade switched gears. “You were saying that Sully had our victim stopped just before her murder.”

  “Yeah, her body was found less than two miles up the road.” Rob paused, pointing at Cade. “The thing is, Sully is a good cop. He’s thorough and usually has good instincts. So, I ran his log before he stopped Harding.”

  “And?” Cade prompted.

  “And get this: Sully ran a plate check several minutes before stopping Harding. The vehicle in question was registered to a Marlin James Sweetwater.”

  Cade ran the name through his head. It didn’t sound familiar. “Should I know the name?”

  “Sweetwater is a trooper.”

  “Really? Shit.”

  “Hang on, it gets better. He’s on the Governor’s protection detail. Sweetwater does advance security reconnaissance for Ritter’s appearances. And guess where Governor Ritter’s last appearance was?” Rob didn’t wait for an answer. “The Minneapolis Athletic Club.”

  “Candan Spring was a personal trainer at the Minneapolis Athletic Club. Chances are, Sweetwater would have seen her during his reconnaissance.” Cade shook his head. “We need to see if the other victims had crossed paths with Sweetwater and the Governor.”

  “If this gets out…”

  “It can’t.” Cade paced in front of his desk. “But we both know how cops are. If you’re investigating one of your own, cops will talk. If word gets back to Sweetwater, he’s gone. We’re too close now, we can’t let it happen. We need to keep this between ourselves.”

  Rob leaned back in his chair. “I have an idea you’re not going to like. Protocol says we should hand off the investigation if it concerns our own department. In cases such as this, the BCA is brought in to negate any possibility of impropriety or favoritism. That way, the reputation of the Minnesota State Patrol won’t be tainted.”

  “Tainted?” Cade spat the word out as he stepped close to Rob. “Tainted? One of our own is out there killing women on our highways. And he’s on the Governor’s staff. We are so past tainted you can’t even see it from here. This isn’t damage control. This is cut off the leg to save the life.”

  Rob crossed his arms. “I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

  Cade took a deep breath and willed himself to settle down. “No, it has to be just us. We need to be sure before we point fingers. We’ll look for links between Sweetwater and the victims. I bet we find both the event planner and the attorney had dealings with the Governor. When the evidence is there, we grab the killer. End of story.”

  Rob cleared his throat. “What about Captain Rejene?”

  Cade shook his head. “Uh, uh. It’s just us.”

  Cade reached Tom Soderholm, Holly Janek’s boyfriend, and arranged to meet in the West Seventh area of St. Paul. He found Soderholm on the third floor of a construction site where a large apartment complex was going up. “We’re putting in all the kitchens here. Something like 450 kitchens. That’s a lot of granite.”

  “Nice job,” Cade commented as Soderholm and another man laid the center island piece. “I wanted to talk to you in person. The questions I need to ask are sensitive and it’s critical you don’t share the information with anyone else. Are you good with that?”

  “If it helps catch Holly’s killer, sure.” He hooked a thumb toward the balcony. “Let’s go out there and talk.”

  They leaned on the balcony, watching the activity of a construction crew three floors below. Cade counted seven different trucks parked outside the entrance. A panel van from a plumbing supply company turned into the lot and joined the others. He turned toward Soderholm. “As I said, this needs to remain confidential. Did Holly ever work for the Governor? I didn’t find anything on the copy of Holly’s schedule you gave me.”

  Soderholm looked at Cade, studying his face. “The Governor,” he repeated. “Not exactly what I expected. But no. Holly hadn’t worked for Ritter. We’re not Republicans.” He grinned.

  The two men from the plumbing van rolled a cart of materials up the sidewalk. “Had she been to the capital or the Governor’s residence for an event?”

  Soderholm shook his head. “She was supposed to have Ritter at a corporate event for Ecolab though. The Ecolab Foundation hosted its annual fundraising gala several weeks before Holly’s death. Holly put the event together and I guess Ritter was to stop by to rub shoulders with St. Paul’s elite. However, something came up at the last minute and he never showed. So, I guess the answer is no, she never met the guy.”

  Cade pushed off the railing. “Thought there’d be a connection there. Damn.”

  Hand on the door, Soderholm paused. “You’re not really suggesting Ritter killed those women, are you? It doesn’t sound right—even for a Republican.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting anything, just looking into a possible connection involving the Governor’s staff. Even if it doesn’t pan out, I’d appreciate you keeping this quiet.”

  “No problem.” The men shook hands and Cade stepped out into the hallway. He paused for a moment and stuck his head back into the kitchen.

  “Hey Tom, one more question: how did Holly know Ritter was supposed to make an appearance?”

  Soderholm pulled off his cap and wiped his forehead. “You know, you should ask Sarey, her assistant. She would know. She runs the floral shop on Grand and Victoria. Not sure of the business name, though…” Soderholm’s voice trailed off, as did his interest.

  “Hey Kevin, the corner doesn’t look right there.” Soderholm turned away and Cade ducked out. He maneuvered around the carpenters hanging the front door and headed for his truck. Next stop: Grand Avenue.

  Sun, Stems and Vines, as it turned out, was a block off the busy Grand and Victoria shopping area. Located in a bright green Craftsman-style house, the florist shop was empty as Cade made his way through the displays. One nice thing about flower shops, they always smelled like spring. A dark-haired woman had her back to him as Cade approached. She turned around, and let out a sound, clearly startled by Cade’s appearance. “Oh, sorry, I hadn’t heard you come in.”

  Cade smiled. “No worries, I scare a lot of people. It’s just a curse I have to live with.”

  The clerk, a pretty Asian woman in her twenties, smiled back at him. She gave him an appraising look. “Somehow I don’t think you’ve scared off too many women. How can I help you?”

  “Are you Sarey?” Cade asked.

  “My day keeps getting better,” she replied. “Yes, I am. And color me intrigued,” she grinned.

  Cade pulled out his badge case. “Tom Soderholm sent me over. I’m working on Holly Janek’s murder case.” The smile left Sarey’s face, as her expression turned grim.

  “Oh. How can I help?”

  “You worked with Holly on her events, specifically the Ecolab Foundation event?”

  “I did. That was a massive undertaking, with over 500 guests. Our largest event so far…” Sarey paused, as tears welled in her eyes. “I guess it will always be our largest event. Poor Holly.” Her chin trembled.

  Cade stepped forward, unsure how to react. Law enforcement training suggested a professional detachment in these types of situations. His brain told him to do one thing while his heart told him to do another. Maybe it was that this woman reminded him of his previous investigative partner, Daisy. Daisy was a striking woman of Asian descent who had made a bad choice and was now living in a women’s correctional facility. Maybe it was
the fact it was Holly’s deceased body that first pulled him into this case. But either way, his heart won out. He put his arm around the petite Asian woman and pulled her close. She melted in his arms as he felt the shake of her sobs. Cade gave her time to let it out. After a few long moments, they awkwardly disengaged, the woman wiping the tears from her cheeks. She looked up a Cade, “Sorry. I thought I was past all this.”

  “No apologies needed,” he said, putting a hand briefly on her shoulder. “When you lose someone, sometimes it can be the smallest thing bringing a rush of memories and emotion. It was that way after I lost my dad. I’d see a favorite book of his, or smell his cologne and I’d lose it. It eventually stopped, though I can’t say if that’s a good thing or not.”

  Sarey looked into his eyes. “You’re an unusually sensitive guy for a cop. No offense.” She gave him a little smile. “I mean it’s a good thing. I appreciate your kindness.”

  Nodding, Cade changed the subject. “Tom said Holly had mentioned the Governor was supposed to attend the Ecolab gala. Do you know how she knew the Governor planned on attending?”

  “He didn’t actually make it. I remember Holly saying it was just like a Republican to stir things up with special accommodations and then not show up.” Sarey shook her head with a wistful smile. “Holly and Tom were so into politics.”

  “What do you mean when you say stir things up with special accommodations?”

  “Ritter sent over a state police officer to arrange for security precautions in the event he was mobbed by his adoring fans. Like that was ever going to happen,” she added. “For over an hour, this guy had Holly lead him all through the facility, checking the kitchen, back hallways as well as each and every possible exit.”

  Cade struggled to maintain his composure. “I don’t suppose you saw what this officer looked like?” Cade asked.

  “No, I never saw him. But I can do better than a description. Hold on,” she requested and stepped into the back room. She returned carrying an expandable folder and pulled out a business card, handing it to Cade. “He left this in case we needed to contact him.”