Close Up on Murder

by Linda Townsdin

  I put my arm around his shoulder. “Hey, brother, the last time I looked, we were all alive. You, Lars and me. And we’re staying that way for a long time. You will become a cranky old white-haired chef terrorizing the staff and cooking delicious food. Oh wait, that already describes you.”

  He half-smiled. “You think I’m being a drama queen.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think that and I don’t blame you for being discouraged. If we could figure out why this guy’s after us, Wilcox could catch him.”

  Little said he needed to get back to Lars. “You’ll stay here tonight, won’t you, Britt?”

  “If you want me to, I’ll stay.”

  He nodded. “Please.”

  I wanted to go home and check whether Sebastian had replied to my email but this time I stayed.

  In the morning, after I’d spent another uncomfortable night at the hospital, Ben called to say he’d be in Spirit Lake that afternoon. A load of tension melted from my cramped body. “That’s great, Ben. I can’t wait to see you again.”

  “It’s only overnight. I’ve been called to testify at a trial in Minneapolis tomorrow. From that meth bust six months ago.”

  It would have to do. “I’ll be at the restaurant.”

  I called the sheriff and said I was going to Spirit Lake to meet Ben.

  “Good. He can take over keeping track of you. Jerry will stay with you until Ben gets there.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff.” I was grateful to have Jerry with me and more than ready for Ben to keep track of me.

  At the cabin, Jerry pulled up alongside my SUV and opened his car door. I said, “No need for you to come in. I’ll only be a second.”

  Jerry followed me anyway. “Wilcox’s orders. I can’t let you out of my sight.”

  I stomped into the cabin with Jerry on my heels. “I’m showering, you intend to watch that?”

  He squirmed. “I’ll wait outside your bedroom after I check it.”

  There was no way I could get to the computer with Jerry joined at my hip. I swallowed the disappointment, showered and changed clothes. One look at my face in the bathroom mirror told me I needed to add another stop to my itinerary. Violet might be able to do something.

  Still frustrated that I couldn’t get to my secret office, we headed to Bella’s.

  She was snoozing in her rocker when the bell tinkled and did a fake alert look. Violet was bent forward over her manicure table, adding the final touches to a woman’s fingertips. The woman held up one hand. Pursed lips and raised chin said grumpy tourist. “I wanted it brighter. Don’t you have any of the new colors?”

  Violet prided herself on keeping up with all the latest trends and products. She stammered, her cheeks flaming. “Tangy Tangerine is one of the new summer colors.”

  Drawing myself up to my Wonder Woman height, I looked down at the woman. “You’re probably still wearing those deadly dark polishes, right?”

  I turned to Bella. “Violet is such a find. I don’t know how you persuaded her to come to Spirit Lake. You must have literally blackmailed her.”

  Bella went to the register. “I live in fear one of those fancy outfits in the Cities will lure her away.”

  Violet’s lower lip trembled. “I’d be happy to change the color to anything you’d like.”

  The woman frowned at her nails. “It will do.” She paid and hurried out. Bella slammed the cash drawer.

  I watched from the window as the woman tried to open her car door without messing up her tacky finger tips. Dyed henna hair, tights and a glitzy top said she wasn’t a regular. “Who’s the nice lady?”

  Bella plunked back down in her rocker. “That was Ginger Bolger, married to Morris ‘Big Mo’ Bolger from East St. Louis—a shady developer with a good lawyer.”

  I wiped my hands across my eyes. I had forgotten to meet him yesterday and then forgot to reschedule.

  Violet cleaned up her nail station. “They spend a lot of time up here in the summer—at that big new home south of Charley’s—but they don’t like to mingle with the locals unless it’s an emergency, like today with the chipped nail.”

  I hadn’t expected sarcasm from Violet.

  Bella said, “Mo Bolger was after Charley to sell to him, but Charley wouldn’t do it. Bolger said he wanted that whole southern tip of shoreline for a family compound.”

  That explained the business card Wilcox found on Charley, but how could he know we’d inherited Charley’s land? “You don’t often see big homes like that on the south shore.”

  Violet waved her hands as if shooing the Bolgers out of her mind, and focused on my face, always a challenge. “Shall we finish the facial we started last time you were here?”

  I flopped into the chair. “Make me pretty, Violet. Ben’s coming today.” That was the only thing on my mind at the moment.

  Violet’s round, pink face came close to mine, her eyes like magnifying glasses taking in the dark circles, worry lines and tell-tale puffy skin that revealed my poor eating habits and lack of sleep. “You need to hydrate. Not so much caffeine and lots of water.” She set to work, a true professional with a healing touch. What I’d said to that haughty woman about Violet was true in spirit if not in fact.

  “What’s happening in town, Bella?” My life had been focused on the hospital and keeping Little safe.

  Bella pulled out her knitting and worked the needles. “Things are a mess over at the restaurant. Chum’s been drinking on the job, the waitresses are fighting with the kitchen staff and the customers are leaving in droves to Fisherman’s Café up in Cooper.”

  There went my moment of relaxation. “What exactly am I supposed to do about that right now?” I couldn’t help the frustration in my voice.

  “Wilcox doesn’t seem to have made much progress,” she said. “Not his fault though. Investigators from the BCA field office have been in the BW working on that trafficking deal with Ben.”

  “I didn’t know that, Bella.” The Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension was headquartered in Minneapolis and assisted county law enforcement all over the state with the big cases. The BCA might have been helping Wilcox if their staff hadn’t been stretched thin as well.

  Violet massaged something cooling into my face so my end of the conversation stopped. The sound of Bella’s needles clicking and CNN in the background soothed me until Violet finished.

  Bella’s head wobbled slightly as she swiped my credit card. Some days her palsy was worse than others. She handed the card back but held my eyes. “Take care of yourself.”

  Jerry waited outside. “Lookin’ good, Britt.” He winked, “Ben should come to town more often.”

  “Thanks, Jerry. Want to join me for lunch?” I wasn’t looking forward to going to the restaurant after what Bella had said.

  Jerry opened the restaurant door for me, but I had to step back. One of the waitresses flew past me, crying. “I quit!”

  Chum yelled from the kitchen. “Good!”

  We walked in. A smaller crowd than usual craned their necks to see the ruckus. Jerry picked up a menu and seated himself at the counter and I headed for the kitchen. “I’d better sort this out.”

  Chum’s face was scrunched up. “This is bullshit. Everyone hates me and my cooking.”

  Lars was much better at dealing with overwrought emotions, but I gave it a shot. “I know it’s been tough on you, Chum. You’ve been great, taking on all this responsibility. I promise it won’t be much longer. The guys really need you now.”

  He turned to the stove and flipped a few burgers with more power than necessary. “It’s not fair.”

  “We know how hard you’ve been working.”

  He moved to the counter and picked up a knife. I stepped back, but he’d let go of the anger. Hunched over, dicing onions, he said, “What am I supposed to do now that Emily left right in the middle of her shift?”

  “I’ll see if I can get her back. But you need to lighten up on her, okay? She’s just a kid.”

  He nodded. “Yo
u want a burger?”

  “Sure, thanks.” I gave him a thumbs up. It was all I could think to do in the motivation department.

  Jerry had coffee in front of him when I came back into the dining room. The customers had returned to talking and eating. From the café windows facing the lake, I saw Emily sitting at a picnic table near the city dock. “I’ll just be a minute, Jerry. I need to talk to that waitress who just left.”

  He looked longingly at his cup of coffee and stood. Before we reached Emily, I asked him to stand back so I could have a private chat with her. He nodded and leaned against the side of the Chamber of Commerce a few paces away.

  Usually a cheerful person, Emily looked glum. I straddled the bench across from her. “Rough day?”

  Her eyes rolled. “Try rough week. Chum’s acting like a big baby. It’s not my fault people miss Little’s cooking.”

  “Chum’s upset about that, and I know he’s been taking it out on you guys. He says he’s sorry. He wants you back. We all do.”

  She jammed her hands in her apron pockets. “I was coming back anyway. I don’t want to let down Little and Lars. They’ve been great to me and I need the money for college.”

  We walked to the restaurant, Jerry trailing behind.

  Inside, a mother with three restless children waved at Emily. She pulled out her pad and went to the table.

  My bodyguard and I sat down just as our hamburgers arrived. “I don’t know how long we can keep this up, Jerry. It’s all falling apart.”

  He swallowed a sip of coffee, made a face at it. “Cold.” He nodded. “Wilcox is a bear to be around on good days but nothing like this. The whole office wants this solved.”

  My phone rang, Ben’s ID came up and my heart blipped. I jumped up to look out the window. “Are you almost here?”

  He hesitated before speaking. “I’m sorry. They settled, so I won’t be needed in court after all. I’d better stay up here and wrap this up so we can really be together.”

  I barely responded to his explanation. After he hung up, I propped my chin on my fist and looked at a couple holding hands at a corner table.

  Jerry nudged me. “You going to finish those fries, Britt?”

  I pushed the plate across the counter to him.

  Chapter 21

  Lars was going home. Dr. Fromm released him at noon with a physical therapy schedule and meds. Fromm peered over his glasses. “He’s got a long way to go yet. It’s going to take time.”

  Fromm’s voice of reason couldn’t dim our joy. Little, Lars and I kept up a constant patter on the way home about how everything would be all right now. We didn’t talk about the killer still being on the loose. We felt like celebrating.

  I parked my SUV at the restaurant’s front entrance and opened the passenger side door for Lars. Little helped position his crutches under his arms. Lars took a deep breath and made his way up the side ramp and into the restaurant. His face was flushed with exertion, but a smile broke out when a group of friends waiting inside cheered and gathered around him.

  One of his snowmobiling buddies clapped him on the shoulder. “About time you got back to work, Lars. You been taking it easy too long.”

  Lars grinned. “Jaysus, Tim, I already miss not having to put up with your BS.”

  The crowd would have kept him all afternoon but after a short while, Little hustled him off to their apartment. I explained that Dr. Fromm said Lars needed a lot of rest and followed in their wake.

  Lars looked around at the apartment and sighed. “It feels good to be home again, only I’m a little shaky.” Little helped him to lie down and made him as comfortable as possible. When he came out of their bedroom, Little said, “He fell asleep instantly.”

  “You look like you could use a nap, too.”

  “I’m just happy he’s home. I’m going to take a shower.”

  I double-checked all the windows, noting Jerry stationed at the back, and tested the doors with their new locks. My gaze went to Rock and Knute’s food dishes on a mat by the back door. Caught off-guard by the stab at my heart, I put their dishes in the dishwasher, then sat on the sofa. The euphoria over Lars coming home hadn’t lasted long.

  Hair still damp and not looking that refreshed, Little flopped into his recliner. “What’s the matter, Britt?”

  I twisted a strand of hair. “Thinking about Rock and Knute.”

  Blue crescents dark as bruises underscored his eyes. “I used to make Rock special biscuits on Wednesdays.”

  Rock had spent more time with Little and Lars than me the past few months. Lars took him fishing sometimes. If I’d asked him to take Rock, maybe Lars wouldn’t have gotten hurt, but I’d thought Knute needed Rock.

  That kind of thinking wasn’t helping. I pulled my brother to his feet. “Let’s see if you remember how to cook. I’m starving.”

  A grin spread across his face and he took off for the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure I can come up with something.”

  I sat at a small table facing the tables and booths. Back on duty now that the guys were home, Gene lifted his scruffy chin in greeting and went back to reading the paper.

  A short, wide man sitting in a booth watched me, appraising. His chair scraped back and he came toward my table, a friendly smile barely hiding the determination behind it. Gene half rose from his seat. Mid-fifties, a bit jowly, the man held out a manicured hand. His Rolex and ruby ring glinted in the overhead light.

  “I hope you don’t mind my interrupting, but I’ve been waiting for you to show up, Ms. Johansson. My name is Mo Bolger.”

  “I apologize for missing our meeting, Mr. Bolger. A lot’s been going on lately.” I gestured toward the chair across from me. “Please have a seat.”

  Gene settled back down.

  Bolger reminded me of politicians I’d known. Pressed designer jeans, polo and new deck shoes showing he was just like everyone else, but not really. Politicians were usually smiling, ingratiating, always wanting something from you, typically votes, and confident they were going to get it. Those guys loved to have their pictures taken with their acquisitions: a boat, trophy wife, or cutting a ribbon in front of something they’d built or bought.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Bolger?”

  A big smile. “Please call me Mo.”

  “Okay, Mo.”

  He looked around. “Is your brother available to chat with us?”

  “I’ll check.” I went to get him, curious about Bolger’s request to see us.

  Little wasn’t happy to leave his kitchen but he followed me back to the table. I introduced Mo. He shook Little’s hand. “I know you’re busy so I’ll just state my business and let you get back to your work.”

  I hadn’t mentioned the business card to Little. A lot was slipping my mind lately.

  “Here’s the deal. I’d been trying to get Charley to sell me his property for years, but he wasn’t interested. Now, my daughter is getting married and I want to build a place for her next to mine and Ginger’s as a wedding gift. I already built one for my son on the southern end of my property.”

  His face turned sappy, he even put his hand over his heart. “I want both my children next to me, one on either side—the whole family together in the summer. It’s my dream.”

  I said, “You’re a developer, right? East St. Louis.”

  A flash of irritation crossed his face. “This is more to me than an investment in lakeshore property. It’s about family.”

  Little’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find out we’d inherited? I mean, we only just learned of it.”

  The smug smile. “My attorney’s job is to see that I get what I want. He’d fly up here tomorrow to handle the paperwork. I’m willing to take it off your hands immediately.”

  Little and I shook our heads slightly at each other. Little got up. “Thanks for the offer, but we can’t think about that right now.”

  I said, “My brother’s right. We’re not ready to make any deals.” I put out my hand. “But thank you for your interes
t.”

  Bolger’s face turned a ruddy red. “Charley wouldn’t even consider it, the old fool. I don’t think you understand. I’m prepared to offer much more than the property is worth.”

  We stared at him, not commenting.

  He took a breath to calm himself and turned another full-wattage smile on us. “Sorry I came on strong there.” He aimed a compassionate smile at Little. “I know you’ve had a rough time since your partner was hurt.” He stood up, knowing he’d lost this round. “Please think about it and maybe we can talk again. I really want this for my daughter’s wedding present.” He shook hands with us. “I’ll be in touch.”

  When he was out of earshot, Little said, “That guy gave me the creeps.”

  “That bit about Lars almost sounded like a threat, but then everything sounds suspicious to me lately.”

  He shuddered and headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to make us something special for dinner.”

  I’d gotten what I wanted from the meeting—to see what Bolger looked like, get a sense of what kind of person he was and what he wanted. I called Wilcox and told him about the visit.

  “Stay away from him. He’s a suspect and could be dangerous.”

  I wanted to know more but he ignored my questions, warned me again and hung up.

  If Bolger was responsible for all the things that had happened to us because of a chunk of lakeshore property for his family, the man wasn’t just shady, he was insane. Charley’s property was worth about five hundred thousand dollars. Enough to kill for?

  The next morning Little was back in the kitchen. Chum worked at his side, his shoulders no longer hunched up under his ears.

  Lars stayed in the apartment, using his crutches to pace from room to room, mumbling; a grim reminder of Dr. Fromm’s warning about the long road ahead.

  I switched from watching Little to checking in with Lars on a varied schedule. With one deputy outside and one inside, I couldn’t imagine how the killer could get to them now. But we were taking no chances.

  Midafternoon, Lars dozed in his recliner and I sat across from him on the sofa half-watching the news. Images of explosions in the Mideast switched to bobble-headed pundits and back to more explosions. It reminded me that Marta wanted my answer yesterday, or was it the day before?