Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder (4 page)

“Hello, I’m Lance Williams.” His handshake was firm and his gaze direct. He smiled and revealed a set of perfect teeth—straight, white, and gleaming. “I’m new in Turners Bend. I just bought Oscar Nelson’s place to try my hand at organic vegetable farming. I’m interested in your project. I was an architect in my not-too-distant former life.”

“Welcome, Lance, I’m glad to meet you and equally glad I’m not the ‘new guy’ in town anymore. An architect no less, what a stroke of good luck for us.”

Jane joined them and Chip introduced her to Lance. “We don’t get many new residents in Turners Bend,” said Jane. “I heard someone bought Oscar’s place. Welcome, Lance.”

Jane pointed out two men coming in the door. “Chip, it looks like we are drawing quite a crowd. There’s Hjalmer Gustafson, bless his heart, and there’s Ingrid’s basketball coach, Stan Whittler. He usually doesn’t get involved in community events.”

Chip watched Gustafson, one of his favorite farmers, and Whittler, a tall, thin man dressed in a warm-up suit, seat themselves at the back of the room.

The room filled up, the ideas took form, and the energy of the small group grew. Fundraisers were proposed. “Let’s do an old-fashioned cake walk,” offered Christine. “Maybe with an old movie theme. I could bake a
Top Hat
cake with Fred and Ginger dancing on top.”

“The VFW could host a casino night,” suggested the president of the local wind turbine company. “Each table could be sponsored by a different local business.”

Flora’s t-shirt idea got a good laugh. She offered to have them printed with the words Bijou or Bust strategically placed on the front. A work schedule was developed and a volunteer list passed around.

After the meeting was adjourned, Jane stayed to help Christine clean the kitchen, while Chip put away the chairs and easel.

Chip felt like he was on a winning streak. Maybe tonight was the night to move back to his previous relationship with Jane, the one where they were madly in love and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “How about a glass of wine at my place to celebrate our successful kick-off meeting?” He was trying to sound casual but feared his ulterior motive was transparent to Jane.

“Friends, Chip, remember? Nothing more. I have to get home to help Ingrid with her calculus homework, and I promised I would email Sven all the details about the meeting. He’ll be thrilled. So, maybe some other time.”

As Chip drove home, his mind was on Jane, not the Bijou project. The woman was always sending him mixed messages.
What is “maybe some other time” supposed to mean?

* * *

It was almost midnight when Chip heard a vehicle driving into his yard. He waited for the engine to stop, for the sound of a door slamming shut, but when he didn’t hear either, he turned on the yard light. He saw Jane’s truck and walked up to the driver’s side.

Jane rolled down the window. “I don’t want to talk, okay? I don’t want to have it mean anything, but what it is. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I want you to get something else up. Are we understood?”

Chip opened the door of the truck, took her hand and guided her wordlessly into the house, through the kitchen and directly into the bedroom. They undressed each other slowly, one article of clothing at a time. He stepped back and let his eyes roam over her body. She reached for him and eased him onto the bed.

Later when Jane began to untangle herself from the damp sheets, he started to speak, but she put her finger over his lips to hush him and shook her head. He remained in bed, watching her dress. She left without saying a word and without a smile.

Chip was bewildered.
Was that make-up sex? Or maybe breakup sex?
Jane was a mystery to him, but surely a mystery he wanted to solve.

* * *

The next morning while in bed, Chip heard an all-too-familiar buzzing … a mosquito. He hadn’t gotten around to fixing the tear in the screen on his bedroom window. He opened his eyes and watched the insect land on his left arm. He slapped it with his right hand, but it was too late and a splotch of blood appeared under the mosquito’s squished body. He could feel the bite starting to swell.

The room was flooded with sunlight and already too hot for comfort. For three days the temperatures had been unseasonably warm. Regardless of the heat, Chip knew he would have to put in a few hours of writing. He thought about Jo and Jane, so much alike in looks and professional commitment. He was as conflicted about Jo’s feelings for Dr. John Goodman as Jane seemed conflicted about her feelings for him. After last night, she was more puzzling than ever.

Surely his readers would expect Jo and John’s relationship to grow and blossom and culminate in mad passion, but Chip wasn’t all too sure it was headed in that direction.

Chapter Six

Mind Games

St. Paul

Late July

With downtown Minneapolis in her rear-view mirror, Jo drove east on I-94 headed toward St. Paul. She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, evidence of the four-minute shower after her run. She put thoughts of the case out of her mind as she mapped out what she was going to say to John about their abandoned weekend plans.

As if on cue, her cell phone buzzed. She glanced at the caller ID, her stomach doing a flip. She took a deep breath and accepted the call on her Bluetooth. “Morning, John. I was … just about to give you a call.”

“Good morning, beautiful. Glad to hear you were thinking about me, since I can’t seem to get you out of my mind. I’ve got some ideas of what we can do, although, most of them involve not leaving my bedroom the entire weekend.” She loved the slight teasing, husky quality of his voice and her heart pounded faster.

Stupid case.

“There’s been a slight, um, change of plans,” she said. Silence followed. “John. Are you still there?”

She could hear his exhaled breath. His voice, when he finally responded, was quiet. “Yes. I’m still here. And you’re still there. Am I right?”

Her stomach no longer flipped, but she felt the beginning of a dull ache. “John, I’m really sorry. The body of a missing state representative has been found. Tom put me on the case. I didn’t have a choice …”

“And you’re the only one qualified to handle it, I suppose.”

Jo felt her face flush, and she gripped the steering wheel a bit harder than necessary when she maneuvered around a slow-moving delivery van. “No, I’m not the only one qualified, but I’m the one Tom chose. It’s not like I’m happy about this. You have no idea how much I was looking forward to getting away this weekend. Seeing you.”

John’s tone softened when he spoke again. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve seen firsthand how great you are at your job. Tom is smart to put you on the toughest cases. It’s just … it’s just that we never see each other anymore. You had to cancel coming for the Cherry Blossom festival because of depositions and I had to cancel the trip in June because an emergency surgery came up. Those are only the most recent examples.”

“I know.”

“It never seems to end. There’s always something coming between us. Hell, this is probably the longest conversation we’ve had in a long time without one of us getting an emergency phone call. We can’t base a relationship on two-minute phone calls and twenty-word text messages.”

She sighed. “You’re right, John. But, I don’t know what else to do except to keep making plans and hope one of these times the plans will actually work out.”

There was silence at the other end, and Jo could imagine him standing in his condo, rubbing his hand up the back of his head, as she’d seen him do so many times during the NeuroDynamics case. He was just as frustrated as she.

“Jo, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I love you, but this isn’t working.”

She jerked the wheel of the car and heard an angry bleat of a horn from the black sedan in the adjoining lane. She quickly corrected her path, her heart pounding. It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, and she couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“Jo, say something. What was that noise … are you driving?”

“Give me a second. I’m okay. Just … I just need a minute.”
Why does this have to be so damn difficult?

“John, look. I need to get to this case. Can I call you tonight and we can discuss this then? I can’t focus right now.”

“Yeah. Sure. Call me at home. Don’t worry about the time.” He paused, and then continued. “I do love you, you know.”

“I do know that. And, I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” He said, ending the call.

Jo stared at the traffic in front of her that had slowed to a snail’s pace. She slapped both of her palms on the steering wheel, relishing the sting. “Damn this job!”

* * *

Jo pulled her car into the parking lot at the south side of the Capitol building in St. Paul. A guard stopped her and was about to turn her away when she showed him her credentials. He waved her into the lot. Emergency vehicles and official cars and trucks of all types filled every available spot. Finally, she nabbed a spot at the far right corner, just before a news van pulled into the lot.
Great. Here come the vultures
, Jo thought.

She pulled the rear-view mirror down to look at her puffy eyes. “Get yourself together, Jo. I’ll never hear the end of it from the guys if I go in looking like I’ve been crying.” Yanking a tissue out of the glove box, she wiped away the black smudges of mascara from under her lashes. She dug in her purse for a hair band and twisted her damp hair up into a bun, tucking the stray hairs behind her ears. After checking the mirror one last time, she put it back in place and climbed out of the car.

Jo’s heels clicked on the stone of the massive staircase leading up to the entrance. The early morning sun glinted off a space above her head, and she glanced up toward the dome to see the gilded statue of the four horses pulling a chariot with a man and woman. Jo recalled from a field trip to the Capitol in sixth grade that the horses represented the four powers of nature: earth, wind, fire and water.

The Capitol was one of her favorite buildings in the Twin Cities. She turned around and her eyes briefly followed the wide boulevard all the way to the Cathedral of Saint Paul, which boasted the best view in the city.

Just as she faced back toward the Capitol, a reporter called out to her. “Ma’am. Excuse me, ma’am. We’ve had reports that the body of State Rep. Lee Freemont has been found in the Capitol. Are you involved in the investigation?”

Jo looked at the impeccably dressed blonde woman racing toward her, with her cameraman struggling up the steps behind her. Jo rolled her eyes as she recognized Marjorie Payne, the news reporter from the local NBC affiliate, KSMN-TV. Everyone in Jo’s office referred to her as “Major Payne.” “No comment,” Jo said to her.

The reporter’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to one side. “You’re Special Agent Jo Schwann, aren’t you?”

Jo put her hand on the handle of the large bronze door and repeated, “No comment.” She yanked the door open with more force than necessary and entered the lobby area. Another guard stepped toward her and she flashed her badge.

After the gaurd stepped aside, Jo tucked away her badge and said to the man, “Do me a favor. There’s a reporter behind me …”

The guard held up a hand, “Say no more. I’ve already received orders to keep the media out until further notice.”

“Good man. Now, tell me where I can find the crime scene.”

He pointed straight ahead. “Go through the Rotunda area and make a left at the first entrance. Head up the stairway and then just listen for the ruckus.”

As she walked past him, she heard him murmur, “Hope you skipped breakfast. Pretty gruesome.”

* * *

Jo wound her way down the marble corridors, following the trail of various law officials and crime lab specialists. She ducked under yellow crime scene tape and entered what appeared to be a large meeting room. The furniture was draped in plastic tarps, and a table saw sat silently in a corner.

Sorting through all the officials in the room, she recognized a few familiar faces. She finally located the salt-and-pepper hair of Carole Miller, the lead Ramsey County Medical Examiner, who was now kneeling next to the body. Jo had worked with Carole on a few cases in the past and admired her professional, politics-be-damned manner.

Carole looked over her leopard-print reading glasses as Jo approached. “Not a pretty sight, Jo. When I heard the Bureau was called in, I hoped they would send you.”

“And I’m glad we’ll get a chance to work together again. Although, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought they usually don’t let the lead ME escape the office.”

Carole smirked and said, “Well, when it comes to high-profile cases like this one, they like to pull in the big guns. I have to say, feels kinda good to be back in the field.”

Jo smiled. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and crouched down next to Carole. She looked down at the body of State Representative Lee Freemont.

While Jo wasn’t always in agreement with the man’s political views, she only felt pity for him now. Although his much derided $300 haircut was still perfectly in place, his once handsome face had been destroyed. The eyes were wide open in a permanent frieze of horror and agony. The shotgun blast had been to his mouth and his jaw hung at a grotesque angle.

“What a horrible way to go,” Jo said.

Carole looked into her eyes. Jo had rarely seen such a naked reaction on the normally placid face of the coroner. “You’re right about that. It would have taken quite a while to exsanguinate. Must have been excruciating.” She shook her head. “Poor man. I never liked the guy’s public policies, but you wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy.”

Jo looked around. “This wasn’t the original crime scene; there’s hardly any blood. How the hell does a killer just waltz in here with a dead body without anyone noticing?”

Carole nodded. “Complicates your investigation quite a bit, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does.” Jo tilted her head to get a better look at the entrance wound. “What do you think about the location of the shot? Bad aim or was the mouth the target?