Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Suspense,
Mystery & Detective,
Women Sleuths,
Crime,
Mystery,
Mystery Fiction,
Police,
Police Procedural,
Policewomen,
Serial Murders,
Minnesota,
Saint Paul (Minn.),
Saint Paul,
Police - Minnesota - Saint Paul
a dog.â She had nine brothers, no sisters.
âYour siblings are nuts. You canât eat dinner at their houses without swallowing a pound of fur. Rawhide bones everywhere. Yardâs all tore up. They live in giant kennels.â
âIâll be sure to pass that compliment on to my brothersâand their wives.â She frowned and brushed the hair from her forehead with her fingertips. She wasnât comfortable with bangs. Jack said he found them attractive, told her she looked like Cleopatra. She used to wear her hair parted down the middle and pulled back. She got bangs over the summer to help cover the scar, a constant reminder of the fight sheâd gotten into with a killer.
Jack popped open his beer and took a sip. âForget the damn dog. Dogâs a bad idea.â
She didnât answer. She turned in her stool to see who she knew in the bar. The room had paneled walls, a low ceiling and was cloudy with smoke. Four guys in camouflage jackets were at a table playing cards and puffing oncigarettes. She recognized a couple of them. Retired towboat crew. Her family used to run a bar along the Mississippi that served river workers. The two men saw her and nodded. Another table was filled with guys in blaze orange caps. They were hunkered over a map, planning a deer hunt. Murphy was envious. She wished Jack was more of a hunter. Maybe she could get out this season with her brothers.
She turned around to sip her beer. The television behind the bar was turned to the news. Gunnar walked over to switch channels when a female reporter came on. She was standing in front of a church, interviewing a tall man. âStop,â Murphy said. She strained to listen. âTurn it up.â
âOne of your cases?â asked Gunnar.
Murphy didnât answer. She stared at the screen. The reporter was talking about how the tall guy was a traveling salesman whoâd volunteered to join a search party. They were looking for a Moose Lake woman whoâd disappeared Friday night after a wedding. âA bridesmaid who vanished,â the reporter said. She emphasized the word bridesmaid to show it made the story different. Special.
Jack watched his wifeâs face. âWhat is it, Paris?â
âI recognize him.â
âFrom where? Work?â
âNo. Canât remember exactly. But not work.â
âFuckinâ tall as a house,â said Gunnar. He grabbed a bar rag and wiped the counter.
Murphy studied the man while he continued talking to the reporter about why heâd volunteered, how heâd wanted to help. His face was pale and smooth and his eyes dark. His lips were full. Almost a womanâs mouth. He had black, slicked-back hair. In a strange way, he was attractive. Seductive. He looked like a vampire from a black-and-white movie. His left ear was weird. Looked as if he had two lobes. Some kind of accident? More familiar than his face was his voice. He had a trace of southern drawl, and a stutter. She could tell he was concentrating on his speech, pausing at words that were threatening to turn into a problem.Who did she know with a stutter? No one came to mind.
âHey!â yelled one of the deer hunters. âHow about some ESPN instead of this crap?â
âYeah. Yeah. Keep your shirt on.â Gunnar walked over to the television and switched channels.
Murphy rubbed her arms; she had goose bumps under her sweatshirt, but not from the cold. Talking more to herself than to Jack: âI know him. How do I know him?â
Jack drained his can and set it down. âHow about some dinner, babe? Something from that Mexican market down the road. I could go for some beans and rice.â
âIâve got stuff in the fridge,â she said. She took one more sip of beer and slid off the bar stool. âLetâs get the guns and get outta here.â
FOUR
THE SCHOOL BUS rattled down the road, kicking up a cloud that trailed behind like a phantom.