CHAPTER 7 – MONDAY MORNING
When Kelly arrived at work on Monday, he was surprised the media presence consisted of just one satellite truck. The truck was active, however, with a camera gal, a sound engineer, and a grip who handled a reflector to even-out the light on the reporter, who was poised to go live. Emily Tucker, the public relations assistant, stood near the truck, notepad in hand. Kelly stopped to talk to her.
"Not as bad as I expected," he said. "I thought there'd be more media."
"A local station did go live earlier," she said. "But they packed up a few minutes ago. I think the hotter media spot today is Turtle Lake."
Kelly nodded. "Makes sense. How come you're out here in the parking lot?"
Emily gestured toward the reporter. "She requested some background on the company. I'm just waiting 'til she's done."
Kelly wondered how Emily was handling it all. Not only had her boss been killed, but it had to be a hell of a stressful PR situation.
Emily looked at him. "More media requests have come in to talk to you. I could ask Mr. Dilman. He might say okay."
"Heck, no. I have no interest in fanning that fire."
When Kelly went through security, a young guard took him aside. "Mr. Potts wants to see you in his office."
"Ah, right." Kelly had forgotten the voicemail from Barb. He continued to the reception desk, the guard tagging along behind. Barb set the appointment clipboard on the counter for Kelly's review. No teasing today. Instead, there was only a grim expression from Barb and a subdued nod from Kelly -- their silent acknowledgment of the latest murder.
"All-staff meeting today," said Barb. "Ten o'clock."
Kelly wasn't surprised. It promised to be a somber event. He gave the clipboard a quick glance. As expected, the signups were lagging a bit.
"Let's go," said the rent-a-cop.
Kelly gave the guard a steely look, and then turned back to Barb. "Eddie is apparently anxious to see me."
Barb nodded sympathetically.
The guard led the way, which Kelly found demeaning. As they arrived at Potts' office, Kelly continued down the hallway as the guard was about to knock at Potts' door.
"Hey." The guard trotted after him, grabbing his elbow.
Kelly slapped the guard's hand away and followed up with a sharp thrust to the chest that set the guard back on his heels. "You wait here," said Kelly. "I'll be back in a minute." The guard waited.
Kelly went to the administrative support commons, the large room that led to Heckathorn's office and Human Resources. Yellow tape still indicated that the VP's office was sealed. Jessica's glorified cubicle was on the perimeter, adjacent to Diane Lundeman's office. In the middle of the room were smaller, low-walled cubicles surrounding an island of printer/copiers and the recycling bins. Now brightly lit and occupied by several employees, the room presented quite a different scene from Saturday morning when Kelly had found Heckathorn.
He peered into Jessica's space. "Hi, there."
"Oh, good morning," she said. She got up and gave him a hug. "How you doing?"
"Okay. You?"
She shrugged, grimaced a bit. "I guess I'm alright. I managed to sleep okay."
"I get to meet with Mr. Wonderful ... Potts. He had Barb call yesterday afternoon to set it up, so I don't think it's about Padden's murder, but he had one of the security guys waiting to give me an escort. So, it promises to be interesting."
"Well, when meeting with the boss, one of the important rules is to be enthusiastic and positive."
"That's probably not going to happen."
"And try to establish a rapport; build a connection over some interest the boss may have."
"I should have brought some Little Debbie cakes."
Jessica covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.
"I could quote Ronald Regan. He's got a shrine to Reagan in his office."
Jessica's eyes widened. "I saw that."
"My favorite part is the movie poster for Cattle Queen of Montana, with Ronald Reagan as Barbara Stanwyck's 'dangerous friend.'"
"Do you really detest him?"
"Eddie? Oh, he is what he is. There are worse bosses. He sometimes creates more problems than he solves, but he stays out of my hair for the most part. I'll let you know how it goes."
With that, Kelly gave her hand a farewell squeeze and returned to the anxious guard, who waited to knock this time until he was sure Kelly was ready to go in. Kelly entered to find Potts at his desk.
"Hi, Ed. What's with the chaperone?" Kelly nodded toward the guard.
"I wanted to make sure you came right away, before you got busy in the study units." He waved the guard away. "Wait outside."
Kelly took the chair in front of Potts' desk.
"Terrible what's going on here, just terrible," said Potts. "Ron, Barry, now Jamie. Frightening stuff."
Kelly nodded, actually agreeing with Potts for a change, but feeling no need to add words of his own.
"Well, Kelly, this is tough, but I'll get right to the point. We've been getting calls from all the media outlets in town, and now even the national media, wanting to know who found the bodies and why his vehicle and apartment were searched."
"I hope you're not telling them."
"Of course not. But it's still a shitty deal, 'cause the staff realizes who the police were searching, and even worse, the current test subjects know. They're already skittish."
"So what are you saying?"
"Here's the deal. You'll have to take some time off. A leave of absence."
Kelly didn't see that coming. "A leave?" His first thought was the loss of pay, but that quickly shifted to the issue of getting new studies set up. He didn't like handing it off and then dealing with someone else's mess when he came back. "How about I just explain it to everybody? They know me. They'll understand. The police are just being careful."
"Nope. No good. We've already decided."
"We? Who's we?"
Potts seemed flustered. "Well, me. I decided."
"You really think my presence makes the staff and the subjects that uneasy?"
"Of course! It's human nature. We need this precaution to quell any fears – unreasonable as they might be. No matter what we say, there will still be people uncomfortable with you in the building."
"I don't buy that. We should try explaining it to them."
"Look, it's probably just for a few days. Once we get a new set of studies started, with a new group of test subjects – people who don't know about the searches – then we might be okay."
Kelly studied Potts for a moment. He didn’t seem any more ridiculous than usual, poised in front of the Ronald Reagan memorabilia adorning the wall -- a framed mass-produced "signed" campaign photo, a commemorative plate, a framed collection of bumper stickers, a portrait in a gilded frame -- it was a collection that continued on the opposite wall where the movie career was immortalized.
Something about the leave of absence didn't ring true, especially Potts' claim that it was his decision. Kelly was pretty sure Potts wouldn't have done it on his own.
"This also protects, you, Kelly. You don't have to worry about being cornered by the media in the parking lot, maybe even getting your picture in the paper."
"Was this the consultant's idea?"
"No. I haven't been in the consultant meetings."
That did ring true.
Kelly decided the leave idea likely came from Dilman, which raised an interesting thought. Maybe getting Kelly out of the way for a few days cleared the way for 146, the study Dilman was worried, to be completed without the risk of Kelly finding out what Dilman was up to. If that was true, Kelly was flattered; it meant Dilman didn't see him as corruptible.
"Sorry we can't make it a paid leave," said Potts, as he toyed with an acrylic paperweight containing a remnant of the Berlin Wall. "That would run afoul of the terms we're working under for the deal to sell the company, but you'll quickly make it up with the raise we gave you."
Seeing Potts surrounded by
images of Reagan, Kelly suddenly realized Potts was going for the Reagan hairdo. It wasn't working. Eddie's hairline was better suited for a George H. W. cut. Kelly couldn't help a bemused smile. "Okay. I'll take a break. Let me know when you want me back."
"Okay, good." Potts seemed a little puzzled, not quite sure how to interpret Kelly's expression.
Kelly was now convinced that Potts was more messenger than manager when it came to the leave. Potts might not even know the true reason. He was no actor. Consequently, if the real purpose was to prevent Kelly from discovering fraud on Dilman's part, keeping Potts in the dark would be the smart move. Potts would be more convincing if he didn't know. Clever.
Kelly stood. "I'll put a vacation reply on my phone and e-mail, then head out."
As Kelly left, he tapped the bobblehead on the shelf by the door. The smiling little Reagan nodded with enthusiasm.
The security guard fell in behind as Kelly walked back to the clinical study wing. Having a guard for an escort didn't help Kelly's image. He could see it in the faces of the people he passed. Angie was in the office when they arrived. Usually chatty, she only offered a timid "Hi, Kelly." Apparently sensing something was up, she quickly left the room.
Kelly changed his outgoing voice message and composed an e-mail to the people who would need to know about his absence. He explained the company line about his departure as tactfully as he could. He also copied Jessica. He activated the e-mail auto-reply and was about to log off, but reconsidered. Instead, he opened the drafts folder and found his e-mail to Dr. Thomas Whitcomb – the note disclosing the protocol discrepancy. He stared at it for a long moment, and then clicked send.
On the way out of the building, Kelly, with guard in tow, passed the reception desk. Barb, having read his e-mail about the leave, gave him a look of sympathy and silently-mouthed "What the fuck?" Once Kelly was out the door, the guard stayed behind.
As Kelly climbed into the Delta 88, he saw a radio station SUV cruising the parking lot. He wondered if they were on the lookout for a blue pickup. He was about to start the car when his phone rang. The caller ID read Naughton Pharmaceuticals. It turned out to be Jessica. She had just read his e-mail.
"They laid you off over the news stories?"
Kelly recounted his meeting with Potts. "I think there's more to the story. I think Dilman saw an excuse to get me out of the way and took it – one less complication for whatever he's up to."
Jessica agreed to meet up with him later. When he arrived at his apartment, he spotted a TV news van parked in the street, positioned where the occupants could watch both the front door and the driveway. He continued past, glad he had swapped vehicles. He parked out of sight on the other side of the block, and then cut through the parking lot of the neighboring funeral home to reach the fire escape unseen. He climbed to Ted's apartment, knocking on the door's large glass window. "Anybody home?"
"Come in, come in," Ted called from the kitchen. "Just finishing breakfast."
Kelly let himself in. It wasn't unusual for him to show up on the fire escape.
"Grab yourself some coffee. How about a couple eggs and toast?"
"No thanks." Kelly poured some coffee.
Ted retrieved two eggs from the fridge and cracked them into a pan. Kelly sat at the dining table nestled in the corner of the kitchen where windows overlooked both the funeral home and the park beyond. "There's a news van camped out on the avenue. One of the TV stations. That's why I came up the fire escape."
"A wise move. Over easy, right?"
"Really, I'm okay," said Kelly.
Ted put some bread in the toaster. "What brings you home at this time of day?"
Kelly related the story of his suspension.
"Getting suspended might be for the best," said Ted, as he turned the eggs. "It's apparently a dangerous place. Maybe avoiding it will help you live longer."
Kelly chuckled. "I guess that's the bright side."
Ted slid the eggs from the pan, buttered the toast, and delivered the breakfast. "By the way, I talked to Tony again, the news editor at the Daily. He says the business reporter heard rumors that Doctor Naughton might be angling to get his company back."
Kelly stopped salting the eggs in mid-shake. "Really?"
"Seems some friends of his have been buying up Naughton stock. Maybe he's the buyer you heard talk of."
"I don't think so," said Kelly as he chopped up the eggs with his fork. "The way I heard it, it's one of the big pharma companies, mainly for the patents."
"I bet Naughton wouldn't like that! His company and its patents could be gone forever if that happened."
Kelly sipped his coffee, deep in thought.
"What?"
"Bennie, the janitor, the same guy who raised the idea of Kupmeier being killed because he knew something, he also brought up the idea of Naughton being involved."
"You think he knows something that implicates Naughton? Something to do with the sale of the business?"
"Maybe. There's also revenge. Naughton does seem to have ample motive."
"The janitor … what would he know?"
"Probably nothing, but I'm starting to think I better find out."
Kelly quickly finished eating, thanked Ted for the breakfast, and returned to his car. He called the Naughton switchboard and had Bennie paged. He knew Bennie's extension by heart, but Bennie was rarely at the janitorial desk, and Kelly didn't want to leave a message. After a half-minute, Bennie came on the line.
"Bennie. This is Kelly. I need to talk to you. Can you meet me by the service entrance? I can be there in ten."
"Sure, Kelly. Sorry to hear they gave you the boot. Raw deal."
"Thanks. See you in a bit."
The idea of Naughton being involved had gone from preposterous to plausible, but the motive was still hazy. Could the killings help Naughton get the company back? Was he trying to drive down the stock price? Maybe the killings could disrupt the other sale? And the method ... was choking on pills just a smokescreen to make the killer seem crazy? One thing for sure, Naughton's assistant certainly looked capable of pulling it off.
Kelly found Bennie waiting outside by the dumpsters. "Thanks for meeting me. When we were talking the other day, you wondered about Kupmeier being killed for knowing something. You then mentioned Naughton being involved. It didn't mean much to me then, but I've heard some stuff that makes me think you know something."
"What did you hear?"
"There's a rumor that Naughton wants to get the company back."
"Huh. Well, I don't know about that. When I said that stuff, I was just thinkin' out loud."
"Really? If you have some idea how Naughton could connect to the murders, maybe something about taking over the company, the police would want to know."
"I don't know anything, and I don't want to get involved with the cops. No offense, I know you want to be one, but I got my reasons to keep my distance from cops."
"You in some kind of trouble, Bennie?"
"Oh, it's nothing really." Bennie lapsed into thought. Kelly waited, anticipating that Bennie had more to say. "You know, maybe we can try to find out what Naughton is up to. I have my own reasons for wanting to know, and if Naughton is involved with the murders, all the better. Maybe we can make a connection."
Kelly was startled by the idea that Bennie had an interest in Naughton's activities. "Bennie, what the hell are you up to?"
"Can't tell you."
"Something Kupmeier and Barry and Padden found out about?"
Bennie shrugged. "Maybe."
"Were they were using it as leverage, trying to stop Naughton's takeover?"
Bennie stared at the ground. He shifted from one foot to the other. "If you went to the police with a story like that, you'd have to tell them where you heard it. And if they talked to me, I'd tell them the truth ... I never said any such thing. They'd think you're crazy. Besides, I didn't know about Naughton wanting the company back until you just told me."
Kelly had long rea
lized Bennie wasn't as dim as first impression suggested. He was actually quite bright, but this was new territory. "So, what are you suggesting?"
"If we could find out what Naughton is up to, you could tell the police based on your own knowledge, leaving me out of it."
"What's your angle, Bennie?"
"Kelly, this is one of those deals where it's better for you not to know. Better if no one else knows, too. Can I trust you to be quiet about this?"
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to not say!"
"Anything. Don't say anything. See, I could lose my job over this. If you knew, you could lose yours, too. It's better if you can say you didn't know. Better for others to not know, too – like your friend, Jessica. Honest, I'll tell you everything when the time is right – for sure if we find out about Doc. Naughton. And maybe that secret would be the break the cops need."
Kelly looked askance. The suggestion of finding a break in the case felt like an attempt to manipulate him, but he remained intrigued. "How do you figure you and I are going to find that out?"
"I've got a lead, but I need some help tracking it down. How about we meet later and talk it over?"
"Okay. But I'm still going to tell the police about Naughton tying to take the company back."
"That's fine. I don't care about that. Just don't get me involved."
Bennie gave Kelly his cell number, and Kelly promised to call around five when Bennie got off work. Kelly fired up the 88 and put a little distance between himself and the company before pulling over, planning to call Sergeant Haugen, but he paused, phone in hand, reconsidering.
Calling Haugen just to tell him about a rumored re-acquisition attempt by Naughton seemed pretty thin. Even if the rumor proved true, Kelly had nothing to connected it to the murders. Maybe Bennie knew something, but telling Haugen could make Kelly look foolish, since Bennie would likely play dumb.
What the hell did Bennie have up his sleeve? Could it really get them fired? Or was that bullshit? Why would Bennie care what Naughton was up to? And how the heck did he think they could find out? Kelly sighed, placed the call to Haugen, deciding the re-acquisition rumor was worth reporting.
Haugen answered his office land line and listened respectfully. Kelly added the idea that the victims might have known something about Naughton, giving them leverage that could keep him on the sidelines, eliminating a competing bid for the company.
"So, you think Naughton might be trying to get his company back because a reporter is hearing rumors of stock purchases by Naughton's friends, and the victims maybe had something on Naughton, but you don't know what." Haugen's tone was skeptical.
"I admit it's speculation, but maybe they found out that Naughton's current research isn't on the up-and-up, or maybe he infringed on some patents or something, or maybe it's just something personal that would cause a scandal. I don't know, but it would add another motive besides revenge."
"So why didn't you tell me about this proposed sale?"
The question caught Kelly by surprise. "I don't know. I guess it didn't come up."
"I asked you about any company business, any changes."
"You did?"
"Yes. On Friday morning."
"Friday. That explains it. I didn't find out about the sale 'til Mr. Dilman told me on Saturday."
A moment of silence told Kelly that Haugen was taking notes.
"You think the sale could be significant?" Kelly asked.
"We're looking at it."
"So, you already heard about it? I suppose failing to mention it was another reason you wondered about me."
"Not really. No reason to think you knew about it. Kind of surprising Dilman would tell you."
"Normally, I suppose he wouldn't."
"Why this time?"
Kelly regretted the turn in the conversation. "He was just concerned about a study that could affect the sale, wanted me to help keep it going."
Haugen explored the issue further, with Kelly explaining the study's importance. The questioning had Kelly briefly wondering if Dilman could be behind the murders, but the murders appeared to work against Dilman's interests.
"Okay," Haugen said at last. "Thanks for the call."
Kelly doubted whether Haugen's appreciation was sincere. The thin Naughton angle now felt stupid, and the whole story of Dilman's concern about the study seemed like a waste of Haugen's time. Kelly tossed the phone onto the dashboard, embarrassed, feeling like a nuisance. He stewed for minute, half inclined to call Bennie, cancel the meeting, and wash his hands of the mess.
Maybe it was time to leave town, sign up for a law enforcement program somewhere. Kelly didn't want to take out another student loan, but he felt his chances with the Fargo PD were fading – it was already a long shot given the competition, and getting embroiled in a triple murder investigation wasn't going to help. Maybe he could keep working at Naughton, or the hoped-for spinoff, but that didn't seem all that desirable just now -- murders and getting laid-off had a way of cooling one's desire for a job.
Wanting to hear a friendly voice, he retrieved his phone and gave Jessica a call.
"Care to have lunch?" he asked. "Bunch of new stuff to tell you."
"I'm swamped. It's crazy here, but if you don't mind keeping it quick, we could share my sandwich at the picnic table."
A few minutes later, Kelly joined her at the lone outdoor table on the grass between the Naughton parking lot and the sound barrier along the freeway. The satellite truck had left, but the extra security was still in place.
It was a hot August day, but a slight breeze and the dappled shade from a young ash tree kept them comfortable. Kelly sat beside Jessica, straddling the bench so he could face her. They shared her turkey sandwich as he told her about the rumor of Doctor Naughton wanting to get the company back and Haugen's cool reaction to that as a possible motive for murder. "And I'm meeting with Bennie tonight. He's got some angle he wants to talk about."
"An angle on the murders?"
"Maybe, but I don't think so."
Kelly chose not to be more specific, appreciating Bennie's implied message that Jessica, being in the HR department, could be in an awkward ethical spot if she knew Bennie was up to something that could cost him his job.
"Well, maybe Bennie can solve the case," she said, smiling. "Sure be nice if someone did. What a scandal if the murderer turned out to be Naughton, one of the city's favorite sons!"
"A long shot, I think, but Naughton's an odd-ball. Who knows?"
Jessica finished her half of the sandwich and tucked the plastic container in a bag. "Kelly, I just want you to know, I … I don't get close to guys quickly … like you and I did. That's never happened to me before."
"Sure, I understand. It's not every day a gal meets a murder suspect. Pretty irresistible."
"Oh, stop!" She gave him a push on the shoulder. "You're awful."
He smiled. She sighed. She rested her head against her hand, her elbow on the table. "I just felt comfortable with you. I feel I can trust you. I see how other people react to you – people who know you. Like Eddie Potts. He treats you as an equal, but he doesn't do that with the other employees. With them, he's always right, and if he's wrong, it's someone else's fault."
Kelly chuckled. "You've gotten a good read on him in a short time."
"Well, it's not just me. I've talked with others about him."
"He and I had our moments when I first got promoted to study monitor. When he was unreasonable, I could usually put him in an awkward spot by asking the right questions. He soon realized I couldn't be intimidated. We got along after that. He might be the kind of guy who has to be promoted to management because he's too much of a liability in the trenches."
"What was he before?"
"He was a study monitor, even a team leader. He studied to be a physician's assistant, but never finished. I guess that was still good enough for the leader position. I think he also ended up with an MBA, or maybe that's just talk. Might not have finished that,
either."
Jessica gathered up the bag. "Well, I suppose I better get back to work."
"I think I'll go home and take a nap."
Kelly walked her to the door. With other workers coming and going, they parted with a squeeze of hands instead of a kiss.
Arriving home, Kelly saw no sign of lurking reporters, so he parked in his usual spot. Despite the hot weather, the apartment was bearable, since he had left the window air conditioner on. Without it, even the shade of the big elm couldn't stop the apartment from roasting. Kelly flopped on the bed, but wondered if he'd sleep with so much on his mind. On top of everything else, now he had the mysterious behavior of Bennie. Kelly trusted Bennie, had been confident of Bennie's character, but this wrinkle created some doubt. He was looking forward to eventually finding out – as Bennie had promised.
He soon dozed off amid fantasy thoughts of a dramatic arrest at Naughton's lab – thoughts that became a dream of a train on the abandoned railbed, with federal agents in an old-fashioned boxcar, armed with Tommy guns, and Naughton as the conductor, taking tickets.
His phone buzzed, waking him from a deep sleep. A couple hours had passed. Caller ID indicated Paula Keen, the reporter. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and took the call.
"Kelly, you're making it hard to keep your name out of it."
"I am? How so?"
"I hear you've been suspended."
"Crap. I'm not suspended. Just taking a leave of absence."
"Big distinction."
"It is. I haven't done anything wrong."
"So why the leave?"
"Because of the news coverage; thank you very much. Everybody at work knows the police searched my truck and my apartment. Even the clinical subjects know, and management thinks I make them nervous, could scare some off."
"Do you make them nervous?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. I think I could have explained it to everyone, but the people in charge claim it's better if I stay away."
"Well, sorry about that, but I did what I said I would – kept your name out of it."
Kelly sighed.
"Maybe you should give us an interview. Tell us what it was like finding the bodies, what it's like having to take a leave of absence because of it. You said you wanted to explain to people."
"That's all I'd need. Management would shit their collective pants."
"Can I quote you on that?"
Kelly laughed. "Sure, that would be great. But seriously, we're not on the record here, are we?"
"Of course we're on the record – not that you've said anything I can use."
"You won't report the leave of absence?"
"I don't think so. Feels like a stretch. 'Guy who found two of the bodies takes a leave of absence because bosses think others might think he's a suspect.' Yuck. That doesn't sound like a story to me."
"Thanks. Do you think any other stations or the paper might make something out of it?"
"You never know these days, but they probably won't even find out about your leave. That would take a little hustle, a little work, and for some of them, their expertise doesn't extend much beyond lip gloss application."
Kelly smiled. "That's cold. Do I sense a little bitterness?"
"Just dismay. The profession isn't what it used to be."
"I noticed your station was the only one with video from the scene last night."
"That live shot was from an overpass just inside microwave range. They stopped on the way back, set up on that high spot and beamed back the footage. Made it look like the reporter was at Turtle Lake, but he was actually miles away. And speaking of the Padden murder, do you have anything new for me?"
"Nope. I only know what's in the news."
"Okay, but call, please, if you find out anything. I gotta run."
"Wait. Anything you can tell me?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno. Anything. I bet I’m not your only source."
"Well, the cops seem to be in hyper-drive. Organizationally, they've got a lieutenant assigned as supervisor for the case. Sergeant Haugen is lead investigator. He has the entire criminal investigation unit at his disposal, and a friend in the department tells me he's enlisted most of the detectives. Without a clear suspect, they have to do a lot of digging. And they're apparently talking with the FBI."
"The FBI? They don't usually mess with murders."
"They'll help with crime analysis – crunching the raw information, like phone data."
"Information from cell phone towers, I suppose. Tower dumps, they're called. We learned about that in school. That requires a court order, but that wouldn't be a problem."
"The police department's intelligence unit probably isn't set up to handle that much information. There'd be a lot of calls, especially with the Naughton building so close to the freeway – a lot of active phones passing by."
"If a common number shows up near all three crime scenes, that would be a hot lead."
After hanging up, Kelly did his sit-ups and push-ups. He then consulted the thermometer on the fire escape. It read 90. The day was also humid -- not unusual for a summer month in North Dakota. Kelly considered blowing off his usual run, but decided not to. He'd take the path along the river to Lindenwood Park. It was a busier trail, attracting bikers, dog walkers, and other runners, but of all his usual routes, it had the most shade. He donned a frayed Twins cap, grabbed his phone, and went outside. He had barely started running when he heard a shout.
"Hey! Kelly!" He turned to find Detective Amundson trotting up behind him.
"Glad I caught you. Where you headed?" Amundson's friendly demeanor seemed less than genuine.
"I run most days."
"Heard you got suspended."
"Leave of absence," said Kelly, not caring to tell the whole story.
"We checked out your tip, talked to Dr. Naughton this morning."
"And?"
"Waste of time. He has no interest in re-acquiring the company, doesn't own any stock, and hasn't been using that nice lab he has in that old depot."
"There's still the revenge angle."
"He denies any conflict with Kupmeier, though he clearly wasn't too fond of him, and he says he barely knew the other two guys."
"Did you meet his sidekick?"
"Richard Ivers. Naughton took the guy in, gave him a job after he aged out of foster care. Seems the doctor has a soft spot. Anyway, Ivers wasn't in when we were there, routine shopping, according to Naughton."
"Sorry to send you on a wild goose chase."
"I bet you are."
"Any luck tracking down Mickey Bartz?"
"Yes. Living in a crew camp outside Watford City, driving a delivery truck. His alibi checked out."
"And I still don't have one."
"That's right. You were on the scene for two of the murders, and had plenty of time to reach the third."
"Okay, I get that you have to check me out, but Sergeant Haugen seems to believe me. Why don't you?"
"I don't trust belief. I trust facts. And one obvious fact is that you're not doing us any favors when you make things up about people like Doctor Naughton. That's the sort of thing a killer might do – trying to appear all helpful."
"I didn't make anything up, and here are two facts for you. I had nothing to do with any of the murders; and you have no facts to suggest otherwise. All you have is your amateur profiling."
Kelly turned, jogging away.
"Maybe so," Amundson called after him. "But I might be right, and I'll be watching you."
Kelly knew Amundson was just doing his job, but it still pissed him off. He was used to being trusted. He expected to be trusted. He took pride in being trusted. That there was any doubt was maybe understandable, but it was also unsettling, and even worse, it maybe ruined his odds of being hired by the department.
Kelly's route meandered along the river, but he soon stopped, finding shady spot to sit with his back against a tree by the riverbank. He closed his eyes, letting the slight bre
eze soothe him. Only a few birds chirped in the heat of the day.
Three murders, the leave, his hope of landing a spot with the Fargo PD getting smoked. It had been a stressful few days.
He decided that a big part of his stress came from the frustration of having no control. There seemed to be nothing he could do about the bizarre chain of events. A few days ago, everything had been clear; he had a plan; his life was on track. Now, about the only thing he could do was meet with Bennie and hear his ideas about investigating Naughton. The thought was a bit humorous, a bit troubling, yet oddly soothing. At least it was something. Better than sitting on his hands with no job to go to, and he was curious about Bennie's motive.
Kelly resumed his run, eventually returning to his apartment where he opted for the fire escape again, in case any reporters still lurked out front. He found Ted on the fire escape, enjoying the warm day in the shade of the elm as he read the newspaper. Ted looked over his reading glasses as Kelly came up the stairs. "Awfully hot for a run." Ted folded his paper and set it on the small table between the chairs. "Get yourself a glass of water, and then come tell me what the janitor had to say."
"The janitor is just the start," said Kelly. He accepted Ted's invitation, going to the kitchen where he downed a glass of water, refilled it, and returned to the landing where he plopped onto the other chair. He pulled off his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"The meeting with Bennie was interesting. He's up to something, and he's not willing to say what, but it could apparently get him fired."
"Murder, perhaps."
Kelly chuckled. "That would get you fired, alright. No, it's something else, and for some reason he wants to know what Naughton is up to. And he doesn't want anything to do with the police. Says he has his reasons. I'm going to meet with him again after he gets off work. Meanwhile, I had another run-in with Amundson."
"Detective, right?"
"Yes. Same guy who came to the club last night. He was outside the apartment when I left for my run. He's the one who thinks I fit some kind of sociopathic criminal profile."
"Really?" Ted seemed genuinely amused. He tossed his glasses atop the newspaper.
"Yeah, it's crazy. We had this in school. Profiling is possible, but it's not an exact science. And they don't have any trained profiler here. It's just armchair profiling. When we talked about this in class, I think the nearest profiler was in Chicago, with the FBI."
"I wouldn't fret too much about it. They aren't apt to spend much time looking at you without some evidence."
"I get the feeling Sergeant Haugen believes me."
"Then he'll probably call off Amundson. He won't want him wasting time with you."
"But there's a lieutenant supervising the case."
"Certainly, but that's usually a support role. The supervisor is there to make sure Haugen has the resources he needs, and also to deal with the media, politicians, attorneys, the families of the victims – that sort of thing. That allows the lead investigator to focus on investigating."
"That's good. I feel okay about Haugen."
"So, this janitor ... why would he be curious about Naughton?"
"I'm not sure, but I wonder ... do you think it's possible that he could be selling information to the media?"
Ted scoffed. "Absolutely not. The local media has no money for that sort of thing, and besides, paying for news is frowned upon."
"But it's not just local. This murder story is going national. I've heard those tabloids will pay for a story. Paparazzi and all that."
"Only if someone famous is involved. I don't think this story qualifies, at least not yet. But ..." Ted looked off into space, deep in thought. "Maybe ..."
"What?"
"Maybe he's a spy."
"A spy? Are you serious?"
"Industrial espionage. Janitors are perfect. They can pass along unshredded garbage from sensitive offices, place bugs, sneak peeks at e-mails, find password lists, and maybe even install Trojan software to spy on key computers."
"Bennie a spy." Kelly slowly shook his head. "Hard to imagine."
"But it fits. It explains the fear of getting fired. It also explains his interest in Dr. Naughton's work. Someone who could profit from knowing what the doctor was up to might pay quite well."
"Haugen doesn't think Naughton is really trying to get the company back, but if he's wrong, maybe the company trying to acquire the business would want to spy on Naughton."
"True. It could also be someone wanting product development secrets, or insider information for stock trading."
"Bennie. That crazy bastard. Who'd have thought?"
"Question now is, what bearing might the spying have on the murders?"
"You think it's related?"
"Not directly. Corporate espionage isn't something that would benefit by having the police nosing about, but it does explain why your friend wants nothing to do with them."
"Maybe he came upon some evidence, or a motive."
"That does sees more likely. He could be in a bad spot, reluctant to come forward because of the spying."
"Which could explain why he wants my help. He said if we found out what Doc Naughton was up to, I could tell the police and keep him out of it." Kelly paused, reflecting on his encounter with Amundson. "If we did find something, I want to be damn sure it was significant before I brought it to the police. Amundson regarded my Naughton tip as another indication I'm a murdering, attention-seeking nut-job."
"Except for the murdering, sounds like they've got you pegged."
Kelly smiled. "Maybe I'll add the murdering."
Kelly promised to keep Ted posted. He headed up to his apartment and called Bennie's cell. They agreed, at Bennie's suggestion, to meet behind the used book store across the bike path from Naughton's digs in the old Milwaukee Road depot.
Kelly arrived at 5:30 to find Bennie's van parked in the shade of a scrub oak that had taken seed along a broken-down fence at the back of the book store lot. Kelly eased the Delta 88 close to the fence where it wouldn't easily be observed from Naughton's building. He joined Bennie in front of the van. The oak tree and the trashed fence helped hide them.
"Looks pretty quiet," said Kelly of the Naughton building.
"They don't spend a lot of time here," said Bennie.
Knowing that seemed consistent with spying, something Kelly decided not to bring up. He figured the less he knew, the better off he'd be in case he was ever questioned. Besides, disclosing his suspicion might put an end to Bennie's cooperation. And the idea of reporting Bennie to the company wasn't a serious consideration. When it came to the high moral ground, the company had no edge on Bennie. So Kelly played it cool, content to wait and let it play out.
"You know, the cops have checked out the place," said Kelly. "Didn't find anything. Though maybe they wouldn't know what to look for."
"I don't think the interesting work happens here," said Bennie. "I think Naughton has another place. I followed them once."
"Where'd they go?"
Bennie shook his head. "They pulled into a truck stop south of town. I kept going, afraid they might have spotted me. My van's kind of obvious, and I already followed them all the way through town and down the freeway. I never did see where they ended up."
Kelly smiled. The spy theory had to be right. Somebody must have good reason to pay for the information.
"That's why I could use your help," Bennie continued. "With a different vehicle, we can maybe see where they go."
"Well, if it helps convince the police that I'm not the murderer, I'm all for it."
"They still suspect you?" Bennie turned around, looking toward the street in front of the bookstore.
"Yes and no. They've asked a lot of questions, but I don't think they're considering me too seriously."
"Maybe they're watching you?" Bennie scanned the area. "Any chance they followed you here?"
"I don't really know. Amundson said he'd be keeping an eye on me. Do we care?"
&nb
sp; Bennie kept examining the parked cars, the traffic. Then he looked at Kelly's Delta 88. "Maybe they put one of those GPS tracking devices on your car."
"I hope not. Actually, no they couldn't. They'd need a warrant for that. And that would take some evidence. I did sign papers allowing them to search my apartment and my truck, but even if that extended to GPS tracking, the car wasn't included; they didn't even know about the car. At least I don't think they did. Pretty slim chance they'd be tracking me."
A light-duty truck pulled into the parking area of Naughton's building. It looked like a used rental, a yellow box truck with a van-style cab. The garage door opened and the truck pulled inside. Naughton's assistant had apparently been driving; he came to the back of the truck, glanced around, but didn't see Kelly and Bennie hidden behind the fence and the branches of the oak tree.
"Richard Ivers." Kelly kept his voice low, even though the truck was a good 40 yards away. Ivers disappeared into the garage, returning with a wooden crate that he effortlessly loaded into the truck.
Kelly scrambled to the passenger side of the Delta 88 and opened the door, which squeaked loudly. Bennie shushed him, but there was little chance the noise was loud enough or unusual enough to attract attention. Kelly retrieved small binoculars from the glove box, ran back, and steadied them on top of the fence.
"The crate's labeled 'live animals.' There are ventilation holes around the top."
"What kind of animal?" asked Bennie.
"I can't tell. I'm not even sure the crate's occupied."
Dr. Naughton came into view, valise in hand. Ivers closed the van's rear door and the two men climbed in the cab, Ivers driving.
"Here we go," said Kelly as the truck's backup lights came on. "Let's see if they head south again." He and Bennie ran to the Delta 88. Kelly buckled up and handed Bennie the binoculars. He wasted no time speeding out from behind the bookstore.
"You said they took the freeway?"
"Yes. They took Main out to I-29."
"If they're watching for a tail, this car would be pretty obvious. We'll take First Avenue and get ahead of them."
"Follow from in front?"
"Right. If they're taking the same way as before, it should work."
At University, Kelly turned left, heading south. "There!" Bennie pointed out the truck, almost two blocks ahead, almost to Main Avenue. Kelly turned on to First Avenue and hit the gas. A few older, run-down houses quickly gave way to an industrial district.
A cement truck pulled into their path. Kelly zipped around it, using the turning lane to pass. Bennie grabbed his seatbelt and buckled up. A traffic light ahead turned yellow, but Kelly didn't slow. Bennie braced himself with hands on the dash as they bounded over a rail line. Kelly turned left as the light went red, the tires squealing on the hot pavement. They passed under the Burlington Northern tracks and caught a green light as they turned onto Main.
"There they are!" called Bennie. "About four blocks back." He trained the binoculars on the traffic behind. "And if any cops had been following you, I think we lost 'em."
Kelly kept up his speed, wanting to get far enough ahead that a red light wouldn't bring the two vehicles together. Two minutes later, they took the ramp onto the freeway.
Bennie, watching the truck, soon confirmed that it had followed them. "Yep. They're coming this way."
"How far to the truck stop?"
"Highway 46. 15 miles or so."
Fortunately, Richard the bruiser wasn't a lead foot. Kelly was able to increase the lead without going so fast as to risk getting pulled over. Bennie, watching with the binoculars, reported on their steady progress.
The 88's air conditioning didn't work, so they ran with the windows open. The wind snatched up an old receipt, twirling it past the windshield before sucking it out the window.
"Let's turn off our cells," called out Bennie over the noise.
"Why?"
"Just in case." Bennie dug for his phone. "The cops can track where you go. If something happened, it might be best if there wasn't a record of us going out this way."
"First of all, we're not out to cause any trouble. At least I hope not, right?"
"Well, no."
"And second of all, the cops need a warrant to track our phones."
"But they can check tower records, can't they? Without a warrant?"
"They still need a good reason."
"What if we decide to snoop around and someone sees us?"
"I doubt they'd go to a judge looking for tower records over a trespassing incident."
"Well, I'm still leaving mine off."
Kelly pondered a moment. On the chance that Bennie's secrets could get them into trouble, he turned off his phone, too.
It wasn't long before the city gave way to flat, open farmland. The only trees were along river traces, old shelter belts, and the occasional farmstead. In places, you could see to the horizon, a vista that some newcomers, accustomed to forests, hills or mountains, could find disconcerting. The traffic had also thinned, only a handful of cars in sight, which was not uncommon in this sparsely populated state.
The truck stop was the only building at the exit for Highway 46. It was on the right, but Kelly turned left onto the two-lane blacktop, which was empty in both directions. The air above the asphalt shimmered in the heat. As soon as he crossed over the freeway, he pulled to the side, still high on the overpass, giving them a good vantage point.
They climbed out to watch for the truck. A few grasshoppers flitted along the shoulder of the road, and several dragonflies bobbed about on the breeze. Besides the sound of a pickup passing on the freeway below, all they heard were the buzz of insects and the ticking of the hot car.
"There it is," said Bennie, almost in a whisper as he watched through the binoculars.
"Did they drive that truck when you followed them before?"
"No, they were in some big SUV. Black. What do we do if they come this way instead of heading toward the truck stop?"
"They might not even take this exit. Could be that they pulled off last time because they saw you following, or maybe they just needed gas. If they do come this way, we'll just sit tight. They'll figure we're locals."
"They are taking the exit," said Bennie.
They got back in the car. Kelly adjusted the rear view mirror to watch. The truck pulled into view at the top of the ramp and turned right, heading the other way.
Kelly waited several seconds before making a U-turn and driving slowly back across the overpass to follow.
"There they are," said Bennie.
The truck had continued west down Highway 46. To keep their distance, Kelly pulled into the truck stop and circled a couple parked semis before pulling back onto the highway.
"We'll take it easy," said Kelly. "This road's about as flat and straight as they come. We should be able hang back a half-mile or so."
Bennie kept the binoculars trained on the truck. It wasn't long before he announced a turn to the left, the truck heading south on an unpaved road. Kelly allowed the truck to disappear around a bend before he followed. The terrain here was less flat and more wooded – the road running along the edge of a meandering ravine.
After two miles, the dust kicked up by the truck ended at a farm lane that branched to the right. Kelly drove on by, but they caught a glimpse of the truck as it negotiated a small wooden bridge over a stream.
The gravel road took them up a slight rise. Kelly turned off, onto an over-grown lane. "Might have been a farmstead once." No trace of buildings remained, but off to the left were some beehive stacks. Kelly kept to the right, parking where a hedge of old lilacs hid the 88 from the road. They got out and hiked through the tall, dry August grass and into a grove of trees, soon finding themselves above the stream, where they had a good view of the property beyond.
The main feature of the property was a two-story ranch house with an open porch on two sides. Adjacent to the house was a newer two-stall garage. Beyond the house was an old barn with
a stone foundation. The open basement door faced the house, its rusted door hanging askew on a runner. The doors on the upper floor, at the end of the barn, were also open, one hanging crooked, detached from a hinge. The barn's roof had fallen in on one side where the gray walls had buckled. Brush grew thick about the building, and a sapling had emerged through the barn's broken timbers. The stone-block silo seemed sound, but it lacked a roof.
The truck had pulled up to yet another building, a long wooden structure with a roof of old asphalt shingles. The building was cut into the far hillside. Naughton stood by the twin doors of the building as Ivers carried in the crate. Naughton followed, closing the doors.
"Is that some kind of barn?" asked Bennie.
"Probably. Maybe machine storage, or a turkey barn. I don't know. Jessica might know. She's from a farm. It's cut into the hill for some reason."
"Maybe they grew mushrooms in there."
"Maybe," said Kelly, though he doubted it.
Kelly decided the discovery of the place outweighed his concerns about Amundson's opinion of him. He pulled out his cell and turned it on.
"What are you doing?" asked Bennie.
"We should call the cops."
"I thought we were going to find out what they're up to first."
Kelly looked at Bennie as his phone booted up. "What if they're killing people?"
Bennie looked back toward the building. "I suppose you're right."
"I know it's a long shot, but if there's any chance..."
"I don't think it's such a long shot," said Bennie, with a conviction Kelly found surprising.
Kelly looked at his phone. "Can't call the cops; there's no cell service out here."
A moment later, Naughton and his companion re-emerged from the building and walked to the house.
"Seen enough?" asked Kelly.
Bennie seemed reluctant to leave, but he slowly nodded.
As they headed back to town, Kelly wondered whether Bennie was a janitor recruited to be a spy, or a spy planted as a janitor. He also wondered how much more Bennie knew.