Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder (14 page)

She dialed his cell number. After a few rings, it went to voice mail. Jo left a message, “John, it’s me. I know about your surprise visit. Please, just come back to the house. I’m …” Jo swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and tried again. “I’m so glad you came. We’ve got a lot of things to talk about. And, John? I love you.”

In a fog, Jo almost slipped on the last step as she walked back down the stairs. “Where is he?”

Chapter Nineteen

Turners Bend

November

When Chip returned home after the barn dance, Callie was sitting by her empty food dish complaining, howling as if she hadn’t been fed in days. After eating, she fastidiously licked her paws and used them to wash her face. He was relieved to see she had turned the corner. Again his pets proved to be a calming diversion from his troubles, and after completing his chapter, he went to bed and was able to sleep until dawn.

As he was eating his cold cereal the next morning, however, his mind began to roil and fester like maggots in road kill. His first thoughts were about Lance Williams. He was beginning to really get sick of the guy. If Lance’s paramour was Lucinda, it was good news-bad news. Good thing it wasn’t Jane, and bad that Lucinda might move to Turners Bend and be on his case 24/7. If it was Jane, he was doubly screwed. He would lose Jane, and Lucinda would return to her she-devil persona and take her rejection out on him.
How did I get to be the loser in this situation?

Putting the jug of milk away, he again studied the diagram he had posted on the refrigerator door. Last evening’s conversation with Chief Fredrickson had definitely piqued his curiosity. He was eager to get dressed and head down to the police station.

The sound of a car pulling up to his house startled him. Out the pet-nose- smeared window he saw Lucinda emerge from her rental car, a white BMW. She looked different somehow, glowing, natural looking, still attractive, but with a softer edge than he had ever seen before. He invited her into the house and poured her a cup of coffee.

“Sorry, I can’t make you a fancy coffee. I’ve got milk if you want it and some sugar somewhere.”

“This is fine, Chip. Thanks. I wanted to talk with you before I head to the airport. I’ve got to get back to the office to finish the publicity for the launch of
Brain Freeze
next month. I know you won’t believe this, but I hate like hell to leave here, to leave Lance. I’ve really fallen for the guy, head over heels, ton of bricks, cloud nine and every other cliché you’ve ever heard about being in love.”

She sighed wistfully. “At times, I think he feels the same about me, but at other times, I have my doubts. I just don’t know. He said he would think about coming to New York for Christmas. I told him I would convince Howard Glasser to come to the Midwest premiere of
The Cranium Killer
at the Bijou. I definitely plan to be back in March for the event. In the meantime, could you keep tabs on him? Would you let me know if he says anything about me? God, I sound like a junior high school girl, don’t I?”

Chip sipped his cold coffee and gave himself a moment to think how he could approach this question and at the same time solve his own dilemma. “You love New York, the excitement, the clubs, the shopping, the publishing business. You’d never survive out here in the cornfield raising organic vegetables. I just don’t see it happening. Your best bet is to lure Lance to New York and convince him to stay.”

“You’re one to talk, Chip. You ended up here, and I don’t see you running back to Baltimore and your playboy life. Something is keeping you here, and I know who she is. You’re not giving up on Jane, are you?”

“The question is … is Jane giving up on me?”

Lucinda checked her watch, a wide gold bangle with a face the size of a silver dollar. “I’ve got to make tracks to the airport. Oh, just because I’m in love, it doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Keep writing; I need another book from you.”

* * *

On the drive to town Chip prided himself on his brilliant idea—Lance in New York and Jane in Turners Bend would be the best of all possible worlds for him, positively Machiavellian. He’d have to continue to promote Lance’s move to the Big Apple.

At the police station he found Sharon in the outer office at her desk. She had been in good spirits last evening at the barn dance, but her mood had obviously swung in the opposite direction by this morning. She grumped, “In there,” and motioned her head to the chief’s office.

The chief and Jim were leaning over a table. They both wore purple evidence gloves. “Take a look at this, Chip, but don’t touch. This is what I got in the mail yesterday. Came in a plain manila envelope mailed from Sioux City this time. I wanted you to see them before we send them to the Iowa Bureau of Investigation. What do you see?”

“Looks like pieces of fabric to me.”

“What else?”

“Well, they are all the same shade of blue, some kind of shiny silky material.”

“Sharon, would you please come in here.” Sharon appeared at the door and slouched against the doorframe.

“Do you have any idea what kind of fabric these are?”

She walked to the desk, put on a pair of gloves and picked up each piece, rubbing them between her thumb and fingers. “I’m no Martha Stewart, but I’d say it’s nylon with a mesh weave.”

“Five X’s on the diagram and five pieces of blue cloth. My gut tells me they’re connected,” said the chief. “But I just don’t know how. Jim here has some hair-brained idea about a serial killer.”

Jim, at age twenty-four, was a fresh-faced deputy just three years out of the Police Academy. He immersed himself in TV cop shows, much to the chief’s vexation. “On that TV show
Criminal Minds
a serial killer always sends clues to the FBI, and they profile him,” said Jim.

“We only have one body. According to the coroner, the murder wasn’t recent, so we don’t have anything that says serial killer to me,” said the chief. “What’s your opinion, Chip?”

“I don’t know. I think Jim might have something there, and if he’s right, this won’t be the last message you get. I remember reading about how the Son of Sam and the Zodiac Killer sent clues to the police and media. Let me know if anything else shows up.”

* * *

On his way home, Chip spotted two pheasants alongside the harvested corn field on Hjalmer Gustafson’s farm. They were a pair; the cock a thing of beauty with his white-ringed neck, vibrant blue-green head and red face wattles, and the hen a plain buff brown. He heard a shotgun blast, followed by two more. Pheasant hunting season had started the last week in October, and Chip feared the two birds would soon be served on a platter in one of Turners Bend’s households. Never having been a hunter, Chip had a hard time understanding why shooting these marvelous creatures qualified as sport.

Thinking about hunters reminded him he had the Hunter on the loose in Minneapolis with the lovely Jo Schwann as his target. Lucinda’s parting salvo about working on his book entered his head, and on the remainder of the trip home his mind was occupied with the developing plot of
Mind Games
.

Chapter Twenty

Mind Games

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Early August

Jo sank into the couch in the den, her mind whirling with possibilities. Maybe there was some kind of mistake. Maybe John hadn’t been here at all, and she just wanted to believe he had come back for her. She thought she’d go crazy with all the “maybes” in her head. She sorted through the scenarios out loud, “How do I explain the baggage claim tag?” She pinched her lower lip between her teeth. “Maybe I read the date wrong and it was from a previous trip.”

Feeling foolish about how she had allowed her hopes to conjure up a visit from John, she looked down at Cleo, who had curled up on the sofa next to her, “Did you pull it out from under a bed or something?” The kitten had no answers, except a sympathetic meow.

Jo stood up and walked back to the kitchen table where she had left the tag in her search for John. She hesitated a minute to pick up the tag, half dreading the moment when she would realize she had made a huge error and that John really had not been here today. Jo shook her head at her foolishness, and then raised the ticket up to the light to read it more carefully. No, she hadn’t been mistaken; the claim ticket was dated for a flight today.

Pulling her cell out of her pocket, she called John once more. As she waited for his deep voice on the other end, she heard a strange humming sound emitting from the den. Stepping back into the room, she realized the hum was in sync with the ringing on her phone. She dropped to her knees on the thick Oriental rug and reached under the sofa trying to locate the source of the vibrations. Her heart beat faster as her fingers located an object. She pulled it out and gasped as she recognized John’s cell phone in her hand. “Oh my God, John was here!”

Jo’s chest felt tight. Something was definitely wrong. Where was he and why was his phone under her couch?

Panic was setting in. Her watch showed it was late, almost midnight. Where would he have gone on his own at this hour AND without his phone?

Jo dashed out the front door, desperate to find any additional signs of John. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and they darted around the yard. The wind picked up her red curls and blew them around her face. Clouds scudded across the night sky. As she was about to go back into the house, she heard someone call out, “Jo!”

Jo spun around, praying it was John. Her heart dropped in her chest when she saw it was her new neighbor, Stephen, out for a walk with a tan and white Jack Russell terrier. “Evening, Jo. I thought that was you.”

Jo was eager to go back inside and figure out what she was going to do next. “Hi, Stephen. I’m sorry I can’t talk right now. I’m kind of in the middle of something. See you soon.”

He reached out to grasp her arm when she turned to leave and said, “I’ve left a few messages for you, to see if we could get together for that coffee I owe you. Why haven’t your returned my calls?”

Jo looked down at his hand lightly gripping her arm and then up at his face. His touch irritated her, and she pulled away. “I’ve been working a case that’s been eating up all of my time.”

The corners of Stephen’s mouth turned down, and she could see the hurt in his eyes. For a moment, she felt a sliver of guilt.
He’s just trying to be nice, after all.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t called you back. I’ll touch base as soon as my schedule eases up a bit. Now just isn’t a good time.”

Jo turned back toward her front door when Stephen said, “Must have been quite a party at your house tonight.”

She faced him once again. He had moved to the base of her steps and looked up at her, the frown now replaced by a sly smile. He ignored the terrier tugging at the leash in his hands. She raced back down the steps and said, “What do you mean, party?”

Stephen said, “I saw two guys stumbling down your front steps and into a cab.”

Jo felt her heart thudding in her chest. She forced her voice to be calm, “Are you sure it was my house? I didn’t have a party. I just got home from work.”

Stephen’s smile widened, “Oh, they were definitely coming from your house. I know, because I was admiring the shutters on your house and was thinking I should ask you where you got them.” He cocked his head to one side, “So, maybe you weren’t quite honest with me about how busy you’ve been … or maybe you’ve just been too busy partying without me.”

Jo bristled at his tone, and any regret she had about hurting his feelings evaporated. She could hear the sharpness in her voice when she replied, “As I’ve said, I just got home from work. Tell me what you saw.”

Stephen’s smile faded and his eyes narrowed. “Oh, I don’t know. It was pretty dark …”

Jo grabbed Stephen by his upper arm, frustrated that he was playing games when John was missing. She forced herself to be more civil, “A close friend of mine was here and now he’s not. This is important. Please tell me everything you remember.”

Stephen watched Jo for a moment, until she dropped her hand from his arm. His voice was tight when he replied, “A close friend, you say? Well, let me think.”

The dog uttered a sharp bark. Stephen yanked on the leash and said, “Hush now, Max.” He looked back at Jo, as he said, “Ms. Schwann needs our help.”

There was no mistaking the mocking, bitter tone in his voice, and Jo wondered if he was lying to her about what he saw earlier.
But how could he have known I was looking for someone when he told me about the two men?

Jo recognized it was time for a different tack. She needed to pacify her neighbor, even when all she wanted to do was shake him. John could be anywhere by now.
He could be in trouble and this guy is acting like a jilted lover.

She took a deep breath and forced her voice to be soothing, “I know I hurt your feelings by not returning your calls and I regret that. You are a nice man and you deserve better.

“But please, don’t let my rude behavior stop you from helping my friend. I would appreciate anything you can tell me about the two men you saw, any detail at all. My friend could be in serious trouble and I know you would like to help.”

Jo reached out to touch his shoulder. “Please.”

Stephen looked down into her eyes. He took a minute to speak and Jo wondered if she had overplayed her hand. A clock ticked furiously in her head; time for John could be running out.

Jo was startled when Stephen finally replied, “One guy was definitely tall, taller than me. I’d say about six-foot-three, six-four. White, kinda good-looking, if you go for that type. He seemed to be the drunker of the two and was leaning heavily on the shorter guy.”

Stephen looked skyward, as if concentrating on what he had seen. “I would say the other guy was maybe five-ten, give or take. Hispanic or something; dark-skinned. He had on a Twin’s baseball cap.” He wrapped Max’s leash around his hand a few times to reel him in as the terrier tried to wander to a nearby fire hydrant.