The Mortal Groove (18 page)

“It sounds awful.”

“It's a fucking game of Russian roulette.” He yanked a paper out of the pocket of his tan chinos. “I did some searching on the Web last night, looking for information on the New Jersey child welfare system. Turns out, the rate of abuse and neglect for children in the adoption resource centers—the kids who have the best chance of being adopted—is thirty times the national average. And get this. According to a press release about the foster care system in New Jersey, the system has ‘egregiously failed the children in its care on a long-term, routine basis.' ” He tossed the paper at her. “They need to hire, like, three hundred more social workers just to begin to dig out. It's a national disgrace. And that's the system Margaret ended up in. Do you see now why I have to do this? I have to find her before it's too late. Shit, it might already be too late.”

She picked up the paper, read through it quickly.

“I know I seem like I'm hyperventilating all over you, but I needed to talk to someone, and I thought maybe you'd help me.”

“Anything. Do you want money?”

“No. But you've got that friend—the PI.”

“Nolan?”

“Yeah, him. All the way home on the plane, I kept trying to figure out a way to keep the ball moving. You think, maybe, he might help me?”

Jane had met A. J. Nolan during a particularly difficult time in her life. In the last few years, they'd become good friends. He was a retired homicide cop who'd started a PI business out of his
house. Since he wasn't hurting for money, he sometimes took cases that interested him from people who might normally have trouble paying. “Sure, I'll ask him.”

“You think he'd do it? I mean, since he's your friend, I thought maybe he might cut me a break on his fee.”

“He'll do it, Peter. And he won't charge you.” Jane figured she could pay the expenses. But she'd keep that between her and Nolan.

“Could you call him?”

“Today?”

“Right now.” He took his cell out of his pocket and pushed it across the table. Desperation flickered in his eyes.

Tapping in the number, Jane waited through several rings until Nolan's voice mail picked up. She left him a message, outlined briefly the situation, and then asked him to call her when he had a minute. “There,” she said. “Done.”

“You'll call me when you hear from him, right?”

“Either that or he'll call you directly.”

“Thanks, Janey. You don't know how much this means to me.”

As they got up, she put her hand on his back. “Good luck with Dad. Oh, by the way, I'm leaving town myself. Driving down to northern Iowa with Cordelia later today.”

He turned and cocked his head. “What on earth could you two possibly have going on in northern Iowa?”

“Long story. We'll only be gone a couple of days. If there's anything interesting to tell, I promise, you'll be the first to hear.”

 

 

D
el lit a cigar with his brass Zippo. “If you want coffee, help yourself.”

Randy set his briefcase on the kitchen table, waiting for Kesia to hustle the two kids out the back door of their town house on the river in downtown Minneapolis. Del usually picked them up from school, and Kesia dropped them off in the morning before work. She was a senior marketing manager in product development at Regent Sans, a cardiovascular medical device company located in Eagan. She was such a ball of energy that when she left a room, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out with her. Not only was she smart, she was beautiful. Randy didn't believe in the American Dream, but Delavon and Kesia came about as close to living it as anyone he'd ever met.

After Kesia and the two girls were gone, Randy went to the refrigerator and got out a carton of grapefruit juice. Nobody in Del's family drank the stuff, but they always stocked it in the
refrigerator for him. Pouring himself a glass, he sat down at the table. “Okay, what do we do?”

“Don't suppose you've heard from Larry?”

Randy shook his head. “As I see it, he may have killed one person since he's been here—”

“The guy in the trunk of the burned car.”

“—and tried to murder another.”

“Not a very nice guy, is he.” Del leaned back in his chair. “I figure he's either got the file, in which case, he may contact us again, or he lied to us about it. There never was one. He was just playing us so he could get his hands on the money.”

“He'd wouldn't do that, Del.”

“Wake up, Randy. It all depends on how desperate he is for cash. You know, man, we've always sort of pretended we know him. We don't really. Maybe his plan all along was to take the money in payment for getting rid of Gunderson. In his mind, he might even think it was fair. Except, he didn't get rid of her.”

Randy stared at the glass of grapefruit juice in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to pick it up.

“Nothing's changed,” said Del. “All our asses are on the line for Sue's murder. We colluded to keep the guilty party from going to prison. Any way you look at it, that's a felony.”

Randy felt like a million fire ants were crawling around inside him. “What about Sue?”

“What about her?”

“Where's
her
justice?”

Del shot him a disgusted look. “You lawyers. Always talking about justice, like it's some rabbit you can pull out of a hat. It's bullshit, Randy. And I, for one, ain't goin' back there with you. You can wallow in your sins all you want, but I'm livin' in the here and now. I'm alive and free, man, and I'm happy about that.
You won't get no apologies from this guy, no matter what I did back in Waldo. I'm not the same man anymore. Hell, I mean, how long do I have to do penance for Sue Bouchard?”

Randy moved the juice glass closer, but still didn't pick it up.

“Course, we might get lucky. Maybe Larry will take the fall. If he goes down for the murder of the man in the car, who knows, he may come clean, cop to the whole thing—as a gift to us.”

“When pigs fly.”

“Yeah.” Del drew in a little smoke, blew it into the air between them. Glancing at his watch, he said, “I'm heading down to Worthington this afternoon with Ray and his son.”

“You finally hired Peter, huh?”

“We can use another guy. Hell, we could use a dozen more guys to go with us when we travel, but Peter will have to do for now.”

It occurred to Randy right then that there was already so much acid in his stomach that adding more in the form of grape-fruit juice might not be smart. He pushed the glass away.

“With Gunderson off our tail,” said Del, “maybe the story will die a natural death.”

“Not if she pulls out of her coma and points a finger at Larry, and by association, us.”

Just then, Delavon's phone rang. He got up and grabbed the cordless on the kitchen counter, checking the caller ID.

“Who is it?” asked Randy.

“Just says ‘wireless call.' Yeah?” he said, clicking the phone on as he stepped over to windows that overlooked the river. “Shit, man, why the hell are you calling me on a land line!” He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Larry,” he mouthed. He listened for a moment. Covering the mouthpiece again, he whispered, “It's one of those no-name cells with calling card. Untraceable, right?”

Randy nodded.

Moving back over to the counter, he said, “Let me put this on speakerphone. Randy's here, too. We might as well all talk.” He pushed a button, then set the phone back in its cradle.

Larry's voice poured over the line. “You boys havin' yourself a mess of flapjacks for breakfast? Wish I was there with ya.”

“Where the hell are you?” demanded Randy.

“Now, now. Calm down. I'm handlin' things.”

“Yeah, like you handled the guy in the back of that burned car.

“That's why I took off. I figured the police were about to come knockin' on your door to have a little come-to-Jesus meetin' with me.”

“They did,” said Randy. “What the hell is
wrong
with you? You lied to me! You murdered him!”

“Come on, fellas. We all know the world's a scary place. See, I hoisted a few too many in a bar outside of Steamboat Springs, got into a car with a dude who said he'd take me down to Denver. Except, halfway there, he tries to jack my wallet. We had a little disagreement about it, if you catch my drift. He had a pipe wrench in the backseat, so I showed him a little cowboy justice. And then I drove his car all the way to Minnesota. Figured he owed me that much.”

Randy felt sick to his stomach.

Del leaned over the speaker. “You tried to murder Gunderson. You think that was what we wanted? I'd say you're not handling things very well at all.”

The line went silent.

“You still there?” asked Del.

“You think
I
was the one who knifed her?”

“You're tellin' us you weren't?”

“Hell no! You guys are off your rocker. I gave her the cash, she gave me the key, just like I said. I didn't find out about the knifin' till yesterday afternoon. I was havin' a few beers with a friend because I was so pissed at her. That's when I saw it on TV.”

“Pissed at what?” asked Randy.

“That key. It worked in the lock, all right, but there weren't nothin' in the box. She stiffed us, boys. Can you beat that?”

“You're saying she took the money?” said Randy.

“I figure that's why she got knifed,” said Larry. “Somebody saw the transfer and came down on her after I left.”

“You believe him?” whispered Delavon.

Randy gave him a bewildered shrug.

“But don't you worry yourselves, I've got it covered. I'm headed down to Waldo even as we speak. If there's any loose ends that need lookin' after, I'll take care of it.”

Randy peeled himself off the chair and shouted at the speaker, “No. Stay here.”

“Can't,” said Larry. “The cops are lookin' for me, remember?”

“Don't you hurt anyone!” shouted Randy.

“Hey, I don't go killin' people just for fun, you know. This is
me,
Larry. I'm just tryin' to cover our naked asses. Don't worry, my brothers, I'll be careful. Now, gotta go. I'll be in touch.”

 

 

J
ane had already packed an overnight case for the trip to Iowa. Cordelia said she'd be by around eleven. She also said not to worry about maps. She had it all handled.

By ten to eleven, Jane was dressed in her best worn jeans, a faded long-sleeved chambray shirt, a brown leather vest, and the boots Kenzie had bought for her on her first visit to Nebraska. Returning downstairs to her study, she wrote Kenzie a quick e-mail, saying that the suede jacket had arrived and fit perfectly. She added that she was thinking about the menu for the Memorial Day party and would call her later to discuss it. She still hadn't heard back from Nolan about Peter's problem, but it had only been a couple of hours. She knew he'd call as soon as he could.

Jane assumed Cordelia would be late. But just as she was about to go into the kitchen, she heard a horn honk outside.

“That's her, buddy,” she said, feeling in her back pocket for
Mouse's leash. He loved the open road almost as much as she did. And Cordelia's Hummer was a lot like sitting in a traveling living room.

But as Jane stepped outside with her bag in hand and her
new
black suede coat over her shoulder, she did a double take. “Where'd you get
that?”

Cordelia waved proudly from a shiny new silver convertible.

“Just bought it,” she said.

“This morning?”

“Saturday night, right after I left Mel at the hospital. Used the Hummer for a trade-in.”

Jane locked the door behind her, then she and Mouse walked out to the curb to take a closer look. “Why? I thought you adored your Hummer.”