Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (24 page)

“That music system of yours worth much?” Walter now occupied one of the kitchen chairs. He had removed one of his boots and was massaging his foot.

“Pretty expensive. The Bose speakers are top-of-the-line. You going to dust for prints?”

“Well, I expect Jim would love to do that, but we don’t have a CSI in these parts. We’d have to send them off to the Iowa BCI. No teenagers in Turners Bend with criminal records, so it’s unlikely we would get a match anyway. Stuff will turn up. Kids will brag about it at school and someone will turn them in.”

“I thought the pastor’s kid had a meth lab charge.”

Walter hesitated. “Well, we kind of let that go. First offense, pastor’s kid, the explosion scared the crap out of him. He never got as far as cooking any meth. I just gave him a good talking to and made him pick up litter along the state road.

“Jim, I think we’re finished here. We’ll be in touch, Chip. I’ll put out an alert for Runt. I know you’re fond of that little mutt.”

The squad pulled out of the yard with its lights flashing and sped down the road as if it were in wild pursuit of a felon. Chip called Jane.

“Jane, my house was robbed this afternoon, and Runt’s gone. The door was left ajar. He probably just ran out the door. I’m heading out to search for him, but if you get an inquiry about a stray dog I’d appreciate a call.”

“Oh, my God, Chip. How long has he been gone?”

“Could be two or three hours or so.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll search east of your property and you search west.”

Jane and Chip searched until it was too dark to continue. No puppy. Runt had been missing at least nine hours at this point. They returned to Chip’s house and ate cheese sandwiches and had a cup of coffee. Honey sat at attention next to Chip, her gaze fixed on his face as if expecting him to produce Runt of any minute.

“I’d offer you a beer, but they took my beer. Want something stronger?”

“No, I better get home. Sven and Ingrid will be home soon.”

Honey shifted her head and twitched her tail. Then she went to the door and began to whine. Chip let her outside, and she raced behind the shed. A few seconds later she returned with a very dirty Runt frolicking behind her.

Jane scooped up the puppy and began to examine him.

“He’s muddy and covered with burrs, but otherwise I’d say that he just had a little canine adventure. He needs a bath and a good meal. I bet he’ll sleep soundly tonight.” She kissed Runt on the head, then she kissed Chip on the cheek and was gone.

With no laptop, Chip was relieved of this writing routine for the evening. He pulled off the burrs, put Runt in the tub for a bath and fed him. The puppy was soon asleep. Losing his electronics was disturbing, but losing Runt would have been disastrous. As he stroked Runt’s little body its warmth shot straight to his heart. His affection for the miscreant surprised him. Sappy as it seemed, Runt was his baby.

He hadn’t reminded Jane about what the thieves might find on his computer. He’d wait and see what happened. As he lay in bed, he thought about that kiss. Not exactly make-up sex, but it was a start, a good sign. The phone rang, startling him from his musing.

With weariness evident in her voice, Jane said, “Chip, Sven skipped out on his grandmother’s birthday party. Ingrid said he left with Leif Henderson in Leif’s car, and when they returned they smelled like beer.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Turners Bend

May

Monday, May 1, 10:30 a.m.

Lucinda,

My house was robbed yesterday and my computer is gone. I’m sending this from Flora’s computer at City Hall. I have Brain Freeze backed up and you have all but my most recent chapter, but I’m going to need a 30-day extension on my deadline. Sorry, but I’m sure you understand that the circumstances are beyond my control.

Chip

Monday, May 1, 11:00 a.m.

Chip,

Like hell. They must sell computers somewhere in fly-over country. Get yourself a new one pronto, cowboy. I’ll give you until May 15, NO LONGER. But, you have to get started blogging ASAP. The paperback edition of TCK hits the shelves next week. Check your contract! Mystery Ink put some ditzy junior editor named Sha’desha on BF. She thinks you have written me into BF as Belinda. I let her know I am certainly not the victim type, and even without a migraine headache, I’m bitchier than Belinda. Then I had her taken off the project. How can someone with a stupid apostrophe in her damn name be a copy editor?? BTW, who is Flora? I thought the horse doctor’s name was Jane. Stay away from the dames and keep writing.

Lucinda

Chip deleted Lucinda’s reply. “I tell you, Flora, my literary agent is a pain in the ass. Pardon my French.”

“I heard about the robbery. Most people in Turners Bend don’t lock their house or car doors. We trust our neighbors. When something like this happens, makes me wonder what the world is coming to.” Flora brushed dog hair off of Chip’s suede jacket.

“Chief thinks it’s kids and that I’ll get my stuff back. Guess I’ll have to drive into Ames to get a new computer.”

“Maybe Jane would enjoy another trip to Ames with you.” Flora turned her face away from Chip to hide her sly smile.

“Right now Jane probably wouldn’t walk across Main Street with me.”

“You lovebirds have a spat? I thought things were pretty cozy between the two of you.”

Chip ran his hand through his hair, which was in need of a trim. “So did I. I don’t have a very good track record with women. I always seem to make a mess of relationships.”

“If I were you, I’d start by sending her two dozen long-stem roses and an apology note and ask for a date.”

“I don’t know what to apologize for.”

“Doesn’t matter, just say you’re sorry. I know just the florist to do it. I’ll take care of everything for you, including a dinner reservation in Ames. Just trust me.” Flora picked up the phone and set her plan in motion.

“You know, Chip, I have never received so many roses at one time. There must have been three dozen. They’re gorgeous, but you really didn’t have to do that. How did you know that yellow roses were my favorite?” Jane was settled in the Volvo for a second trip to Ames.

Chip gulped. “Three dozen, huh? Lucky guess on the color.”

“About the apology, I should be the one apologizing to you. I thought I could reason with Hal, but I failed.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, the usual ranting and raving and name calling, followed by some threats. He denied everything, said it was just another of my attempts to stick it to him, told me to butt out or …” Jane’s voice trailed off, and she looked out the passenger window.

“Or what, Jane?”

“Or my boyfriend might end up like Owen Hansen.”

“Am I that boyfriend?” He tried not to sound too eager, but failed.

Jane let out a humorless laugh. “Now, let me see, which of my many boyfriends could he have been talking about? Yes, I assume he was referring to you.”

“Seems that is good news-bad news for me. I’m your boyfriend, good news. I might get beaten to a pulp, bad news. So, now what do we do?”

“I don’t know. That was Plan A, and I have no idea what Plan B should be.”

Jane reached over and put her hand on Chip’s thigh. He placed his hand on top of hers, and they stayed that way until they turned into Best Buy.

Chip spent two hours going through set-up protocols on his new laptop and another hour recreating the partial chapter of
Brain Freeze
that he had lost. His evening with Jane had ended with a long, lingering kiss. He thought he might have to send roses to Flora, too. The woman may be a nosy matchmaker, but she knew her stuff. The goodnight kiss alone was worth three dozen roses and an expensive dinner.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Brain Freeze

Two Harbors, Minnesota

John completed a turn at one end of the pool and clicked the lap counter function on his wrist watch. He reached forward with a powerful stroke of his arm and pulled himself through the water. After more than two decades of swimming, first competitively and then finally, for sheer pleasure, the rhythm of the strokes was second nature.

Although he did not consider himself to be an introvert, there was something about the solitude of swimming that John craved. It was different than working out in a gym, where inevitably a sweaty guy on the treadmill next to him spent his entire workout shouting into a cell phone. In the pool, there was a wonderful absence of distractions. It was a world unto itself.

Additionally, he had read several medical studies that supported his belief that swimming increased the blood flow to the brain, which explained why John often found simple solutions to complex problems or conceived of new ideas in the middle of a lap. Today, he began his laps with thoughts of the case and what he hoped Belinda Peterson might discover.

Neither he nor Jo had slept well the night before. They lingered at Belinda Peterson’s house for several hours the previous evening, going over the evidence they had accumulated thus far. By the end of their visit, Belinda seemed to have a clear idea of what they were looking for. The plan called for her to spend the following day—today—looking for specific information on NC-15. Jo stressed to Belinda that she needed to be cautious. What they were looking for was important, but not worth the risk of being discovered. God only knew what Candleworth would do to the CFO if she were found out. She looked shell-shocked by the time they left.

He and Jo had a light dinner and then headed to bed early. Their love making was slow and sweet, and when they drifted off to sleep, John wrapped his arms around Jo. Around two o’clock in the morning, he was wide awake. He tossed a few times in Jo’s bed and then finally got up to watch TV, clicking through the channels to quiet his thoughts. He had not mentioned it to Jo, but he too was worried about Belinda. Not only about the risks she would take, but the headaches that obviously plagued her. John couldn’t help but think about the damage he had seen in some of the other victims’ brains. A prayer escaped from his lips, offered up to spare Belinda Peterson the agony that went through Mitch Calhoun’s head.

A little later, Jo had walked out into the living room, followed by Caddy. Jo sat next to John and dropped her head to his shoulder. The dog curled up on the other side of him and put a heavy paw on his lap. Without saying a word, they watched
Casablanca
. Something about watching the drama of another time period had relaxed them and all three finally dropped off to sleep again.

Now, a third of the way through his swimming routine, his thoughts meandered to his feelings about Jo. He had never known a woman like her before. She was intelligent, but impulsive. Bossy, sure, but she listened to his opinions. She was fierce and stubborn. Their personalities were as different as they were similar. Jo made love to him with abandon, and just thinking about the expression on her face when she climaxed made his heart race. But there was more to it than that.

She took life head on. Grabbed it by the throat and showed no mercy. He admired her for it, but part of him wondered if he could live with the knowledge that her job was dangerous and that she was frequently in harm’s way.

Of course, living with a neurosurgeon’s schedule and demands was no picnic either. His years of dating had left a trail of disappointed lovers, all who complained that his work always came first. He didn’t want life with Jo to be that way.

As he clicked off another lap, he thought, “What the hell do I want to happen? Like I’m going to pack up and move to Minneapolis to be with a special agent of the FBI.”

Powerful kicks, laden with frustration, drove him onward.
Idiot
.
I don’t even know how she feels about me. I could be just another lover to her.
But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really believe it. Jo was not the type of woman to hop from bed to bed.

Getting ready to make another turn, his thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a shadow cast into the pool. Reaching for the edge, he pulled himself upright and pulled off his goggles. Squinting into the bright florescent lights overhead, he saw that the shadow belonged to Jo. Her curls escaped from the confines of her ponytail, springy in the humidity of the pool enclosure. The fact that he had just been thinking of her and what the future might hold for them made him feel as if he had conjured her.
Speak of the devil.

John felt the warmth of her greeting smile all the way down to the pit of his stomach. He had the urge to reach out and pull her into the pool with him, winter coat and all. Before he acted on the impulse, he shook his head to erase any further thoughts of what he would like to do to her in the water. He cleared his throat, “Good morning. Any word from our co-conspirator yet?”

Jo snatched his towel from a lounge chair and handed it to him as he hoisted himself onto the deck. She unzipped her coat and crouched down next to him. “Wish I had time to join you. Looks inviting.” Putting her hands on either side of his head, she turned his face toward her, and gave him a long, lingering kiss. His body reacted immediately and he dropped the towel in his lap, before she could see the evidence of his desire. He felt his face grow warm with embarrassment.