“No, I didn’t give it much thought. I guess it might not have even been a cab at all, now that I think about it. I had the impression since it was idling by the curb, so I assumed it was a taxi.”
Stephen looked down again at the photo. Jo saw he gripped the frame tightly in his hands, until his knuckles showed white. His voice was cold as he held up the photo. “You’re pretty happy with him in that picture. Looks like more than just a friend to me.”
He shoved the photo back to her and said, “Your friend really should be more careful. Never know what sort of person you are going to run into in the dark.”
Jo sucked in a breath and she felt a chill run its finger down her spine. “What do you mean by that? Did you see something else I should know about?” She grabbed his shirt as he turned to go.
Stephen pulled from her grasp and bent down to pick up Max, who had been yanking on his leash and was barking madly. Jo realized the dog probably had picked up Cleo’s scent. The terrier wriggled in Stephen’s arms, ready to hunt down his prey. Stephen ignored the dog and said, “I think maybe I was mistaken about seeing your friend. It was dark and it could have been anybody out there. Look, it’s late. I need to be getting home.”
He turned around and let himself out the front door, not bothering to close it behind him. Jo fought the urge to run after him; she knew he wouldn’t tell her anything more tonight. But she was just as certain he saw more than he was telling her.
Jo walked over and closed the door. She wasn’t sure what to think of Stephen’s behavior. Would he lie about what he saw?
When she came back into the den, she heard the plaintive meows of her cat coming from upstairs. She ran up the stairs and found Cleo huddled beneath her bed. She cautiously reached under the bedskirt and scooped the kitten out, pulling her into her chest.
Jo could feel the small body shaking against her. She rubbed the cat’s ears and murmured, “Did Max’s barking scare you? It’s okay now.”
But as Jo thought about John, she wondered if she was saying that for Cleo’s benefit or for her own.
Chapter Twenty-One
Turners Bend
Thankgsgiving
Chip spent his second Thanksgiving at Iver and Mabel’s house. This year the guest list was expanded to include Jane’s children, who had spent the holiday last year with their father, and Lance.
Chip gazed out Mabel’s kitchen window and watched Lance getting Iver’s full litany, verse and chorus, praising deep-fried turkey. Last year that guy had been him. A lot had changed since then. He was feeling like leftover turkey or worse, Tofurkey … soybean curd pressed into a mold … doesn’t look like turkey, doesn’t taste like turkey.
As Mabel and Jane busied themselves in the kitchen with all the side dishes and pies, and Sven and Ingrid sat in the living room watching football, Chip reminisced to the women.
“Gosh, it was just about this time last year that Honey had eight puppies right here in this kitchen, and the last one was Runt. Hard to believe that eighty-five-pound boy once weighed just a few ounces. They grow up too fast.”
Jane took a taste of the gravy she was stirring and added some black pepper. “That’s the same thing I say about Ingrid and Sven. Just yesterday they were babies and now they’re almost adults.” She sighed wistfully.
Chip thought about Honey, Runt’s mother, the stray who had arrived at his door one stormy night and never left. “How old do you think Honey is, Jane?”
“Hard to tell exactly, Chip, but I’d guess she is seven or eight. Why do you ask?”
“She just hasn’t been herself lately. Doesn’t want to play. Kind of off her feed.”
Jane moved on to the potatoes. She started mashing them by hand, using Mabel’s old-fashioned masher with a wooden handle. She stopped to add a dollop of sour cream. “I better have a look at her. I can come by on my way home tonight and check her over. Sven and Ingrid are going to a youth event at First Lutheran this evening, so I’ll have to drop them off first,” she said, as she added a chunk of butter to the potatoes.
The idea of having Jane to himself elated Chip. His thoughts went right to their previous sexual romps, the first being the time she had come to the house to de-worm Runt and ended up in his bed. He felt better with each sip of the Pinot Grigio he was nursing, even though it was far too sweet for his liking. He knew full-well Jane’s visit may not be a repeat of previous magical evenings, but just to have Jane alone, no kids, no Lance, would be a step in the right direction.
Watching Lance charm all three ladies during dinner punched a hole in his happiness balloon. Lance was funny and sweet and flirtatious in turn. Mabel was calling him “my dear boy” and Jane was forever touching him. When Lance complimented Ingrid on her hair, she blushed and demurely thanked him. It was obvious to Chip that she was thunder-struck by his attention. Chip tried to derail his nemesis.
“What do you hear from Lucinda, Lance? She said you might be spending Christmas in New York with her. Sounds pretty serious to me.”
“Yes, Lucinda is a lovely woman, but Turners Bend has no lack of lovely females, as I’m sure you have found,” said Lance, gesturing to the three women around the table and winking at Jane in particular.
Chip had to admit to himself that Lance was as smooth as honey on a hot biscuit. The guy was acting way too much like Dr. John Goodman, his dashing hero. I could learn to hate both of them … Lance and Goodman.
* * *
Chip arrived home and quickly picked up dirty laundry, made the bed and cleaned out the litter box before Jane was due to arrive after dropping off her kids at church. He surveyed the living room, shooed the animals off the furniture, dimmed the lights and put Ella Fitzgerald in his i-Pod dock. Hearing Ella’s lilting intro to “Dedicated to You” quelled his nerves. He looked around, it wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
Jane arrived carrying her medical bag. She called Honey to the kitchen and looked in the golden retriever’s eyes and ears. She ran her hands along the dog’s back and underside, all the while asking questions about the dog’s energy, food, elimination, and sleep. Honey was compliant and wagged her tail in response to Jane’s gentle touch and soothing words, as she repeatedly palpated her abdomen.
“Good girl, Honey. You can go lie down now,” Jane said, as she finished her exam. “Let’s sit in the living room a minute, Chip.”
They settled themselves on the couch. It had been a halfway decent piece of furniture before the dogs appropriated it for their daytime naps. Now it was snagged and dirty and covered with animal hair.
“I’m sorry about all the pet hair. I just can’t seem to keep up on it. It’s everywhere. I guess I could get one of those special pet hair attachments for the vacuum cleaner. That is, if I had a vacuum cleaner.”
Jane did not laugh. Instead she had a grave look on her face, as she reached out and took Chip’s hand. She looked directly in his eyes and did not sugar-coat her findings. “I felt a mass in Honey’s belly, a rather large one. I’m sorry, Chip, I think it’s on her liver. I can’t be sure without further tests, but I can tell you it may not be good, but then again it could be benign.”
Chip felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he couldn’t speak or swallow, and there was an odd ringing in his head. Jane put her arm around his shoulders and gave him time to absorb the news.
“I deal with this all the time, but it never gets easier. Pets become like family members. I even see it with farm animals. People love their animals and seeing them sick or losing them is sometimes harder than losing a human friend. I promise I’ll do all that I can for her. Bring her into the clinic tomorrow.”
“Jane, I …” He couldn’t go on, tears started to blur his vision and a lump gathered at the back of his throat. Jane held him, gently rocking until he quieted. Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek, slowly rose, gathered her supplies and prepared to leave.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Chip. In the meantime, try to get some sleep.”
*
* *
Sleep eluded him. He lifted Honey onto his bed, whereupon both Runt and Callie joined them. The three animals slept soundly. Runt nipped in his sleep, Chip assumed he was dreaming about chasing rabbits. Callie curled up near the top of his head, her usual spot. Finally about 3:00 a.m. he maneuvered himself out of bed without unduly disturbing the animals and went into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and stared at the diagram on his refrigerator without really seeing it. His mind was on Honey, when another thought jumped to the forefront of his consciousness.
“Iowa,” he whispered. “It’s a map of Iowa.”
He wondered how many times he had looked at the diagram and not seen the obvious. It was roughly the shape of the state of Iowa with five locations; each marked with an X. He had never been so sure of anything in his life. It was exciting and scary at the same time … five locations around the state. Does this mean five bodies?
He called Fredrickson’s number, got his voice mail and left a message about his theory. Then his mind wandered to the body count in Mind Games. How many bodies should I pile up in my story? One never seems enough in a good crime story.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mind Games
Minneapolis & Brooklyn Center, Minnesota
Early August
Jo woke with a start when Cleo walked across her legs, sharp claws demanding attention. Her head pounded in the rhythm of her heartbeat. She was sprawled across the couch in her den, the notes and plans she had made throughout the night scattered across the coffee table. The temporary relief she felt at the realization she had been dreaming evaporated when she remembered John was still missing.
She swiped a hand across gritty eyes, and blinked a few times. To locate anyone who might have a record of picking up John at her house, Jo had spent the better part of the night calling all of the major cab companies in the Twin Cities and the surrounding suburbs, beginning with AA Airport Taxi. Around 3:00 a.m. she found the cab company who brought John from the airport to her door, but no indication anyone else had driven him after that. After finishing up with Zipp Taxi, she started in on the list of hospitals. Absolutely no sign of John, as if he had ceased to exist.
She looked at her notes, trying to clear the cobwebs from her sleep-deprived brain. Her analytical mind kicked in and she began plotting her strategy. An hour later, she leaned back against the sofa, her neck stiff. Why does it feel like Stephen sent me on a wild goose chase? Jo intended to have another little chat with him later this morning, but first she had other business to attend to.
Jo glanced down at her watch. 6:00 a.m. She dug under the pile of papers in front of her and located her cell phone. She stared at it for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to call John’s office. Jo had met Sally, John’s office manager, at a hospital function and felt an immediate connection to the older woman. Sally loved John like a son, and Jo sensed there were few things that escaped Sally’s notice when it came to her boss. Jo finally dialed the phone number for his office.
As she waited for a response, she padded into the kitchen when Cleo meowed impatiently. Jo wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder, reaching up into a cabinet to grab a can of cat food. A voice across the miles answered, “Neurosurgeon Specialists. How may I direct your call?”
“Good morning. This is Jo Schwann. I’d like to speak to Sally Townsend, please.”
“One moment.” Jo thought about what she would say to Sally. She needed to find out about John’s plans, but she wanted to avoid alarming his office manager until she knew more.
Just as she flipped back the top on the cat food can, Sally’s voice resonated in her ear. John’s office manager sounded a bit confused when she spoke, “Hi, Jo. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”
She cleared her throat and said, “Well … I feel awkward asking this, but do you know if John flew to Minneapolis yesterday?” Jo already knew the answer, but she needed to hear Sally say the words.
Jo gripped the phone tighter, waiting for Sally’s response. An irrational voice in her head said, Please say no. Tell me he’s just down the hall, safe in his office. This was all just a screwy mix-up.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone and then Sally answered, “Yes, I booked the flight and then drove him to the airport myself. Was there a problem?” Jo’s stomach churned. So he had come, then.
Jo closed her eyes and said, “It appears he made it as far as my house, but I haven’t heard from him. Did you happen to book a hotel room for him?”
Sally sounded bewildered when she replied, “No, he said he would book a room himself, if, um, things didn’t go as well as he hoped when he saw you again.” Sally hesitated, and then said, “What do you mean, you think he made it as far as your house?”
The throbbing in Jo’s head increased, and she rubbed her temple. “I worked on a case last night and didn’t get home until late. I had no idea John was even coming. By pure luck, I found his luggage tag and his cell phone, but there was no other sign that he was here.”
Sally’s voice raised a few notes. “He left behind his cell phone? That makes no sense at all. I always give him a hard time about that phone. It’s an extension of his hand, for heaven’s sake. Jo, what are you not telling me?”
Jo was beginning to regret her call to John’s office manager. Sally obviously didn’t know anything and Jo had only succeeded in scaring the poor woman. She knew, however, any attempt to brush off Sally’s questions would lead to panic. Jo took a breath and said, “I ran into one of my neighbors who may have seen John leaving in a cab with another person. Does John know anyone else in the area that he might have gone to visit?”
“He’s had some business colleagues in the Cities over the years, but I can’t imagine he would run out to meet one of them when he was hell-bent on setting things right with you.”
Jo felt a stirring in her heart. “Really? Hell-bent?”
Sally’s voice was soft when she said, “Honey, that man has been a bear since you both decided to call things off.” Sally’s voice took on a stern tone, “What the hell were you two thinking, anyway? You think love like that happens to everyone? Anyone with half a brain can see you two are meant to be. The rest is just nonsense.”
In spite of her fears about John’s whereabouts, Jo found herself smiling at Sally’s words. “John always said the smartest thing he ever did was to hire you. I have to say, I couldn’t agree more.” Jo looked down at Cleo who wound around her legs, having finished her breakfast.
“Look, Sally, I’ve gotta go. I’ll let you know if I hear from John. Will you do the same?”
“Sure will. And, Jo?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let that man slip through your fingers again. Do you hear me?”
Jo’s smile widened. “Yes, ma’am. And Sally, thanks for everything.” She clicked off the phone, feeling a little more hopeful. She wasn’t quite sure why. Sally certainly didn’t know anything more about John’s whereabouts. But she had shed some light on John’s feelings about their relationship.
Jo stood up and headed into the shower. Quickly, but carefully, she got ready for the day. It was important she look professional when she met with her boss this morning, because she had a feeling he would think her plan was most decidedly unprofessional.
* * *
Jo tapped on her boss’s doorframe and poked her head into his open office. “Tom, gotta minute?”
Tom Gunderson looked up from the papers scattered across his desk. There were dark circles under his eyes and a hank of his thick black hair hung down on his forehead. She couldn’t remember seeing her boss looking so harried before. “Schwann? Tell me you’ve gotten a break in the Freemont/McDonald cases. The governor just called and reamed me out. God, that man is obnoxious. You would think he was my boss.”
“Not just yet, but we’re making progress. Since both victims were moved from the original crime scenes, Frisco cross-checked the cleaning crew staff for the
Capitol with that of the newspaper headquarters. So far, there doesn’t seem to be any commonalities.”
“Did the alibis for all the construction workers and the cleaning staff at the Capitol check out?”
Jo frowned. “Yes. Unfortunately.”
“And what about Freemont’s wife?”
“We’ve checked out the widow’s alibi and it’s airtight.”
Tom was thoughtful for a moment. “I presume you’ve checked into threats made against either one of them.”
Jo nodded. “We’ve been digging through the reams of hate mail both of our victims accumulated over the last six months.” Jo shook her head, still amazed at the vitriol the state representative and the op-ed columnist received on an almost weekly basis. “We’ve come across several letters that appear to have been sent by the same person to both of them. Of course, there was no return address and no fingerprints. And the postmarks are never the same, although they all originate in the metro area.”
“Any trace of DNA on the envelopes when they were sealed?”
Jo shook her head. “No, but we sent them on to the BCA lab. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll find some epithelial tissues from a paper cut or something. In the meantime, we’re still processing trace evidence found at the scenes and on the bodies. Not much to work with, but we’re due for a break.”
“Seems we’re dealing with one smart son-of-a-bitch. Thank God we haven’t had any more victims, though I don’t expect this nut-job is quite finished yet.”
“Yes, sir.” Jo shifted on her feet, unsure of how to broach her real reason for being in her boss’s office. “Um, Tom. There is something else I want to discuss with you.”
Jo took a deep breath and spoke quickly before she lost her nerve. “Look, something has come up and I would like to be reassigned to another case.”
Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder Page 12