Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (15 page)

After they cleared away the breakfast dishes, Jo brought the laptop to the table and inserted the flash drive. She pulled up one of the files and said, “This spreadsheet shows several large payments from various banana republic governments. They are all listed as ‘prepayment for units.’ Suspicious, wouldn’t you say?”

She refilled their coffee mugs as John read through the file. He said, “You’re right. Just enough to whet our appetite, but it doesn’t prove anything. Seems like another piece of the puzzle, though.”

Jo sat back down next to John. “I called some of the financial experts in our Minneapolis offices. They are going to track the bank account activities and hopefully come up with more information from their end.”

Jo and John spent the better part of the next two hours scanning through all the documents. They eventually came across a memo from the CEO to Ms. Peterson.

Jo pointed at the screen. “Take a look at that. Candleworth sent her a request for payment to people taking part in clinical trials. It makes no mention of what took place during those medical tests, however. They sure were generous with their payments. Ten thousand dollars per person is a lot of money for blood samples and overnight observations. Do you suppose they were paying people to be guinea pigs for the implants?”

“Could be. Is there any mention of who the payees were?”

“Not in this memo. Maybe I can cross reference it to a payment ledger.” She opened the spreadsheet software and searched through the titles. Jo clicked on a file named “Trials.”

“I’ll bet this is it.” She scrolled down to payments made on the date of the inter-office memo. Jo sat back in her seat, stunned.

John’s eyes scanned the file. He whistled. “My God! There’s a payment for twenty thousand dollars to Mitch Calhoun. He was paid for the implant that killed him, all in the name of testing NeuroDynamics’s new gadget. I’m all for testing, but …” He stood up and began pacing the living room. “This is taking things too far.”

He stopped and turned back to Jo. “We’ve got to put them out of business, Jo. Even if this isn’t mind control, it is unethical at best.”

Jo’s green eyes were troubled. “We need more proof. When we nail him to the wall, he can’t wriggle free.” She glanced at the clock in the lower right hand corner of the laptop screen. She started. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late for my shift at NeuroDynamics. I’ve got more digging to do.”

John pulled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt to look at the Rolex on his wrist. “I thought your shift didn’t start until three. It’s only eleven thirty.”

“My boss at the cleaning company called while you were asleep. The regular person from the morning shift has to leave early for a family emergency. He asked if I could pick up some of her hours. Keep searching through these files. I’ll try to get into the chief surgeon’s office today.”

John nodded. “Don’t know if I’ll know what to look for on the CFO’s spreadsheets, though. I wasn’t exactly a natural in the business class I was required to take in college. I
am
looking forward to taking a look at what you find on the surgeon’s computer, though. Then maybe I can start earning my keep around here.”

Jo punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m sure you’ll more than earn your keep, once we get into the medical details. I almost flunked biology.”

As she pulled on her parka, John felt a twinge of regret that their morning together had been cut short and he grew uneasy as Jo took more risks each day. It was as if she was tempting fate.

He said, “Jo, please be careful. These guys are not going to be happy if they find out that you really are cleaning house.”

She saluted and headed out into the cold.

Chapter Eighteen

Ames, Iowa

December

“Nice car,” said Jane. She nestled into the red leather passenger seat of Chip’s Volvo C70 coupe and ran her fingers across the light oak inlays on the dash. “Not many of these around central Iowa, I would guess.”

“Well, a front-wheel drive convertible isn’t very practical for the Midwest, especially during the winter. Iver keeps advising me to get a four-wheel-drive pickup.”

“True, but it sure is nice to be riding in luxury for a change.” Jane closed her eyes and rested her head against the headrest. Chip punched Play on the CD player and Vivaldi’s “Spring” softly emanated from the car’s twelve speakers.

“This is the first moment’s peace I’ve had since all these poisonings started. So what’s your theory, Chip?”

“Flora showed me an aerial map of the county, and I traced Beaver Creek. It runs through the affected farms and along Mabel’s property line. It also runs not far from AgriDynamics. I did some research on industrial chemicals. My theory is that AgriDynamics is the source of the toxins, especially since they were not in the water samples west of the plant.”

“I don’t know how that can be. Hal may be a drunk and a jerk, but he’s a smart businessman. He got into the alternative energy trend early with his wind turbine business. He went through all the hoops to qualify as a ‘green’ corporation. He gets a bundle of federal funds because of it. I can’t imagine he’d do anything to risk that.”

“What about Owen Hansen, the whistle blower? He supposedly was going to rat on AgriDynamics about something. Something serious enough to get him beat up.”

“Oh, my God, I forgot about that incident. I assumed it was about unionization. Hal doesn’t want his workers to form a union, and it’s been pretty contentious at times. Anyway, Owen didn’t work in the plant. He worked in the office. An accountant, I think.”

“Maybe AgriDynamics has union or financial problems, but I still wouldn’t rule out the plant as the possible source of the nitrates.”

Chip and Jane spent the rest of the drive to Ames quietly thinking.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said, breaking their silence.

“I’m digging back into my knowledge of chemistry,” said Jane.

“Hope you can come up with something. Chemistry was not one of my strong suits in college. I vaguely remember a D+ in Organic Chem.”

Chip, however, had switched from wondering about the chemistry of toxins to thinking about Dr. Jane Swanson, Turners Bend’s veterinarian, and a damn attractive woman. Today her hair hung loose instead of in her usual ponytail, and she wore pale lipstick and maybe a little blush. Was this a date? He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted it to be a date. All he really knew was that he was enjoying being in her company.

At the city limits of Ames, Jane said, “By the way, I get a professional discount at Pet City in Ames. You’re going to need a lot of puppy food. It’s time to wean them and give Honey a break from nursing. Let me warn you, pups are messy eaters at first. You’ll have to clean them up after each feeding. Then in about another month, they’ll be ready for their new homes.”

Chip didn’t want to think about finding homes for the puppies. He already knew he couldn’t part with Honey or Runt, but that left seven puppies to place in good homes.

After purchasing three, thirty-five-pound bags of Science Diet Lamb and Rice dry puppy food and two cases of canned food, plus some veterinarian supplies for Jane, they headed for the House of Chen restaurant.

They opted for the all-you-can-eat buffet and started with a glass of plum wine and the appetizers: cream cheese wontons, egg rolls, lettuce wraps, shrimp toast, and chicken wings. Next they filled their plates with chicken fried rice, kung pao beef with broccoli, sweet and sour chicken, and egg foo yung. The food was fresh and flavorful, but far from authentic. Not one dish was similar to the food that Chip had savored while visiting Hong Kong, but he kept that opinion to himself and ate with enjoyment of both the food and the company.

Jane poured hot tea into one of the small white cups and sat back in the booth, cradling the cup in her hands. “So, back to your theory about the toxins, even if AgriDynamics is the source, I doubt Hal would look kindly on us marching into AgriDynamics to check his chemicals and take samples. He’d put up a real stink.”

“I gathered that. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with him? I surmise you two did not have an amicable divorce, and I’m ashamed to say, I know way too much about nasty divorces.”

“Hal and I started dating in high school and went off to the University of Iowa together. All of Turners Bend, including the two of us, assumed we would get married. Sven and Ingrid came along and all was fine until Hal started to drink too much. Said he wanted to escape from the stress of work and that he felt trapped in a loveless marriage. He had an affair with a nineteen-year-old receptionist in his office. Like a fool, I said I would forgive him if he went into treatment. They tossed him out of treatment just about the time my father died and the vet practice became my sole responsibility. The day he came home drunk and shoved Ingrid against the wall was the day I kicked him out and filed for divorce.”

“When was that?”

“Ingrid was three at the time, so that would have been eleven years ago. To this day Ingrid doesn’t want to have much to do with him, but he seems to have some sway over Sven. All in all it’s been ugly, but I have custody of the kids, and I find great fulfillment in my practice.” She took a sip of tea. “So, now that I’ve bared my soul, what about you?”

“Married three times, divorced three times. My fault, my fault, and my fault. I’m trying to grow up and get my act together. I’m forty-six, so I’m getting a late start, wouldn’t you say?”

“What went wrong in your marriages?”

“Mary, my first wife, and I were very young and immature when we married. She grew up long before I did. She’s the one that should have gone to medical school, but she became a RN instead … from what I hear a damn good one. After I quit school, our marriage fell apart. I started to spend all my time gambling in Atlantic City. She finally left me. Now she’s married to a nice guy and has two kids. We don’t have any contact, but my brother sees her at the hospital where they both work. I think I’ll always love the memory of the way we were in college.”

“And your second wife?”

“Oh, Lord, when I met Bambi—”

“Bambi? Seriously?”

They both laughed. He said, “I was in a downward spiral, drinking, carousing, spending money like I was a rich playboy, which I kind of was. She was a cocktail waitress in a bar I frequented. All tits and ass on the outside, but a gold digger underneath, on the lookout for a guy with a respectable name and a bank account to match. A few lap dances and she had me by the gonads, in more ways than one. Six months after a quickie wedding in Las Vegas, she filed for divorce and walked away with half of my sizable trust fund and a big, satisfied smile on her face. As we left court she whispered ‘sucker’ in my ear. Have to say I deserved it. Currently she’s going after the royalties from my book. My only hope is that she will snag a bigger fish and cut me loose one of these days.”

“Dare I ask about wife number three?”

“Ah, that would be my divorce lawyer Erica Slater.”

Jane laughed again. “Wow.”

“Told you I needed to grow up. Damn smart woman, damn good lawyer. She prevented Bambi from taking my whole trust fund. In court she and Bambi were well-matched. It was quite a circus. Little did I know at the time that I would end up the clown. After the divorce proceedings she pursued me. I really thought she was ‘the one,’ that I had finally grown up and was ready to settle down and re-join Baltimore society. No sooner had we married than she turned around, divorced me and took the other half of my trust fund. I still don’t know how I missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“That she was a lesbian. She said that being married to me confirmed her sexual orientation. She left her law firm and is now spending her time and money in Europe with her former paralegal, a twenty-two-year-old woman.”

“Ouch!”

“I ended up with my car and not even a shred of self-respect. Like I said, all three were basically my fault, although I did get a smidgen of revenge against Bambi and Erica.”

“How so?”

“I killed them off in
The Cranium Killer
, using the names Brandi and Erin. Had the serial killer removed their brains. Didn’t skimp on the details either.”

Jane half shrugged. “Well, at least you got something out of the relationships—a plot.” Then she changed the topic. “How’d you end up in Turners Bend? No offense, but it’s rare for us to get newcomers to the town, and you do seem to be a bit of a fish out of water.”

Chip laughed. “And here I thought I was blending in quite nicely. I didn’t leave Baltimore with Turners Bend as my destination. It’s just where I got tired of running. I decided it would be a good place to hide out, live like a hermit, and write my second book.”

“Have you always been a writer?”

Chip laughed again. “No, I stumbled into that gig the same way I stumbled into Turners Bend, but I’m starting to enjoy it. Apparently I may be able to support myself with it, or so says Lucinda Patterson, my literary agent. She’s trying to sell the movie rights to my first book.”

“Lord, don’t mention that to Sven. He wants to be a filmmaker. Have you noticed how he’s always videotaping everyone? He’s adamant about not being a vet. He won’t help out in the clinic or even with our pets at home. He says he doesn’t want to go to college and threatens to quit school and go to California or New York. That’s one of the battles Hal and I are waging. Hal’s encouraging him. I think it’s just because he doesn’t want to pay his share of college tuition.”