Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (10 page)

Jo pulled the recorder as far forward as the electrical cords would allow. “Bingo! Looks like it’s still on. Let’s see what we’ve got.” She pulled out a DVD and handed it to Frisco. “Got a TV/DVD set-up around here?”

Frisco grabbed the disc and said, “Follow me. Let’s take it to the security office and pop this sucker into their machines.”

John and Jo followed Frisco to the office. Frisco inserted the DVD into the machine and pushed play. Sid’s booming voice startled them all. “St. Louis County ME case number 66257, dated January, 25, 2012. Victim: Mitch Calhoun. Young adult male, aged …” Sid’s voice continued, giving his first impressions of the body. Then Sid himself appeared onscreen. He gave a running commentary as he continued with the autopsy. The DVD was stopped briefly when Sid had completed the autopsy. When it began again, Jo and John recognized themselves onscreen.

Jo wiped a tear that had appeared when she first saw Sid on the screen. She was finding it hard to speak normally. “Sid must have recorded his discussion with Dr. Goodman, to make sure all bases were covered.” John nodded.

Frisco skipped forward on the DVD until after Jo and John had left the room onscreen. Sid continued working on the case. The detective muttered, “Must have forgot to turn the thing off.”

Continuing to watch the screen, Frisco occasionally fast forwarded when it was clear nothing was relevant. They were rewarded a half hour later when they heard a muffled crash in the background and Sid yelled, “Hey! What’s going on out there?”

Sid lurched off-camera. Shouting could be heard and then a groan. Two men appeared on-camera, shoving Sid to the ground. A gaping wound could be seen on Sid’s forehead. Blood streamed down his face. The front of his lab coat was smudged with maroon streaks. Jo flinched at the distress she saw on Sid’s face. She didn’t want to watch anymore; as if turning off the DVD meant that Sid would still be alive. That nothing more would happen to him.

“Wha … what have you done? That’s my wife out there. You have to let me help her! She’s hurt real bad …” Sid tried to pull away from the man holding his arm, but he was struck across the jaw with a vicious back-handed blow. He fell to his knees. “What do you want? Don’t have anything worth much to you. Here, you can have my wallet.”

As Sid reached into his pocket, the other man ripped off the ski mask that had obscured his face. “We’re not here for your money, old man. Where is it?” Jo saw the man’s face, but it was still hard to see his features, because of the camera angle from above the lab table.

“Where is what? I don’t know what you’re talking about …” The man holding Sid’s arm swung again. Sid fell to the floor, unconscious this time. Jo felt a white-hot rage building inside as she watched.

The man without the mask roared, “What the hell are you doing? Now we can’t ask him about the chip, can we? Idiot! Do I have to do all the thinking around here?”

The killers rushed off-screen. Several loud crashes and thumps could be heard as they trashed the room. A voice sounded from the distance, “Let’s get outta here. There’s nothing here. We stay any longer and the cops’ll be on our asses. I’m not going back to jail for those bastards.”

After they left, Jo could hear deep, raspy breaths for a full three minutes. Then there was nothing left but silence. Jo closed her eyes and a tear leaked out.

Frisco’s rough voice filled the small office. “They left him there to die. Like an animal.” Jo opened her eyes and saw him clench his fists. “Damn it! Anyone see anything that could help us identify these bastards? I couldn’t get a good look at the guy’s face, could you?”

Jo was still. Something in the DVD struck her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Frisco, back it up a bit, will you? Back to where the guy pulls off his mask.”

The detective pushed the reverse search button on the remote. Jo watched intently. When she saw it, she felt her heart speed up with adrenaline. “There! That’s it. Pause that.”

She pointed to the neck area of the guy without the mask on the screen. “What is that?”

John and Frisco leaned forward, squinting at the screen. John spoke first. “Looks like a tattoo of some kind. A bird, maybe?”

Jo said, “Looks like a crow to me or a raven. It has something in the beak, but I can’t make it out.”

As Frisco continued to study the still, Jo said, “Frisco, can you get a picture of this frame and check with the local tattoo parlors? Maybe someone will recognize their work. It’s a long shot, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Frisco spoke. “I’m on it. By the way, there goes our theory that they were after drugs.”

“You’re right about that. They ransacked the other offices to make it look like that’s what they were after.” She crossed her arms. “They killed Sid and his wife over the goddamn microchip that’s not even here. It’s been at the FBI labs for a couple of days now.” Jo kicked at the chair in frustration. “I’d bet my next paycheck that NeuroDynamics sent those two over when Sid called them to ask about the chip he found in Calhoun’s head.”

Frisco’s voice was loud in the small room. “Killing them over a fancy hunk of metal and some wires. Jesus H. Christ!” His eyes zeroed in on Jo. “Tell me you got enough to get a search warrant.”

“No. In order to convince a judge to grant a warrant, we would have to prove that these guys were sent here by the manufacturer. We’re going to have to go through the back door on this one.”

Frisco stared at Jo for a moment and then nodded. “I don’t even want to know what you are up to. Just get them.”

Jo and the detective spent the next several minutes reviewing the DVD, looking for missed details. John wandered around the security room, thinking about the ME he had just met, yet admired enormously.
How is it possible to mourn someone you’ve known for only a few hours?

In the corner, he spotted a chewed up stuffed squirrel. Startled, he reached down to pick it up. “Detective? What happened to Caddy, Sid’s dog?”

Frisco looked away from the TV screen. “When we first arrived, she was locked up in Sid’s office. Liked to have killed herself trying to get out, barking to beat the band. Had a helluva time getting her out of the office without her traipsing through the crime scene. Her paws were bloody from trying to scratch her way through the door. She’s with one of the agents down the hall, having her paws looked at.” He turned back to the screen.

John left the room and headed in the direction Frisco had indicated. He stepped into a small office. The agent in the room nodded a greeting to John. Caddy lifted her head off of her bandaged paws and whimpered softly. Her tail thumped a couple of times on the floor. John crouched down beside her. “Poor girl. You’ve had quite a traumatic day, haven’t you?’

Caddy whined again and licked John’s hand. He reached over and scratched her behind the ears. Her amber-colored hair was silky beneath his fingers. She leaned into his hand, tail pounding the linoleum. Her ears perked up at a sound and John felt her tense beneath his hand.

John looked up to see Jo standing in the doorway, looking exhausted. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. “I think we should head back to the condo. Nothing more we can do here tonight. Frisco and his crew are processing the scene.” Jo indicated Caddy with her chin. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s grieving. I don’t know how I know that, but I know it.” He looked Jo in the eyes. “She’s coming back with us. And I don’t give a damn if the resort won’t allow pets.” His voice left no room for doubt.

Jo opened her mouth as if to object, but then reconsidered. “All right. I’ll clear it with Frisco, and then we’ll head back to the condo.”

Chapter Eleven

The Bend

Early December

Lucinda Patterson had never been west of Philadelphia. After Thanksgiving she flew from New York’s JFK to Des Moines International, rented a Beamer and used the GPS app on her Blackberry Smartphone to navigate her way to Turners Bend and the phone’s email function to make arrangements with Chip to meet at a local bar. The drive was turning out to be a surreal experience. The miles of desolation made her feel as if she were Sigourney Weaver in a cheesy Armageddon movie. When she pulled off the state highway and drove into what Chip had referred to as “downtown,” the set of a ’30s movie sprang to mind. She fully expected to see a lanky Jimmy Stewart saunter down the street.
Christ, Lucinda
, she told herself,
this is going above and beyond the call of duty for a client.

She moved from brilliant sunshine into the Bend’s dim, dusty interior, and, lifting her saucer-sized Versace sunglasses, she saw every head turn toward her and all chatter cease. She shook her highlighted blonde hair and with raised chin and a disinterested scowl on her face she made her way to the bar, her high-heeled ankle boots tapping as she crossed the floor. She perched her taut bottom, clad in skin-tight jeans, on a barstool next to the only guy in the place who was wearing a tie and contemplated her drink order.

With sarcasm dripping from her voice, she said to the bartender, “I don’t imagine I’m going to get an Appletini here, so I’ll have your best scotch on the rocks.”

The guy next to her stared into the mirror behind the bar and straightened his tie. She saw him ogling her leopard print silk shirt, unbuttoned enough to reveal a black bra, and her form-fitting, chocolate brown suede jacket.

“Name’s Hal Swanson,” he said. “I sure hope you’re not just passing through Turners Bend.”

Lucinda’s icy smile matched the diamonds on her tennis bracelet as she lifted her glass to him. “Rest assured, I have no intention of passing through Turners Bend. I plan to turn around and exit this town as soon as possible.” She ignored his gaze, finished her scotch and ordered another.

A few minutes later Chip entered the Bend. “Lucinda, sorry I’m late. I see you found your way to a drink. Hi, Joe,” Chip said to the bartender, “I’ll have a Leinnie.”

Chip and Lucinda moved to a table and for the next two hours they labored over the stack of legal documents Lucinda presented. She prided herself on being a tough negotiator.

“Now that a movie contract is on the table, my fee will increase. I need a bigger cut and all my expenses, of course, to travel to California to seal the deal. I could convince Glasser to let you do the screenplay, but honestly, Chip, I think he won’t be happy unless we agree to a professional screenwriter. Let’s face it, you’ve had some success with
The Cranium Killer
, but a lot of that is due to my skills and ingenuity.”

She sensed that Chip was only vaguely interested in putting up any resistance when he said, “Whatever, Lucinda. In this whole book publishing process so little money has trickled down to me that I doubt I’m going to get rich on this movie deal, especially after you’re taken the cream off the top.”

“Oh, cry me a river. I’m going to make you into a national success yet. That is unless you go all J.D. Salinger on me and become a recluse in this podunk town.”

In the end she persuaded him to consent to her outrageous “finder’s fee.” As a small concession she decided not to bug him for more chapters of
Brain
Freeze
, at least not today.

She noticed Hal remained at the bar listening to the conversation between Chip and herself. He kept his booze, a beer and a bump, coming until he appeared to be well sloshed.

The door opened and a teenage girl entered. She stopped to adjust her eyes to the dim light in the bar and scanned the patrons.

“Oh, hi, Dad,” she said to Hal. The girl’s voice had a timid, uncertain quality. She glanced warily around the bar and made her way to Lucinda and Chip’s table. As she approached, Lucinda was astonished that this young girl with auburn hair and a sweet smile could actually be the daughter of the whiskey-soaked cretin at the bar.

“Excuse me, you’re Mr. Collingsworth, aren’t you? I recognized your car outside. My mom, I mean Dr. Swanson, would like you to come to the vet clinic as soon as possible.” There was a note of urgency in her voice.

Chip quickly stood and shook Lucinda’s hand. “I think we’re finished. You drive a hard bargain, Lucinda, but I appreciate your fine work on my behalf. Good luck in Hollywood. I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon,” he said as he followed the teenager out of the bar.

Lucinda started gathering her documents and putting them into her briefcase. Then she saw Hal unsteadily approach with a drink in each hand.

“A gorgeous woman like you can’t leave without at least one for the road.”

Lucinda hesitated. Oh hell, I need one more drink to fortify me for that drive out of the boondocks and back to life in real time.

Hal sat down next to her. He reeked of booze mixed with expensive cologne. She noted the heavy gold bracelet on his right arm and the Rolex watch on his left. The embroidered initials on the cuff of his shirt and the quality of his silk tie did not escape her eye, well practiced in spotting money. “So, your name’s Hal, right? Just what do you do in this pathetic little burg?”

“You’re looking at the guy who owns this town. Half the people here wouldn’t have a job, if it weren’t for me. Own AgriDynamics, a wind turbine manufacturer supported lavishly by our dear federal government. We’re ‘green.’ Green like money,” he said as he took a swig of his Johnny Walker, dribbling some down the front of his tie.

“That’s not all. I’ve got a little something going on the side. Won’t be long and I’ll be living the life of leisure and luxury in the tropics, baby.

“See those two hombres over there.” Hal pointed to two men seated at a back table, both facing the door. “You might think they’re your ordinary run-of-the-mill illegals. Don’t let the disguises fool you. They’re business associates of mine, and they’re making me a very rich man.”