Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (31 page)

“My dad asked me to get Chip’s computer because he thought Chip was plotting against him. He said he’d buy me a car, if I did it for him. I recruited Leif to help me.”

“For the record, your father’s name is Harold Swanson III, and Chip is Charles Collingsworth III, correct?”

Sven cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”

The court reporter nodded in acknowledgement to the judge, and recorded the full names, never altering the neutrality of her face.

“The police report states you video taped the robbery and then posted it on YouTube. I’m curious as to why you would do such a thing.”

“I want to be a filmmaker someday. I heard that posting your films on social networks is a good way of getting into the business. I didn’t think anyone would be able to identify us from the tape.”

“What do you think of your choices now?”

“They were pretty stupid, I guess, and I’m really sorry I did it.”

“Okay, son, I’m going to give you 100 hours of community service under the supervision of Chief Fredrickson, and don’t let me see you in this court again, you hear?” Harry remembered doing a few stupid things himself when he was Sven’s age and an image of “Killroy Was Here” painted on the water tower came to mind. It looked to him like the kid was punishing himself enough.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, your honor.”

Leif’s answers to the judge’s questions netted a series of yups, nopes and whatevers. The judge ended by asking, “Did you drink the beer you took from Mr. Collingsworth’s refrigerator?”

“Like it was only a six-pack, no big deal,” answered Leif.

“Well young man, let me see, you have one more year of high school. I’m giving you fourteen months of probation. You will have to report to a probation office once a month. You will finish high school and get yourself into college during that time. If I get any reports of underage drinking or drugs or any other brushes with the law, you will be doing some time. Do you understand me?”

“It’s not fair that Sven got off so easy. He’s the one who started this.”

“Don’t push it or I might change my mind. Court dismissed.” He pounded his gavel and hoisted himself out of his chair. It saddened him to know this was probably not the last time he would see Leif Henderson in this courtroom.

Back in the Volvo the atmosphere had lightened considerably, relief had lifted spirits and caused Sven’s teenage hunger to kick in. “Mom, can we drive through Hardee’s? I couldn’t eat this morning, and now I’m starving. I’ll buy.”

Chip and Jane let him pay.

“Are you serious about this filmmaking?” asked Chip as they drove along the road back home.

“I know you want me to be a veterinarian, Mom, and it’s not that I don’t like animals, but I want to make films. I want to be a movie director some day. The school counselor is always saying we should follow our passion. I want to go to New York University and study film. That’s what I’m passionate about. Ingrid’s the one who wants to be a vet.”

“I’m sorry, Sven, if I was forcing those expectations on you,” said Jane. “I want both you and Ingrid to be happy with your career choices. Film is a tough way to make a living, but then so is being a vet. Maybe you can film something as part of your community service.”

“Let me tell you a little story,” said Chip. “My grandfather was a famous neurosurgeon, my father is a very prominent neurosurgeon and everyone, including myself, expected me to follow in their footsteps. I tried, but I was a miserable failure and became a huge disappointment to my family. My brother ended up being the neurosurgeon, and I became a bum, at least in their eyes. Only very recently have I discovered something I’m good at and some place I want to be. You’re lucky to have discovered your passion so young. Maybe I can help you.”

“Really, would you?” Sven was feeling like he had just been released from prison and won the lottery all in the same day.

“You finish high school and apply to NYU, then I may be able to pull some strings and get you an internship working on the filming of
The Cranium Killer
. Seems like my literary agent has some influence with Howard Glasser.”

“Oh, that would be way cool, Chip.”

Jane mouthed, “Thank you,” to Chip.

Sven polished off two hamburgers, a large order of onion rings and a super-sized Dr. Pepper. “Mom, I’m still hungry. Can I go to the Bun, when we get back into town?”

“Speaking of my agent,” interrupted Chip, “If I don’t finish my second book by May 15, she’ll have my head on a platter, plus I’ll be financially penalized in a big way.”

“Surely with all that’s been happening here, she’ll give you another extension,” remarked Jane.

“You don’t know Lucinda. She’s a she-devil. If I don’t have it done on time, she will chew me up and use her pitchfork to pick me out of her teeth. I’m going to go into isolation for the next few days and finish it off. I’ve solved the murders and the romance is a done deal, I’ve just got to re-write a few spots.”

“A romance, huh,” said Jane. “Am I in this story of yours?”

“Ah, you’ll have to wait until it’s published to find out, my curious friend.”

Until the conversation in the car, Sven had not really paid much attention to Chip, much less noticed the relationship between Chip and his mother. Was this guy really an awesome dawg or was all the talk about helping him become a filmmaker just a way of getting at his mother? These thoughts drained some of the pleasure out of being saved from probation or worse, Juvenile Detention.

Chip stayed home for the next two days. He ate, drank and slept
Brain Freeze
. He read the whole book aloud to himself. He made corrections and edits. Finally on the afternoon of the ides of May, he saved it to a flash drive and was about to send it to Lucinda, when his phone rang. It was Jane.

“Chip, the tornado sirens are going off here in town. Get yourself and the dogs into your root cellar ASAP. I’ve got to go.” She hung up.

Chip had been working so intently he failed to notice the eerie stillness that had crept into the air. He looked out the kitchen window and was transfixed by the green hue to the sky. Honey was agitated and whining. Runt was standing stiff-legged, his eyes glazed and his tongue sticking out. He peed on the floor. Chip picked him up and with Honey following, they ran outside and around the side of the house to the root cellar door. He opened the heavy slanted hatch and descended into the hole, closing the door behind him.

The root cellar was dark and dank. Cobwebs brushed his face. As he settled himself on the dirt floor, the thought of rodents crossed his mind. He shivered. Tornadoes were an unknown to him. On the East Coast he had experienced hurricanes and nor’easters, but the weather reports had always given residents several days’ warning. This had come out of nowhere on a perfectly beautiful day. He waited with Runt on his lap and Honey nestled at his side.

Then he heard it. It sounded like a freight train rumbling through town. There was a loud crack followed by a thud on the cellar door. A few minutes passed … then silence.

At first the cellar door would not budge. He put his shoulder to it and pushed. It opened slightly, and he could see that a branch from his red maple tree had fallen across the door. He was able to squeeze out the crack and climb over the branch. His yard was full of shredded leaves. It looked like someone had taken a giant salad shooter to his trees. A few shingles from the roof were scattered around the yard. All the windows on the east side of the house had been blown out, but otherwise the house seemed to have sustained little damage. Out on the road he saw a downed telephone wire. He backed the Volvo up to the cellar door and with a towrope moved the branch and freed the dogs. He put them in the house.

He ran to the road and determined he would be able to drive around the live wire. He headed for town, figuring that help would be needed and wanting to make sure that Jane was okay.

Two tornadoes, one an F3, the other an F4, had hopped through the county. One came through Turners Bend. In its path it had chewed up hundreds of acres of corn, taken the roofs off of five houses in town, destroyed one barn and taken one precious life.

Within hours the residents of Turners Bend had mobilized into disaster teams. Temporary housing was located for the displaced families. Linemen went to work on downed power and telephone lines. A call was made to the governor for National Guard assistance and FEMA assessment.

Two days later there was a funeral at First Lutheran for the fallen farmer. The church was packed with mourners, and Chip was among them. He didn’t cry until he came home, then he hummed a few bars of
“
For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow
”
and added a dedication to
Brain Freeze
.

For Oscar Nelson,

A Yankee-Doodle Dandy,

Born on the Fourth of July

He had missed his deadline. The events surrounding the storm had taken over his time and his energy. Lucinda, who time and again had granted him leniency, had called the tornado “another trumped-up excuse.”
Brain Freeze
would be published and the sale of the movie rights was pending, but Chip would lose the bulk of his earnings from the book. He began to wonder if other published authors were actually making any money on their books.

Chapter Forty

Brain Freeze

Two Harbors & Duluth, Minnesota

Jo led John and Belinda towards the front of the building, walking down dim corridors. She had taken a few precious minutes to pull on her boots and her clothes, making her feel human again. The anesthesia had not worn off yet and the numbness in the back of her head felt strange. It made her jumpy. She peered around corners with the Glock in her hand. John said that Candleworth had cleared the building, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

They were nearing the lobby when John called out. “Jo, wait up. I’m going to have to carry her. She can’t keep up any longer.” Belinda moaned as John whisked her up into his arms.

Jo turned around and was alarmed by the ashy hue of Belinda’s face. “John, we can’t take her with us when we go after Frisco. She’ll never make it.”

John looked down at the woman, who had passed out. “You’re right. I’ll call for an ambulance and stay with her. But you can’t go alone…”

John was interrupted by a shout, “Stop right there!”

Jo whirled around and felt the weight of the last few hours lighten a bit. She came face to face with her co-workers from Minneapolis. “Took you guys long enough.” They lowered their weapons.

John released a loud puff of air behind her and spoke up, “Friends of yours, I presume?”

Jo nodded. “These are special agents Michele Prentiss, Thomas Falcowski, and Jared Daniels.”

She went into supervisory agent mode as she addressed her co-workers. “Don’t get too comfortable, we’ve got things secured here, but there’s still work to be done. One of the local detectives is being held hostage in a private home. It’s possible that we are too late, but God, I hope not.”

She pointed to the elevators. “Prentiss, there’s a suspect tied up in the lower level of the building. Take him to the locals, and we’ll sort out the jurisdiction details later. Falcowski and Daniels, follow me. We’ve lost a lot of valuable time.”

She looked down at her clothing, thought about the temperatures outside and added, “Prentiss, hand me your jacket, will you?”

Special Agent Prentiss stripped off her parka and passed it to Jo. Agent Daniels watched her put on the jacket and said, “You’ll need a Kevlar vest too. I’ve got an extra in the back of the SUV.”

“Thanks.” She turned to John, and pointed to Belinda. “Will they be able to remove the microchip and repair the damage to her brain?”

John frowned. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to track down her husband to get permission to operate. We’ll go from there.”

“Good luck.”

“You too. Let me know how it goes with Frisco.” His blue eyes bore into hers. “Jo, be careful.”

Jo drove like a woman possessed. The Highlander’s all-weather tires crunched on the snow-packed roads. She knew that there was a good chance that she would not find the detective alive, but she couldn’t give up. She had lost too many people she cared about on this case.

She spoke as she drove, “So briefly, here’s the lay of the land. Detective Frisco of the Duluth PD is the local point person on this case.” She couldn’t bring herself to refer to Frisco in the past tense.
I have to believe he’s still alive.

She continued, “The detective was badly beaten and left behind with one of the perps. We’re going back there now to rescue him.” She glanced at Daniels, who sat in the passenger seat. “I can’t stress enough about the need to use extreme caution; this is not your average bad guy.” She went on to explain the microchips and mind control issues involved in the case.

Agent Falcowski leaned forward from the back seat. “What a mess. Never thought I’d be investigating microchips. It’s like something right out of a science fiction movie.”

“Just keep your eyes and mind open.”

Jo pulled down the long driveway to Belinda’s house. She parked the car in the driveway and pulled out her gun, checking the clip. Snapping it back into place, she said, “Ready?”