“No shit,” Baz said. “So what?”
“He owns it,” I said. “He was voted Most Philanthropic Minnesotan for the second consecutive year by that magazine … ” I snapped my fingers as I tried to pull the name from my brain. “What’s it called?”
“The Twin Citian, I think.” Coop said. “The guy’s donated millions to local charities. He’s the Twin Cities answer to T. Boone Pickens.”
Hopefully Fletcher Sharpe wasn’t Minnesota’s answer to Bernie Madoff. I sank into a chair next to the desk. “Any kid worth his salt would be absolutely crushed if Sharpe is doing something he shouldn’t. So would half the business community.”
Coop said, “I’d really hate to see another well-known and mostly well-liked local businessman topple like Denny Hecker and Tom Petters. Sharpe’s always been an awesome guy.”
Both Denny Hecker and Tom Petters were at one time pillars of sorts in the Twin Cities area. Hecker owned at least twenty-six car dealerships, a restaurant, and a car-rental agency. He went on to defraud GM and others, winding up with a decade-long prison sentence. Petters bought out Fingerhut, purchased Polaroid, and added Sun Country Airlines to his collection before going belly-up on fraud charges and pulling a multi-million dollar Ponzi scheme. He was cooling his jets in federal prison for at least fifty years.
I had no doubt the creation of Fletcher Sharpe’s Dungeon Gameroom had something to do with Coop’s glowing assessment. Regardless, we needed to figure out why a cornerstone of the community had in his possession a toy snake stuffed with hundred dollar bills. It was a shame Baz hadn’t managed to hang onto any of the moolah. If we could unravel whatever was going on, we could probably make Tommy Tormenta and company stop trying to lessen our longevity.
“Baz,” I said, “can I see?”
He handed me the duct cleaning work order for Fletcher Sharpe. I jotted the address down on a slip of paper and returned it.
“I miss my phone,” I said. “I could pop that address in there, and wham—the directions would appear.” I handed the work order back to Baz. “What are we going to do about our trashed cell phones?”
Baz placed the paperwork back on the pile and returned the stack to the bin. “What can we do? They’re goners.”
Eddy called from the doorway, “Hurry up, kids. Time’s a-ticking.”
“Come on, let’s go.” I said. “I have an idea.”
TEN
SINCE COOP HAD BECOME Super Computer Man, he found he needed the Internet in many places that didn’t have WiFi. He’d purchased an AirCard, which granted him Internet access just about anywhere.
I drove around for the next ten minutes trying to find an intact payphone. Guess that’s what you get with the advent of cellular communication.
We hit the jackpot at the third gas station we checked. After a momentary flush of panic in trying to recall the phone number, I punched the correct buttons and placed a call to Kate at the Hole. I gave her the rundown of what had happened (minus the near-death experience) and asked her if she’d mind running to Coop’s apartment for his laptop. She agreed, and I told her where my spare key for Coop’s place was. I sensed she was about to turn blue and tip over from curiosity, but she wisely held back her interrogational tendencies. Fortunately, one of our employees was working, and he agreed to close for Kate. She said she’d meet us at the Lake Calhoun Pavilion.
Before I left the gas station, I bought two packs of gum for Coop, and coffee for everyone except Rocky, who was partial to grape pop. Coop immediately ripped the gum open and shoved four sticks in his mouth. Anything I could do to help keep him off the smokes was well worth it. I had a feeling we were in for a very long night.
I held my wrist toward the glow of the street lamp, frustrated because I couldn’t easily make out the time.
“Shay,” Eddy voice was low and comforting as she absently rubbed my back. “You looked at that two minutes ago. Relax.”
We were all sitting around one of the tables left out by the Tin Fish, a small restaurant with to-die-for seafood. The restaurant resided in the old pavilion on the northeast shore of Lake Calhoun. Coop and Baz traded insults while Eddy continued an on-going argument with Agnes about the versatility of some obscure knitting stitch. Rocky, on his knees at the edge of the concrete dock, peered into the black water lapping gently below.
It felt like it was taking Kate forever.
The lake vegetation that had been frozen solid for the last six months was now thawed enough to restart the decomposition process, and the night air held the tang of dead fish. Just like our dead bodies would smell if we didn’t get things figured out soon.
I kept an eye out for Kate’s old VW Bug and heaved an impatient breath. “Okay, you guys. What’s next?”
Conversation ceased, and five sets of eyes locked expectantly on me, including Rocky’s weary gaze from the water’s edge.
“We need a game plan.”
“Yes!” Eddy amped up. “A little reconnoiter and reconnaissance mission.”
Agnes harrumphed. “Give the old gal a dictionary and she starts using big, ten-dollar words.”
Baz said, “In this day and age, those are hundred-dollar words.”
Coop chuckled. “Good one, Baz.” They high-fived. What?
“I did not learn those words from a book.” Eddy sounded insulted. “I got them right off the TV, from a rerun of Remington Steele. Or was it Hart to Hart? That series finally came out on DVD, you know.”
I said, “I think we should see if Kate would mind bringing Rocky home. He should be safe there.”
Eddy nodded. “I agree. The boy’s tired.” She nodded toward Rocky. Sure enough, he’d fallen asleep sprawled on the cement. Poor guy. He’d been through enough in the last couple of days to last a lifetime. Then I recalled his new girlfriend. We’d left the Big Easy so fast he hadn’t even had time to say goodbye. I made a mental note to get a hold of the McNichis and see what we could do.
Before we could delve any deeper into our investigation, I heard the distinct and rapidly approaching click of dog toenails on cement. I whipped around just in time to get a face full of Dawg tongue. I wrapped my arms around his thick neck and breathed him in. He wriggled happily, then broke away and started the Boxer shuffle, bending himself in half and bouncing all over the patio.
Kate brought up Dawg’s flank, and Eddy swooped her into a tight hug. “Are we ever glad to see you,” Eddy told her without letting go. Kate McKenzie was formidable. She was small, but she didn’t put up with much guff. She endeared herself to everyone she came into contact with, Eddy included.
“The feeling’s mutual,” Kate said. She looked at me over Eddy’s shoulder, one eyebrow cocked in question. “I’m glad I’m able to help.” Eddy gave her another squeeze and released her. Kate set Coop’s computer backpack on top of the picnic table with a gentle thump. “Here you go.” I could tell she was dying of curiosity but was doing a great job of biting her tongue.
Coop dove on the backpack and pulled out the laptop. In no time flat he had it turned on and booting up.
As we watched Coop work, Kate crossed her arms. “What happened to your head, Shay?”
I’d forgotten the bandage over my eyebrow. “We had some trouble in New Orleans, like I mentioned on the phone. Things got … a little physical.”
Kate pressed her lips together as she watched Rocky gently snoring a few yards away. “He out of gas?”
I said, “That’s one of the biggest understatements you’ve made in the last six months. Would you mind giving him a ride home?”
On the phone, I’d intimated some crazy thugs were after us and told her I’d explain everything soon. Now, instead of badgering us about what was going on, Kate simply said, in her amazing, continuing display of self-control, “Why don’t I take him home to my house? There’s plenty of room.”
Coop nodded. “That’s kind of what we were thinking. Keep him away from the Hole until we get this cluster sorted out.”
“Done.” Kate sai
d. “Let’s get him out of here while you … do whatever it is you need to do.” I was impressed Kate hadn’t flat-out refused to do anything without hearing the entire story.
Even with Dawg’s sloppy tongue for help, it took a long while to rouse Rocky. Finally, he and Dawg were loaded safely in Kate’s Bug, headed to a soft, safe bed. I was envious.
ELEVEN
COOP FINISHED LOOKING UP Sharpe’s address on MapQuest, jotted some notes, and stowed the laptop in the backpack. “Let’s get this circus on the road. I’d like to be in bed before four this morning.”
I’d parked the pickup on the east side of the lake not far from the pavilion. We loaded up, and I cruised slowly around Calhoun. The parade of muscle cars, convertibles, tricked-out trucks, and crotch rockets that ceaselessly circled the lake throughout the summer months hadn’t yet begun. I followed the street as it broke away from Calhoun and headed west on what would become Minnetonka Boulevard.
“I’m starving.” I glanced wistfully at a darkened Chipotle across the street from a fire station. My stomach growled.
“Here,” Agnes said as she fumbled around the inside of her kitchen-sink sized purse. She handed me a rumpled bag of peanuts from the flight home.
“Thanks.” The six peanuts within wouldn’t do much to quell the beast, but I wasn’t in a position to be choosy.
“I think I have more in here.” Agnes’s voice was muffled, her head practically buried inside the bag. “Ah ha!” She emerged from the monstrosity and thrust her hand toward me. Clenched in her fist were at least half a dozen more bags of airplane peanuts.
“Thanks, Agnes.” Warily I took a couple more of the crumpled packets. She must have raided the food cart on her way to the closet the airlines called a restroom.
Once the peanuts were divided equally, Coop navigated. We travelled on I-394 past Ridgedale Mall and farther yet to Highway 12. I took the sharp curve south, toward Lake Minnetonka. Many dips, twists, and turns later, Coop had me pull over and stop in a semi-secluded, residential area.
We were on a side street in of one of the many bays that formed the posh lake. The roads wound sharply, and numerous hills and valleys created a natural rollercoaster. The street we’d been following curved to the left up ahead and disappeared from view.
I shut off the engine and extinguished the headlights. The engine ticked in the cool night air. We sat in the dark, looking out at a large, wooded slope the size of a nice sledding hill. Perched at the top of the hill, a light-colored house nestled among naked trees that would soon sprout lush vegetation. The place was more modern than the classical mansions of a century ago, but not so new it would attract yuppie up-and-comers. A paved drive made a switchback on the way up to a three-car, attached garage. Most of the house was dark, but a very dim light leaked from one of the ground-floor windows.
“Baz,” Coop asked, “this look like the place?”
“I think so.” Baz leaned forward and peered out the window. “I remember that garage with the decorative stuff on the eaves.” He nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s it.”
Eddy said, “Basil, being pretty sure is quite different from being very sure.”
“It’s dark if you haven’t noticed, and just a little hard to tell,” Baz said defensively.
Agnes struck like lightning. A thwack echoed through the tight confines of the cab. “Ow!” Baz yelped.
“Basil,” Agnes said, “you will not talk to your elders that way.”
“Sorry, Eddy,” Baz mumbled.
“I am not an elder,” Eddy said.
Agnes said, “You are too, you old coot.”
“I’m not a coot, either.”
“Would you rather be a geezer?”
“You’re a geezer. I’m—”
“Stop!” I said. Shoot me now. “If you two don’t knock it off, I’ll knock your heads together, you old farts.”
“Old fart? I kinda like that,” Agnes said.
Of course she would.
“Fits.” Eddy patted Agnes on the shoulder. “You’re like an old fart factory, Aggie.”
“It’s the Metamucil.”
An awkward pause followed.
Coop cleared his throat. “Eddy, you and Agnes wait in the truck, and we’ll—”
Eddy bristled. “Wait in the truck my flat left butt cheek. You’re not leaving either one of us behind. Right, Aggie?”
“Right on, Knitter Sis.” The sound of slapping hands filled the cab. The Knitters could easily become a secret society that cost your first-born grandchild and your left pinky finger for membership.
Eddy practically chortled. “Wish I had my lucky green sneakers on. Have you been watching Dexter? He’s one cool serial killer. That man is slick. We pretend we’re following Dex and away we go.”
Away we go, indeed. I had a very bad feeling about this escapade. “We’re here to see if there’s any clue about why Sharpe has a money-stuffed snake in his possession. Nothing else. And Baz,” I gave him a squint. “Hands off. We don’t need you pilfering anything else.”
“Hey,” Baz held his mitts in front of him. “I learned my lesson.”
That I doubted.
Coop said, “Okay, if we’re all going to go on this field trip—”
“Duck!” Agnes shouted as headlights swept around the bend in front of us.
We all attempted the disappear-from-view scrunch-down I’d perfected in high school to avoid the flashlights of the cops who cruised city parks at night. As an adult, I appreciated their attempts to make sure no one was getting more than they bargained for during hot and heavy make-out sessions. Back then, I didn’t feel quite so warm and fuzzy about it.
I held my breath as the headlights brightened the interior of the cab, then watched the shadows shift as the vehicle passed and continued on its way. I peeked over the dash. We appeared to be alone again.
“As I was saying,” Coop said as he pushed himself out Eddy’s lap, “Agnes, you and Baz come with me and we’ll go around the house one way. Shay, you and Eddy go the other and we’ll meet in the middle and compare notes.”
“Fine,” Baz said, and Agnes and Eddy echoed affirmation.
We climbed out of the truck. The trees would provide us some concealment, but it would’ve helped immensely if it were May instead of April. I kept a close eye on Eddy and Agnes as we carefully threaded between the trees and through the leafless underbrush up the hill. All we needed was someone to catch a foot on branches or a rotting log and tumble head over keister back down the slope.
Moldy twigs and semi-soggy leaves made that much more difficult. After a couple near-slips, we arrived safely at the top of the slope and stopped just inside the treeline. I was breathing heavily. Eddy panted beside me. Coop and Agnes came up behind us with Baz at the rear.
What would be a beautiful lawn once things started greening up abutted the woodland and stretched a good fifty feet to the house. The place was an imposing two stories with a basement walkout.
From our vantage point, part of the front yard including a slice of the drive was visible, as was a fair-sized chunk of the backyard. A deck jutted out from the rear of the house in three terraced levels, each connected by a couple of steps and dropping lower until the third level sat about five feet from the ground to one side of the sliding-glass walkout. A set of four tiered stairs led to ground level.
From the backyard, the ground sloped upward on both sides and flattened out. Light glowed through gauzy curtains from a main-floor window.
Eddy said in a low voice, “See if you can tell if anyone’s home, if any cars are in the driveway. That kind of thing.”
“Edwina Quartermaine.” Agnes put her hands on her hips, and insolently jutted her chin at Eddy. “Do you think we’re stupid?”
“You want me to answer that tru—” Eddy began but was interrupted by Coop. “Ladies, cool your jets. Let’s go. Quietly.” He stealthily struck out toward the front of the house, followed by Agnes and trailed by Baz. I hoped it wasn’t a mistake not to lo
ck the Spaz in the pickup.
Eddy and I crept toward the lit window. The pace of my hammering heart picked up the closer we got. We crouched beneath the sill. I took a few deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. If we got nabbed … I forced that thought out of my head. At least there were no alligators in Minnesota. Outside of the zoo, that is.
“Let’s take a quick peek,” Eddy whispered, cool as a snowball in January. I had to admire her backbone. I wondered how much watching the hour upon hour of crime shows had to do with her gutsiness. Or rather, her idiocy, depending on the outcome of this caper.
On the count of three, we slowly raised our heads and peered over the ledge. The curtain was cream-colored and filmy, just enough to create the illusion of blocking the view from outside.
A multi-colored lamp sat on the corner of a large desk, and cast a yellowish glow into the room. The lampshade was made of stained glass in the form of the roof of a Model T car. The base of the lamp shaped the rest of the car. It would easily have fit in the collectible toys section at the Hands On Toy Store.
The lamp cast its glow in a circle about six feet from the source. A computer sat idle and assorted papers and files rested on the desktop, with a chair tucked neatly underneath. Along one wall, two overstuffed chairs flanked a couch with chrome buttons running along the seams. A coffee table littered with assorted toys sat in front of the couch. A fireplace took up most of another wall. The room looked cozy enough. It also appeared unoccupied.
I tugged on Eddy’s sleeve. “Let’s go around the back.”
We scooted to the corner of the house and followed the slight hill as it dipped downward. At ground level, two bay windows sat on either side of a sliding glass door. An eight-by-eight bricked-in patio area waited for warmer weather. Vertical blinds covered the windows and doors, blocking out our prying eyes.
An owl hooted. Both Eddy and I jumped. Eddy slapped her hand to her chest. “Gee whiz.”
Hide and Snake Murder Page 9