by Jan Dunlap
Everyone makes mistakes.
But some are more costly than others.
Just ask Sonny Delite’s ghost. He’d probably thought that his tea was going to wake him up, not put him to sleep … permanently.
“But you and I both know that Mr. Lenzen is really only concerned about Mr. Lenzen’s best interests,” I argued, giving up on pondering Gina’s reaction to scandal.
Rick shrugged.
“As long as Gina still has her job when this is over, I don’t care what Lenzen thinks or does,” Rick said. “I just want Gina to be happy. She wants to get on with her life, and I’m hoping her life will get on right here.”
“With you?” Luce asked.
“Preferably.”
“Then you have to stay out of jail, Stud,” I reminded him. “Any bright ideas on that score?”
Rick smiled. “Funny you should ask, Bob …”
Chapter Fifteen
I pulled up in front of Boo Metternick’s little house in Shakopee at five-thirty in the morning. Before I could put the car in park, though, Boo came striding out of his front door, a big smile on his face and a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Nice new tires you got there,” he said as he slammed the car door shut and settled into the passenger’s seat.
“Who told you?” I asked.
“A little bird,” he said, still smiling. “Tweet, tweet.
Again with the little bird bit. If he hadn’t been almost twice my size, I would have learned over and smacked the side of Boo’s head. Forking over the money for four new tires hadn’t exactly lightened my mood yesterday, especially since the only tires the shop had in stock were the most expensive brand. Of course, if I could have waited another day, the shop would have ordered in the more economical tires to save me a bundle—another day I didn’t have, unless I wanted to forget about driving to Morris and trying to find the Ferruginous Hawk, which I definitely refused to do. So I sucked it up and got the new tires on last night.
Thank you, American Express. I couldn’t have left home without you.
Yeah, I know—I always tell people that birding is a very inexpensive hobby, and all you really need are binoculars and a field guide to enjoy endless hours of birdwatching. And that’s true, as long as you can bike or walk wherever you want to bird. When you become a “serious birder” like me, though, and you begin to set your sights on building up your bird lists, your hobby starts to generate more expenses, like gas and vehicle maintenance.
Meals on the road.
Birding group memberships.
Magazine subscriptions.
Festival fees.
More expensive binoculars.
Buying raffle tickets to state patrol fundraisers.
Actually, I’m the only birder I know who does that on a regular basis. I figure it’s the least I can do for Minnesota’s finest. Plus I keep hoping it will work like insurance, so the next time I get stopped for speeding on county roads, I can tell the patrol officer I already gave to his office. Rick’s told me more than once it’s probably a better idea than offering donuts to patrolmen who pull me over, though he doubts it will keep me from getting the tickets I deserve.
The vanity plate conversation with Paul Brand popped back into my head, but I pushed it aside.
Instead, I thought about Rick, Boo’s informant, aka “a little bird.”
“I’d say he’s more Mr. Big Mouth than little bird,” I corrected Boo. “Seriously, I’m starting to think that you and Rick must be sharing some kind of communication hotline, which seems kind of odd, given that you clearly are sweet on Gina too.”
Boo stared straight ahead. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Well, yeah,” I replied. “You practically went green with jealousy when I mentioned that Rick had a date with her yesterday morning when we were playing basketball. And the green went virtually florescent the longer we talked about Gina. I think you laughed when I said you were Boo the Ghost, but you do a better imitation of the Hulk, given the opportunity. Very green.”
“Please don’t say anything to Gina,” Boo said.
I stopped at the intersection at the end of his street and took a look at the man beside me.
He was a blond-haired, blue-eyed Norse giant, with biceps built to impress. His shoulders were broad and his chest muscular. Even with the additional leg room in my SUV, Boo still looked like he was awkwardly folded into the passenger seat thanks to his extra-large frame.
Two indisputable facts emerged from my assessment of the man: one, if he wasn’t the Bonecrusher, no one was; and two, most women would be thrilled to be the apple of those bright-blue eyes of his, whether or not he hid them behind a black wrestling mask.
Except, apparently, Gina Knorsen, who was mysteriously immune to his appeal.
“Does she know?”
The Norse giant nodded miserably. “Since we were in middle school.”
Middle school.
Great. Rick’s romantic competition for Gina was not only a world-class wrestler, but a world-class wrestler who had been carrying a torch for the lady for about twenty years. Rick was lucky he’d gotten off the court yesterday morning with only a sprained ankle.
If Boo had really wanted to hurt Rick, I had no doubt that our school officer would have been waking up this morning in a portable bed in the intensive care unit at the local hospital. Rick was no slouch when it came to defending himself, but Boo was a professional wrestler, albeit retired, with twenty years of unrequited love simmering just below his cool Scandinavian exterior.
Was a serious rival for Gina the trigger that would blow Boo’s cool? Maybe I should start calling him the Savage Volcano. He could stage a comeback on the wrestling circuit with a name like that. Mr. Lenzen would be thrilled, I was sure.
Boo seemed to have his temper and feelings for Gina well under control, however, and clearly hadn’t taken out a full measure of his frustration on my poor buddy. No surprise there, if the Crusher had been carrying that torch for as long as he claimed. Perhaps his spooky silence at work was likewise a result of his well-trained restraint, and not so much an attempt to stay off everyone’s radar to protect his secret wrestling past as I had supposed. Or maybe he was quiet at work because he was too busy moping over his luckless love life.
Man, was I glad I was married. Love triangles and heartbreak could really take a toll on a guy. Even a bruiser like the Bonecrusher.
“Did you have breakfast?” I asked Boo, smoothly changing the topic to something less risky than his interest in his faculty colleague. “I thought we’d grab a hot breakfast at Millie’s in Chanhassen, then head up to Highway 12 west. There are a lot more birding spots along that route than if we take the interstate up through St. Cloud, and I want to make the most of the day if possible.”
“Breakfast would be great,” he said. “I threw some protein bars in my backpack, but a hot meal sounds a whole lot better.”
I crossed the Minnesota River on Highway 101 and wound up through the bluffs to Chanhassen. It was just after six in the morning, and traffic was still light, but I noticed I’d picked up a tailgater right on Seventy-eighth Street two blocks from my turn into Millie’s parking lot.
“I hate it when drivers tailgate,” I muttered, turning on my left turn signal.
“What did you say?” Boo asked as I braked to make the turn.
Smack!
I could feel the car shudder slightly as the tailgater hit my rear end. The SUV slid a foot forward into the opposite lane of traffic, but fortunately, no cars were approaching.
“Oof!” Boo sputtered as his body lurched a bit forward in the passenger seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that despite his size, his seat belt kept him safely anchored in place.
“I saw that one coming,” I said, glancing in my rear view mirror.
The driver of the car behind me was climbing out. Other than a twinge in my shoulder, I was unhurt. My guess was that the car might have taken a bump on the fender, but I seriou
sly doubted there was any real vehicle damage for either myself or the tailgater. I opened my door and stepped out.
“It is you!” Prudence Delite said. “I was trying to read your license plate when I hit you. That’s why I didn’t notice your turn signal or brake light. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
I looked down at Sonny’s widow.
What were the odds that I’d run into her again?
Or rather, that she’d run into me?
Literally.
“My license plate,” I nodded, beginning to wonder if someone at the Motor Vehicle Division had recently put a curse on my plate. “It’s not the first time it’s gotten me into trouble, I have to say. In fact, my brother-in-law says I might as well have a tractor beam on the back end of my car the way my plate attracts accidents and speeding tickets.”
“Sonny told me he loved your BRRDMAN plate,” Prudence said, a small sniffle sneaking into her sentence. “He wished he’d thought of it first. I wish I’d thought of it and surprised him with it.”
She sniffed again, her eyes beginning to blink erratically. “It would have made him so happy. All I ever wanted was to make him happy.”
Alarm bells went off in my head.
Female crying jag! Danger! Danger!
“We should get out of the road,” I interrupted her, hoping to derail the approaching waterworks. “Let’s just pull into Millie’s parking lot, and we can take a look at the cars there.”
A few moments later, Prudence, Boo, and I each made a careful inspection of the two cars. My SUV showed only a scratch on its rear bumper, while Prudence’s front fender seemed a bit higher on one end, and the headlamp on the driver’s side was cracked.
“Just cosmetic,” she assured me, her voice steady again. “It was my fault. I was just so surprised to see your license plate in front of me. It made me think of Sonny.”
She took a deep breath, but no tears appeared. “I always thought of him as my birdman.”
I began to pull my wallet out of my pocket to hand her my insurance information.
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I’m fine, really. Believe me, a bumped fender and a cracked headlight are the least of my worries this week.”
I probably could have guessed that one. Between her husband’s murder and Red’s accident, Prudence Delite must have felt like she was a walking bad luck charm.
“I understand that the police are working hard to figure out what happened to Sonny,” I said. “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Delite.”
She nodded vigorously. “Can I buy you breakfast? You and your friend?”
I realized I hadn’t yet introduced her to Boo.
“This is one of our teachers at Savage: Boo Metternick,” I said. “Boo, this is Prudence Delite.”
Boo offered Prudence his hand and they shook.
“You look familiar to me,” Prudence told him. “Just now, when we were checking over the cars, I could have sworn I know you from somewhere.”
“Are you a wrestling fan?” I asked her, then bit my tongue too late. I deliberately didn’t look at Boo. For all my criticism of Rick’s inability to keep his mouth shut, I was on my way to coming in a close second.
Prudence gave me a funny look. “No, I’m not. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I said, and quickly changed the topic. “Actually, we were already planning on breakfast at Millie’s. Then we’re heading up to Stevens County for some birding. But you don’t need to buy us breakfast, Prudence. Don’t let us keep you from whatever you’ve got going on this morning.”
“I’m heading to Millie’s, too,” she said. “I’ve been checking in on Red every morning, and then I just sort of hang around the deli most of the day. She fell down the stairs on Sunday, you know, and had to go to the emergency room.”
“I heard,” I told her. I didn’t add that I’d also heard she’d been at Red’s side when it happened. I wanted to see if she brought it up herself.
She didn’t.
Interesting.
“Red’s son just moved out,” Prudence continued, “or he would be checking in on her. But he just got a job again after being unemployed these last few years, and he had to move to Wisconsin for it. It’s really hard on Red, to have him so far away.”
She stopped outside the front door to the deli and dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Red dotes on that boy. She was furious when he got laid off from that utilities job, but you never would have known it. She just kept smiling at customers like she always does. She really works at keeping an upbeat attitude. ”
Prudence Delite sighed. “Red always knows exactly what to do in a bad situation.” Her voice got husky. “She’s been such a help to me this week. I don’t know how I’d be functioning without her.”
Desperate to get her into Millie’s before more tears arrived, I pulled open the door to the deli and waved her in.
“Hey, Bob!” Red called to me from behind the deli counter. “Sit wherever you want, and I’ll be right over.”
To my relief, Red sounded … like Red. Boo and I took a small table next to the big front window while Prudence headed back to talk with Red.
“Sorry about the wrestling slip,” I said to Boo.
“No problem,” he said. “I just would have been surprised if she’d known me from wrestling. That was a long time ago. I mean, we were state champs for two years running, but usually the only people who recognize high school wrestlers are the ones whose own kids were in the sport.”
“I thought you said you played basketball in high school,” I reminded him.
Boo grinned. “I did … my freshman and sophomore years. But then I got so big I was afraid I’d hurt my teammates in practice, so I switched to wrestling as a junior. It worked out pretty well for me, all things considered.”
I would say so. According to what Alan and I had dug up on the Internet about the Bonecrusher, the man had become a legend on the professional circuit for the five years he’d headlined matches. Based on the product endorsements he’d done, he’d probably banked a couple million before he mysteriously dropped out of the ring. Knowing what teachers got paid, he’d probably been really glad he’d built up a healthy nest egg before he disappeared to become anonymous.
“So what’ll it be this morning?”
Red was standing at the end of our little table, handing us both a menu, her smile as broad and genuine as ever. “Do you guys need a few minutes to look over the menu?”
Since I always ordered the same thing on weekday mornings at Millie’s, I glanced at Boo to see if he was ready, but his head was bent as he studied the possibilities.
“Give us a couple minutes, Red,” I said, then added, “I’m glad to see you’re up and about. I heard about the fall downstairs.”
Red rolled her eyes.
“What a klutz! It’s not like I haven’t gone down those stairs a million times to get supplies. But boy! Did I see stars when I sat up again. I told Prudence I was fine, but she and Chef Tom insisted I get checked over at the ER, then they kept me overnight for observation.”
She laughed and winked.
“Between you and me, I think they wanted to observe me making a klutz of myself again.”
She pulled out her order pad.
“But you’re okay now, right?” I asked her. “You’ve got your memory back?”
“I never lost it! I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that.” Red looked me in the eye. “So what’ll it be this morning? Do you guys need a few minutes to look over the menu?”
“Yes,” I said, getting a distinct feeling of déjà vu as Red repeated the very words she’d said when she’d arrived at our table a minute ago.
“Hokey-dokey,” she said and sailed away.
“She just repeated herself, word for word,” Boo commented, looking up from his menu. “I got the feeling she didn’t realize she’d already asked us.”
“I got the same feeling,” I told him. “Which makes me wonder: if you los
t your memory, how would you know you lost it? Red said everyone keeps telling her she lost her memory, but she says she didn’t, but how would she know it if she couldn’t remember what she forgot?”
“Is that a rhetorical or literal question?” Boo asked.
“Does it matter?” I replied, still trying to untangle my own twists of logic. “All I really want to know is if Red can remember who she saw here in Millie’s on Saturday at lunch, and if any of those folks may have held enough of a grudge to plot Sonny Delite’s murder.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the local police department handling that investigation?” Boo noted. “Why do you want to get involved?”
Aha! So Boo and Rick’s umbilical cord of communication wasn’t open 24/7 as I had imagined: Boo didn’t know that Rick was a suspect in Sonny’s death. As I opened my mouth to fill the Crusher in, though, something stopped me.
Why wouldn’t Rick have let Boo know of his predicament? Was it because of Gina? If Rick had to spell out all the reasons he was considered a suspect, he’d have to include the fact that he’d been at Gina’s place very early on Sunday morning.
Okay then. I could definitely see Rick might not want to share that with Boo. Not only would he be betraying Gina’s privacy, but maybe Rick had decided he didn’t need to wave any more red flags in the face of a jealous Norse giant. Rick might have the biggest mouth in the state’s law enforcement community, but he wasn’t a total idiot.
Nor was I.
Most of the time.
I kept my own mouth shut.
“I thought I recognized you!”
Red had returned to our table to take our order, but she was staring wide-eyed at Boo.
I quickly checked around the restaurant to see who else was within hearing, but only Prudence and another customer were seated in the dining area. Prudence turned to see what Red had to say, but the other customer was engrossed in reading the newspaper. If Boo was finally going to be publicly unmasked as the Bonecrusher, he couldn’t have asked for a smaller audience.
Red studied Boo’s face as a bright pink flush crept over his cheeks. The man really had an aversion to getting caught in the spotlight. Was that why he’d always been masked? To cover his blushing embarrassment? I supposed that wouldn’t have helped his image if his fans had seen their big, tough, no-holds-barred, wrestling idol blushing like a Disney princess.
