by Joanne Fluke
Steve nodded. “Think of us as inseparable until this thing is over. Michele’s under official police protection.”
Michele looked back at Carol as they rushed out the door. Carol was mouthing something that looked like “lucky girl.”
There was a box of Mister Donut on Margaret’s coffee table, and Michele raised her eyebrows as Steve reached for a chocolate-covered one. How did he do it? He’d finished every bite of his breakfast between phone calls, and when she came back to the kitchen after getting dressed, half the cinnamon rolls from the bakery were gone. It seemed impossible that Steve could still be hungry.
Michele started adding up Steve’s breakfast calories in her head. Two eggs fried in butter, 200 calories. Two slices of whole wheat bread loaded with butter and strawberry jam, 350. Four strips of extra-thick bacon, 250. Six cinnamon rolls. They were small, but Michele knew they had to be at least 100 calories apiece. Steve had eaten a 1,400-calorie breakfast chock-full of carbohydrates and cholesterol, and she could testify that there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. She’d spent her whole life hating people like Steve. If she ate that much, she’d blow up like the Goodyear blimp.
Steve dialed the phone and began to talk to Henry Corliss. He reached for another doughnut, a maple bar this time. Michele sighed and realized she’d have to go for groceries again before the day was over. If she stayed with Steve much longer, it might pay to buy food by the case.
“I got here as fast as I could.”
Trish hurried into the room and sank into a chair. Michele noticed that her makeup was hastily applied this morning and her hands were shaking.
“This is terrible, Steve. I got three calls this morning from the Minneapolis press. Everyone wants an interview about Brian.”
Margaret set a cup of coffee down in front of Trish.
“Just calm down, Trish. We’ll handle it. Steve’s called a meeting of all the principals to decide how to proceed. We’re waiting for Judith and Louise to get here.”
“I’m here.” Judith rushed into the room. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought Toni. I didn’t want to leave her at the loft alone.”
“That’s fine.” Steve nodded. “Just grab a chair, Toni. We can use all the help we can get.”
Louise was the last to arrive. She had Randy with her.
“Could Randy wait in your reception room, Margaret? Lisa asked me to take him to school this morning. She didn’t want him out there waiting for the bus alone.”
“I’ll find someone to take him. Help yourself to a doughnut, Randy, and then come with me. You can eat it on the way to school.”
In a moment Margaret was back. She handed Steve a file. “Jane just typed this up. It’s a complete list of every interview I’ve aired over the past two weeks.”
“Thanks, Margaret. Let’s get started.” Steve scanned the list and looked up. “You’re all here because you’ve appeared on Margaret’s show. There seems to be a connection between the murders and Margaret’s guests. I’ll run it down for you.”
Steve glanced at the list again, and read off the names.
“Ray Perini. Appeared on the third, died on the sixth. Dale Kline. Appeared on the seventh, killed on the eighth. Mayor Hollenkamp. We held back the details from the public, but Les was murdered. He appeared on the ninth and died on the ninth. Brian Nordstrom. Brian appeared for the first time on the fifth, and he was killed last night. There’s definitely a pattern here.”
“Oh, my God!” Judith grabbed for Toni’s hand. “My interview was run on Saturday.”
Steve nodded. “And Trish’s speech was televised yesterday afternoon, followed by Louise’s WinterGame spot. I’m arranging round-the-clock police protection for each of you.”
“Are you sure we’re in danger?” Louise swallowed nervously. “The connection could be something else, couldn’t it, Steve?”
“It could be anything, Louise, but I’m playing it safe. Any objections?”
Michele held her breath as one by one they shook their heads. They all looked as frightened as she had been before Steve called Margaret to cancel Michele’s WinterGame interview.
“There’s one more thing we have to settle. I think it’s advisable to postpone WinterGame until this thing is over.”
“We can’t.” Judith looked alarmed. “We’ll lose all our funding if we cancel, Steve. The state gave us a February fifteenth deadline. We signed an agreement. They’ll match any funds we’ve raised by that date and lend us up to fifty thousand dollars toward our construction costs, but we’ll lose the loan option if we go past the deadline.”
“Can’t you file for an extension?”
“No. I’ve already checked on that. February fifteenth is the deadline, no exceptions. We’ve got to go on with WinterGame.”
Steve nodded slowly. “All right, Judith. I’ll muster up all the extra security I can, but I don’t think you’ll get much of a turnout. People are just too frightened to go out.”
Margaret glanced around the table. They all knew Steve was right. They couldn’t raise money if people were afraid to attend the events. All it took was one terrorist to ruin months of hard planning. It was a damned shame.
“I’m sorry, Judith.” Margaret reached out to pat her hand. “It’s so unfortunate. I’ll do my best to promote on the air, but people aren’t as brave as they used to be. It’s a pity we’re not pioneers, wagons in a circle, one man with a shotgun riding point, that sort of thing—”
Margaret stopped abruptly. There might just be a way to get the people out, but it would take a lot of planning. She had the resources at her disposal. Could she do it in time?
“Two questions, Steve.” Margaret’s voice reflected the excitement she felt. “All the murders took place at night when the victim was alone. Is that right?”
Steve nodded.
“And none of them occurred at WinterGame, which is patrolled by your men.”
“Right.”
“Then I’ve got it. I don’t know if I can do anything about the figure skating this afternoon, but I can promise you’ll have an audience for the hockey game tonight.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Steve asked her.
“Never mind.” Margaret grinned at Steve. “Just do your thing and assign bodyguards to these people. I’ve got work to do.”
Michele pulled her stocking cap a little lower over her ears and matched steps with Steve. Since all her appointments at the clinic had canceled, she had nothing to do until the figure skating trials this afternoon. They were walking to the station to get Steve’s car. Then he’d take her to Judith’s so she could help with the preparations for this afternoon’s event.
“Wait just a second, Steve.”
Michele stopped and looked around. Nothing was moving, and they were the only pedestrians on the whole length of the mall. The entire downtown area was deserted. It felt almost as if she and Steve were the last people left alive.
Steve took her arm and pulled her close.
“It’s eerie, isn’t it?”
Michele nodded. “It reminds me of the westerns they show on late-night television. All the people are barricaded inside, waiting for the bad guy to ride into town and shoot it out with the sheriff.”
“And that’s me?”
“That’s you.”
“Great. What happens if the sheriff misses?”
Michele slipped her arm around Steve’s waist and hugged him hard.
“I guess you’re not a western fan. If the sheriff misses, some loyal citizen gets brave and shoots the bad guy in the back from an open window. Don’t you know the good guy always wins in the end?”
Steve bent down and kissed her right there in the middle of the street. With his lips pressed to hers, he couldn’t say what he was thinking.
Sure, Michele, that’s the way it turns out in the movies, but this is real. There’s a killer out there, and I can’t find him. We know there’s a connection between Margaret’s television interviews and the victims. That t
ells me the killer watches television, but so do two hundred thousand other people. I’ve got to rethink the clues. That’s all I can do. The silver prong led me nowhere. I checked every jewelry store. No one brought in a ring with a broken prong, and there’s nothing on the damned thing to identify it. Two jewelers told me they didn’t even think it was from a ring. Dead end with the prong. The only possible witnesses, the bishop and the nun, disappeared into thin air. No one knows anything about a visiting bishop.
“Steve?” Michele pulled back slightly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Steve looked down at her. She was so sweet.
“I don’t think so, honey. Not unless you can find me that bishop.”
Steve took her arm and they walked across the mall toward Osco Drugs. It was empty except for a nervous countergirl. Granite City Bridal had a sign in the window, CLOSED TODAY. Dan Marsh Drugs was open, but it was impossible to see over the display of Valentine Day’s candy in the window. Steve was willing to bet that there wasn’t a single customer inside.
They passed the Mexican Village restaurant, and Steve pointed to the sign on the door. “Look at that, Michele. It proves that people are running scared. Even the Mexican Village is closed.”
“Of course they are. It’s only ten in the morning, and they don’t open for lunch until eleven-thirty.”
“You’re right.” Steve gave her a sheepish grin and shook his head. “Damn! This thing’s got me stumped. I just can’t seem to put it all together.”
Michele hugged him again. “You’ll figure it out, Steve. I know you will.”
A beat-up Chevy made an abrupt U-turn at the end of the mall and pulled over close to the sidewalk. One fender was green, and the trunk was brown. The rest of the car was blue and it looked as if it had been pieced together with spare parts from the junkyard.
“Steve, come here, quick!”
Doug Phillips rolled down the window and motioned for them to hurry. The minute they were inside, he pulled away fast.
“What’s going on, Doug? I thought you were off duty.”
“I am. Carol caught me in the parking lot, just as I was leaving. She said she’d make me a permanent meter maid if I didn’t find you and keep you away from the station.”
Michele did a double take. Doug Phillips looked like a tackle for the Vikings. Carol was barely five feet tall, but she had Doug thoroughly cowed.
Doug drove straight past the police station and turned onto Division.
“There’s a television crew from Minneapolis camping out on the station steps. Carol said to warn you. If you don’t want to give an interview, you’d better hole up somewhere fast.”
“Thanks, but I might as well face them. I’ve decided to go public with this thing, Doug. I just finished taping an interview with Margaret Whitworth.”
“What’d you say?”
“The truth. I admitted that Mayor Hollenkamp was murdered by the same person or persons who killed Ray Perini, Dale Kline, and Brian Nordstrom. Then I gave the people tips on how to protect themselves.”
Doug whistled as he turned the car around and headed back toward the station.
“That took guts, Steve. They’ll be on your back now, until you catch the guy. Chief Schultz would have barricaded himself in his office and avoided the press until they dragged him out by the heels.”
Steve grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Doug was right. It was one of the reasons the chief had held on to his job for so long. He never gave press interviews, and no one knew he was a lousy cop.
Doug turned in at the employees’ entrance and pulled up in back of the station.
“Well, here we are. Good luck, Steve. They’re all waiting for you in front, like a pack of hungry wolves.”
“Thanks, Doug.”
“Say, Steve? I was just wondering if there’s anything I can do to help. I’m off duty, and you wouldn’t have to pay me overtime or anything. You know, legwork, phone work, anything at all.”
Steve smiled, and this time the smile did reach his eyes.
“As a matter of fact, there is something. Drive Michele over to Judith Dahlquist’s and then go home and put on something that makes you look like a college kid. The jeans, sloppy sweatshirt, tennis-shoe look. Come back here, and I’ll give you a list of things to check out for me.”
Doug looked eager. “You’re giving me undercover detective work?”
Steve nodded. “I’m too well known to nose around, and I need a good man to help me.”
“Thanks, Steve. I’ll be back in two shakes. I really appreciate this. Chief Schultz never gave me anything but traffic.”
Steve got out of the car and bent down to kiss Michele. “Love you, honey. I’ll call you at Judith’s. Stay there, okay?”
Michele nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. Steve had said he loved her. She hoped it was more than a casual remark.
Steve stuck his head back in the open window. “Oh, Doug? I’m authorizing overtime for you whether you put in for it or not. We’ll let the city pay for a new paint job for your car.”
Doug was smiling as he backed the car out of the parking space and drove toward the exit.
“Steve’s a great guy. A lot of us think he ought to be chief.”
Michele nodded. Steve was walking away, and she hadn’t told him she loved him too. There was a lump in her throat, and she blinked back tears as she watched Steve disappear behind the corner of the building. She just wished he didn’t look so much like the brave, doomed sheriff going off to meet the fastest gun in the West.
Bishop Donahue bit down hard on his carrot stick. Steven Radke had just appeared on News at Noon, warning the people to take precautions because there was a killer loose in St. Cloud. There was no killer, and there were no murders. He was God’s servant, guarding this Christian community against evil. Why was it so difficult for people to understand the marvelous ways of the Lord?
“Oh, there’s Margaret Whitworth.” Mother Superior pulled her chair closer to the screen. “Could you turn up the volume, Sister Kate?”
Bishop Donahue watched carefully. After a few minutes he knew that Margaret Whitworth, the Black Queen, was initiating an attack. Black’s plan was ingenious, a tactic worthy of the evil master. It was imperative that he go to his room immediately to plan his defense.
Major Pietre looked eager as Bishop Donahue got up from his chair.
“Would you like to play computer chess now, Bishop Donahue?”
“A little later, Major, after I practice. I’d be embarrassed if I lost to the computer.”
Major Pietre winked at Sister Kate. “He’s just modest, you know. I don’t think the devil himself could beat Bishop Donahue at chess.”
Bishop Donahue forced a friendly smile. There were times when Major Pietre had an uncanny knack for speaking the truth. He was glad the major was crazy and no one took him seriously.
A minute later Bishop Donahue was back in his room. Sister Kate would leave him alone, convinced that he was practicing for the computer match.
His board was set up exactly as he had left it. Bishop Donahue sat down at his desk and studied the pieces. Yes, there was no time to waste. The Black Queen was in an advantageous position, but he would outwit her. If he could capture Margaret Whitworth tonight, the game would be practically his.
CHAPTER 18
Michele stood at the edge of the skating rink with Judith, Toni, Louise, and the two bodyguards Steve had assigned. The figure skating competition had been a complete fiasco. Only four contestants had entered, and their parents were the sole spectators. Naturally they all had received prizes. There were five trophies for the winners, and one still sat on the snack bar counter.
Judith sighed morosely. “I guess Steve was right. People are afraid to come out.”
Danny Beesman stood close to Judith. He managed to look hopeful.
“Maybe you’ll get more people out tonight. Steve’s putting on lots of extra men.”
“Maybe. How about
a couple of hot dogs and some coffee, Danny? The least I can do is feed you for standing out here all afternoon.”
“That’d be swell, Miss Dahlquist.”
“You, too, Ken.” Judith motioned to Ken Menke, Louise’s bodyguard. “You two might as well eat hearty. We’ve got over a hundred hot dogs in the warmer.”
Judith fixed coffee and hot dogs for all of them. Michele wasn’t hungry, but she took one anyway. This had to be the most depressing afternoon she’d ever spent, and the hockey game was due to start in an hour. What had happened to Margaret’s promise of an audience?
“Look at that!”
Toni pointed toward Division Street. A convoy of Winnebagos was turning on Twelfth Avenue South.
Judith gave a bitter laugh. “Maybe everyone’s moving out of town.”
The first Winnebago turned on the access road to Lake George Park, and the others followed. One by one they drove past the parking area until they came to the open field by the hockey rink.
Michele gasped as the first Winnebago cut across the snow to the rink.
“They’re turning in here. What’s going on?”
Margaret Whitworth got out of the lead Winnebago and waved at them. She seemed to be directing traffic.
The first big trailer parked lengthwise at the end of the rink. The others followed, moving into position so that they entirely surrounded the area. There were twelve in all, two at either end and four flanking each side. Margaret smiled as she strolled casually over to greet them.
“The wagons are in a circle. And here come the settlers, right on time.”
“Oh, my God!”
Judith’s eyes widened as a school bus pulled up to park in the lot. The door opened, and Carl Hunstiger got out. He was dressed in a coonskin cap with a shotgun tucked under his arm.
“Okay, get inside the circle. Move along now.”
The passengers were smiling as they got off the bus and headed toward the hockey rink. They had no sooner disembarked than another school bus pulled up.
Judith shook her head. “What’s all this, Margaret?”
