“Oh, yes. Here, look at what I have on my computer.”
Jane stood behind Chip, placed her hands on his shoulders and bent over to view his laptop as Chip showed her the photos of the labels, the informational sites on the chemicals and the EPA site.
“These are not eco-friendly chemicals, not EPA-approved. Look at all the nitrates they contain.” He showed her the label listings and warnings. “I’m pretty sure these are like the barrels I see leaving the warehouse late at night.”
“But why would Hal use them?”
“Here look at these cost comparisons. There’s a pretty drastic difference in these chemicals, especially in the degreasers and solvents, and their ecological counterparts. He may be doing it to cut costs.”
“It still doesn’t make total sense to me. Why would he dump them in Beaver Creek, if that’s what he’s doing? Wouldn’t those chemicals be used up in the manufacturing process?”
“Yes, and that’s where I’m stumped. Something else must be put in those barrels when they are empty and that’s what’s getting dumped late at night. First we have to confirm the dumping, and then we have to determine exactly what is being dumped and why. My guess is that it’s another cost-cutting measure. Disposal of hazardous waste has to be very expensive.”
“For some reason I always thought Hal was an honest businessman, even though he was totally dishonest with me about his extra-marital affairs. Maybe I was wrong. If this is driven by money, I would guess we’re talking more than cutting a few dollars.
“I wish the state authorities would get a move on and give us some assistance. Seems they breathe down our necks when we don’t want them, like the time they cited Gus Jorgenson’s swine operation with a huge fine for very minor infractions and almost put him out of business. Then when we really need them, they’re too busy.”
Chip shut down his laptop and poured them each another glass of wine.
“Make yourself comfortable in the living room, and I’ll make us some microwave popcorn. I’m a master chef with the microwave.”
Chip put his iPod into the Bose speakers and selected a Gershwin track, turning it down low. “Embrace me, you sweet embraceable you,” crooned a sensual voice. He left to make a bag of Pop Secret. When he returned to the living room, Jane had removed her shoes and propped her feet up on the scarred coffee table that Chip had purchased at a thrift store. He sat beside her and placed his arm along the back of the sofa behind her head. “Just one look at you, my heart goes tipsy in me …”
Jane took a sip of wine and placed her tumbler on the table. She laid her head on Chip’s arm and closed her eyes. “This is divinely peaceful.”
Chip bent his head and lightly kissed each of her eyelids. He waited for a response, then heard a deep sigh.
“Mmm, nice,” said Jane.
It was all the encouragement that Chip needed. He moved down to plant another kiss on her nose and then another on her lips. He kept each a light, brief, butterfly kiss. She placed her hands on the sides of his face and lightly kissed him on the mouth, then followed with a deeper, longer kiss. Many kisses.
As she arched her body, Chip worked his way down with his mouth and tongue and hands. He kissed her neck and felt her hardening nipples. Together they discarded items of clothing and discovered and explored soft and wet places, hard and hot places. Her black shirt and nude demi-bra and his blue vest and shirt were hastily removed and tossed on the floor, until they were skin to skin. Jane leaned back on the coach and opened herself for Chip. He entered tentatively. She wrapped her legs around him, her hips rocking, inviting deeper and deeper thrusts, until they were at last sated.
They moved from the couch to Chip’s bed where they rested in each other’s arms until the adventure started again with the same excruciating pleasure seeking.
Chip woke to see the sun breaking through the rain clouds. For the first time this spring, he heard the cheerful chirping of birds. He brought the bed sheet to his nose and sniffed the sensual mixture of Chanel, Polo, and sex. Jane had left before dawn in order to wake her kids and get them off to school. Damn, he had vowed to let John and Jo go at it and to keep himself free from any romantic entanglements. He had messed up three times and sworn off any further romances. So much for making vows he was doomed to break. He finished the song, “Don’t be a naughty baby, come to Papa, come to Papa do, my sweet embraceable you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Turners Bend
April
Heavy April rains had been keeping the farmers out of the fields. Jane saw them as she entered the Bun, their eyes focused out the windows, their pent-up energy chomping at the bit, ready to mount their tractors and ride across their acres. Maybe today’s sun would bring the dry spell they needed. They sat silently stirring their coffee round and round. More sugar, more cream, clink, clink, clink.
Jane made it home that morning just minutes before 7:00 a.m., the time she usually woke Sven and Ingrid for school. Now a little over an hour later she moved through the crowded café and headed for Chip’s still empty table, the table for two in the far corner of the Bun. She could have easily joined the Fredricksons and their cronies in their booth or taken the vacant chair at the farmers’ table, but she needed to be alone, to think, to sort out her conflicting feelings for a few moments before Chip arrived. Mornings after first sex were fraught with both uncertainty and residual passion. Jane had a dose of each, plus embarrassment. Here she was, a mother of teenage children, a vet, a middle-aged woman, someone who should know better than to get involved with a guy who had been married and divorced three times. She resolved to stop her foolish behavior and nip this relationship in the bud before it went any further. And yet, there was something about him that was so alluring, so tempting. What was it?
Chip entered the café, spotted her and ambled toward the table with a boyish grin on his face. He looked so happy, she thought. So cute with his slightly messed, curly hair and his rimless eye glasses. He lacked the physical signs of hard labor that she saw in most of Turners Bend’s farmers and factory workers. He didn’t have a potbelly or a receding hairline like the town’s merchants and businessmen. She guessed he probably played tennis in school, not big enough for football, too short for basketball. Chip Collingsworth was about as unlike her ex-husband as a guy could be.
“Hey,” he said, as he took the chair across from her.
“Hey, yourself.”
He reached to cover her hand with his, but she pulled hers away and nodded over to the booth where Chief Fredrickson, Flora, and other city officials were sitting. “Last night was …” she hesitated, searching for the right word.
“You were amazing last night, pretty lady.”
She felt heat rise from her neck and flood into her face. Her resolve was weakening, taking a direct hit.
Chip gazed into her eyes and lowered his voice. He nodded his head toward the counter. “I was thinking about clearing that lunch counter over there, and going for an encore.”
“If I remember correctly, you had an encore last night.” And, a wonderful encore it was, she recalled.
“Ah, yes, I remember it well.” He sang in a bad imitation of Maurice Chevalier. “I guess it will have to be called a reprise then. So when?”
She took a deep breath. This was where she had to put the brakes on this relationship. “I have a vet practice to take care of, and you have a book to write and a weekend sleuthing job. And truthfully, Chip, I’m not sure this is such a good idea. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was that I had gone too long without. I don’t know. I have baggage. You have baggage. Let’s just slow down.”
“Can I at least walk you to your office?”
She heard hurt and disappointment in his voice. Doubt began to creep in on little paws. He really was damn attractive, awfully sweet. “Sure, let’s head out,” she said.
Flora wasn’t missing any of the looks between Jane and Chip. Her gaze followed them as they left the Bun together. As they walked passed the fron
t window, she noticed they were holding hands.
“I do believe our Jane has a new beau,” she said to her husband.
“Now, Flora, don’t go meddling. Just let nature takes it course,” said the chief.
“By the looks of it, nature has already taken its course, my dear.” Flora was smugly pleased with herself. She prided herself on her matchmaking, and this one was coming along nicely. The aura she sensed around Chip and Jane, that aftersex glow, was a dead give-away.
Nature almost took its course again in Jane’s clinic. The privacy of the office induced passionate kissing and groping.
“So much for slowing down. Chip, we’ve got to concentrate on our jobs and on what could be happening out at AgriDynamics,” Jane said as she straightened her clothes and hair.
His cupped hands reached for her breasts. She pushed him away.
“You really are a boob man, aren’t you? Now try to focus on something other than my chest. What’s our plan of action?”
He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.
“No, our plan about the poisonings, you lech,” she said, shaking her head, suppressing a smile. “What can we do without getting in trouble with the law or government agencies?”
“This weekend I’m going to get a look at the manufacturing process. I’ll sneak into the plant and look around for those barrels.”
“Okay, I’m going to stake-out in the plant parking lot and follow the truck. I want to confirm that the barrels are being dumped into the creek. What time of night does the truck leave the warehouse?”
“It’s usually about 2:00 a.m., but I don’t want you to do that. It’s too dangerous.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” She felt an instantaneous flare of indignation and heard the edge in her own voice. He would find out that she could be a tigress in more ways than one. He had no right to tell her what she could or could not do. Hal had been “protective” in that horrid dominating, demeaning way; and she would not tolerate men treating her like that any more.
“Okay, okay, so now we have a plan for Saturday night. Sunday afternoon is open to compare notes, if you’re free,” he said. He stood back from her a little.
“Sven and Ingrid will be with Hal’s family for their grandmother’s birthday. We can meet at my place, say at 1:00 p.m. This is a time to report on what we find. Nothing else, okay?” Her intent was to convey a “no sex” message, but did she truly want to put an end to this delicious sex? Her head and her heart were telling her two different things, but her hormones were screaming loud and clear.
Chip couldn’t decide if he should continue pursuing Jane or stay away from the flames for fear of getting burned. And, what did she want? Her words said one thing, but her kisses said another. She was running hot and cold on him, one moment leading him on, the next pushing him away. He had no idea where they were headed.
He had trouble getting to the task of working on the next chapter of Brain Freeze. And now, he had to figure out where John and Jo were headed. Should Dr. Goodman really fall for this sassy FBI agent or should it be another one of the debonair doctor’s flings?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brain Freeze
Two Harbors & Duluth, Minnesota
John entered the condo and shed his parka. Caddy greeted him as a long lost friend and stood on back legs while he rubbed at her ears. Her tail swung back and forth with pure canine joy. “Nothing like forty laps in the pool to get the brain firing again, eh, girl?” John had taken a break from the files, hoping the exercise would jar something loose in his brain. The answers still hadn’t come to him, but his energy had been recharged.
Jo stood up from her spot at the table and walked over to him. She smiled at John and ran her fingers through his still wet, slightly frozen hair. She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You smell like chlorine.”
John pointed to the notes scattered across the table. “Come up with any good schemes?”
“Getting there. I …” Jo’s cell phone rumbled across the tabletop, and she reached for it.
“Hey, Frisco, get any hits on the names I gave you yet?” She pulled a pad of paper toward her and took notes, listening intently. At one point, her eyes widened. “Cause of death?” More notes. “No, no. I’ll be right there.” She clicked the phone shut.
“New developments?”
She turned to face John. “Frisco followed up on the microchip patients I found in the surgeon’s files. His people are still tracking down some of them, but Kurt, the security guard from the accident last night was on the list. Last name was Manning. The tattoo on his neck matches the one from the DVD of Sid’s murder. He was definitely one of the guys.”
“Any leads on the other killer?”
Jo rubbed her face with her hands. “No. They’re still working on it. Wish we would have found out about Manning sooner. Would’ve been nice to question him and find his partner.”
Jo’s eyes looked tired and her shoulders slumped. “I haven’t told you the worst part. Remember Thomas Falco from the files? Frisco recognized that name right away.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Thomas Falco fatally shot his wife and teenage son last night, before he died.”
The calming effects of John’s swim evaporated quickly. It infuriated him that medical technology was being used to destroy lives. He said, “Jesus. Let me guess. He turned the gun on himself.”
“No, not a mark on him. The ME says it was another aneurysm and that he found a microchip in the same spot as the others. Frisco is meeting us for the autopsy review.”
Frisco met them at the door of the medical building. No one remarked on the strangeness of being back at the coroner’s lab without Sid. Jo felt a shiver when she entered the room. The office showed no sign of the chaos and murders that had taken place the prior week. It was back to business as usual.
Except the music was gone. Bobby Henke, the acting ME, no longer sang along with Neil Diamond. The whoosh of air through the ventilation system was the only background sound in the room. Jo briefly wondered if Bobby was the one who had performed the autopsies on Sid and his wife. Poor man. She had thought watching the murder on the DVD was horrible enough, but she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Bobby probing the lifeless bodies of his former boss and Martha.
Jo glanced toward the corner where Sid had been discovered. She found it hard not to look. It was as if the absence of a body made it possible for Sid to still be alive. She sighed and squared her shoulders.
“So, Doc, did you find anything else? Frisco said it was an aneurysm, like Mitch Calhoun’s case.”
Bobby looked up from the body of Thomas Falco. Eyes gazed out of thick glasses, giving him the perpetual appearance of a startled owl. Unlike Sid, his voice was timid and strangely high-pitched. “Same thing. By all appearances, could almost be the same brain. Same spot on the Circle of Willis.” He shook his head. “Even though I knew to look for it, I almost missed that little bitty microchip.”
Detective Frisco pulled Jo away from the table, while John and Bobby talked more about the victim.
“Agent Schwann, I’m getting quite a pile-up of dead bodies in my county. People are calling for my head on a friggin’ platter. How did you come by those names?”
“I found them in files from the chief surgeon’s office in NeuroDynamics. Looks like they’re all guinea pigs for testing. Dr. Goodman thinks that the microchips cause the aneurysms. It was like they were implanted to take out the test cases when their assigned tasks either failed or were completed.”
“Holy shit! But how the hell—and why—are they controlling people?”
“That’s what we still have to figure out.
We’re getting close, Frisco. I know it. John and I are going to talk to the CFO today. We’re hoping she’ll help put the final pieces together.”
Frisco grabbed her arm. “Is that a good idea? What makes you think she won’t take Candleworth’s side?”
“John thinks
he can convince her with the evidence we have so far. Seems like they’ve been using her head as their personal playground, too.”
Frisco said, “Just remember, keep your eyes open. If she so much as reaches for her telephone when you tell her what you’ve been up to, you get some back-up. These guys aren’t messing around. Hell, if Two Harbors was in my jurisdiction, I’d be there myself.”
“I don’t think it will come to that …”
Frisco continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Normally, I’d contact the sheriff up there, but word’s out that he’s been awfully cozy with Candleworth. Likes the perks that come with having a big-ass company in his county.” Frisco shook his head. “Fucking sell-out. Never liked him anyway.”
“I called my boss in Minneapolis. He’s aware of what’s going on and is sending up some additional agents. Now that we’ve established a connection between Sid’s killers and NeuroDynamics, the investigation can proceed much quicker. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting a warrant now.” She put her hands on her hips. “This has got to end, Frisco. We owe it to Sid and the others.”
“Got some fire power with you?”
She patted the slight bulge of her coat pocket. “Got it covered.”
The detective nodded. “Be careful.”
“You can count on it.” She indicated the lab with her chin. “Weird being back here without the old man, isn’t it?”
The corners of Frisco’s mouth turned down. “Weird doesn’t begin to cover it.”
Jo and John drove northeast along the lakeshore on Highway 61, towards the home of NeuroDynamics’s CFO. The all-weather tires squeaked on the snow-covered roads, a sure sign of frigid cold. The skies were a brilliant blue, but the sun was at its farthest point and did little to warm the day.
Not taking her eyes off the road, Jo said, “Do you think we can convince Ms. Peterson to help us?”
Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder Page 16