Richard took one end and Jessie the other.
“Either of you want a beer? Buddy asked. “I only got regular, no lite.”
“We’re fine,” Richard said, glancing at Jessie to see if she agreed.
Buddy dropped into a rocking chair with soiled upholstery and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, his hands folded. “So what about my brother?”
Buddy’s heavy face was mostly chin, bringing to mind the phrase big palooka. But he didn’t have a palooka’s body. Hoping that he likewise didn’t possess the brain of a palooka, Richard said, “Do you believe Chester committed suicide?”
“No fucking way.” He glanced at Jessie. “Uh . . . sorry.” Then, returning to Richard, he added, “It really torques me to hear people say that, like he was mental or something. He wouldn’t do that. And I don’t see how it could have been an accident either. He couldn’t swim, so he was afraid of the water. He never would have gone into that pond.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. He wasn’t the kind to make trouble. Some guys get a few beers in ‘em and they get aggressive and start saying things they shouldn’t, getting people upset. You hear they’re found dead, it don’t surprise you much. But even when he was three sheets to the wind, which wasn’t often, I don’t want you to think he was an alcoholic or anything. Chester was just a sweet guy. We were saving up to buy our own dairy farm. Nothing big, forty cows maybe. It was kind of our dream.” Buddy leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and held it with his hands. “But it’s not gonna happen now.”
Watching the thin muscles around Buddy’s mouth twitch as he tried to control his feelings, Richard felt embarrassed at being the agent who had so pointedly reminded Buddy of his loss.
“In fact,” Buddy continued, “I wouldn’t have a dairy farm now if you gave me one. I’m so sick of wading in cow shit I can barely go to work in the morning.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You didn’t come here to listen to me complain. But why did you come?”
Richard had heard enough to realize that Buddy was no dummy. His alienation with dairy farms was also a good sign. “Buddy, we share your view that your brother didn’t commit suicide. And we’re here to ask you to help us obtain some information that could ultimately uncover the complete story of his death.”
“I don’t understand. You said you were a doctor. Why are you interested in Chester’s death?”
Richard had wanted to keep his duties as coroner out of all this, but he now saw that he had to use it to legitimize his interest in the case. “In addition to my neurology practice, I also serve as the local coroner, which means I have responsibility for making sure that the circumstances surrounding every death in this area are completely understood.”
“I don’t know anything about the circumstances.”
“But you can help all the same.”
“Through your employment at the dairy,” Jessie added.
“I’m not following you.”
“Before I explain, you’ll have to agree that whatever we tell you will remain just between us, at least for a while. If you agree but then break our trust, we may never know exactly what happened to Chester. So there’s a lot riding on your complete cooperation on this issue.”
“If I tell you I’ll do something, you can take it to the bank. I’ll do whatever you want if it’ll help Chester.”
“Good. Now, what I’m about to ask of you may not make much sense, but it does have a bearing on Chester’s death.”
“Okay, okay. Get to it for God’s sake.”
“We want you to get us blood samples from four cows at the dairy where you work.”
Buddy looked bewildered. “You’re right. I don’t get it, but go on.”
“Obviously, this will have to be done without anyone seeing you do it.”
“Obviously,” Buddy echoed.
“Now here’s the nasty part.” Ready to explain the health risks associated with the blood Buddy would be collecting, Richard decided that in the young man’s best interests, he should overstate the danger. “You must be sure none of the blood comes into contact with any part of your body. If it does, you could die.”
A look of incredulity crossed Buddy’s face. Then he grew angry. “What is this, some sick joke? Who put you up to this?”
“I’m quite serious about what I said.”
“Die? I could die?”
“So you’d have to wear rubber gloves and some sort of face protection, which we’ll provide.”
“What’s the matter with those cows?”
“Maybe nothing. That’s why we want the blood. To find out.”
“What could it be?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”
“Shit. If it was a matter of stepping in front of a bullet for Chester, I’d have done that without thinking. But . . .” He rubbed his nose, then let his hands drop into his lap. He looked at Jessie, then at his hands. After a long minute, he let out a deep breath. “So, I just won’t get any blood on me.”
“Would you be free sometime tomorrow for a lesson on how to draw blood?”
“My uncle’s a vet over in Dodgeville. When I was in high school I wanted to be a vet too, so I used to go around to the farms with him all the time. I’ve taken blood from lots of cows.”
“It’s not just any four cows we want sampled,” Richard said. He reached into his jacket and produced the pictures he and Holly had made for Buddy. “Two of the samples should be from cows with this spotting pattern.” He gave Buddy the two pictures on top.
“They almost look like the same animal,” Buddy said after examining the pictures. “We got nearly two thousand animals out there. How the hell am I gonna find those two?”
“It doesn’t have to be them. Just find two that resemble their spotting pattern. There should be lots of them. The other two should resemble these.” Richard gave Buddy the remaining pictures. “There should be lots of those as well.”
“And we’ll give you a disposable camera to photograph the animals you choose,” Jessie said. “The sample you label number one should be the first animal on the film, number two should be the second. The same for animals three and four.”
They’d never discussed this, but Richard saw the wisdom in Jessie’s idea. This way they’d have a record to show that Buddy had correctly picked similar animals. And the disposable camera wouldn’t leave any pictures in his possession. Nor would they need any e-mail contact with him to get the pictures if he took them with his cell phone.
“When can you do it?” Richard asked.
“When can you get me the supplies I need?”
“It’s too late tonight. Can we meet somewhere on your lunch break tomorrow?”
“About a mile down Pike Road from where it comes off Dairy Road there’s a black mailbox riddled with bullet holes. Go up the driveway, and I’ll meet you by the burned-out house back there around eleven-fifteen. I’ll get the blood tomorrow afternoon. You can pick it up here when I get home.”
“FOR A MOMENT there, I didn’t think he was going to do it,” Jessie said a few minutes later, as Richard backtracked his way out of the trailer park.
“Remember when he glanced at you just before he agreed? He didn’t want you to think he was a coward.”
“Oh, come on.”
“That wasn’t the only reason, but it helped.”
“I don’t like being bait.”
“Sorry, kid. But the way you look, it can’t be helped.”
“Will he keep quiet?”
“If I weren’t convinced of that, I wouldn’t have gone forward.”
Richard was so excited to have successfully enlisted Buddy, that when he got home he called Holly, even though it was now well after midnight. Her voice when she picked up sounde
d as though she’d been asleep.
“It’s Richard . . . We got him. Chester’s brother will draw the samples for us tomorrow.”
“How’d you do it so fast?” Holly said, now sounding completely awake.
“It just all fell together. I can probably have the samples off to Weichmann. Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow’s Friday, which means if I send them overnight express, they’ll arrive on Saturday. There probably won’t be anyone at his university to receive them. And I’d like to get them in his hands as soon as possible.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow and see what we can arrange.”
“Okay. Good deal. Sorry to have called so late, but I just wanted to tell you the news.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“So we’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
Their conversation was clearly over, but Richard didn’t want it to end. Not knowing how to prolong it without appearing needy, he simply said, “Good night.”
“Good night, Richard.”
With all he’d done that day, Richard should have been worn out. Instead, he felt energized, fueled by the feeling that his life was on the verge of moving from the siding where it had been parked back onto the main track. And this time, when guilt rose, threatening to impede that transition, it seemed paper-thin.
IN MEMPHIS, THE last thing Holly thought of before she returned to sleep was Richard’s face.
27
“OH YES, CHEATING on a test is definitely a sin,” Father Lucius said, towering over the little boy.
“But it’s not in the Ten Commandments,” the boy said.
“Of course it is. ‘Thou shalt not steal.’”
“What did I steal?”
“You attempted to steal a grade you were not entitled to.”
“I never thought of that. But who was I stealing it from?”
Because the boy seemed sincere in his questions and was so young, Father Lucius was willing to continue this dialogue. He did not however, have a ready reply for this last point. He was therefore relieved when his secretary’s voice came over the intercom.
“Father, Detective Clark is on line two. Will you take it, or should I ask him if there’s a message?”
Lucius looked at the boy and whisked the air with his hand. “Wait for me in the outer office. We’re not through.”
When the boy was on the other side of the door, Lucius pressed the button for line two. “Hello, David.”
“Father, I’ve got some information on one of those names you gave me. Henry Pennell is a missing person. He was driving home from work late one night about two weeks ago, but never got there. His car was found a quarter mile from his home, sitting in the middle of the road with its lights on and the engine running.”
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“That’s certainly a distinct possibility.”
“What about the other name?”
“Don’t have anything for you there. Came up with Pennell because the case was so odd, and people are still looking for him.”
“Where did Pennell live?”
“Midland, Wisconsin.”
RICHARD DID NOT have to wait long before hearing from Holly the next day. The call came into his office forty minutes before he was to meet Buddy and give him the supplies to draw blood.
“It’s all set,” she said. “You’re to send the samples to Weichmann’s home. Here’s the address.” She rattled off the destination, then said, “If he gets them tomorrow, he’ll put someone on them Monday morning.”
“When he sees the shipping bill, isn’t he going to know where the diseased cows are located?”
“I’d suggest you put my name and address as the sender, but I don’t think they’ll accept it if you do, and it isn’t worth the delay to send everything to me and let me forward it,” Holly said. So let’s just ship it from there and not worry about it. Actually, Weichmann won’t know for sure where the cows are. They could be in any of the towns around Madison. Anyway, he’s got enough to do without worrying about that.”
“Weichmann said he needed one cc per sample, right?”
“That’s what he said, but have Buddy get two cc’s,” Holly said.
“Why two?”
“I’d like to take a look at the samples through the microscope.”
“Looking for what?”
“I don’t know,” Holly replied. “I’m just curious.”
“Do you know about cow blood?”
“I took a comparative hematology course once, so I’ve studied it some.”
“I’ll send your samples the same time I send Weichmann’s. To your home address?”
“That’d be best. Tell me when you’re ready to write it down.”
After he’d made a note of her address, Richard said, “If everything goes right, they should get there before noon tomorrow. I’ll call you tonight and let you know what happened.”
OTTO CHRISTIANSON STEPPED back and looked at the left front tire of his cruiser . . . still a little flat. Compressing his belly, he bent down and put the nozzle of the air hose on the tire’s valve stem and gave it another shot. As he stood up to check the results, the radio affixed to his shirt spoke to him.
“Sheriff, Claire here. Come in.”
Otto pressed the Talk button on the radio. “I’m here. Go ahead.”
“You’ve got a phone call.”
“Is it important?”
“I think so.”
“I was about to head in anyway. Get the number and tell ’em I’ll call back in a few minutes.”
When he walked past Claire’s station five minutes later, she handed him a piece of paper with the caller’s number on it.
“It’s long distance,” he said, concerned about the cost. “You should have asked him to call back.”
“That’s not what you told me to do.”
“I didn’t know then it was long distance.”
“Now I see why Frannie doesn’t want you to retire. She’d rather have me put up with you all day.”
Hoping this would be a short conversation, Otto went into his office and called the number. “Father Lucius Graham, please.”
After a short interval of organ music, a voice said, “Father Lucius.”
“Father, this is Sheriff Christianson in Midland, Wisconsin, returning your call.”
“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. Sheriff, do you know a man named Chester Sorenson?”
“He was a resident here until his death a few months ago.”
“I understand that another man from your town, Henry Pennell, is missing.”
“That’s right. How do you know all this?”
“Sheriff, I think you’ve got a psychopathic killer living there, and I believe I know who it is.”
Otto listened hard to everything Father Lucius said, all thoughts of what the call was costing forgotten. When Lucius had finished his tale, Otto said, “I don’t know anyone around here named Billy Lynch. So if he’s here, he’s changed his name. How old would he be now?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Can you think of any distinguishing marks or features that would help me identify him?”
There was a brief pause while Lucius considered this. Then he said, “I can’t think of any.”
“What color hair did he have?”
“Brown.”
“Do you remember the color of his eyes?”
“As often as I looked at his face in my office, I should, but I don’t. I’m not sure how much good it will do, but I could send you a picture of him taken when he was here.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Otto gave Lucius the office address, thanked him for
the information, and hung up.
Billy Lynch. Thirty-two years old and using a different name. Someone who moved here relatively recently and who would have a great interest in the investigation of Chester Sorenson’s death and Henry Pennell’s disappearance. Someone like Jessie Heflin’s boyfriend, Artie Harris.
THE DIRT DRIVEWAY, leading from the mailbox Buddy had described on Pike Road, was heavily rutted so that as he traversed it, Richard’s head jerked and bobbed, threatening to strain his neck muscles. Finally, the burned house came into view: a charred husk with several pieces of partially burned upholstered furniture around it. But no Buddy.
Wincing at all the broken glass around the site, Richard backed the car onto an apparently safe piece of ground littered with used condoms so that he was facing the drive. Then he cut off the engine to wait.
It was certainly a good meeting place for two people who didn’t want to be seen together. But as he sat there, it occurred to him that it would also be a good place for an ambush. At that instant, very close to him, there was a gunshot. Instinctively he threw himself sideways, jamming his rib cage painfully into the console between the seats. Realizing after the damage was done, that the sound had just been the engine cooling, he pushed himself up and resumed waiting.
After a long six minutes, he thought he heard the sound of a motorcycle. He lowered the passenger window.
Yes. And it was getting closer.
Seconds passed and then, astride his Harley and wearing a black leather jacket, but no helmet, Buddy shot out of the mouth of the driveway. He made a tight turn and parked in front of Richard’s car. Richard popped the trunk lid and got out.
“Sorry I’m late,” Buddy said. “But you know the saying, ‘shit happens,’ especially when you work with 1700 factories that don’t do much else but make it. You got everything?”
“Back here.”
Buddy followed Richard around to the trunk, where Richard reached in and brought out an old, oblong, black lunchbox that had once belonged to his father.
“That’s great,” Buddy said. “I was worried about carrying something suspicious-looking.”
Richard opened the lunchbox and inventoried the contents aloud, adding safety tips and instructions as he went. When he finished, he said, “We’ll need two cc’s of blood from each animal.”
The Lethal Helix Page 23
