Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 03 - Writing Can Be Murder

by Marilyn Rausch

  They left most of their lunch uneaten and returned to the family lounge to pick up the deputy before returning home. Jim was awake and waiting for them. “The doc is looking for you. Something about lab results.”

  Dr. Singh arrived and asked them to be seated again. “As you saw, Mr. Swanson is gravely ill. The lab reports show he has bacterial septicemia, a blood infection. The particular bacteria we have identified are a highly-virulent strain. We will treat him with the antibiotics we have, but the prognosis at this point is very poor. I’m very sorry to tell you this.”

  Chip was always in awe of Jane’s command of crises. She took charge and made swift decisions. Chip was to return to Turners Bend with Deputy Anderson and come back to the hospital with Hal’s parents, Harold and Ruth. She would call Sven and book him on the next flight from Minneapolis to Des Moines. Hal Swanson, should he die, would not be alone and would not die without final goodbyes from his family.

  ***

  And so it was. Chip returned to the hospital with Hal’s parents, Sven flew in from Minneapolis, and thirty-two hours later Hal Swanson passed away with his family by his side, an FBI agent at his door and Chip Collingsworth sitting by himself in the family lounge, holding a cup of stone-cold coffee in a Styrofoam cup.

  ***

  Hal Swanson was laid to his final rest. The interment was private, for family only, and was in the old graveyard beside First Lutheran Church. Chip stood huddled with Jane and the kids, while Rebecca, Hal’s sister from Chicago, and her husband Lyle, held on to his parents. The elderly couple looked frail and old beyond their years, bereft and broken.

  Rebecca was faced with the task of making decisions about her parents and moving them from the family home into assisted-living. Chip did not want to think about the day he might have to do likewise for his own parents. Charles and Maribelle Collingsworth would not go without a battle royale.

  Iver had thawed out a small patch and dug a hole for the urn that contained Hal’s ashes. It was in the Swanson family plot, alongside Hal’s grandparents and various aunts and uncles.

  The day was raw, with heavy clouds and a sharp wind that stung any exposed skin. Pastor Henderson made short order of the committal service.

  “Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant, Harold. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming.”

  The words couldn’t have been more perfect, thought Chip. When he had first approached the pastor about doing a service for Hal, he thought he might get some pushback, even a rejection. But Henderson didn’t hesitate. Instead he quoted scripture. “Chip, Roman 3:23 reminds us we all have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory. Hal Swanson was baptized, confirmed and married in this church. We bury our own regardless of their sins.”

  ***

  The ending of a real life story, Hal Swanson’s story, was done. Chip recalled all the times various law enforcement friends had reminded him about the differences between real life and fictional crime tales. Not all criminals are caught, justice is not always done, endings are not always happy. He feared Patrick Finnegan’s murder would not be solved and tied up with a pretty bow.

  Yet, he wanted a happy ending for Jo and John. He could not leave his crime series, depart from the characters he had lived with for years, without knowing they would go forward with a happy life. And thus, he wrote the last chapter of Head Shot.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Head Shot

  St Paul & Minneapolis, MN

  February, Fifteen Months Later

  MEDIA VANS CLOGGED WEST Kellogg Boulevard in front of the eighteen-story, limestone-clad Ramsey County Court building. It took Jo Schwann some time to locate an open parking space. Once she did, she had to dodge several snow banks, as well as reporters’ speculative questions about the outcome of the Mazlo murder trial. To each question, she replied with her standard, “No comment.” The jury had been deliberating for the last two days, and Jo had received word this morning they were ready to present their verdict.

  Jo stepped off the elevator and her eyes swept the crowded hallway. She finally spied Frisco and his partner, Riley standing next to Rick Wilson and his mother, Caroline. Once Jo had greeted them all, she turned to Rick and Caroline. “How are you both holding up?”

  Rick shrugged and his mother replied, “Ready for this to be over. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than sitting through the trial, there was the fresh hell of waiting for the jury to decide. I kept wondering what was taking them so long. Surely they found the bastard guilty.” Caroline looked up at Jo, pleading with her eyes.

  Jo certainly knew what she meant. The road to justice for Rick and the other victims had been long and arduous. The case had taken an extraordinary amount of time to come to a close, primarily because the first case had been declared a mistrial after the original judge died of a heart attack on the golf course near the end of the trial.

  Jo offered them what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “Today is going to be the day this jury finds Mazlo guilty on all counts.”

  As soon as she had uttered these words, the bailiff opened the door and announced the jury was returning to the courtroom. Jo gave Rick’s hand a brief squeeze. They filed into the room with the other victim’s family members.

  Taking her place on one of the walnut benches in the courtroom, she smiled encouragingly at the families of Rick Wilson’s roommate and his girlfriend who had attended every day of Mazlo’s trial. Also in attendance was the young wife of the campus security officer, who died at Coffman Memorial Union on the day of Mazlo’s arrest. In June of last year, the former adjunct professor had been found guilty of second-degree murder in his death, along with attempted murder for the wounding of Officer Canton of the Minneapolis Police Department. Jo had heard Canton had just returned to active duty as a desk sergeant a few weeks ago.

  Noticeably absent was Billy MacGregor’s mom. In spite of the fact this trial was separate from her son’s murder trial, Jo had half expected her to attend anyway. The victim’s families had grown close over the previous several months.

  However, Jo couldn’t blame her for not being here. During the murder trial to convict Mazlo for the murder of her son, Mrs. MacGregor had experienced several heart problems, worsened by the outcome of the case. While his murder trial had proceeded without delay, the jury had found there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Mazlo on the first degree murder charge. They had handed down a lesser sentence of involuntary manslaughter. Jo suspected Billy’s mother may have had her fill of courtrooms. She made a mental note to stop by and check on her when this was all over.

  While they waited for the judge and jury to enter the room, Jo directed her gaze to Caroline Wilson’s face Jo noted the deep lines that had formed around the woman’s mouth and she was shocked at how much weight the woman had lost over the last several months. Caring for her son and attending the trial for his attempted murderer had taken its toll on Rick’s mother.

  Throughout her career, Jo had always thought of herself as sympathetic to the families of victims. However, now that Jo was a mother herself, she realized she couldn’t begin to imagine the horror of being in this woman’s shoes.

  She shifted her focus to Michael Mazlo, who sat at a table next to his attorney. He too had aged in the intervening months; his once salt-and-pepper hair had turned completely white. Jo could not muster any sympathy for the former adjunct professor. In fact, she took a certain pleasure in seeing what the trials had cost him and she hoped he would be rotting in a jail cell for the rest of his life. The monster deserved everything the court system could throw at him and more. And Jo was there to make sure it happened.

  The bailiff interrupted her train of thought by calling out, “All rise.”

  The quiet buzz of conversations around the room ceased immediately, and everyone rose to their feet. All remained standing until the judge took his spot at the large rosewood bench. The somber jurors filed in
next, taking their places in the jury box. Jo studied their faces, looking for a clue as to their collective decision. Without exception, however, the eight men and four women had turned their gazes to the judge.

  Jo felt Caroline tremble next to her. She felt her own heart thudding in her chest and Jo offered a silent prayer that justice would be served. She shook her head. The time for praying was over, because the jury had already reached a verdict it would soon reveal to the rest of the world.

  The foreman of the jury, a lanky, dark-haired man, passed the verdict form to the courtroom clerk, who read it out loud. Jo listened as Mazlo was pronounced guilty of murder in the second degree for Rick’s roommate, Kyle Marshall and Kyle’s girlfriend. Jo heard a gasp behind her and the quiet weeping of both of the young victim’s mothers.

  She reached for Caroline’s hand, which was cold and clammy. Jo held tightly as the last verdict was read, “In the count of attempted first degree murder, we find the defendant, Michael Mazlo, guilty.” To her left, Frisco raised his fist in triumph. It was the strongest verdict that could have been levied against Rick’s former mentor.

  Rick Wilson wrapped his arms around his mother, who slumped against his chest. He said, “We won, Mom. We won.”

  Caroline calmly looked up at her son with tears in her eyes, and Jo knew she would never forget the woman’s expression when she replied, “But did we, really?”

  Jo looked over at Michael Mazlo and saw no emotion in his face. She didn’t know if it was because he was already thinking ahead to the sentencing or to his future appeals.

  ***

  The stairs in their home on Lake Calhoun emitted a homey creak as John Goodman climbed them with ten-month-old Max tucked into the crook of one arm and his twin sister Emma tucked into the other. He wryly thought about no longer needing to work-out at the gym these days. Although the twins were born a month prematurely, they had grown quickly and were now a pleasant weight in his arms.

  Caddy, their dog, followed him down the down the hallway and together they entered the master bedroom. His son, always full of energy, squirmed to get down and John gently set him on the carpet at Jo’s bare feet. Max immediately pulled one of Jo’s shoes toward his mouth and she quickly diverted his attention. Both children were crawling, and John wondered what would happen once the twins were walking. He knew he and Jo were going to have their hands full when that particular milestone was reached.

  Emma, happy to be held, patted her father’s cheeks with her chubby little hands and John felt an immense sense of peace at this simple touch from his daughter. He caught a whiff of the baby shampoo in her soft red curls and nuzzled her neck until she let out a squeal of delight.

  He paused to admire his beautiful wife as she stood in her bra and panties in their walk-in closet. She leaned over in a futile attempt to alter their son’s path to pulling on Caddy’s tail. After giving birth to the twins a little over a year ago, Jo was even more beautiful now than when he had first met her. He found himself looking forward to their date tonight, even if it was a fund-raising gala for the med school, and they would spend half the night schmoozing with the wealthy alumni of the university.

  Jo’s red curls grazed the top of her son’s matching ones when she scooped him up and kissed his pink cheek. “Little man, you are your father’s son; always distracting me from the task at hand.”

  Jo’s green eyes met her husband’s over Max’s head. “I’m looking forward to tonight, but did it have to be in the Grand Ballroom in Coffman Hall?” She teased, “Couldn’t you have used your influence as dean of the med school to have the event venue changed to somewhere other than the scene of my botched arrest of Michael Mazlo? “

  John returned her banter. “The only things they let me do are give speeches and beg for money, you know that.”

  Jo laughed out loud. “Well, you are pretty good at it.”

  He looked from his daughter to his son. “I’m excited about the evening as well, but I’m going to miss these little monsters. You’re sure Mrs.Carson is up to the task? You know how they get into everything these days….” The woman who was their primary caregiver while Jo and John worked was getting up in years and he worried sometimes the twins were getting to be too much for her.

  His wife patted his arm with her free hand. “You worry too much. Mrs. Carson has been caring for children for many years and will continue to do so for a long time yet. Besides, I’ve seen her in action; nothing gets by her.”

  “I don’t know how she does it. If I spend two hours with them, I’m worn out. Maybe she could give me lessons.”

  Jo smiled. “John, you are a terrific dad. Trust me, I’ve seen the best and the worst dads in my line of work, and you definitely rank number one in the best category.”

  “Speaking of terrible dads, now that the murder trials are finished, what’ll happen with Mazlo’s father and brothers?”

  Jo gently freed her hair from her son’s fist. “The U.S. District attorney is trying all four of them together for sex trafficking. The trial is scheduled to begin in a couple of weeks.”

  “And what about Jonathon Wellborne?”

  “Wellborne Industries has declared bankruptcy. They couldn’t survive the scandal. Detective Fischer in Williston is now Chief Fischer, by the way.”

  John studied her for a moment. “Are you glad this is pretty much over?”

  Jo tilted her head, considering his question. “Yes. At first, I thought I’d miss it. But now that I’m in the white collar crimes division, I’m relieved. This back and forth between my old and new job at the FBI has gotten old.”

  “Not sorry you moved to the new department, are you?” He was curious about her response. Although it had been her idea to transfer to a less dangerous department after the scare they had when she was pregnant, he sometimes wondered if she missed the excitement of her former position. He, on the other hand, was delighted she was out of harm’s way.

  John released the breath he had been holding when she responded with a smile. “Absolutely not. I thought the pace of the job would be slower. I know some white collar criminals are as dumb as a bag of hammers, but there are those that are really devious.” She shook her head. “Earlier this week, we caught a case of a former Iowa business owner who is laundering money for a Columbian drug cartel. Those are the cases that keep me on my toes.”

  He shifted Emma’s weight to his other hip and changed the subject. “How’s Rick Wilson doing, by the way?” Once his former patient had transferred to the rehabilitation center to recover from his injuries, it had been more difficult for John to keep up with his progress.

  “Great, thanks to you. You’ll be pleased to know his memory has mostly returned. Although he never saw who shot him, he remembered the majority of the conversations with his former mentor in the days leading up to the shooting.”

  “How is his speech coming along?”

  “Remarkable, considering the amount of damage to his brain. He still slurs every now and then, so he had to repeat himself a few times during the trial. Sometimes he substitutes odd words, but all in all, I would say he was very effective on the witness stand. The jury was obviously moved by his courage.”

  Jo handed their wiggly son over to John. “Would you mind taking them downstairs so I can finish getting ready? We’re going to be late if I don’t get a move on.”

  He took Max in his free arm. “Come on, you two troublemakers. Let’s give your momma some room to get ready for her big night with Daddy.”

  Walking toward the hallway, he heard Jo say, “John?”

  He turned to face her. She said, “I don’t remember what life was like before we met. Do you?” Her green eyes glowed like emeralds held under a jeweler’s light.

  He smiled broadly. “Me, either.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Turners Bend

  April

  APRIL, AND STILL NO SIGNS OF ANY relief from the grip of winter, no promise of spring to come, just cold windy days and gray, dirty snow.
After Hal’s capture and death and the completion of Head Shot, Chip lacked motivation, felt depression when he should have felt relief. Finnegan’s unsolved murder was vexing him.

  He searched online newspapers for any updates on the case but found nothing. Mario Franco was avoiding his calls and emails. He wondered if the detective’s lead had gone cold.

  By popular request he had changed his ringtone to Katy Perry’s latest hit. He heard her singing out and grabbed his cell. It was Franco.

  “Detective Franco. This is so strange; I was just thinking about you. Any news on the Finnegan case?”

  “I thought I’d give you a heads up. Something is going to break on the WCCO six o’clock news show tonight. I’m trying to flush out whoever hired Moore as a hit man. Do you have a way of watching the telecast?”

  “I suppose I could live-stream it on my computer. You’ve got me more than a little intrigued.”

  Franco seemed to hesitate then lowered his voice before he began. “I’m calling from home and don’t want my wife to hear, especially when I’m about to stick my fingers in a meat grinder.”

  Chip’s mind began to race, trying to put pieces of information together. “Can I take it you leaked something to the news station, something that can get you into trouble?”

  “Bingo, you’re pretty sharp. Must be your crime writer’s mind. Remember I told you I had an interview with a woman in detox, named Winona Little Feather?”

  “Yes. You said she knew a lot about some kind of criminal activity, but that she couldn’t be trusted.”

  “Well, when Winona’s DTs stopped, she implicated some of my co-workers in a sex trafficking ring.”

  “No shit. You mean she fingered cops from the MPD?”

  “Right again.”

  “Finnegan and Murphy might have been researching sex trafficking in the Twin Cities. Maybe they uncovered the MPD’s connection and that’s what got them killed”