Bite Me (Devlin Haskell 3)

by Faricy, Mike

  “Josh, God,” Mandy said and punched his arm.

  “Her? No, I was looking at someone else. Why who is she?”

  “I don’t know her name, she’s the wife or girlfriend of one of our professors,” Josh said.

  “Doctor Death,” Mandy said.

  “They’re both nuts,” Josh added.

  “The guys name is Doctor Death?”

  “Actually it’s Kevork, you know like Jack Kevorkian, that assisted suicide guy. She’s crazier than he is.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “We heard them going at it in his office after hours one night. We were up there using the department printer for a bunch of handouts for a class. She was screaming at him, calling him names, swearing, threatening him. She was absolutely over the edge, a nut case.” Josh said.

  “It was really scary. We just left and went back to my place,” Mandy added.

  “Yeah, she’s a nut job.” Josh said, glancing back at the woman for a brief moment.

  “Certifiable, you can’t imagine,” Mandy added.

  Actually I could imagine. I watched Kiki calmly sip her coffee. She took the smallest nibble from some nondescript pastry, then made a face and pushed the pastry plate aside.

  “What’s the guys name, again?” I said.

  .”Doctor Carroll Kevork, he’s in the chemistry department.” Mandy said.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Tempted as I was to follow her, the last thing I needed was to have Kiki turn around and see me in a hallway at the University of Minnesota. That would do nothing for my attempt to look like a model citizen. I left the kids to grab and grope one another while I went back to my office and did an online search of Doctor Kevork. Most of what I found was unintelligible university-speak. Did these people ever sit down over a beer and casually chat? Probably not.

  More to the point, next to a photo of Doctor Carroll Kevork was a brief bio. He was originally from the town of Dale, Indiana. He did his undergraduate work at Purdue University, and then went on to get a doctorate from Berkeley in 1999. He did post-doctorate work at MIT from 1999 until 2002. Rummaging around online some more, I learned that interestingly, in 2003 he washed up on shore as an associate professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. From there he drifted to the University of Minnesota in 2008. Nothing of a criminal nature that I could find, nor any marriage records. He was the owner of a home somewhere in Minnetonka, not exactly slumming it.

  Kevork’s University Nevada Las Vegas and U of M gigs seemed to dovetail with Kiki and Farrell’s wanderings. Was his chemistry background tied into their drug distribution? But then what about KRAZ and Thompson Barkwell? Distributing illegal drugs via radio to the Evangelical far right seemed to be a bad business plan right from the get-go.

  There was only one thing to do, I returned to my intensive research of Girls Gone Wild at Mardi Gras. I was still diligently researching two hours later when the phone rang.

  “How did it go?” Sunnie asked, no hello.

  “The food was lousy, the coffee wasn’t the best.”

  “I don’t care about that, and what’s that moaning in the background, are you alone?”

  “Oh some commercial on the radio, medical stuff or something,” I hit pause on the laptop screen.

  “So?” Sunnie asked.

  “It went very well. Josh is fine, Mandy seems like a very nice girl, she…”

  “I knew you’d say that.”

  “Maybe because it’s true. It’s not like they’re smoking dope and drinking all day. They cut short my clever conversation to get prepared for a class. Did you know her father happens to be a County Attorney up north? Doesn’t sound like the type who’d put up with a lot of nonsense.”

  “Those are exactly the kids you have to watch, as soon as they get out of the house it’s party time.”

  “You could be describing your own son, there.”

  Long pause.

  “Sunnie, I think they’re fine. I know it’s hard to let go, but maybe you could, just a little. I did tell them the way to win you over was to keep the grades up.”

  “You said that?”

  “Yeah, of course, if the grades are there…”

  “Not that, you idiot. You said the way to win me over? Like I’m some pain in the ass, single mother, who’s not letting go of her little boy? Not turning him over to some blonde bimbo with big boobs and loose morals?”

  “Don’t forget the thong.”

  “You saw it, didn’t you? I don’t believe it.”

  “Sunnie, I like the girl, she’s pretty, she’s nice and I think she’s good for Josh and by the way, Josh is good for her. See how the grades come in and...”

  “I should never have trusted you.”

  “Okay, now you’re sounding like the idiot. Stop, cut the kids some slack. I’ll tell you this, the more you resist the more attractive she’ll seem. You’ve raised him well, he has a good head on his shoulders, he can think.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m worrying about, now what’s he going to be thinking about, after your comment.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How about dinner, my treat. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, deal?”

  I thought I’d better phone Louie before I returned to my Mardi Gras research. I wanted to give him the Doctor Death connection, slim as it was. I also wanted to see about getting a little breathing room on my travels. I’d been nicked for another fifteen bucks for my schedule change to take Sunnie out for dinner.

  I drummed my fingers listening as his cell rang. I was developing a pattern, get the message on his cell telling me his message box was full, then phone his office where “Mister Laufen will return my call just as soon as he’s able.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Dinner was everything I expected or maybe feared. After filleting me for the first fifteen minutes because I hadn’t made a citizen’s arrest on Mandy, Sunnie calmed down and became more of her old self. On the way home she asked, “So what’s up with the no drinking? You in a twelve step program or something?”

  “No,” I half laughed. “Just decided to give it a rest for a bit, you know, drop a few pounds, the good health thing, that’s all.”

  “Good health? You? You’re kidding?”

  “No,” I think I sounded defensive.

  “Because I could see you look longingly at those beers over at the next table when your cheeseburger, fries and side order of onion rings arrived.”

  “Is this a slam because we didn’t dine at some fancy joint that features grilled buzzard breast stuffed with duck shit as the chefs special?”

  “No, that might have been nice, but really, I don’t mind having my hair done, getting all dressed up and then eating a cheeseburger and fries. The two kids crying in the booth next to us was a nice touch. I was the only one in there not wearing jeans, and it’s always tricky wadding through peanut shells in five inch heels, but I managed.”

  “You saying I still owe you dinner?”

  “Yeah, and I’ll choose where.”

  “Well, look at it from my angle, I was with the best looking woman in there.”

  “Thanks.”

  I walked her to the door, exchanged pecks on the cheek. We’d never had a sexual relationship and neither of us wanted one. We were good friends, a moment of passion, enjoyable as it might be, would ruin the long friendship.

  I drove home and waited for my monitor call. Once it came through I planned to drive by Doctor Death’s place out in Minnetonka. I told myself I was just going to take a casual pass and I wouldn’t get out of the car. I also knew I was lying.

  The call never came through and I woke up about three in the morning on the couch, my laptop still prowling through sex starved girls misbehaving during Mardi Gras. I turned it off, even for me after eight or nine hours it all sort of ran together. I stumbled off to bed planning to sleep in so I didn’t set my alarm.

  The monitor call came through at seven-t
hirty-seven in the morning. I wasn’t the happiest camper as I punched in my code and the pound sign. But, I was awake, wide awake. I decided to head west, into the wilds of Minnetonka, one of the more posh areas of the Twin Cities. I followed the MapQuest driving directions to Doctor Death’s house. It turned out not to be the most direct route, but eventually I got there.

  The place was a pretty substantial, two story brick home, actually situated right on Lake Minnetonka, more of a mansion than just a home. It had two wings, an attached three car garage, circular brick drive, manicured lawn, and potted red geraniums on either side of a double front door. A couple of newspapers lay next to one of the flower pots, I guessed they were most likely something highbrow like the Wall Street Journal or New York Times. The shades were drawn on all the second floor windows. There was a little metal sign planted in the garden next to the front door advertising the alarm service. It looked to be a pretty pricey piece of property for a college professor.

  There was a lawn service truck parked in front with four guys hustling around cutting the grass and blowing clippings off the circular drive. I drove past four times, but decided against getting out and poking around. The last two times I drove by, one of the lawn crew guys starred at my DeVille. He seemed to be making a mental note. I certainly didn’t need anyone taking notice of me hanging around and thought my time might be better spent finding out more about Doctor Death, Carroll Kevork, online.

  Three hours latter I didn’t know much more about Doctor Death than when I had started. I could make a couple of assumptions. It didn’t seem to make a lot of sense that someone with a Doctorate in Chemistry from Berkeley, who had done post graduate work at MIT would settle for an associate professorship at UNLV, a school that, at least from my online research, seemed not to have much in the line of a chemistry department.

  The jump from an associate professorship at UNLV to owning a two-million-plus home on Lake Minnetonka seemed to require an extraordinary leap of faith on my part. Tie in his association with Kiki and Farrell I concluded something wasn’t right.

  Just for the fun of being disappointed I decided to phone Louie. I was listening to the third ring, it was almost time for the full mail box recording to begin when a groggy voice came on the line.

  “Lo,” cough, grunt, cough some more, “Hell, hello?”

  “Louie, I don’t believe it, you’re alive, more or less. I wake you up?”

  There was a loud exhale, some more coughing.

  “This has to be Dev, that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Hey man, Christ, what time is it?”

  “Five to eleven. Listen, Louie I wanted…”

  “Are you fucking kidding me,” he screamed.

  I had a vision, not very pretty, of a fat, naked Louie bolting upright in bed.

  “Actually, now it’s four minutes before eleven. I..”

  “Gotta run, bye,” he said and hung up.

  My next two calls went unanswered. He was either in the shower or already racing to work. I phoned his office. Left a message to call me, that I had important information. The receptionist assured me that “as soon as he was able…” I got that sinking feeling, again.

  On my way home that evening I lingered for a half hour in the KRAZ parking lot, I didn’t see Farrell, Farrell’s BMW or Kiki. My monitor call came through about nine-thirty that night, I was out the door and driving to Lake Minnetonka two minutes later.

  Doctor Death’s house looked the same, except the lawn service guys were gone. The second floor shades were still drawn, there appeared to be a light on in the upper right corner of the house, most likely a bedroom, nothing unusual about that. The newspapers were still next to the flower pot. I drove back home and walked to a bar about a block away.

  “Dev, the usual?” The bartender looked underage, with a neatly trimmed, three-day beard.

  “Actually, nothing to drink, Tommy, can I just get a couple rolls of quarters from you?” I slid a twenty and a five dollar tip across the bar.

  He looked left and right, took the cash as he did so, walked about three feet to a computer screen, hit the thing four times at lightning speed and came back with two rolls of quarters.

  “Thanks, laundry,” I said.

  “When you’re finished you can start on mine,” he laughed.

  I walked about two blocks in the opposite direction to one of the few pay phones left in the city. I inserted fifty cents and called Doctor Death’s office number at the U. After four rings there were a couple of clicks and then his voice.

  “Thank you for calling. This is Associate Professor Doctor Carroll Kevork, I’m unable to take your call at this time. My office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays between one-forty-five and three o’clock. If you wish to make an appointment outside those hours please press zero at this time. Leave a detailed message after the tone and I shall return your call at the earliest convenience.”

  In case he didn’t seem like a pain in the ass with just two-and-a-half office hours per week, the affected posh accent did the trick. He was from southern Indiana if I recalled. I didn’t like the guy and I hadn’t even met him, yet.

  “Wrong number,” I said once the recording began, then waited until a tone signaled the end of the recording time, hung up and redialed. I was almost through the second roll of quarters before I got the recording that said his voice mail was full. Thank God, listening to pompous Doctor Death’s message some thirty-plus times did nothing to endear him to me. I walked back home, took a couple of aspirin and went to bed.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  I was slurping breakfast coffee from my travel mug, parked in the far corner of the KRAZ parking lot. I had crumbs from a couple of blueberry muffins scattered across my chest. The crumbs were about the only thing I’d seen moving in the past half hour, not counting the trash blowing across the parking lot. Surprise, surprise, Louie actually called me back.

  “Yeah, Dev, returning your call,” Louie sounded all business.

  “Louie, thanks, to tell you the truth it’s been so long I’ve forgotten why I phoned you.”

  “Real funny.”

  “Hey, were you able to verify that information and get it over to Detective Manning?”

  I thought I suddenly heard files being rummaged through and Louie sounded a little flustered.

  “Well, we’re on that, working the thing, it shouldn’t be too long, now.”

  He was breathing heavily and I had the sinking feeling he was pawing through his very messy desk looking for his notes.

  “You lost the notes, Louie, right?”

  “I’d say it’s more like I just momentarily misplaced them. They’re here, somewhere, I’m almost sure of it.”

  “Hey Louie, does it resonate with you that I’m the guy charged with kidnapping and rape? Not to mention the fact that I’m the key suspect no, make that I’m the guy charged with Thompson Barkwell’s murder. I’ve had to hit up a good friend to pop for bail money and I’ve got a cop investigating this who already has me tried and convicted in his mind. And you can’t find your notes? You’re supposed to…”

  “Here they are, told you.”

  “Read ‘em back to me.”

  “What?”

  “Read ‘em back so I know you’re not bullshitting me.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No I’m not, come on Louie. You haven’t even passed this stuff on to be verified by anyone, have you?”

  No answer.

  “Well?”

  “No, I, I haven’t Dev, I was just about….”

  “God damn it, read it back to me.”

  “You dug up the 2005 marriage records in Las Vegas, Nevada, of Farrell J Early and one Katherine “Kiki” Hinz, daughter of Ottmar “Loopy” Hinz. Ottmar was unable to attend…”

  “Okay stop. Louie, I want to add a few more things to your notes,” I went on to tell him about Carroll Kevork, his stint at UNLV, then his move over to the U of M about the same time Farrell and Kiki a
ppear on the scene. I wondered out loud about them dealing Ecstasy and Roofies since Doctor Death was a chemistry nerd and there were rumors of Kiki and Doctor Death in a relationship. Then I ended up with, “Louie, I want you to get someone in the office to verify that stuff. Today. I want you to call me, and tell me who will be doing it, and I want their phone number. Got it?”

  “Yeah, not a problem, Dev.”

  “I’m counting on you Louie, all my hopes are pinned on you.”

  “I understand, look, could we maybe keep this between the two of us? I’m sort of not the most popular guy around here at the moment.” He was whispering.

  “My lips are sealed, Louie. Unless you screw this up, then I’m coming down on you like a ton of bricks.”

  “Thanks, Dev, I won’t let you down.”

  I wasn’t so sure.

  “I’ll expect your call with the guy’s name and number, sooner rather than later.”

  I was in my office, looking out the window at absolutely nothing when Louie called me back forty-five minutes later. He gave me the guy’s direct dial number along with his name, Nelson.

  I asked, “What’s his first name?”

  “That is his first name, last name’s Tornvold.”

  “He Irish?”

  “No, I think…”

  “I was kidding, Louie. Hey, were you able to get me some breathing room with those Sentinel Monitoring folks? Every time I walk down the hallway to use the can I have to call in and pay them fifteen bucks cause it’s not on my approved schedule.”

  “I’m working it. I really am, Dev, but I’m dealing with some thick headed witch over there…”

  “Muriel?”

  “Oh, you’ve met her.”

  “All four hundred pounds covered with cat hair.”

  “There’s a surprise. So you know what we’re dealing with. I’ve explained your business, such as it is, more than once to her. We’re in the process of going through their appeal review, it’s gonna take a few more days. Just continue to keep that low profile, upstanding citizen thing going.” He slurped something.

  “I’ll do my best. Tell your pal Nelson I’m calling him later today, I expect that shit to be verified and on it’s way to our friend, Detective Manning.”