by Midge Bubany
I pointed to it. “Who’s CiCi?”
“My baby girl. She died when she was two cuz her daddy shake her to death.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. That was terrible hard. He in prison for it.”
“As he should be.” I showed her a picture of Nevada Wynn. “Do you know this man?”
“Sure.”
“What’s his name?”
“Nevada Wynn, but he go by Snake. Yeah. He moved in a couple months ago.”
“Where does he work?”
“North Cross Shipping. He drives a big truck for them. He asked me if I wanted to ride with him next time.”
“What do you know about his trip up north a couple weeks ago?”
She made a face and said, “Nothing.”
“Wynn’s connected to a kidnapping/murder in Birch County.”
Her head jerked back. “Murder? I don’t know nothin’ ’bout a murder!”
She told me she and Snake exchanged sex for drugs for a while before he moved in. Now they all got their goodies for free.
“Does he deal drugs at present?”
“He doesn’t tell me nothin’ about his business, and I don’t ask.”
“Has he ever mentioned Michael or Paul Hawkinson?”
“Who?”
I repeated the names. She shook her head. I asked her a few more questions, then asked the Minneapolis police officers to keep an eye on the women while we searched the house for evidence in our case. All we took was a 2014 Mac Book Pro Franchon said was Wynn’s, hoping it’d give us something.
We then stopped by North Cross Shipping to talk to Haldis Moore about Nevada Wynn’s employment. She used to be the personnel director; now her desk plate said Director of Human Resources. She was a stocky woman, with curly, gray hair and a big rump. She stood and shook my hand. I told her I had questions about Nevada Wynn.
“I remember you,” she said. “You spoke with him last year.”
It had been two years, but I didn’t correct her.
“So, now he’s driving truck? Is that a promotion?”
“Yes, the move was recommended by management to send him to driving school. I was told to sign off on it, so I did.”
“Who in management recommended him?”
“I’m not sure, exactly, but we have a commitment to hire ex-cons to give them a chance to become good community members.”
“I’m not sure it’s working for Wynn. He’s a person of interest in connection with a burglary and the disappearance of Michael Hawkinson in Birch County.”
“Oh, my.”
“May I speak with his current boss?”
“Certainly, that would be Zeke La Plante. Follow me.”
We were shown to a small office just down the hall. An overweight guy looked up at us between his caterpillar eyebrows and his eyeglasses. His tie lay diagonally across his bloated belly. The buttons of his shirt were stressed and ready for takeoff.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Maybe.” I introduced Tamika and myself then told him I was looking for Wynn.
He tapped keys on his computer then said, “Chicago.”
“Returning?”
“Tomorrow.”
I told him of the arrest.
“Well, there must be some mistake. Nevada has been an excellent employee.”
“No mistake. So what makes him so excellent?”
“He’s does what’s asked of him. Always on time.”
“How many deliveries did he have on May 12?”
He set to work on his computer again and said, “Just one to your area. Estelle’s Candies.”
“No other stops?”
“Not that I can see.”
“So once he’s made his delivery, is he required to come right back to Minneapolis?”
“Depends on the run. If it’s an eight hour turn around the drivers need to get the trucks back and loaded for the next day.”
“What kind of business does North Cross service?”
“Manufacturing companies.”
“What type of goods?”
He lifted his head, opened his mouth and made a weird buzz in his throat. “Varies. Mainly parts for industrial use and home medical equipment.”
“So North Cross delivers these warehoused items to other businesses like stores or other manufacturing companies?”
“Exactly.”
“Is there a list of these companies I could see?”
He cocked his head. “Of the companies who warehouse with us?”
“And the companies you ship to.”
“Well, I don’t have a list… just files.”
Tamika piped up. “For cryin’ out loud, doesn’t your company have a distribution list for Christmas cards?”
Zeke’s face went blank. “I guess someone does.”
I said, “That’s a very good idea, Deputy Frank. Then Zeke here doesn’t have to spend all afternoon generating it for us. I’d also like a copy of Nevada Wynn’s delivery schedule for May.”
His brows furrowed. “It’s going to take me some time for all that.”
Tamika put her hands on her hips, gave him an attitudinal face and said, “We’ll wait.”
“Let me see what I can do,” Zeke said through clenched teeth.
He made some calls and soon had printed off two distribution lists. There were only six companies who used North Cross, but there were twenty-five pages of companies who bought the goods they stored.
At Tamika’s insistence, before we headed back to Prairie Falls, we stopped for lunch at a Thai restaurant on Washington Avenue. I looked for Roseanna and Franchon on our way out, but it was way too early for them.
We were back in the office by mid-afternoon. Crosby had left a note on my desk.
Cal, the Hawkinson’s cell phone company just sent a list of phone calls received, sent, and missed. In the first few days your friend Hawk was missing, he had several missed messages from his mother, wife, brother, company, and you. Nothing after May 18. I’m still working on them.
I checked in Wynn’s computer as evidence, then Samantha Polansky would check it out to see what she could find that might be of use to us. I spent the rest of the day doing the paperwork on my interviews. When we left the office, I told Tamika that on Monday we would research the companies that warehouse with North Cross and the ones they ship to.
Bullet met me at the door. I loved him up as he wiggled in next to me, then walked him outdoors. I left him to his sniffing and went inside and called for Clara. I found a note she’d left on the counter: Shannon picked up the twins for the family party. I’m home. Call if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. There’s tuna salad in the refrigerator. Clara
Canned tuna anything was not going to cut it. However, I was hungry for a Minnesota Fare walleye dinner. All showered, shaved, and dressed in a light blue Polo shirt and khaki slacks, I stood in the lobby of the restaurant in Birch County Park South asking for a table for one.
A new hostess said, “So sorry, sir, we’re booked.”
Should have figured. I told her it was okay and turned to exit when I heard my name called. It was Madison Mitchell. She lived in a spectacular log home next door to Adriana on Lake Emmaline—before Adriana’s house was torched and the lot was repurposed as a park. Maddie made and sold jewelry and stained glass art online.
“How are you?” I asked, giving her a hug. She was short and cute, reminding me of Renee Zellweger.
“I’m great,” she said. “Hey, we saw you come in. Aren’t you staying?”
“No, I was turned away—no reservation.”
“Well, perfect. You can join us.”
I looked around to
see who “us” was. Of course, it was Adriana.
Pushing down the pinpricks of apprehension I agreed and followed Maddie to the booth. I slid in beside Maddie, so I wouldn’t have to sit next to Adriana.
Adriana, looking beautiful in a white shirt with tiny black buttons, tipped her wine glass, half-filled with red, at me. Her chestnut-brown hair was down, slightly curled. I’d always liked it like that.
The waiter brought over another wine glass and asked if I wanted the Stag’s Leap Cabernet sitting on the table or if I wanted something else.
“He wants this, Kirk,” Adriana said.
I nodded my agreement.
After Kirk poured my wine and left, I asked her, “Did Troy testify today?”
“Yes, I expect it will be Tuesday before it’s my turn.”
Maddie asked, “How did it go?”
“Victoria’s attorney, a woman by the name of Elizabeth McCall, made Spanky and I look like a couple of horny dogs.”
Adriana gave one of her airy laughs. “I heard Beth the Barracuda was on the case.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Beth the Barracuda? Yeah, well, our sex lives are now part of the court documents. She stopped short of asking how you liked it.”
“Darn,” Adriana said, snapping her fingers.
Maddie laughed.
“All the attorneys Adam uses are the best in the business, smart and ruthless. I spoke to Oliver, and he thought you and Austin did fine considering.”
“So, how are you doing?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I asked about her boy, which precipitated a fifteen minute show and tell, complete with cell phone photos.
“Marcus looks like you.”
“You think?”
“Definitely,” Maddie said.
“Cal, did you know Troy moved out?”
“Oh?”
“I asked him to. Marcus loves his daddy, but it isn’t good for him to hear us fight all the time.”
“You did the right thing, Adriana,” Maddie said.
“He found an apartment in Maple Grove.”
I lowered my brows attempting to squelch my smile.
“Are you still living with your mother?” I asked.
“Yes, she was so excited to have Marcus all to herself for a few days, but insisted I take Tino.”
Tino was Adriana’s harlequin Great Dane.
“And I love him, so it’s a win-win. I’m thinking of buying one,” Maddie said.
“They’re great dogs,” I said.
“How’s Bullet?” Adriana asked.
“Good.”
“And your children?”
“Great.” I pulled out my camera and showed her the few photos I had. Shannon was the one who snapped pictures.
Thinking Maddie must be bored with the kiddie talk, I asked how her online jewelry business was doing. Every single time I glanced at Adriana, she was looking at me, not Maddie.
The dinner conversation was somewhat awkward—forced, and to make matters worse, when the check came Adriana snatched it up before I could.
“No, sir, this one is definitely on me,” she said with the look I knew to mean don’t argue.
When we were in the parking lot about to head to our cars, Adriana leaned into me for a hug she held longer than comfortable. After she finally released me, I gave Maddie a hug I purposefully held for a few seconds longer than I normally would just to even it out. The women got into a light blue BMW, Adriana’s replacement for the red convertible Victoria destroyed with silver paint. I waited and watched them drive away. When I turned around, there was Troy getting out of a white SUV. I gave him a half smile and said, “Hey there.”
“What’re you doing?”
“Just on my way home, but I could go out for a drink if you’d like.”
“Stay away from Adriana. We’re still trying to work things out,” he said way too loudly. A couple walking across the lot slowed to watch us.
“Look, I have no intentions of getting back with her. Okay?”
“Right.” He leaned against the SUV and crossed his legs and arms as if to settle in for a long talk.
“I’m leaving,” I said. I wasn’t going to put up with the asshole’s bullshit. I didn’t look back until I was pulling out of the park. There was no white SUV following me, so I drove home.
An hour later, I was sitting on my deck hoping Iris Kellogg would walk over, when a car pulled into my driveway—a light blue BMW. Adriana got out and walked up to me with a shopping bag in each hand.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Didn’t we just talk at the restaurant?”
“I have wine and dessert,” she said as she lifted the bags.
“Have a seat,” I said against my better judgment.
I went inside for wine glasses and a corkscrew. When I returned, Adriana grabbed the corkscrew from me and deftly opened the bottle, filled them, then handed one to me.
“So did your testimony really go so badly?”
“Yes.”
She chuckled. “Phillip said Oliver has a solid case and if the jury acquits, they’ve been tampered with.”
“Man, I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“And if she’s found guilty, you know she’ll appeal. This could go on for years and years.”
“At least she’d be in prison for a while.”
As she crossed her long legs and smiled at me, I wondered why she was really here.
“You didn’t see anyone follow you, did you?”
“You mean Troy?”
“Yes, of course I mean Troy. After you left Minnesota Fare, he showed up and threatened me to stay away from you because you were still working on things. But here you are.”
“I’ve made it very clear we were over. Should I let Troy control me?”
“No, I’m just saying he won’t like it.”
“Too bad. We’re just talking.”
“So talk.”
She patted my hand. “Okay, I want your opinion because I value your judgment. You have a great deal of common sense.”
My common sense was telling me her being here was a bad idea.
She lifted her hands, palms up. “Should I marry Troy because he’s Marcus’s father?”
“Do you love him?”
“No.”
“Then no. He deserves to have a woman who loves him.”
“Oh, wow. Okay, not getting married is in his best interest too.”
We both took sips of our wine.
“See, you always know what to say.”
“Want further advice?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“I think you should avoid relationships with men for a few years—concentrate on Marcus. That’s what I’m going to do. Focus on Henry and Lucy.”
She smirked. “Oh, really? What about your great physical needs?”
“I’m suppressing my sex drive with work and exercise.”
“Ah.” She waited a few seconds then asked, “Is it working?”
“Nope.”
She laughed. “I have a proposal for you.”
Here it comes. “Which is?”
“Let me refill our glasses first.”
As I watched the ruby-red liquid fall into the glass, I considered my reasons for not reconciling. Our relationship failed. We were both on the rebound. We wanted to live in different locations. But she was Adriana—beautiful, sexy Adriana.
I took a gulp of wine.
She cocked her head back, gave me one of her half-smiles, and said, “My proposal is no-strings-attached-periodic-sex.”
“With?”
She laughed. “Each other, of course. And I agree, with your thoughts about avoiding a committed relationship at this time, but I could use a little manly action every so often—with someone I like and trust. We could meet somewhere in between, say at a B & B in St. Cloud, enjoy each other’s company without anyone knowing. It ends when one of us wants it to.”
“Can you do that? Because I’m not sure I can.”
“What bothers you about it?”
“I don’t like having to be secretive, and I’m not sure we can be that cool.”
“That’s part of the deal—to stay detached and cool. Just think about it.”
“What if I wanted to ask out one of your friends?”
“I thought you said you were going to avoid relationships.”
“Well, serious relationships. Everyone needs companionship.”
Her eyes had narrowed. “And who are you thinking about as this companion?”
“See how you jumped on that?”
“No, I just want to know who you would be interested in? Maddie Mitchell?”
“I’m being hypothetical here.”
“Maddie’s sweet, but I don’t think she’s right for you.”
“Because you’re good friends?”
“Okay, if you’d want to see Maddie Mitchell we’d call off our deal.”
I laughed. “How the hell could this ever work?”
She got up, sat in my lap, and kissed me. It was a quick, sweet kiss. But then we moved in for another, our mouths opened and our tongues softly explored as they once had. The scent of her seemed to erase the years away, and I felt myself responding in an-oh-so familiar way.
“We should go inside, so my neighbors won’t break out their binoculars.”
She got up and took my hand. Just inside the door, we kissed again and before long we were in the main floor guest room, clothes off, and having hot, sweaty sex. She’d picked up a few moves I didn’t want to know how she learned. We fell asleep and when I felt her touching me again in the middle of the night, we replayed the lovemaking only more slowly and tenderly. She always did like sleepy sex. Why would I have a problem with this?
Chapter 18
May 31