Black Friday

by Judy M. Kerr

  MC kissed Barb. “How do you put up with me?” She touched her forehead to Barb’s and closed her eyes, biting her lip to swallow back the tears threatening to shatter her butch façade.

  Barb pulled back. “Believe me, it’s not easy.”

  MC’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by her cell vibrating in her pocket.

  “Saved by the cell.” Barb reached for her wine and sat back against the arm of the couch, a twinkle in her eye as she watched MC struggle to extract her phone.

  MC freed it and glanced at the screen. “Of course. A text from Dara. She says, ‘Yo, you better be dragging your sorry butt to dinner tonight. I want the latest scoop on your epic investigation.’ I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t have to work late. You would’ve had to listen to Dara whine all through dinner about my not being there to update her. I swear, she’s worse than Crapper.”

  “MC! Bite your tongue.”

  MC held up her hands. “Maybe that was a bit over the top.” She sent a quick text back to Dara.

  “I’ll change into jeans. Then we should get on the road so we’re not late. Do you want to call in our usual order to Thai Kitchen?”

  “Sure. Two orders of Shrimp Pad Thai, one Green Curry with Chicken, and one Thai Fried Rice with Chicken coming up.”

  “How about adding a couple orders of Cream Cheese Wontons?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be up to change as soon as I call it in.”

  MC watched as Dara crunched on a perfectly-browned cream cheese wonton. A fluff of white cream cheese squirted out the opposite end. “Geez, Dara.” MC snickered. “Take it easy on the poor wonton and—.” Barb’s elbow in her side cut her off. “Ow!”

  “Play nice.” Barb eyed MC and Dara.

  The foursome had pushed two tables together near the counter and spread out their Thai feast. Cartons, plates, and napkins littered every available inch of space.

  MC loved these weekly dinners, even if her initial inclination was to cancel. They’d started the tradition more years ago than she could remember now. MC and Barb would bring takeout from a favorite restaurant to the shop, and they’d enjoy a tasty meal in between waiting on customers. At nine, when Meg flipped the sign on the door to “Closed” the four made quick work of cleaning up the shop and readying it for the next day.

  To MC these people were her family.

  Dara nudged MC’s foot. “Hello. What’s up? Where are you?”

  “What?”

  “I asked if you’d share the latest on your super-secret case.” Dara slurped a forkful of Pad Thai and blinked expectantly at MC.

  MC swallowed her chicken and washed it down with a sip of water. “I’ll tell you what I can. Confidentiality and all.”

  “Whatever.” Dara waved her fork in the air. “Dish the dirt.”

  Meg returned from waiting on a customer and took her seat next to Dara. “Stop waving your fork before you poke someone’s eye out, and let MC eat her meal in peace.”

  “Sound advice. I’ll give you an update over coffee after we eat. Deal?” MC raised an eyebrow at Dara, daring her to argue.

  “Oh, crap, I’m outnumbered. Deal.”

  Meal clutter cleared and the six current customers sufficiently waited upon, the foursome settled at the table with mugs of coffee and tea.

  Dara pulled her chair closer to the table, wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, and leaned toward MC. “Okay, McCall. Spill it.” Her brown eyes sparkled.

  MC sipped her coffee and focused on Dara. “I’ll tell you what I can, but if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “Out with it.”

  “News flash. We now have a dead whistleblower.”

  Three sets of eyes widened.

  Barb’s mug thumped down on the table, Earl Gray sloshing over the rim. “What are you saying?”

  “The guy who we’ve been working with was found toes up today. Because of this new wrinkle, the team is scrambling to decide how to proceed.”

  “Wrinkle?” Barb slowly folded her napkin. Her voice rose an octave. “You refer to a man being murdered as a wrinkle?”

  “Shhh.” MC glanced around the café. Barb’s exclamation had drawn people’s attention. MC reached for Barb’s hand, held it and said in a low tone, “I was never in any danger. No need to worry.”

  Barb leaned back in her chair. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  “We got sidetracked with our other discussion. And I didn’t want you to start stressing, which you tend to do when bad things happen.” MC tried out a smile. “And then it was time to leave.”

  “I would think you’d find this tidbit a tad important.” She blew out a breath. “What happens now? Do you and Cam suddenly become homicide detectives?”

  MC kept her voice matter-of-fact and squeezed Barb’s hand. “We don’t even know who will be lead on the homicide. Could be Hennepin County, could be Minneapolis, or could be the FBI. Nothing’s certain at this point, except that Cam and I will go on investigating the fraud case.”

  Meg set her cup on the table. “MC, you be careful.”

  Dara said, “Totally. We love ya. Hey, do you guys wanna go see the new Meryl Streep movie, The Homesman, this weekend?” She glanced from Barb to MC and back.

  MC mouthed, “Thanks,” at Dara and perked up. “Sounds good to me. And Hilary Swank is in it too, right? Gotta be a winner with those two.” She raised her coffee cup and took a sip. “How about it, sweetie?”

  A deep sigh escaped Barb’s lips. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Yes!” Dara said. “Should be awesome.”

  Meg said, “We should make it a double date night and do dinner and a movie on Saturday. We’ve got the shop covered, so we’re free all evening.”

  Barb whispered to MC, “We’re not finished talking about this.”

  The aftertaste of coffee gone bitter filled MC’s mouth.

  Chapter Six

  Thursday, November 20

  “You okay?” Cam weaved in and out of semi-heavy mid-morning traffic on westbound I-494.

  MC gazed out the window, watching the menagerie of vehicles howl past, shooting up rooster tails of ashen slush. “I’m feeling the pressure. Barb is freaked out by our dead guy. And Crapper keeps riding my ass. And where are we, or rather, where are they with Arty’s homicide? We need a break on this thing, quick.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure Oldfield’s got irons in the fire.” Cam navigated off the freeway. “Barb will come around. She always does. Remember a couple years ago when we investigated that suspicious powder incident at the St. Cloud facility? She wanted you to be tested for exposure to Anthrax, even after you assured her it was only baby powder.”

  “God, yes. She refused to believe me. Wanted me to bring home lab results to prove I wasn’t keeping something from her.”

  “She loves you. We’re both lucky. Could be worse. At least she’s not threatening to leave you.”

  “Leave me? Ha! Far from it. She’s talking about marriage again. When I’m hopeful she’s forgotten about it, up it comes, like a loaded semi barreling down a mountain road.”

  “MC, bite the bullet. Do it already.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to marry her. I just don’t want it to be some overblown extravaganza. I can’t deal with crowds. You know?” MC drummed her fingers on the door’s armrest. “I’d be a blithering babbling boob.”

  “Go online, apply for a license, pick a judge, and go to the government center. Short and sweet. No fuss. No muss. Bada bing, bada boom, you’re hitched.” Cam snapped his fingers in the air.

  “But Barb wants to have her family there, except for her sister-in-law, Jules. We’ve talked about Jules ad nauseum. Not inviting her wouldn’t work because if Jules isn’t invited Barb’s brother and the kids wouldn’t come either. Then her parents would be mad at her. It would be a vicious cycle of resentment. Not worth the trouble. If I could convince her to keep it at Dara and Meg as our witnesses and the two of us, w
e could be in and out in fifteen minutes.”

  MC couldn’t deal. Weddings were a painful reminder that she had no family. After losing them, MC boycotted celebratory gatherings. She’d tried attending a few times early on, but ended up dissociating. She correlated the feeling to what blacking out must be like. One minute she’d be involved in a discussion and the next she’d be in the passenger seat of Barb’s—or Dara and Meg’s—car heading home without any recollection of how she’d got there.

  “Hello?” Cam waved a hand in front of MC’s face. “Where’d you go?”

  “Sorry. Lost in thought.” MC noticed they’d arrived at their destination. “Let’s hope for some good news.”

  ASAC Oldfield buzzed them in. “McCall, White, gather round the conference table. We have a couple of new additions who will bring us up to speed on a few items.” He waved them toward a long table near his office where five people were already seated.

  Two women she’d not seen before were seated at the table. Oldfield introduced them as Special Agent Teri Young and Special Agent Alexis Trinh. “They’ve been added from our Chicago office.”

  Agent Steve Braun introduced the other two people as Special Agent Sebastian Ferndale, a youngish tall beanstalk of a guy, his skin dark brown and a voice so deep he could beat out James Earl Jones for the voice of Darth Vader. The other man was Special Agent Walt Andrews, a middle-aged white dude with reddish-silver hair, a face full of freckles, and washed out blue eyes. Both were from the FBI’s Minneapolis office.

  Oldfield stood at the head of the table as MC and Cam sat. “Here’s where we’re at. I had Cyber ping Arty’s phone. The last known location was in Spring Park. I sent Young and Trinh to the site yesterday.

  “The location was in the area of a boat storage business. When they noticed the fence had been cut, they called in backup. Orono PD was closest, so they sent a squad to help secure the area. And Hennepin County Crime Scene was called in. We’ve got lead on Musselman’s homicide. All the talking heads at the top want results as soon as possible on both the homicide and the fraud case, which works to our advantage.” Oldfield nodded toward Young. “I’ll turn the floor over to you.”

  Agent Teri Young appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Lean and tall, she stood at least six feet. Her blond hair was secured in a very tight ponytail, and she wore a light blue oxford shirt under a dark blue blazer and matching pants.

  Young said, “Trinh, wanna set it up?”

  “Sure.” Trinh, who sported short-cropped, coal black hair, much like MC’s, quickly arranged a rip chart on a tripod and angled it so everyone could see. She stepped aside and Young took point.

  “As ASAC Oldfield stated, the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Department handled the crime scene investigation. We’ve also been brought up to speed on the fraud case. Here’s what we have so far on the Musselman homicide.” She nodded at her partner, who flipped the top sheet over to display a timeline.

  “We believe the victim was last seen alive at the meeting in the Stennard building. There’s no indication he made it home. The Hennepin County Medical Examiner will be performing the autopsy tomorrow afternoon and then we’ll have a better idea of time of death. We’ve questioned Stennard employees, starting with Michael Stennard and Gavin Thomson. Neither heard from Musselman after he left work on Monday evening. They both seemed pretty shocked and torn up over his demise. If it’s a cover, they’re good actors.”

  MC asked, “What about the head of security? Len Klein? Cam and I followed him, Klein that is, Monday night after Arty didn’t appear for debriefing.” She glanced at Cam.

  He said, “Klein was driving a black Escalade and hustled to an apparent pre-set meeting near a local recreational vehicle and boat storage business. Very clandestine. MC managed to eavesdrop and hear bits and pieces of what was said.”

  All eyes fixed on MC. She said, “I was able to get close enough to catch some of the conversation. Klein met up with two men, maybe mid-twenties. One was quiet, don’t remember him saying anything, in fact. The other was loud and obnoxious, and I think Klein called him Wooly or Worley. This Wooly character received a phone call which riled him up.”

  MC pulled her notebook from her messenger bag. “Let’s see, there’s something he said.” She flipped pages and ran a finger down her notes and tapped the page with a fingertip. “This Wooly character said something about not finding a phone. This was in his conversation with whoever he was talking to on the cell.” MC paused and then, “‘Didn’t find no phone.’ That’s what I heard him say.”

  Cam rubbed his temples. “Shit. Phone. Boat storage. Do you suppose?”

  MC said, “How could it not be?”

  Young gazed from one to the other. “You suppose what? Please enlighten the rest of us.”

  “The phone this Wooly guy was talking about, what if he was talking about Arty’s phone? What if he had something to do with Arty’s murder?”

  Young checked through notes she had in a folder. “Hennepin County found an iPhone at the crime scene. All the earmarks of having been tossed away. Dead battery, but Cyber is working to revive it and retrieve the data. The body was found rolled in a blue tarp, tied with a length of rope and dumped in a boat.”

  Cam said, “Harsh.”

  MC asked, “If data from the phone is recovered, can we get copies of everything? Voice recordings, text messages, et cetera?”

  “Yes,” Oldfield said, “and a list of the last incoming and outgoing numbers. The sooner we get it the better.”

  Young jotted notes as fast as the team fired requests at her. “I’ll set it up. Anything else?”

  MC said, “Cam and I inspected Musselman’s car. Wilcox at the MPD’s Forensic Garage told us they’d found what appeared to be blood on the driver’s side front floor mat. No wallet. No phone. Glove box contents tossed around inside the car: maps, insurance docs, registration, and owner’s manual. Nothing interesting. Seats were shredded. Tires gone. Some work-related papers scattered about, and his briefcase. Stuff is being tested for DNA and prints.”

  Oldfield asked, “Are we thinking this was a carjacking? Or is it related to the task force investigation?”

  “Who knows,” MC said. “Maybe the car stripping was random and not connected to Arty. Or a diversion.”

  Oldfield cupped his chin in a hand. “Go on, McCall. Never rule out anything until you can prove it.”

  “Right. First, I had Klein pegged as the guy who took out Arty. But why the secret huddle with Wooly and friend? Do we know what time Arty was killed? Because if he died earlier than the meeting, then Klein could be involved. But if it was later than the clandestine meetup, then it’s less likely because we followed him home.” She thought for a moment. “Or maybe Klein hired those two creeps to off Arty, and the big exchange was a payoff.”

  MC hesitated and reread her notes while the agents waited. “But what was in the briefcase Wooly gave to Klein before Klein handed over the money? The briefcase wasn’t Arty’s, so that doesn’t fit. The case the guy gave to Klein was silver or gray, definitely a lighter color, and shiny like plastic or fiberglass or maybe metal. Not leather like Arty’s.”

  Cam said, “Something’s not clicking.”

  MC said, “Agreed. And the fact the rendezvous happened at the same place Arty was dumped? Doesn’t make sense. So maybe Klein and those guys had no connection to Arty.”

  Young said, “We can review the employee list and search for the name you heard. Wooly.” She wrote in the file. “We’ve interviewed Len Klein, but he claimed he worked late and afterwards he went right home. Said he was alone all night. Neither Stennard nor Thomson saw Klein after their meeting with Arty. Appears Mister Klein wasn’t being completely truthful. Deserves a closer look.”

  Oldfield said, “Question Mister Klein again. Delve deeper.”

  MC drummed her fingertips on the table. “If we don’t find a name matching Wooly, whoever re-interviews Klein can maybe work it backwards with him. Ask him what time he got home. We fol
lowed him to the complex he lives in, so we know he arrived home around nine forty-five. We were back here by ten to check in. You could work him through his night in reverse. Maybe toss him a question about Johnson’s Boat and RV Storage, see if that lights a fire under him.”

  The agents continued to run down the sparse information they had and then turned the meeting back over to Oldfield.

  “Thank you, Young. Trinh. Now on to some good news for the fraud case. Agent Braun,” Oldfield nodded at him, “has drawn up a request for a search warrant for Stennard Global Enterprises. Braun, would you like to brief the team?”

  Braun stood and tucked his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “We reviewed the footage from the smoke detector camera. The audio was a bit wonky, but we got excellent video, clearly showing the three men at various points. The evidence was enough to convince a district court judge to sign a search warrant, which covers all offices and all files within the Stennard building. We’re executing over the weekend. Fewer employees on site, less hassle. The judge didn’t think we had enough, though, to include Stennard and Thomson’s residences and personal vehicles.”

  Oldfield said, “If we could locate the elusive USB drive Arty was supposed to hand over we’d probably have enough to cover the personal residences, too. It’s unfortunate that we don’t have it.”

  Agent Ferndale interrupted. “Andrews and I, along with Hennepin County, searched Musselman’s residence yesterday. We didn’t find a USB drive, and believe me, we took the place apart.”

  MC said, “Minneapolis didn’t find a thumb drive in the car either. They even disassembled the doors.”

  Oldfield nodded. “So, we still have a missing USB drive which, according to Arty, contains many recorded conversations implicating Stennard and Thomson. We need to find that drive. Braun, please continue.”

  “We’ll execute the warrant this weekend. If we have enough people, we may be able to get it done on Saturday. All hands on deck. We meet at seven Saturday morning at the Stennard building. Questions?” He surveyed the others around the table, then sat.