“What do you think, Iver. Which one do you want?” This was the week that Chip was determined to find homes for the puppies.
“Not for me, but I’m thinking about one for Mabel. She’s been kinda blue, not being able to work and being cooped up in that house. I reckon that little Petunia is about the sweetest one. I’ve been thinking she’d be the one for Mabel.”
“I think you’re right about that. Petunia is ideal for Mabel, but I’ve been thinking Thor should be your dog. He’s going to be the biggest and strongest of the lot. Thor was the Viking god of thunder, you know. I can see him riding in the passenger seat next to you in the plow and on your road grader in the summer. You’d make a magnificent pair, and no one would ever mess with the two of you.”
Iver didn’t say anything, but Chip saw a smile that told him he had just placed two of the puppies. He was learning that with some “city slicker” showmanship he was going to be able to find good homes for the rest of the puppies.
Iver’s smile turned tentative. He cleared his throat and turned his eyes away from Chip. “I been wondering if I could show you another gift I been thinking on giving Mabel.” He put his hand in the pocket of his overalls and pulled out a small red velvet box.
Chip opened the box and let out a long low whistle. “Why you sly old dog.” Nestled in the box was a half-carat, emerald-cut diamond set in a yellow gold band. “Congratulations, buddy. She’s a fine woman.”
“When we almost lost her up at the Mayo, I knew I had to stick around and take care of her, ’cause I don’t want to be without her. But, I don’t know if she wants to put up with me. I’m no prize.” He picked up Petunia and kissed the top of her head.
“Tell you what, Iver, you bring her Petunia and give her that ring, and I guarantee you’ll be hearing wedding bells before the snow melts.”
Iver hesitated. “There’s one more thing. I’d be mighty grateful if you’d be my best man.”
Chip was blown away. “Iver, that’s such an honor. I don’t know what to say … except, yes, I sure will.”
The next morning Chip got two cups of coffee and two cinnamon rolls to-go from the Bun and trotted over to Town Hall to beguile Flora, his next prospective puppy parent, with 500 calories of baked goodness.
“Hi, lovely lady. I was hoping I could join you for a coffee break this morning.”
“Just the man I wanted to see. I understand you had a date with Dr. Jane. I wouldn’t dream of sticking my nose in your business, but I thought you might want my advice about how to impress her.” In her bright-red sweater and matching lipstick Flora looked like an overly ripe cherry.
“You know how I value your expertise, Flora. In fact, did I tell you I named my girl puppies after you? They all have flower names.”
“Oh, my. I don’t know what to say.” Flora patted her hair.
“There’s one in particular, her name is Pansy, and I think of you every time I watch her. Why don’t you come by and take a look at her? I know you won’t be able to resist her.” Warming to the role of dog salesman, Chip put his hand over his heart.
“I think I might just do that. And, you know, my granddaughter in Des Moines is having a birthday coming up. Is there another little flower for her?” She put her hand over her own heart.
“I think every little girl should have a puppy named Violet, don’t you?”
Hook, line and sinker … two fish with one rod and reel.
Four down and three to go. This was easier than Chip thought it would be. He was wondering if he hadn’t missed his calling. His next stop was the firehouse. Zeke and Porky, two volunteer firefighters, were polishing the hook and ladder. Zeke was over six feet, tall and slender as a broom handle. In sharp contrast, Porky was just over five feet and rotund.
“Hi, guys. How are Turners Bend’s finest today?”
“Busy as we want to be,” replied Zeke. “Want some lunch? Porky makes a mean chili.”
“That’d be great.” Zeke was right. Porky’s chili made Chip’s nose run and eyes water. He identified garlic and onion and possibly cinnamon and nutmeg, as well as hot peppers and chili powder and possibly chocolate. “Wow, what have you got in here?”
Zeke laughed and ran his hand over his shaved head. “I used to have hair before I ate Porky’s chili.”
Porky was a retired hog farmer—thus his nickname. He was too old and too overweight to fight fires, but his culinary skills were an asset to the department. He pushed his 285 pounds up from a chair and refilled Chip’s bowl. “Secret family recipe of twenty-nine herbs and spices.” He laughed and his belly bounced like a department store Santa Claus.
“You guys ever think about getting a firehouse dog?” Chip launched into his sales pitch.
“You mean like one of those dalmatians?”
“Well, I hear they’re temperamental. I was thinking more of a fine golden retriever, maybe a pup to train as a rescue dog.”
A friendly argument followed in which Zeke and Porky battled over which one of them would be a better trainer. In the end Chip succeeded in placing both Jupiter and Zeus, one for each man.
He was down to Lily, the last little girl. Chip had heard that Ingrid’s fifteenth birthday was around the corner. He would give Lily to Ingrid as a gift, and voila all the puppies would be gone.
Chip was pleased with himself until the puppies started to depart. As each puppy left for its new home, Chip, Honey, and Runt suffered. He fought back tears when he realized that Violet was going to Des Moines, a place where he may never see her again. Honey seemed to fret, as if she had misplaced her babies, and Runt continually sought Chip’s lap in loneliness for his brothers and sisters. They were a pathetic threesome for days, as they moped and wandered from room to room.
The phone rang.
“How’s the puppy-daddy?” Lucinda was back to her New York accent.
“I’m going to have Honey spayed. She and I couldn’t go through this again. It was just too hard to give our puppies away.”
“God, Chip, I think you’ve gone soft in the head. They’re dogs for Pete’s sake. Now, down to business. I hated to leave Rodeo Drive, but a girl has to work. Howie paid us a nice sum for the movie rights. He has to find a screenwriter, director and financing before anything happens, but in the meantime we’ve got money in the bank. After I pay the expenses for my time in Hollywood and take my fees, I’ll send you the rest.”
“If there’s any left, that is.”
“Don’t be snide, Collingsworth. Just forget about puppies and get going on Brain Freeze. Must I remind you that your deadline is fast approaching? Bye.”
Chip was not good with deadlines. Things always seemed to get in the way of finishing anything on time. Today he was more interested in what was happening in Turners Bend than he was in meeting Lucinda’s demands. Jane had voiced her frustration at the slow response from state and federal authorities, and there didn’t seem to be much the locals could do but to send out warnings about the creek water. He was trying to fit all the pieces together … the poisonings, the plant, Hal, Owen’s beating … and he had a nagging feeling that he was missing something, something more sinister than illegal dumping of toxic materials.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Bend
Mid-February
The Bend was the only drinking establishment in Turners Bend. The “B” in its neon sign had run out of gas. Chip never failed to view it as a prophetic omen … The _ end. Business at the Bend was inversely related to the weather, the worse the weather the bigger the crowd at the bar. There was some crossover between the morning regulars at the Bun and the evening regulars at the Bend, but there was an additional element of rough-looking, tough-talking young males. They drank heavily, cussed with every third word and used their fists when their limited vocabularies failed to communicate their points of view.
The day before Valentine’s Day, the Bend hosted Iver’s bachelor party. It consisted of lots of backslapping and teasing and a few bawdy jokes, but no strippers, no
lap dancers and no naked girls popping out of cakes. Thus, it was shaping up to be unlike any bachelor party Chip had attended in Baltimore. He didn’t know what Benders expected from the best man, but he felt he should make a toast.
Without an available microphone, Chip was unsure how to get the crowd’s attention. He stood on a chair and clinked two beer bottles together.
“Hey, Joe, pull the plug on that jukebox so we can hear this dude,” said a guy in a leather vest and cowboy hat. Eventually the room quieted.
“Tomorrow Iver is going to become the luckiest guy in Turners Bend. Don’t know how, but he managed to snag the best available woman in town. I think we would all agree that Mabel is the grand prize. She must want someone to plow her driveway pretty damn bad.”
When the hooting ceased, Chip continued. “On the other hand, Mabel is smart enough to know a good thing when it comes along. He’s a diamond in the rough, and underneath those overalls is a heart of gold. I’m proud to call him my friend. Let’s hoist our glasses to Iver and Mabel. The next round’s on me.”
In a rich baritone Oscar Nelson started “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” and the others joined in, as Iver stood red-faced and grinning.
One guy who did not sing along was Hal Swanson. He sat bleary-eyed at the bar, drinking the establishment’s best single-malt scotch, Johnny Walker Black Label. Chip took measure of the man, an ex-high school football player gone soft and puffy with buttons straining his silvery silk shirt. His face was red and splotchy and his nose pitted … sign of a veteran drinker. A lexicon of adjectives came to Chip’s mind … sleazy, slimy, pseudo-suave, self-possessed, ruthless, conniving, but also smart.
Chip put his plan into action. “I’m buying this round. What are you drinking, Hal?” Chip took the barstool next to him. Hal’s whitened teeth sparkled like in a TV toothpaste ad.
“I’m a man who never turns down a free drink. Make it a double, Joe.”
“I need to do some research for my next book. Do you have any openings at AgriDynamics? I want to get some first-hand experience in a manufacturing company.”
Hal swigged half of his drink, sloshing some over the side of the glass.
Chip continued. “My agent is giving me pressure to get moving on this book. You met her a few weeks ago. Tall, flashy dame. What she doesn’t take in commissions and fees, my ex-wives do.”
“Hey, I remember that bitch, and I sure as hell know about ex-wives that give you crap and rob you blind. All I’ve got is a weekend opening in the warehouse. It’s on the third shift, but you can have it, if you want.”
“I’ll give it a try for a few weeks, just to get a feel for it.” They shook hands, and Chip walked away from the bar, congratulating himself and rubbing his hand on the side of his pants, as if it had come away greasy from the shake. The third shift on a weekend would be the perfect time to nose around AgriDynamics, look for toxins and see what other illegal activities might be going on.
On Valentine’s Day, Iver and Mabel were married at First Lutheran. Mabel wore a light-blue suit with a matching pillbox hat, trimmed with a wisp of veiling. Jane, her attendant, worn a mid-length navy-blue dress with long sleeves and a scooped neck low enough to show a peek of cleavage. Chip had never seen her in a dress before. Her curves delighted him as he stood next to Iver during the brief ceremony. The scent of roses was intoxicating, sweet and cloying. It was a heady experience for him, and his hormones began to surge.
Mabel recited her vows in a strong, determined voice. She smiled sweetly at Iver as he stumbled his way through his vows, Pastor Henderson having to slowly repeat segments for him. Isabelle Johnson, the church’s oldest soprano, warbled her way through “O Perfect Love,” just a bit off key and with overdone dynamics.
When Isabelle got to “Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow; grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife,” Chip looked over and saw a single tear overflow Jane’s lower eyelid and roll down her cheek. Seeing Jane’s sentimental side was a new revelation for Chip. Her softer side only served to loosen the control he was attempting to rein in on his own emotions.
Iver and Mabel kissed chastely and turned to the congregation. Pastor Henderson’s booming voice ended the ceremony. “Now for the first time as husband and wife, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Iver Ingebretson.” The pianist pounded out a jaunty version of “Oh, Happy Day” as the bride and groom marched down the aisle.
The aroma of roasted meat permeated the fellowship hall. “Smells good,” said Chip, as he and Jane stood in the buffet line at the reception.
“The women of First know how to put on a good spread, but it’s the same for every wedding I’ve ever attended here … roast beef and gravy, mashed potatoes, corn and coleslaw … the menu never varies.”
“I meant to tell you earlier, Jane. You look terrific.” Jeez. Way to sound like Mickey Rooney talking to Judy Garland in some corny Andy Hardy movie.
“You don’t look too bad yourself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit, and I know I’ve never seen Iver in one. Poor guy, I bet he can’t wait to shed it, and his collar is so tight it looks like his head is going to pop off.”
They both laughed, and Chip put his hand on Jane’s lower back as they moved along in the buffet line. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “At least there’s cake for dessert.” And there was a cake, a dark-chocolate fudge cake with thick cream-cheese frosting, crowned with a plastic bride and groom, a couple that couldn’t look more unlike Mabel and Iver.
Mabel threw her bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath to a cluster of unmarried women. She aimed for Jane, but it sailed over her head and was caught by Isabelle Johnson. Isabelle was delighted. At age seventy-six she was still hoping to snag one of Turners Bend’s bachelor farmers. Chip saw several of those bachelors make a hasty exit to the parking lot.
Chip thought that going undercover at AgriDynamics was as good of an idea as Jo going undercover at NeuroDynamics, although he didn’t expect it to be as dangerous. Dr. Goodman was sure a lot smoother with Jo than he was with Jane. What was it about her that turned him into a blithering fool? He wanted to be the tall, handsome, worldly Dr. Goodman, but instead he teeter-tottered between a greasy Don Juan and a clueless Beaver Cleaver. He always felt unbalanced in her presence. Why wasn’t his love life imitating his art?
Twenty-Two
Brain Freeze
Two Harbors, Minnesota
Caddy’s bark announced the arrival of Jo’s SUV. John opened the door to the condo and stood in the doorway, waiting for her. The cold air stung his cheeks, but the tension across his back and neck eased when he saw her. She climbed the steps and looked up at him with tired eyes. John reached for her hand and pulled her into the condo. He unzipped her coat and removed her hat and gloves. She stood like a young child, waiting to be cared for.
“Jo, what happened? When you called, you said you were on your way back to the condo. That was two and a half hours ago.” His words took on a sharp edge. “Why didn’t you answer your cell?”
She looked away from him and shrugged. Yanking the wig off her head, she set it on the table and ran her fingers through her hair. “I got a little hung up.”
His brows came together. He reached for her arm, turning her towards him once again. “Hung up? Jesus, Jo. I was worried.”
She raised her eyes to his. “You’re not my babysitter, John. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big girl, remember?”
John felt his cheeks grow warm with anger. “Yeah, I know. A big girl with a badge and a gun. Well, get used to it. I’m going to worry about you. Now, tell me what’s going on.”
Jo looked at the floor and shivered. Her voice was subdued. “I was in a small accident.”
“Accident?” John strode to the door and looked out the side window at the SUV. He whirled around. “The front grill is a mess. What the hell happened?”
“After I talked to you, I planned on leaving, just like I said. While I waited for the car to warm up, I
saw the security guard head out the door, and I decided to follow him.”
John walked back over to Jo. “What made you do that?”
When she didn’t answer, he prompted her, “Jo …”
Jo sighed. When she spoke, her voice sounded weary. “I think he’s been following me.”
He struggled to keep his fears tamped down. “Maybe you should start from the beginning. C’mon, let’s get you by the fire to warm up.”
John settled her on the raised stone hearth. He turned down the lights in the condo, so that only the fire lit up the living room. The seasoned logs behind her crackled and popped. Wrapping a blanket around her, he rubbed her arms quickly, trying to warm her. Keeping busy to calm down. Caddy settled at her feet, her head leaning against Jo’s leg.
John finally sat on the couch across from her. “Now, tell me what this is all about.”
Jo gripped the edges of the blanket and held them under her chin. “I managed to take some pictures of the files in the chief surgeon’s office.”
“Well, maybe now we can figure out exactly what they are doing.”
“I hope so, but while I was going through the files, I heard a noise outside of the office. At first, I thought I imagined it. But then, when I was leaving, the guard told me to take care driving back to the condo. John, how’d he know I’m staying in a condo?”
He searched his mind for a reasonable explanation; anything but the possibility that Jo was in danger. “Lucky guess, maybe? Look, you’ve been cautious. Don’t you think that if they were on to you, they would have made their move by now?”
She shook her head, her curls falling into her face. “The more I thought about what he said, the more pissed off I got. After I finished talking to you, I kept thinking about the guy. I finally realized that his voice was familiar. Then I remembered why.”
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