Snow Blind (11 page)

‘Man, this is starting to look like Fargo. Don’t they have snowplows up here?’

Magozzi’s knuckles were white on the wheel, something that rarely happened. ‘Open fields in this spot, nothing to stop the wind. They could have
plowed this ten minutes ago, and you wouldn’t be able to tell. Keep an eye out for road signs, we got another turn coming up.’

‘Thanks for the great news. Are we gonna go through that one sideways, too?’

‘You want to drive?’

‘I don’t even want to be in a car in this stuff. We pass any kind of a hotel, just drop me off, pick me up in April.’

Another twenty minutes and they were fishtailing through the left turn onto Kittering. Once the SUV straightened out, Magozzi hugged the right edge of the road, looking for some purchase on the snowcovered slope. Gino squinted through the snow, but couldn’t see the top of the hill. ‘Forget Fargo,’ he grumbled. ‘This is a mountain, and the way our luck is going, it’s probably Donner Pass … Oh, man, that’s a hell of a drop-off on the left, Leo, so you don’t want to be doing any of that sideways stuff on this road, okay?’

‘Spoilsport.’

Magozzi felt the back end begin to slide and eased up on the accelerator, hoping like hell they didn’t start sliding backward down the hill. By the time they finally reached the top, it took a full five seconds for him to unclench his jaw. He pulled up between two county cars parked along the side of the sheriff’s office and shut down the car. He
and Gino just sat there for a moment, breathing.

Finally Gino stirred and released his seat belt. ‘I kind of feel like we oughta get out and kiss the ground or something.’

Magozzi shook his head. ‘Can’t do it. The country boys could be watching from inside, and they drive that road all day long. We’d look like a couple of wusses.’

‘We are a couple of wusses.’

‘No need to lay that out right at the start.’

The female deputy behind the dispatch station eyed their badges and nodded. ‘Good morning, Detectives. The sheriff’s expecting you. She’ll be right down. How bad was the drive?’

Gino grunted. ‘I’ll tell you one thing. The only way I’m going back down that hill is behind a salt truck.’

‘They never salt that hill. The runoff pollutes the lake.’

‘Oh, yeah? You’d think the dead bodies from all the people sliding off the drop-off into the lake would pollute it a hell of a lot more than a little salt, and we were nearly two of them.’

The deputy blinked at him. ‘You’re kidding me. You actually came up Kittering Hill?’

‘Left on Kittering, up the hill to the sheriff’s office. Those were the directions.’

She let out a silent whistle. ‘Man, nobody drives
that hill in this kind of weather. That’s just plain suicide. You should have come the back way.’

Gino’s face was getting red. ‘There’s a back way? A better way?’

‘Well, sure, you just pass Kittering until you get to Cutter. That sort of loops around the hill, easier grade, and the trees pretty much protect it from the weather. What joker gave you those directions, anyway?’

Gino and Magozzi remained stone-faced, and the deputy’s face reddened as she made the connection.

‘Oh … hey … listen, just for the record, Sheriff Rikker probably doesn’t know about the back way, either.’

‘Seems like something the sheriff ought to know,’ Magozzi said stiffly.

The woman shook her head. ‘She’s the new kid on the block. Somebody should have told her about it before she came in this morning, but I guess it’s kind of a hazing thing for the newbies, you know?’

‘Just how long has she been on the job?’ Gino asked.

‘Well … she worked dispatch for a couple months before she was elected, but we didn’t have a lick of snow back then, and today’s pretty much her first day as sheriff. Heck of a way to get your feet wet, huh?’ The switchboard started buzzing and she smiled apologetically. ‘Excuse me, Detectives.’

Gino grabbed Magozzi by the arm and pulled him aside. ‘Did I just step into an alternate universe or are my ears shot, because what I thought I just heard was that a couple months of dispatch is all the experience this broad has …’

‘I’m going to tell Angela you referred to a woman as a “broad.”’

‘… which means that the least qualified law enforcement officer in the whole state is now the sheriff of one of the largest counties in Minnesota and she’s the lead on a homicide investigation we might have to piggyback.’

‘She was just elected in November, Gino. You knew that much.’

‘Sure I knew that. I just figured she already had a few years on the job, and now it turns out all she did was push a button on a dispatch desk. Jesus, Leo. How does shit like this happen?’

‘I think it’s called democracy.’

‘If we end up having to work the case with her, it’s gonna be called on-the-job training, and I’m not in the mood to babysit …’

‘Detectives?’

Gino and Magozzi both winced at the sound of a voice behind them, the same voice they’d heard over the speaker in Malcherson’s office. As he turned, Magozzi wondered how much she’d overheard.

The person who went with the voice was neither a sour-faced old biddy or a woman who looked tough enough to throw her hat in the ring for sheriff. Iris Rikker was a petite blond with a sweet face and wide blue eyes that probably wouldn’t shelter a lie easily. She was about as unofficial-looking as you could get, right down to the absence of a uniform. She did have a gun, however, and Magozzi couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse about the situation.

‘Detectives Magozzi and Rolseth?’ she asked again uncertainly.

‘Yes … Sheriff?’

‘Sheriff Iris Rikker. Pleased to meet you.’ She smiled politely and shook their hands while Magozzi made quick introductions.

‘I’m really sorry you had to drive up here in this weather. Were the roads horrible?’

‘Nah, they were spotless,’ Gino said, irritable as he always was after a brush with death, real or imagined.

‘Is the BCA here yet?’ Magozzi asked.

‘Yes, they arrived a few minutes before you did. I had one of my deputies take them down to the site. Would you like some coffee?’

Magozzi blinked at her. They had a dead body and a BCA team waiting for them out in the middle of a snowstorm and she thought they should all sit
down for coffee? He glanced over at Gino, who was doing a really good job of concealing his disdain, except for the big eye-rolling part, and then the sharp tone he used when he said, ‘The BCA can’t start their job until we get out there for a first look, and they’re going to be really pissed if we keep them waiting.’

Iris Rikker looked a little startled, and then more than a little embarrassed. ‘Oh, God. Of course. I’m sorry. I just thought …’ She grabbed a heavy parka from a wall hook and hurried out the door ahead of them before she remembered to put it on.

Gino zipped up as he watched her through the glass door, shaking his head. She slipped and slid across the parking lot toward a big new SUV, then took a header just as she reached for the door handle. ‘If this case belongs to us and we have to work with that woman, I’m going to kill myself.’

Magozzi pulled on his gloves. ‘It’s her first day, and definitely her first murder. Maybe you need to cut her a little slack.’

‘Screw that. We’ve got two of our own down, and we don’t have time to cut anybody any slack.’

‘Bobby Windemeyer.’

‘Huh?’ Gino paused just before he pushed open the door.

‘Bobby Windemeyer, your first DB, remember? You took one look at the kid and broke down and
bawled like a baby. Moved the body, stepped in blood, pretty much trashed the whole scene.’

‘Hmph. That was a long time ago.’

‘Exactly. This is Iris Rikker’s long time ago. We all get one of those.’

Gino acted like he hadn’t heard him, glowering out at the SUV that had just pulled up to the door, a red-faced Iris Rikker behind the wheel. ‘Oh, Christ, now she expects us to ride with her? I sure as hell hope she drives better than she walks.’

13

Detective Tinker Lewis was buried under the down comforter, listening to the sleet on the bedroom window, being coaxed awake by the aromas of brewing coffee and frying bacon wafting up the stairs.

It had to be Sunday, otherwise Janis wouldn’t be anywhere near the stove. She could make coffee and fry a pound of bacon, and on a good day, three or four slices might be edible. Tinker was profoundly grateful that she attempted these things only one day a week. The kitchen belonged to him.

By the time he got downstairs she was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring down at a mass of greasy bacon languishing on a paper towel. ‘I suck at this. What kind of an idiot can’t fry bacon?’

Tinker sorted through the mess with a fork, looking for a piece that wasn’t either raw or burned black. ‘Maybe if you didn’t waste your time doing those silly heart surgeries, you could stay home and practice cooking, become a better wife to your poor beleaguered husband. I could buy you an apron.’

‘That’s all I’ve been waiting for.’ She looked up at him and frowned. ‘Why are you dressed for work? It’s Sunday.’

‘Cops die, we all work.’

He took one look at her face and wished he were agile enough to kick himself. Janis was on one of the transplant teams at the U, and they’d had a marathon surgery scheduled yesterday, maybe eighteen straight hours in the rarefied, isolated atmosphere of the operating room. No TV, no radio, no news from the outside world. He’d been sound asleep by the time she got home, and she hadn’t heard.

‘I’m sorry.’ He took her hands, sat down with her at the kitchen table, and told her one of the things that any cop’s wife dreads hearing. Someone out there was killing cops, and suddenly her husband was in the line of fire.

When he finished, she sat quietly for a while, still holding his hands. ‘So we’re inside saving a life yesterday, and on the outside, someone took two away. Sometimes I don’t even know why we try so hard to keep up.’

Tinker gave her one of his sad smiles. ‘So you saved the kid. I’m glad.’

‘He’s ten years old.’

‘I know. And now he’ll live to see eleven. That’s big time, Janis. It makes up for a lot.’

She closed her eyes for a moment, then got up
and held out her hand, palm up. ‘Give it to me. Then make us something decent to eat if you’re going back out there.’

Tinker reluctantly unholstered his weapon and put it in her hand, then shook his head as she got the cleaning kit from a top cupboard and got to work. He’d taken care of that last night, but telling her that wouldn’t do a bit a good. It was some kind of peculiar ritual with her – checking and rechecking his weapon anytime there was a hint of something going down, maybe because it was the only way she could actively participate in keeping him safe. He had no clue how she’d learned how to do such a thing – probably just from watching him during those years he’d been on the street – but she did it meticulously and well. The irony of seeing those million-dollar life-saving surgeon’s hands ensuring the proper operation of an instrument of death had always disturbed him, and he’d learned long ago to turn away from the wrongness of it.

He was first to the phone when it rang. He saw Janis stiffen and stop working to listen, which she did whenever the phone rang during times like these. She relaxed a little when he said, ‘Oh, hi, Sandy. Good to hear from you.’ She started to tense up again a few minutes later, because Tinker wasn’t talking, and he had his little notebook out.

It took Tinker half an hour to get to downtown
Minneapolis, a drive that normally took ten minutes. The sleet had put down a layer of ice on roadways and sidewalks that had barely been cleared after the big snow, and the Highway Patrol had travel warnings over half the state. For once, most Minnesotans had decided to listen, hunkering down until either the sun or the sand trucks came out.

The downtown streets were surprisingly empty, even for a Sunday morning, and a good thing, too, since the little Honda was sliding all over the place. The hot Sunday brunch spots were all closed, their overhangs dripping icicles, and for the first time since he couldn’t remember when, almost every church in the city had canceled Sunday services.

The sky was still raining ice when he slid to the curb in front of one of the old office buildings serving as temporary quarters, while the county sucked toxic mold out of parts of its new kazillion-dollar complex. Heads were still rolling over that one.

The uniform he had requested was waiting on the sidewalk, bundled up in winter gear, ice crystals sparkling on the fur of his cap. Tinker thought he looked like a Christmas decoration someone had forgotten to take down.

‘You Detective Lewis?’

‘Right.’

‘Chalmers, out of the Second. You want to give
me the word on this before you make me break down the door of a government building?’

Tinker held up a key ring. ‘Turns out his wife had an extra set, so we’re legal. You weren’t briefed?’

‘I was just told to get my ass over here. Homicide calls, we’re there, especially after yesterday. Sarge figures anything you’re taking a look at might have something to do with what happened to our boys in the park.’

‘I don’t know about that, but anything a little off-kilter sets me on edge, and I want to look at it. And straight up, this guy’s a friend of mine. Steve Doyle. A parole officer. He had a meet set up with a new parolee yesterday afternoon, and hasn’t been seen since. His wife got caught down in Northfield by the storm, didn’t get back until late last night, and found him gone. No calls, no messages, no luck tracking him down. She called me at home first thing this morning.’

Chalmers took off his cap and banged it on his leg, releasing a shower of ice crystals. ‘Well, friend of yours or not, I gotta ask. Any chance this guy just checked into the No Tell Motel while the wife was out of town?’

‘No chance at all.’

Chalmers looked him in the eye for a moment, then nodded and moved toward the door. ‘Then let’s get out of this weather and see what we can see.’

The building was as deserted as the streets, and had that musty smell of crumbling brick and old plaster. Chances were the county would be one of the last tenants before some kind of remodel happened.