Deadly Cost of Goods

by Margaret Evans

  The two FBI agents were still trying to figure out why they had no images for all the photos and videos they had taken.

  “I guess ghosts like iPhones,” Sven quipped. “Maybe the technology is different.”

  “Please don’t delete my photos, Chief Fitzpatrick or Special Agent Frye.”

  “As long as they are not shown or shared with anyone or uploaded anywhere, nothing will happen to you,” Frye informed him. “Chief Fitzpatrick and I will each require a copy of them on a thumb drive for our files.”

  Connor noticed that Laura was still staring at Lorelei’s bones. He put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Time to go home?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  It was time to go home.

  And plan a memorial and burial service for Lorelei.

  Chapter 39

  Drizzly, cold and gray made the day perfect for how Laura felt. She had arranged for Lorelei’s memorial service which included Rev. Eddy Barlow, the St. Bartholomew’s church choir, and refreshments set up and ready at the community center attached by a breezeway to the police station. All that needed to happen was for Laura to lead the service.

  The crowd was huge at the old cemetery where Samuel Rage himself was buried and where he had reserved one spot for his beloved granddaughter should she ever be found. With a population of over twelve thousand people in Raging Ford, Laura figured close to two-thirds were there. Add to that the press and curiosity seekers and well-wishers from nearby towns, and she saw from her vantage point at the head of the coffin what was probably close to ten thousand people. They spilled into the parking lot and well beyond, onto neighboring properties and even in the streets. Parked cars and vans jammed the roads leading to the cemetery.

  The coffin itself was suspended above the grave by the usual bands and pulleys. The church choir began singing a few requiem songs softly as Laura shielded her eyes from some of the bright lights of the TV cameras and photographers. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of phones were trained on her. This event, finding and burying Lorelei who had been missing for over a hundred years, had brought far more notoriety than Laura thought possible.

  Harry Kovacs had been good about it, though. He had rightly guessed the number of people who would come, with a wireless microphone for Laura to hold, amps and speakers surrounding the gravesite area, and huge TV screens off in the distance so those folks on the periphery could see and hear the ceremony, just like at football games. He’d thought of everything.

  Laura looked out over the crowd again, in front of her, around her, behind her. She saw hordes of uniformed police officers and FBI agents in black suits, all communicating with each other through devices that looked like the walkie-talkies she had played with as a child. Perhaps they still used communication equipment like that. On TV, they used ear buds, but who knew if that was really true or not? After all, these agents looked as if they had wires running to battery packs below their shirt collars, too. She just didn’t know.

  Her mind filled, instead, with thoughts of the decades-old conspiracy to remove all of Samuel Rage’s family from the world. Certainly, someone had been successful with Lorelei, among dozens of others, including her own mother. She wondered if it was still going on, and if so, who was driving it after all these years.

  When the singing stopped and after Father Barlow invoked the crowd in a prayer, a hushed silence fell over the throng of people. It was now time for Laura to take over the service.

  She moved to the spot where Harry had told her to stand and took the microphone from him. Sergeant Connor Fitzpatrick held an umbrella over her head. A quick glance told her that her new-found and long-lost twin brother was standing there, somber and watching. Her gaze remained, as she wondered how he felt about this whole memorial service and if it meant anything to him.

  As she opened her mouth to speak, the crack and echo waves of a rifle shot startled the crowd, and Laura, who had been staring at her brother, watched a spot appear on his forehead as he was knocked backwards to the ground. Her father’s words came to her as time slowed.

  It’s called a ‘report,’ Laura. A report.

  Gasps and cries seemed far away as the next report she heard went into the back of her head. And then there was nothing.

  Connor couldn’t stop it and he watched in horror as she fell onto Lorelei’s coffin. The two white roses she had intended to put on the coffin slipped from her hand onto the damp ground.

  In the blink of an eye, the remaining descendants of Samuel Rage were wiped off the face of the earth.

  Chapter 40

  Laura sat up shaking. She was sweating and her heart, racing. She tried to slow her breathing but ended up gasping. Reaching for her phone to see what time it was, she knocked it to the floor. She half stumbled from her bed and ran to the window to open it and inhale deeply of the cool, fresh air. It was early hours yet, she could see, and the sun looked to be rising on a clear day.

  She was calming, slowly, and retrieved her phone and saw that she still had two hours to go before she had to shower and dress for Lorelei’s memorial service. Still too early to make a call to Connor and even if she did reach him, what could he do?

  Then her phone dinged and she saw that Connor was actually here early. She told him to key in the code and come upstairs.

  He was in full dress uniform, but she ran to him in her thin cotton gown.

  “What happened, Laura?” he spoke into her hair, holding her tightly.

  “I dreamed that someone shot and killed Justin and me at the memorial service! All those people, all the cops and FBI agents were there, and nobody could stop it.”

  “Okay, sit down for a minute.”

  He took off his jacket and laid it on the end of her bed, set his hat and white gloves on it, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and guided her to the bathroom where he turned on the cold water faucet.

  “Wash your face, Laura. You’re not fully awake yet,” he said gently, as if to a child.

  He held her hair back as she did so and reached for a towel for her to dry her face when she was done.

  They sat on the couch in front of the blank, big-screen TV in the living room.

  “I thought you might be a little nervous today. That’s why I came early.”

  She grabbed his hand.

  “It was so real, Connor.”

  “Yes, I know they can be.”

  “It doesn’t make things happen, though, just because I dreamed them.”

  “That’s right. It doesn’t. But you still have the vest, so wear it.”

  “I wrote a poem for Lorelei, did I tell you?”

  “No. I’m anxious to hear it. And by the way, you’ll be standing in front of the three maple trees that Samuel planted at the head of the gravesite. He put them there for Lorelei once she was found and laid to rest. He said it was to keep the sun out of her eyes.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “Harry told me.”

  “How does Harry know so much?”

  “No idea. He just does.”

  “I think they can prop her headstone against one of those trees. I had them carve it early and the poem is on it.”

  “Will you read it out loud, too?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m part of the show.”

  He pulled her close.

  “It’s not a show, Laura. It’s something really nice you’re doing for a little girl who never got to grow up because of someone bad. I hope one day we find out who did this.”

  “Even if they’re dead, and we get some proof, can a court convict posthumously?”

  “Yes, they can. Murder has no statute of limitations in either federal or most state courts, including Minnesota.”

  “That would make me feel better. I’m glad the wounded agents from the raid are all okay,” Laura commented.

  “Me, too. Hey, I would offer to make you some coffee if mine turned out half as good as yours,” he said, loosening his arms from her and standing. He pulled h
er up, too.

  “I showed you the secret. It’s warming up the press before you make the coffee. Pour it out before you put in the boiling water. I’m sure it will taste wonderful.”

  Connor hung around the kitchen, grinding coffee beans and attempting to duplicate Laura’s awesome coffee, while she showered, dried her hair, and dressed for the memorial service.

  They enjoyed his coffee and two home-made, cinnamon swirl muffins and then he drove her to the cemetery.

  Chapter 41

  Security at the memorial service and interment for Lorelei Rage was tight. A number of families from Mapleton and Eagle Junction came to the service, as well as a hefty number of residents of Raging Ford. Press were everywhere…multiple television and radio stations, as well as the usual curiosity seekers from hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles away. Police from Duluth were brought in to prevent a media circus and there was a hint of plain clothes feds scattered among the crowd.

  The press, including Charlie Kovacs of the Raging Ford Bulletin, represented all the local, state, national, and even two international news services. Of course, Charlie had a plum spot right in front because this was his town and a really big story. The little cemetery was jammed and spilled into the parking lot. There were to be no questions out of respect for a thirteen-year-old girl who had done nothing in her brief life to deserve her fate. Video cameras did roll, as did audio recordings of the service, and endless snapshots and videos from smart phones.

  Endless.

  Lorelei Rage’s memorial ceremony was simple and respectful. Chief Arthur Mallory gave the opening words to attendants and the media, thanking the combined efforts of several task forces for helping to close a very old missing person’s case. There was no mention of Laura Keene’s involvement, at her request.

  As he spoke, Laura looked through the crowd, fewer, she thought, than the ten thousand of her dream. She was glad it was a sunny day with clear blue above them and that Samuel’s maple trees would keep the sun out of Lorelei’s eyes.

  Laura returned to her perusal of the throng and wondered if any of them were secretly Munleys or Dowells, having successfully hidden their roots, just waiting to see if a connection was being made between Lorelei’s death and one of their ancestors. Her nightmare came back to her vividly as she looked toward her brother Justin Carlson sitting in front near Laura’s three girlfriends. His head was bowed as he read through the memorial flyer.

  Father Eddy Barlow next gave a moving eulogy about a thirteen-year-old girl who had simply gone to the library with her new kitten in her pinafore pocket to return books and was never seen again. He led the group in prayer and song and blessing for her eternal peace and gratitude that she had been found. Then he handed the microphone to Laura to read her poem that had also been carved on the tombstone, propped against the middle maple tree until the ground on and around Lorelei’s grave settled and hardened.

  Laura was nervous, not because she was in front of a crowd, but because of the occasion. She never expected to find the child jammed into a cavity below a window, wrapped in tar paper as if she were an inconvenient piece of garbage shoved aside. The cold criminality still stung her as she began to speak. She glanced once at Connor who nodded to her.

  “Lorelei Anna Rage. She’s the reason we are all here today. For those of you who wonder why this service was not held in a church, you may not be aware that Samuel Rage was not Catholic. His family was staunch Anglican, and so was Lorelei. While we could have had a memorial service in St. Bartholomew’s, we could not have held a Requiem Mass for her. Father Barlow and I discussed this and decided not to have everyone go one place for thirty minutes and then another. This is the old cemetery in Raging Ford, and Samuel insisted one space be kept unused should his granddaughter one day be found.” She looked behind her and touched two of the maple trees. “He planted these trees for her. This is the right place for our prayers for her.

  “Lorelei was the beloved daughter of Lucas and Anna Rage, and granddaughter of Samuel and Violet Amsterdam Rage. She was born June 21, 1905, and disappeared on July 22, 1918, at the very young age of thirteen. Her date of death is presumed the date of her disappearance because of where her remains were discovered. She was found on June 21, 2019, exactly one hundred fourteen years after her birth, and is laid to rest today, June 28, 2019, nearly one hundred one years after her disappearance.

  “No one here today knew Lorelei, but from old newspaper accounts and family letters and journals, we are told she was a shy girl, often smiled even when she was sad. She loved animals and wildlife and was an avid bird-watcher. She left behind a small notebook of pages describing the birds she found in Raging Ford, among them, our state bird, the loon. She was a frequent visitor to the Old Library and loved reading ghost stories. We may never know who killed her, but we know for certain that she is now finally at rest and where she should be.”

  Then Laura cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

  Ode to Lorelei

  O lost little girl

  In the dark and the cold

  With your fears of a night without end,

  No one heard; no one knew

  Of the place where you lay

  After searching for years ’cross the land.

  Now you’re found and the sun

  Shines its light and its warmth

  In your heart, in your soul, in your hope.

  You’ve come home, Lorelei!

  You are ours once again,

  Now you rest in our love, for you are free.

  “Rest in peace, my dear cousin. You were never forgotten. Rest in peace.”

  She laid two white roses on the little casket.

  The church choir led the crowd in Amazing Grace, accompanied by a bagpiper, borrowed from the Minneapolis Police Pipe Band. Laura got tears in her eyes when they got to the line, “I once was lost but now am found.”

  * * *

  “Did you see Charlie Kovacs there?”

  Connor nodded, at the Valencia in a booth in the back over two coffees.

  “Charlie and a host of other local, national, and international news agencies.”

  “This is getting a lot of press. I managed to slip away before the paparazzi could catch me today. The past week since Nolan’s forensics team found Lorelei’s bones has been a living nightmare of phone calls, people stopping by, newspapers, television, and anything else you can think of, asking me what part I played. Somehow I still managed to sell off most of the rest of my holiday stock.”

  “Did you stick to the script?”

  “Completely. I found Lorelei’s library card by accident and handed it over to the police. I should wear a disguise for the next few weeks until something else more exciting happens.”

  “Better make it more than sunglasses and a big hat. That never worked for Hollywood stars.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of Aunt Rose’s dark brown wig. I brought it with me for no good reason.”

  “That might work. By the way we got the DNA report back from the lab. There’s a very distant cousin-type relationship. They said highly likely Lorelei.”

  She smiled, glad to hear the confirmation. Looking into her coffee cup, she continued.

  “Was it wrong of me after everyone left to ask Andrew Smedley to open the coffin so I could make sure her remains were still there before they lowered the casket?”

  “No, it wasn’t, Laura. We all understood. Have you caught any of the news stories yet?”

  She shook her head.

  “It might be helpful if you made a full statement to Charlie and let him share it with the other news services. Check with Nolan on what you’re allowed to say. Run your talking points past Dad or me before you release them because we have to stay consistent and keep you out of it. Dad and I have already spoken to everyone who was there the day Lorelei was found. Nobody is to say anything to anyone, even family, friends or significant others.”

  She nodded. It had been a very long day.

 
“What I found supports the theory of a conspiracy against my family.”

  “Yes it does, circumstantially, but that also means you’re getting closer to finding solid proof and you have to be more careful, for your own safety. I think it’s time you take a step back and turn all the research over to Nolan.”

  “The FBI? Is it their jurisdiction?”

  “It could be in more than one state and having several people involved makes it a conspiracy, both of which fall under federal purview. Plus, he has more resources for finding people’s histories. Besides, you have a lot on your plate right now, like setting up the dunk tank,” he finished, giving her a look.

  She smiled.

  “What do you want me to give him?”

  “Your list of the current residents of Raging Ford and all your materials from Smedley & Smedley.”

  Laura thought about it.

  “I did hit a lot of brick walls.”

  “And, I think he can get around them.”

  “He won’t want my research?”

  “You can give him that, too, but sometimes it’s better if someone begins their own research from scratch first and then cross-checks with someone else’s.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll put it on a thumb drive. Connor, do you think there were any closet Munleys or Dowells at the service?”

  “Hard to say. We may never know. But I know why you put the two white roses on Lorelei’s casket. One for you and one for Justin.”

  “Did you notice that Justin didn’t really seem interested in Lorelei’s memorial service and burial? Do you think he caught the significance of the second white rose?”

  “Well, it’s all new to him, including you. He’s from a bigger town than Raging Ford and probably doesn’t fully understand how our fishbowl operates. And I have no idea how to answer your second question. I don’t read minds.”

  She gave him a look.

  “Now when did we switch from my explaining people’s behavior and actions to you, to your explaining them to me?”