Chapter 4
1041 Words
Chapter 4 A half hour later he was interviewing the first victim of car theft.
“When did you find out your car was broken into?” Keplar asked, holding his small tablet and pencil ready to write down what he learned.
“Six am, when I set out to work.”
“Hear anything last night?”
Showing some frustration, “The usual, kids walkin down the street carrying on.”
“About what time was that?”
“Not sure, but probably around ten,” he said scratching his head.
“What did they take?”
“A flashlight and umbrella.”
“Any damage to the car?” Keplar asked glancing over at the new Chevy BelAir.
Walking around the car, “No, not that I can see.”
Following him, “Do you always leave your car unlocked?”
“Always have, never had a problem before. I'll lock it from now on.”
“Good idea. Is there anything else that might be helpful?”
Pausing for a brief moment, “No.”
“Right, I'll be in touch if I find anything,” Keplar said as he closed his tablet and slipped it into his shirt pocket. He tipped his hat and walked off.
He interviewed the other two victims with the same result. Back at the office, he reviewed his notes. Finishing a cup of black coffee, he headed out to make his rounds. He started with the area where the break ins had taken place. It was going to be another long boring day, he hoped...and it was. At lunch time he went back to the office, hoping that Rose would call.
During his rounds, he ran into a few kids just hanging out in the area. Talking to them produced no results. A couple of the rougher looking kids wearing turned up collar black jackets seemed like good candidates, so he talked with them briefly, but they professed to know nothing, so he moved on.
By 6 pm he was showered and standing at Rose's door.
Yelling from the kitchen, “Come in, I'm in the kitchen.”
“How did you know it was me?” he said, stepping in.
“I heard you pull up and glanced out the window. You hungry?”
Opening the screen door, “Something smells wonderful.”
“I hope so.”
Once in the kitchen, from behind he wrapped his arms around her waist and bent to kiss her neck. “That wonderful smell, is you.”
Craning her neck to look at him, “I hope you like the smell of the Pot Roast too.”
“Yeah, that smells good too.”
Turning around to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You here to arrest me officer?”
“That might be fun,” he said, giving her a peck on the lips.
After dinner they cuddled up on the couch in front of the TV. They both ignored it and made small talk. The house was small and cozy. The living room backed into a small kitchen with counters and appliances wrapping around a kitchen table. Down the narrow hall was a bath and two small bedrooms. Partially separating the kitchen and living area was an enclosed staircase that led to an unfinished attic.
Mick could wait no longer, “What happened at the news conference today?”
“Do we have to discuss that now?” Rose asked, dipping her chin and looking up into his eyes.
Smiling, Mick took her in his arms.
An hour later they were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and sharing a cigarette. “What about the news conference?”
“There were a couple Minneapolis issues discussed before I could ask about the progress in your case. Detective Knutson seemed a little put out by the question.”
“Really... what did he say?”
“Only that progress was being made and they had a person under investigation.”
Mick stood, grinding his teeth, “Why hasn't he told me?”
“You're assuming that it is true,” Rose said motioning for him to sit back down.
Sitting, “Why wouldn't it be true?”
“As I said, he was put out by the question. I think he was simply covering up the fact that no progress has been made. That's something no one wants to admit, especially in a murder investigation.”
“So we have nothing?”
“That's about it, I think.”
Rocking back in his chair, “I'm going to start snooping around. There has to be something.”
“Are you sure that is wise considering he in effect told you to stand down.”
“What can he do, arrest me?” Mick said grinning at her.
“Where would you start? You don't even know his name,” Rose said pouring more coffee in each cup.
“I'm going to call the ME in the morning, he must know the name by now. Speaking of morning, it's late, I should probably go home and get some sleep.”
Ignoring what he just said, “If we have the name, we can both start poking around,” Rose said excitedly. Taking him by the hand, she led him to the brightly lit back yard where there was a small flower garden and two lawn chairs already set up around a small outdoor table. “Should I go back for the coffee?”
“No, I'll never get to sleep if I drink any more.”
Rose was excited, “I've never worked on a murder investigation before.” Reaching across the table, she took his hand. “When do we start?” The phone began to ring.
“I'll be right back,” she said jumping out of her chair and racing into the house. A moment later, she stepped out and yelled, “It's for you, dispatch.”
Rising slowly, he mumbled, “That's never good.”
Taking the phone, “What's up Trish?”
“We have another car break in. The guy was in his house when he heard something outside and saw two boys digging in his car. He yelled at them and they took off running. There was a third boy running well ahead. Anyway, he caught the two boys, but the third got away. A neighbor, who heard him yelling, joined in on the chase. They are now holding them waiting for you to show up.”
“Is either Kip or Jim available to take it? Keplar asked. “No, they are both off duty. Should I call one of them?”
“No, I'll take it, Address?” She gave it to him. Giving Rose a peck on the cheek, “Gotta run, another car break in.”
Trish had given him pretty much the whole story. When he arrived at the scene of the crime, the boys were sitting on the front stairs with the two burly young men standing nearby. The only thing left out of what Trish had said was the age of these gangsters. One was ten, the other eleven. An hour after getting the call, he was sitting in the living room of the home of the third boy, also ten. As with the other two boys, they were properly warned and scolded. They all promised never to do it again. By the time he finished talking to the parents of each boy, it was well past midnight. It was quarter to one, when he finally fell into bed.
- Writer
