Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder (17 page)

“Yeah, tall, handsome, charming, a real lady’s man. If I wasn’t married to Chester, I’d be chasing after him. I’ve noticed more than a few eligible gals in this town fawning over him.” She glanced out the café window. “Speaking of Prince Charming, I see him crossing the street, right now.” Bernice fluffed her hair, straightened her apron and batted her eyelashes.

Lance entered the Bun and gave Bernice his Crest Whitening smile. He praised her decorating style, and she melted like a cheap candle. Then he approached the counter. “Just the guys I wanted to see. Mind if I join you?” Lance took the stool beside Chip. Bernice poured his coffee and offered him a slice of pecan pie, which he accepted.

“I’m going to be gone over the holidays. I’ve drawn up a work plan for the Bijou so you can keep on schedule while I’m out of town. I have the marquee just about done—weather permitting it can be installed out front. That’s going to take a forklift and quite a crew. Sven will be home for break, so he’s offered to get a crew together.” He forked a big piece of pie. “Uhm, Bernice, this is heavenly.” He gave her a wink, and she blushed.

“You wouldn’t be going to New York to visit a certain literary agent, would you?” asked Chip.

“Yes, she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Got tickets for the
Radio City Rockettes Christmas Show
and a free room at the Plaza, compliments of a client, promised me an unforgettable New Year’s Eve in Times Square. I’ve never seen the ball drop in person, so it should be fun.” He lifted his coffee mug, and Bernice obliged with a refill.

“Go, have a good time. The chief and I can handle things at the Bijou while you’re away. Who knows, you might never return after you’ve seen the lights on Broadway.”

* * *

Chip went home whistling “Give My Regards to Broadway.” He was a happy man with a plan brewing. Step one was an email to Lucinda.

December 15, 3:30 p.m.

Lucinda,

Congratulations, I hear you have convinced Lance to join you in NYC. After you wine and dine him and show him the glories of the Big Apple, maybe he will give up his quest to be a vegetable farmer and make NYC his permanent residence. Good Luck!

Chip

She responded immediately.

December 15, 3:35 p.m.

Chip,

Yes, isn’t it marvelous? I plan to pull out all the stops for my Lancelot. In the meantime, did you see this week’s New York Times book section? You got a rave review and my phone has been ringing off the hook with requests for interviews and talk show appearances. I’ve already ordered a second printing. You must blog, blog, blog every day for a couple of hours at least. Your fan base is very important. Plus, no holiday from writing for you. Get humping, country boy.

Lucinda

Oh, crap, Chip hated blogging. It was so tedious. He needed time for step two, which was to win back Jane. This step would take some planning and finesse.

In addition, something was nagging him. Despite what Agent Masterson had said about interfering, he was pretty proud of his part in the Iowa map solution, and he was sure he could be of further help with the fabric swatches.
Blue nylon, blue nylon, what is made of blue nylon and how can it be connected to the possible abduction and murder of women?

His mind was reeling with crimes, both on the home front and in
Mind Games
. Write or blog … writing was the lesser of two evils, he decided. He had murders to solve and John was still missing. A phone interview with the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension’s communication manager had given him lots of details about the BCA in St. Paul and led to a second interview with one of its forensic scientists. He was eager to write his next chapter.

His concentration was broken momentarily by Honey. She was whining to be let out. First he gave her the Tramadol Jane had said would give her some temporary comfort. She did not seem to be getting worse, so he continued to be in denial about Jane’s recent diagnosis of liver cancer and the inevitable. He was not ready to lose her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mind Games

Brooklyn Center & St. Paul, Minnesota

Early August

After filling Agent Daniels in on everything she knew about John’s disappearance and after providing him the information about her neighbor, Jo gave Daniels the key to her house. She knew the crime scene techs would go through her house with a fine-toothed comb, looking for fingerprints or any sign of struggle. She had told Daniels nothing seemed out of place, but then again, she might have missed something. She was not at her most observant after such little sleep. And so much stress.

Jo spent the next four hours sitting at her desk at FBI headquarters, trying to stay focused on the cases in front of her. She had to force herself to stay in her seat; another part of her brain kept urging her to get up and run out to look for John.

Work only occupied half of her brain as her mind wandered again and again to what Stephen had said. She found herself checking her cell phone every fifteen minutes or so, hoping to get an update from Daniels. At one point, she had even dialed the agent’s number, then quickly disconnected.
I’ve got to trust him to do his job. He may be a pompous jerk, but he’s a good agent.

Her phone rang around 1:15 p.m. and she almost dropped it in her scramble to answer it. She was disappointed to see the caller was Frisco, not Agent Daniels. “Hey, Frisco. Tell me you’ve figured out this whole mess.”

Jo heard Frisco’s raspy laugh on the other end. “No such luck. However, the BCA boys and girls may have found another big piece of the puzzle. Seems they found some DNA in one of those envelopes after all.”

“I thought they said the sender was smart enough not to lick the envelope.”

“True, but he or she left behind a strand of blond hair, which we didn’t see ‘cause it was so light colored. No hair root for standard DNA testing, but they’ve got some information for us. Feel like a field trip to the BCA?”

Jo felt an adrenalin rush. At least progress was being made, even if it wasn’t the news she was waiting for. “Oh, yeah. Anything to get away from this desk. Meet you there in twenty.”

* * *

Sunlight poured through the skylights as Jo and Frisco waited in the lobby of the BCA for one of the technicians to escort them to the labs. Jo shoved her phone into her purse, frustrated since she still hadn’t heard from Agent Daniels. It felt like all she was doing today was sitting around and waiting. She wasn’t very good at waiting, but she was especially bad at not having something to do to find John.

She watched Frisco look around the building and saw him peer up at the soaring ceilings. “What a place. It’s like a mini-college campus, or something,” he said.

Jo appreciated the distraction of Frisco’s fascination with the BCA. She hadn’t yet told him about John’s disappearance because it was easier to work the routine of the Freemont/McDonald cases and shove her fears in the back of her mind. Knowing the detective as well as she did, he would want to be out there looking for John, too. Regardless of his jurisdiction.

She agreed, “It is pretty impressive. For instance, did you know they have a library here with over fifty-five hundred different weapons and every ammunition you can imagine?”

“Amazing. We always worked directly with the BCA’s regional office in Duluth, so I never had a chance to visit the main building.” His head swiveled around and he said, “Hey, what’s that thing over there?”

Jo turned to see where Frisco was pointing above her shoulder. On the second level balcony above them, a row of metal rings ran along the railing. “Oh, that’s called the ‘Exquisite Corpse’. Come on. Let’s take a closer look. It’s my favorite artwork here. Always reminds me of why I do this job.”

They climbed the steps to the second floor and stopped at one end of the artwork. “These rings represent giant magnifying glasses, all lined up. And do you see the stained glass at the center of each ring?” Jo asked.

Frisco leaned closer and squinted. “Yeah. What is that? Kinda looks like the cross section of a brain.”

“That’s exactly what it’s supposed to look like. If you look at each one of the magnifying glasses, you will see pieces of stained glass that look like horizontal slices of an entire human body, from head to toe.”

“Very cool. In a clinical, sort of creepy, way.”

While Frisco spent some time quietly studying each ring, Jo thought about John again. Her mind wandered to the horrible possibility if he were killed, details from his case might be examined under a BCA magnifying glass. She swallowed a few times, trying to regain her composure before the detective noticed.

“Sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time here,” Frisco finally said.

“Since the FBI doesn’t have a lab in the state, we rely on the BCA to process quite a bit of our evidence.”

Just as Jo finished her comment, she looked up to see one of the technicians she had worked with in the past coming toward them. She smiled and said, “Clara. So good to see you. I hear you have some results for us.”

“Special Agent Schwann, always a pleasure. Sorry to keep you waiting.” The sunlight filtering in through the skylights lit up Clara’s blonde ponytail and her blue eyes were inquisitive as she turned to Frisco. “And you must be Detective Frisco. Pleased to meet you.” Frisco shook her hand and they followed in Clara’s wake to the lab area labeled W335 Mitochondrial DNA Laboratory. In the window of the lab, someone had pasted up a sign that read The Mighty Mites. Following the directions on the door, they donned blue face masks before entering the lab.

DNA processing equipment sat on neatly organized white countertops. Several technicians looked up from their work as Jo and Frisco entered and a few nodded their greetings before focusing on their work once more.

Clara walked over to a desk and handed a file to Jo. “Here are the results of the DNA testing. As you know, we were only able to run the mitochondrial DNA on this hair sample, since no root tag was present for nuclear DNA testing.”

Frisco pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “I never can keep this DNA mumbo-jumbo straight. Remind me again of the difference in the nuclear and mito … mito … whasits DNA testing?”

Clara chuckled. “Mitochodrial DNA. Nuclear DNA analysis is what you hear about most in law enforcement. We used to only be able to determine a DNA match when we had trace such as blood, semen, or hair follicles, etc. Basically any cells containing a nucleus. The problem was that if we had evidence like hair without a root tag, teeth or a bone, we were out of luck.

“With mitochondrial DNA testing, we can narrow down to a finite list of suspects. For some types of evidence like teeth and bone specimens, there are no cells that contain a nucleus. In these cases, mitochondrial DNA can be used to identify the sample.”

Frisco rubbed his chin. “You said narrow the list of suspects. Why not the exact suspect?”

“You see, mitochondria are the DNA inherited from the mother only. So, it is not unique to one specific individual, like nuclear DNA, but it at least gets us in the right family.”

Clara pointed to the report in Jo’s hand. There was a ghost of a smile on her face as she said, “The trace you brought in has given us a maternal match.”

Jo could feel her heart pounding. She had a feeling Clara was about to hand them a very important piece of the puzzle. “So, who was the match?”

“Robert Clarence Bishop. He was involved in two aggravated assaults here and one drug bust.”

Frisco’s excitement was obvious in his rapid-fire questions, “Aggravated? So the guy had a weapon. What kind?”

“A Remington 12 gauge, pump-action shotgun.”

Jo groaned. “The most commonly purchased shotgun out there. Could be the same type used on our victims, but who knows? Can’t run a ballistics test on buckshot.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, thinking. “And where does Mr. Bishop currently reside?”

Clara’s smile disappeared. “Underground, I’m afraid. He died in a shoot-out with police officers at the scene of the drug bust.”

Frisco’s face fell. “And I suppose this death-by-cop took place before State Rep. Freemont was murdered?”

When Clara nodded, Frisco said, “Well, damn. I guess we couldn’t have gotten that lucky.”

Jo said, “But don’t forget, we now have a family connection to work with. Remember, mitochondrial DNA is about matching trace with family members, all having the same mother. We just have to track down Mr. Bishop’s siblings.”

Frisco grunted. “I guess I can live with that. Let’s hit the birth records and see what pops up.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Turners Bend

Mid-December

It was a week before Christmas, and Chip had put off calling his mother about the holidays, but he couldn’t stall any longer. He took a deep breath and dialed his parent’s home number. “Hi, Mother.”

“Hello, Charles. Are y’all coming to Baltimore for Christmas?” Maribelle Collingsworth, who was born in South Carolina, had never lost her southern accent. As a kid Chip found it embarrassing, but now as an adult he thought it was ridiculous. He was sure she was faking it for affect. Once a Southern Belle, always a Southern Belle, he guessed.

“No, that’s what I’m calling about. Honey is sick, and I have lots of work connected with my books. I’m staying in Iowa.”

“Oh dear, my little Colette will be so distressed to hear her mama is ill. Your father has agreed to be on call for your brother so Parker and Francesca can take Lucia and Roberto to Tuscany for the holidays. I was hoping you would come and keep me company.” She heaved a guilt-producing sigh. “Well, I guess that’s what I get for marrying a prominent doctor and producing two successful sons. I’ll just have to celebrate by myself. Give my love to all our friends in Turners Bend and give Honey a get-well kiss from me.”

“Bye, Mother. I’ll call again on Christmas.” Chip heard her kiss-kiss sounds as she hung up.