Tracking A Killer

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning, “Hey Trish, any word from the ME yet?” Keplar shouted.

Shouting back, “There is an intercom you can use. We shouldn’t have to shout at one another.” Still shouting, “The answer is no.” Pausing, “See now, I have a sore throat.”

Chuckling softly, he plopped his feet on the desk and put his head back. As usual, at times like this, he thought about Rose and what a blessing she was. It was almost a year since they married and a little over a year since they met. The most wonderful year of his life, leaving aside the wounds he received fighting crimes all over the state during that time. Rose, Detective Knutson, and himself had proved to be a good team. He just prayed they would never get caught up in a case like that again, but deep down he missed the action and adrenaline rush.

Rose, a reporter for the Minneapolis Star and Tribune, enjoyed her work thoroughly. There was always a new story to work on and in her spare time she interviewed and wrote articles about World War I and II veterans. She wanted to get their stories out there so the people could get a flavor for the sacrifices so many of them made. The most heartbreaking thing she found was how many of the vets suffered from shell shock like her husband, Mick.

Although he was making some improvement, there were many troubling nights when she would have to wake him up from one of his terrible dreams. A couple of times, he struck out at her when she tried to wake him, so she learned to do this carefully and lovingly. One time, after hitting her, he held her tight and cried for almost an hour. He suggested that they get twin beds. She slapped him lovingly and told him there was no way that was going to happen.

Mick was a Marine who served in the Pacific and was involved in tough battles where he saw many young men killed. During the battle at Iwo Jima, he saw some buddies and others killed. These were the cause of the nightmares. He also saved a few by running out and dragging them to shelter. One of them is a sheriff in North Dakota that he happened upon during the earlier case. It was a heartwarming reunion.

Hearing his stomach grumble, Keplar decided it was time for lunch, so he breezed by Trish and went directly to the root beer stand where he had a three-course meal for sixty cents. Sitting in his car, he watched gentle flakes begin to fall. The forecast said another storm was on its way. This was only the beginning.

Arriving back at the station, Trish announced, “The ME called and wants you to call him back asap.”

Without sitting down, he made the call. “Hi, Doc, what did you find out?”

“Shot in the back twice, so you definitely have a murder on your hands.”

“I’m going to head over and have a look. See you in a few.”

Pulling into the ME’s parking lot, he spotted a familiar, shiny, nearly new Oldsmobile. “What the heck is he doing here already?” he said aloud. Moving to the lab, slowly opening the door, he peeked in and said, “What the hell are you doing here? You could have waited til I called.”

“Well yeah, I could have, but things were quiet and I was bored out of my mind,” Knutson said.

Looking at Doc Armstrong accusingly, “Did you call him?” Keplar asked.

Shaking his head, “He called me and asked if I had anything he might be interested in, so here we are.”

Knutson stepped over to Keplar and gave him a bear hug. Patting him on the back, “How is my favorite chief of police today? It’s been too long.”

Smiling and jabbing Knutson in the side, “It has been too long. That’s why I was going to give you a call as soon as I saw the body.”

The two men had become close friends while working on the aforementioned case about a year earlier. Keplar had saved Knutson’s life twice, or so Knutson insisted. It turned out to be the toughest and most dangerous case either had ever faced. Not too long after it ended, Knutson became Keplar’s best man at his wedding.

“Alright Doc, show us what you’ve found.”

Motioning them over to the table that the victim was laid out on, “It took a while to get him thawed out, but when we did, it was obvious that he was shot through the seat twice in the back.” Pointing at the wounds on the body, “So, whoever shot him was sitting behind him. He must have known whoever did it.”

“Have you found anything else?” Keplar asked while bending over the body to get a closer look.

“Not on the body, but we still have to go through the car. A couple of my guys are working on that now.”

“Mind taking us down?”

“Not a bit,” he said while ripping off his bloody gloves.

“I’ve never been here before,” Keplar said. Looking at Knutson, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“There are always some new surprises on the horizon, keeps life interesting don’t you think?”

Shaking his head, Keplar walked over to the car. Turning to the Doc, “A bit dreary down here, don’t yah think.”

Armstrong laughed, “You are quite the pair. Now, as you can see on the table are all the loose change and other small items taken from the car. In the bag is a Zippo lighter with fingerprints that may help us find out who the shooter is. It was found in the back seat behind the driver. I’m guessing that it slipped out of the killer's pocket. We are also checking other prints from the car to see if they match those on the lighter, but I’m betting that the shooter had gloves on and left no other prints. We’ll have to wait and see.”

With a ballpoint pen he pulled out of his pocket, Knutson picked at the other small items on the table. “Let’s see, we have thirty-seven cents in change, a used tissue that looks like it has been there a while, a broken pencil, a small penknife, and a woman’s hair clip, probably not his.”

“My guys are still looking, as you can see, but that’s it for now.” Opening the door, “I’ll keep you guys up to date.”

Studying the prepared meal on his car seat, “You’re making the rest of us look bad,” Knutson said while patting Keplar on the shoulder.

Jumping in his truck, Keplar smirked, “I’m gonna call your wife as soon as I get home, so you might consider picking something up on your way.”

“I think I’ll pick up a steak, carrots, and potatoes. She’ll love preparing that for me.”

“Good luck, my friend.”