by Allan Evans
“We need to take a look at the Camry,” he said hooking a thumb toward the transported Toyota. “Doing some comparison shopping.” He looked up at the man who stared down at Rob in return.
Cade took a step toward the two men, unsure where this was headed.
“Bwah ha ha,” the man let loose with a barking laugh sounding somewhere between a hyena and a donkey. The loud laughter echoed through the wrecked vehicles. He was still laughing as Cade, followed by Rob, headed for the rear of the vehicle.
“No reflective decal. Damn.”
“Hang on.” Cade scooped up a handful of the sand and fine dirt that made up the roadway. He swung up onto the back of the large tow rig. “I have an idea.”
“Good,” Rob said. “I’m fresh out. Go for it.”
“Because the paint transfer was wiped, maybe he removed the decal as well. But even so, some of the adhesive might still be here.” Cade approached the Camry’s rear end and tossed his handful of road debris at the Toyota emblem. Cade looked up at Rob and the driver’s open-mouthed faces. He followed their gaze.
A perfect circle of dust the size of a quarter appeared on the Camry.
Cade winced and glanced over to Rob and shook his head at Capt. Rejene’s voice on the speaker. “Tell me it was all just a coincidence,” she requested. Never in the history of the universe did anyone like to disappoint their boss on her very first day.
Their hesitation clued her in. “You don’t have good news, do you?” she asked.
No, not good news.
“I think there’s some good news. Now we know.” Rob said, in a brave effort to put a positive spin on it. He looked at Cade and shrugged. They were headed west on 94, moving past the sprawling 3M headquarters.
“There is a connection,” Cade added, steering the unmarked Impala past a slow-moving SUV with Wisconsin plates. For some reason in Minnesota, the slow ones gravitated to the left lane. “Both vehicles appeared to have a reflective decal on them. The one on Allard’s BMW was quarter-sized, with a honeycomb pattern designed to gather light and bounce it back. If you’re following someone from a distance on a dark deserted road, the decal would make it considerably easier.”
“Back up. You said both vehicles appeared to have a disk. What do you mean, appeared?”
“Allard’s car had the disk, Janek’s didn’t. However, an identically sized circle of adhesive was in the same location. Clearly, the decal had been removed recently. The adhesive wouldn’t have been sticky otherwise.”
“What about signs of a PIT maneuver?”
“Her car rolled down a rocky embankment, so there was damage over the entire vehicle, but there was damage consistent with a PIT.”
Rejene sighed. “All right. Look for a connection between the two victims. If we have someone stalking women, there has to be a connection. How did he find them?”
“We’re on the way to talk to Allard’s personal assistant. He should be able to give us an idea of who she met with and where she’d been.”
“Send me pictures of the disk and the sticker residue. I’ll put out a briefing, give the road troopers a heads-up and maybe we’ll get lucky and spot one on another vehicle. I’ll have Tessa search case files for similar incidents. And gentlemen, let me remind you: we’ll need to keep this quiet. We don’t need this to become a media shitstorm. This is looking like a murder case now, but until there’s a smoking gun, I want the investigation to stay here with the patrol. Understood?”
“Copy that.”
Cade hit the end button, disconnecting the call, however he was confident Capt. Rejene had beat him to it. “Looks like we’re in for a ride,” he said, swinging the vehicle onto the downtown St. Paul exit.
Lineker & Marsh was headquartered in the trendy Lowertown neighborhood of downtown St. Paul. Overlooking Mears Park, the law offices were located on the top three floors of the newest tower in the capital city. Cade left the Impala parked behind the building superintendent’s designated parking spot. “He shouldn’t be going anywhere.” But to be safe, he slipped a police business card onto the windshield. It never looked good to have your work vehicle towed.
“We’re meeting with Allard’s personal assistant, Richard Schusterman,” Rob said as he opened the etched glass door on the 31st floor, waving Cade in first. “He knows her day-to-day life far better than anyone.” The attractive redheaded receptionist gestured them to the luxurious waiting area, informing them that Richard would be available momentarily. Rob plopped down into a leather armchair and picked up a Fortune magazine while Cade stood at the floor-to-ceiling window and took in the view of the nearby river.
“Greetings, I’m Richard,” a voice said. Cade turned to see a tall man with a clean-shaven head, and an expensive green suit. Richard looked to be in his mid-thirties and confidently led them down the hallway as they made their introductions. “Coffee?”
“I’m trying to limit my coffee to four cups a day,” Rob replied shaking his head. Cade declined as well. Richard stopped outside an expansive office, pushing the door open.
“This was her office. We can meet here. No one has had the heart to move out her belongings.” Cade took in the trappings of power. A wall of framed photographs dominated the room. Photos of Allard with sports stars, photos of Allard with judges, and photos of Allard with former sports stars who were now judges. On the opposite wall, a gorgeous mahogany and glass bookcase featured more photos of Allard. Cade recognized the governor, mayors of Minneapolis and St. Paul as well as both senators. Many local media celebrities as well. Allard was well connected. But more than that, the photographs made one thing obvious: Jennifer Allard was a knockout.
He picked up one of the frames. “She photographed well,” Cade turned to Richard who hovered nearby. “Was she seeing anyone?”
Richard stepped next to Cade, hands in his pockets, his leather suspenders showing. “Several actually. As you might imagine, Jennifer turned a lot of heads. She had power and confidence. She scared away some men, but many others were drawn to her. I didn’t get the feeling she was too involved with any of the men. Her focus was more on her career. It requires a fair amount of work to get to Jennifer’s level. It also necessitates a fairly large time commitment to maintain that status. Not much time left for relationship building.” He took the frame from Cade, returning it to the shelf.
Cade walked over to Allard’s desk, a shining example of minimalism. Bamboo and glass, the desk was more museum-quality than your typical office furniture. Richard followed close behind.
“Would you care for some sparkling water?” Richard asked.
“That would be nice.” Cade waited until Richard left the room and looked at Rob. “I get the impression he’s here to make sure we don’t touch anything. He’s never more than a couple of feet away.”
Rob smiled. “Yeah, that must be it.”
Richard reappeared with a silver platter. “I brought an assortment of cookies and pastries as well,” he said glancing over at Rob. “Help yourself.”
Cade walked behind Allard’s desk, hiding his smile. “Do you have her calendar still?”
Richard nodded, lifting an electronic tablet from Allard’s credenza. “Certainly. We maintain each of the partner’s calendars electronically. It simplifies the support staff’s job function.” He looked up from the device. “What do you need?”
“In the last two weeks before her death, what had she been doing? Who had she met with?”
Richard scrolled down the tablet’s page. “Dinners, personal trainer, fundraiser at the governors. A number of client meetings. I’ll print her schedule for you.”
“What about her cases?” Rob asked. “Had she received anything threatening recently related to her cases?”
“Recently? Try never. She’s not that kind of attorney. She worked exclusively for 3M. Corporate law is procedural. It’s positioning, covering the corporate ass, such as it is. The confrontations you’ll encounter in other aspects of the law simply aren’t there in corporate law
.”
“Was she on Facebook?” Cade asked.
“She was.” Richard slid over the tablet. “Here’s her page.”
Rob stepped over with a large glazed pastry in his hand. They both studied the page as Cade scrolled down. Nothing threatening on her page, just talk about her comings and goings. And much like her office, there were photographs of Allard with all sorts of people. This was clearly someone who enjoyed being in front of the camera. And the camera definitely liked her as well.
“Check out her friend list,” Rob suggested. “Maybe there’s something there.”
The list showed 342 friends. Cade moved down the list, not recognizing anyone.
Sliding the tablet back to Richard, he asked, “See anyone you don’t know? Maybe she had an online stalker.”
Richard folded his arms and made no effort to look at the list. Instead, he looked intently at both investigators. “So, it was more than a tragic accident. I wondered why you’re following up on her accident almost a month after the fact.” He held Cade’s eyes. “Was Jennifer murdered?”
“I can’t answer with complete certainty, however new evidence has raised some difficult questions. We’re here looking for the answers. We’ve had another one-car fatality this morning that had some similarities. And I hate coincidences.”
“We do,” Rob added. “Because most of the time it’s not a coincidence.”
“Exactly.” Cade leaned forward. “When we dug deeper into this coincidence, we found a pattern. And a pattern means human intervention. However, until we can establish the who and why, we need to keep this quiet. Are you okay with that?”
Richard nodded gravely.
“Good.” Cade turned to Rob. “We should check her cell phone records, see who she was in contact with.”
Richard cleared his throat. “I can save you the trouble. Partners are issued mobile devices and I’m able to access her call log. Would you like me to print it for you?”
In the elevator, phone logs in hand, Cade smiled. “I need a personal assistant like Richard. Sure would make life easier.”
Rob glanced over as he pushed the lobby door open. “Yeah? Richard looked as if he was interested in you as well.”
Cade held up his hand. “Stop. I’m not going to go there with you.”
Rob’s laughter echoed through the lobby as they stepped out into the afternoon sun.
Holly Janek’s boyfriend, Tom Soderholm, lived in a downtown Stillwater condo. A newer building, it was one of a series that had sprung up in recent years as the young and affluent crowd discovered Stillwater. The building took up most of a city block on Stillwater’s main thoroughfare. Cade pushed the intercom button and was buzzed in.
Waiting for the elevator, Rob pushed the button in a vain attempt to speed the car’s descent. “This guy may not be talkative at all. He just lost his girlfriend this morning. You never know how someone will react. Everyone handles their grieving differently.”
Stepping into the car, Cade pushed the button for the third floor. “We’ll have to take it at his speed. No one should have to have a day like this.”
Soderholm opened the door with a smile and waved them inside. “Gentlemen, come in.” He was a broad man, with a weightlifter’s chest. The condo had a wide-open layout, and the floor-to-ceiling windows had a view of the St. Croix River. As they followed Soderholm past the kitchen, Cade slid his fingers along the countertops, noting the unusual pattern in the granite.
“You like that? Just had the countertops installed. It’s Uba Tuba, from the mountainous region of China. Got it for an unbelievable $20 a square foot. Can you believe that?” Soderholm had a lot of energy.
Cade glanced over at Rob, who simply shrugged. Everyone handles grief differently. As Soderholm gave the highlights of the kitchen sink, Cade held up a hand. “Can you tell us a little about Ms. Janek?”
Soderholm nodded. “I suppose you didn’t come to hear about my granite countertops.” He sprawled onto a leather couch. “Holly was an event planner. She started her own company in the last year, Inspired Events. Before that, she’d been at the mall. And working at the Mall of America, it was trial by fire. They had more events than you’d ever believe. Holly loved the work but hated her boss. He was a lecherous old perv. Holly would catch him staring at her all the time. Eventually, he started hitting on her.”
Rob glanced at Cade, giving him a raise of his eyebrows. “Could we get his name?”
“Sure. Not sure why you’d need it though.” Soderholm grabbed a piece of paper off the kitchen nook desk. He handed it to Rob. The paper was a single sheet of gold-flaked heavy card stock. Across the top in fancy script, it read, “Mason Armitage Monroe, a life celebrated.”
“Holly arranged for his funeral a month back. She said even though the guy disgusted her, work was work. And she wanted the chance to see her old coworkers again. So she made an event out of his funeral.”
Monroe was a dead end if there ever was one.
Soderholm continued. “Holly usually planned corporate events. Mostly in Downtown Minneapolis, some in Uptown, others in St. Paul, Stillwater, Hudson even. She had a nice base of clients who kept her busy.”
Cade paced during the conversation. He tended to think better while moving. Rob leaned back in a leather armchair, looking comfortable enough to nod off. “Do you have Holly’s recent schedule?”
“Sure.” Soderholm pulled down a page from the corkboard by the desk. “Here’s a printout of the last month. It made it easier for me to keep up with her schedule. I’m in construction, so I have appointments all over the calendar. I try to work them around her events, so we’d have time together.”
“Can I keep this?” Cade asked. Glancing at the page, roughly half the dates were filled.
“Sure. Can I ask why you’re interested in what Holly had going this last month? Seems like an unusual approach to an accident investigation. Just saying.”
Cade sat on the couch next to Soderholm. “To be honest, we’re not convinced it was an accident. It’s way too early in the investigation, but there’s evidence suggesting Holly may have been run off the highway.”
Soderholm leaned forward, his mouth hung open. And for the first time in their meeting, he didn’t say anything. Soderholm’s eyes had the watery quality one gets in emotional circumstances. Cade touched his arm. “Tom, we don’t know anything for certain. Right now, we’re trying to get a sense of Holly, where she’s been, who she may have met with. Things like that. Looking for something not quite right. If someone hurt Holly, we will find them. Believe me, this is what we do—and we are quite good at it.”
“I read about you last fall,” Soderholm said, holding Cade’s eye. “You were the one who took down those highway killers. Those maniacs got what they deserved.” He nodded at Cade. “I believe you.”
Cade looked over at Rob and nodded. Pulling out a notebook, Rob leaned forward.
“Can I get Holly’s cell phone number? Sometimes phone records tell us a lot about a person. We’d be looking for anything unusual. Maybe she got a call on the way home last night. Or calls from someone she didn’t know.” Soderholm nodded and jotted down a number, passing it to Rob.
Glancing over Soderholm’s shoulder, a half-dozen framed photographs of Holly were spread across the desk surface. Several more were on the wall above. Stepping past Soderholm, Cade picked up a silver-framed photo of Janek standing on a dock somewhere. She wore a summer dress of pastel flowers. Striking. Holly Janek was a head turner. And she looked a lot like Allard. They could be sisters, even.
Cade handed the photo back to Soderholm and sized him up for a long moment. Soderholm, his head down, stared at the image of his deceased girlfriend. He looked lost. Devastatingly lost. In many investigations, interviewing the victim’s significant other meant you were interviewing the prime suspect. Not this time, Cade decided. Janek’s boyfriend didn’t have a threatening vibe or even a hint of subterfuge.
“How’d you guys get along?” Cade asked. He h
ad to ask.
“Are you kidding me?” Soderholm marched right up to Cade. “I’d never have done a thing to harm her. I worshipped Holly. I mean, look at me, I’m just above average. I work out, have most of my hair.” Holding up a picture of Holly, he continued. “But, Holly’s amazing. By far the best-looking woman I’ve ever dated. I was doing really, really well.”
Cade glanced toward Rob, who gave a subtle shake of his head. Not this guy. Someone else was responsible for the death of Holly Janek.
Soderholm walked them to the door. “Let me know if you find anything. I really loved her. She was one of a kind.”
Stepping into the hallway, Cade thought that might not be true. There was another one like Holly—except she’d been murdered too.
Reynolds DeVries was a rising star. A reporter, and weekend anchor for the 5, she was easily one of the most recognizable television news people in the Twin Cities. Reynolds’ long blonde hair and even longer legs had garnered her no small amount of attention. Frequently the subject of the local paper’s gossip column and favorite speculation of the morning radio boys, she knew her stock was rising. And with her audacious belief in herself, Reynolds knew she would go far.
A friendly face appeared over her office cubicle wall. Kenzie, the station’s traffic manager, smiled. “Phone call, Reynolds. It’s probably Good Morning America.” Laughing at her own joke, Kenzie enjoyed teasing Reynolds about the network call they both knew would come someday. Reynolds picked up the phone, her finger hesitated over the blinking light. Well known in the medium-sized Twin Cities television market, everyone here knew it was simply a matter of time before the network called and she would move onto the national scene. But Reynolds knew she needed a catalyst, something that would catch New York’s attention. It would take just the right story.
