A Case For Conners

Chapter 7

Chapter 6: To He Who Inherits

Conners had expected Lawrence to be upset. He'd expected her to be disappointed, mad or even really angry with him. What he hadn't expected was for her to be downright pissed at him. When he'd gotten back to her apartment, still in the early hours of the morning, Lawrence was waiting in the armchair. She had a book at her side and a look of indignation on her face. They locked eyes and then she began ranting.

"Didn't even think! Not for one second! Greatest detective ever seen, my ass! What an unbelievable..."

"Lawrence," he said trying to plead his case for the hundredth time.

"Shut up!" she yelled throwing a plate at him.

He dodged the projectile deftly, and decided he'd had enough. She was being irrational. Quickly, he swooped in close and grabbed her wrists. His grip was firm, but not harsh, and slowly, she relaxed enough to look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. "I didn't mean to worry you. We both know what happens when families suffer loss. I couldn't stop; I had to act."

He thought he had a pretty solid grip on her. However, he forgot Lawrence was a cop.

She reversed his hold and pinned him face-first into the floor, planted a knee in his back and pulled his arm behind him.

"What did you even do?" she demanded as he grunted in pain. "I thought you were going to go off and do something stupid and dangerous."

"I did do something stupid and dangerous," he said, face full of carpet. "I met a woman who is crazy smart, Kelsey Richards. She killed Bill."

It took her a while, but Lawrence eventually let it go, at least enough to not talk about it. Slowly, they went back to joking with each other, and moved on with their plans. Finding an apartment was far easier than he'd thought it would be. After all, with the proper papers and money upfront the owner was happy to have someone with honest work in the place.

He paid a small-time designer to furnish it for him. After all, he hadn't chosen it for its look. The building was only one block from the central police station and almost in the dead center of the city. After she finished critiquing his living quarters, Lawrence invited Conners to the station to see if he wanted to help her on another case. He was all too happy to comply. After all, Bill's death was still fresh in his mind and he wanted to distract himself with the work.

She walked him in through the polished doors of the station, and a very bored desk cop checked him in before he was searched for weapons. Once he was cleared he was lead to Lawrence's desk, where papers lay strewn all over the place.

"Geez, you have pigs under all this crap?" he asked.

"This is work, and it's how I can reach what I need when I need it," she explained.

"I prefer to be able to find what's needed only when it's needed, otherwise it's in the way. Order is required within reason."

She rolled her eyes at him and handed him a file near the bottom of a paper stack. "We have an inheritance issue. A farmer turns up dead, by hanging. Problem is the man owned several hundred acres and now his oldest son, Luke Carter, has suddenly come into a huge inheritance. It would help him pay off a lot of his debt."

"You think it's murder?"

"Not us, his younger brother does. Name's Lars. He says Luke probably killed their old man for the farm; so we were asked to take a look."

"Alright, what do you have?"

"Just a description by the first cop on site. It's not much but..."

"That's fine. Take me there."

Lawrence raised an eyebrow.

"Pushy, aren't we?" she asked.

"Only when you dangle these nice juicy cases in front of me," he said, hiding his pain behind a cocky attitude.

He climbed into her car and they flew through the city streets until the tall buildings gave way to country land. Of course, Conners had seen cops driving up and down streets before. Hell, he'd been running from many of them when he was with Hunter, but actually being inside the cruiser was a whole different experience. It made him want to learn to drive... a little.

They arrived at the scene and went up to one of the patrolmen.

"What's going on?" Conners asked.

"Sorry about him," Lawrence said. "He's annoying but a good case man. Conners, this is officer Miller. Jake, this is Michael Conners."

"Detective Michael J. Conners," he corrected her.

"Private detective Michael J. Conners, yes."

Mike laughed aloud.

"What's the deal with this guy? I've never heard anything about him."

"That's all right," said Conners. "I've never heard anything about you either, and I've already forgotten your name. So, I think we can just move on."

The officer scowled, "The old man's in the barn, hasn't even been cut down yet."

"Really?" asked Conners. "I'm pleasantly surprised that you haven't done that yet."

"Why?"

"Normally your lot try and preserve some sense of dignity for the dead and end up ruining a lot of potential evidence."

Conners walked up to the body dangling from the noose. His mind began to take snapshots. The man was old, but still able-bodied. His hands were coarse and strong. His clothing was often torn and patched by hand. He was a classic farmer.

There was more though. The yellowing teeth and stained fingernails suggested he was a heavy smoker, and he rolled cigarettes instead of smoking store-bought ones. It was possible that he was also smoking weed, but hard to tell from just the body. To his surprise, it appeared the man was not a heavy drinker. He lacked the stench of drink, and his boots didn't bare the uneven wear and tear of drunken stumbling. The farmer's hair and beard were long, but not unkempt. So, he didn't likely hold with city customs, but did have strong morals, which he would've taught his children. As far as his death, hanging was what the police figured to be the cause. It appeared he'd jumped off the rafters with the rope around his neck. However, appearances were often deceiving.

Conners cut down the body and removed the noose. To his surprise the neck showed not one, but two strong lines digging into the man's flesh. They were close together, but the lower one wasn't quite as deep. It looked like he'd been strangled before being hung. He opened the man's eyes, and his bloodshot gaze confirmed Conners' theory.

Conners knew he'd have to actually meet the boys to find out which was the killer. Luckily, he didn't have long to wait. Lawrence made her own examination of the body before leading him inside. Two men sat on the couch in the main room, talking very quietly. Conners figured they must be the two brothers, and his mind took down information.

The brother on the right, Luke, was clearly older. His dark hair had flecks of grey in it. He wore a very fine suit. That didn't clear him of murder though; money would always demand more money. His clean-cut appearance meant he was probably used to higher end business deals or dreamed of them.

The second son though, Lars, was dressed much more like his father. He wore rough-spun jeans, the kind made just for hard work, and a plaid shirt. His hands were stained with oil and dirt. He clearly meant to follow in his father's footsteps. That actually gave Conners pause for thought.

If Lars was to inherit his father's farm... there'd be no reason to kill the old man. After all, he probably worked with him day-after-day as it was. Killing his father would only make things harder on him. But if Luke were to inherit, Lars could be in serious jeopardy.

Given this much information, Conners figured Luke was the more likely killer, but he needed to prove it. He looked at Lars before speaking.

"I'm sure what has happened has greatly horrified you both," he said, trying to show sympathy and understanding. "We both appreciate your time. Lars, can I talk to you alone for a moment?"

"Sure," he said, standing up and walking outside with Conners.

"I know what you told the patrolman about your brother, and I think you're right. But, I need your help to prove it."

"Sure, what can I do?"

"Tell your brother that you need help in the barn tonight, and blame him for it all. I will be waiting in the rafters. If he attacks you or confesses, I'll step in."

"That doesn't sound like it'll work."

"It's better than anything I see you coming up with. Trust me, it'll work."

"What about the other cop? She gonna help out too?"

"Probably," Conners said, shrugging.

Lars didn't seem encouraged.

As soon as Conners explained his plan to Lawrence, she raised her eyebrow skeptically.

"This is your genius at work, right? Bait and wait for the rat? You know this is going to fail pathetically, don't you?"

"You're going to fail pathetically," he muttered.

"Seriously? I'm working with a child!"

Nevertheless, she waited with him until nightfall. High in the rafters of the barn they waited, ready for the trap to spring, and around ten or so both brothers entered the barn.

"Hey Lars," said Luke. "I'm glad you brought me out, the fresh air feels better than being inside all day."

"Bet it does," said Lars, almost bitterly. "After all, you spend most of your time in those big office buildings, while father and I are doing the real work here."

"You know father always supported me in what I do. I don't see why you have to hate me for it."

The words echoed through Conners' brain. The father had supported Luke, and Lars resented him for it. Conners saw now, he had the whole case backwards. Lars was the killer, because the father had always put down the loyal son. If that was the case, Luke was by no means safe. He leapt down from the rafters, gun drawn.

"What the hell?!" yelled Lars. "He didn't admit it yet!"

"Admit what?" said Luke, generally concerned.

"You father didn't kill himself," Conners said to Luke. "He was murdered by your brother."

"What?!" Luke yelled.

A grim resolution crossed Lars' face.

"Worked it out did you? You're pretty clever detective. It's a shame clever people are always so stupid."

Conners felt something twang behind him and a rope suddenly tightened around his neck. Lars shoved Luke down and ran out. Conners hastily pressed the barrel of his gun on the knot of the noose and shot through it. Lawrence was by his side in a second.

"Come on!" he yelled, coughing. "After him."

Like a bullet, Conners sprinted after the farmer, and caught him before he'd gone fifty yards. Tackling him the to ground, he shoved the gun into the back of Lars' head.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Conners growled.

Lawrence placed cuffs on the man and read him his rights as he was put into the cruiser. Conners went to Luke, who sat huddled in a corner of the barn.

"I just can't believe it," said Luke softly. "He... my brother... killed father."

"Your father loved you, and Lars hated you for it," Conners explained, motioning for a blanket in case Luke went into shock. "Will you be all right here?"

Luke nodded softly.

"You thought it was me didn't you? He said I was supposed to confess."

"I knew it was one of you two, and you seemed more likely. I'm sorry, it wasn't personal."

"I know. Thanks, I suppose. He probably would've killed me too... my own brother."

Conners didn't respond. He felt odd. He'd solved loads of cases, but splitting family up like this disturbed him. He thought that was weird. The case was done, that meant so was he. He'd paid a tiny piece of his debt. He didn't have the time to get emotionally invested in everyone he met.