Murder at Naughton Pharms

Ted's friends from the senior center had left by the time Kelly returned to the table in the Teamsters bar.

  "What's wrong?" asked Jessica.

  Ted put a hand on Kelly's shoulder. "We started to wonder if they hauled you off."

  Kelly, visibly shaken, ordered a cup of coffee from a passing barmaid before he responded. "Another guy from work is dead. Jamie Padden."

  Stunned, Ted and Jessica listened intently as Kelly shared the details. "Detective Amundson says Padden was found by his wife late this afternoon at their lake cabin. He'd gone out there by himself on Saturday. She went out today, thought he was on the lake fishing, but then found him in the fishing shack ... same as the others."

  Jessica's phone chirped. A text. "Work," she said, her voice breaking. "Emergency meeting of the crisis management team."

  She stood to go. Kelly rose with her. They embraced, a long hug that helped ease some of the tension. "Call," said Kelly, "... if you want to. Any time tonight. I'll answer."

  She nodded. They kissed, and she headed for the door.

  Kelly sank back into his chair, feeling spent.

  "My god, Kelly. Who could be doing this?" asked Ted.

  Kelly slowly shook his head. "I wish I knew."

  The presence of the police and Kelly's obvious distress wasn't lost on the remaining musicians. Even some of the customers realized something had happened. As Kelly packed up his sax, he responded to questions with only a brief explanation: "Another guy is dead."

  The ride home began quietly, Ted understanding that Kelly didn't feel like talking. After a few blocks, Kelly checked his phone. Besides a couple voicemails that Haugen and Amundson had left when they were trying to find him, there was a text from his mom. "Cops looking 4 U."

  "Mom knows the cops were looking for me. I better call her when I get home." Kelly sighed. "All this probably has her even less enchanted with me going into law enforcement."

  "She's not keen on it?"

  "Not really. Crappy hours, hard on relationships, stress, high risk of injury, compromised social life. She made darn sure I was aware of the drawbacks."

  "Well, I think you'd make a fine officer."

  "Thanks."

  "But your mom's right. It's not a life to choose casually."

  A light rain began again. Ted put the wipers on intermittent. "Any particular reason you want to be a cop?"

  Kelly stared out the side window. There was something comforting about a rainy night, driving along familiar streets.

  "I ... I met a cop when I was really young. Maybe six. My father wasn't living with us. Maybe Mom had called the cops about him, or maybe it was later; maybe she dated the cop or something. I don't really remember, but he was at our house. He said if any grownup ever hurt me I should call him. He gave me his card. I kept that card in my toy safe; had it for a long time."

  Ted let the comment rest in silence.

  Back at their building, they were barely out of the car when Jerry the landlord called out from the back steps. "The police were here looking for you."

  "They found me."

  "I told 'em you were likely at the Teamsters. I hope that's okay."

  "Yep. Thanks, Jerry."

  "Seemed important," said Jerry, as they walked past, heading for the front door. It was clear Jerry was curious, angling for more information.

  "It was. Another guy's dead." Kelly left it at that as he and Ted reached the corner of the building, passing from Jerry's sight.

  "Coffee?" offered Ted.

  "Thanks. Not tonight."

  Ted put an arm across Kelly's back, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and they said goodnight.

  Back at his apartment, Kelly put his sax away and went out on the fire escape. He toweled off the old, but comfortable springy metal chair and sat with his feet up on the railing. After taking a moment to himself, he called his mom and told her about Jamie Padden.

  "Oh, Kelly. Just quit that job. It's not safe. You can live here, finish school."

  "No, I like my apartment and I like the job. The murderer must have an issue with management; I doubt that includes me."

  "Any chance the police are getting close to solving the case?"

  "Doesn't feel like it. Detective Amundson tracked me down tonight to see if I had an alibi."

  "They still think it could be you?"

  "Well, Amundson apparently does. He maybe believes me, but isn't sure. I can understand that. It's true that I don't have an alibi for any of the murders. Padden was likely killed early this morning, and you didn't get home from church until eleven or so. There was plenty of time for me to drive out to Padden's cabin and back, even though I have no idea where it is."

  After ending the call, Kelly lingered on the fire escape, soothed by the rain-fresh air, the mist and even the occasional drop of water that rolled from the leaves above.

  Despite the proximity to downtown and to nearby apartments, houses and businesses, the fire escape perch felt secluded, and tonight it was particularly peaceful. Thanks to the rain, there were no lawn mowers, no kids playing, no motorcycles … only the occasional car hissing past on the wet pavement.

  It suddenly occurred to Kelly that he ought to call Paula Keen, the reporter. He suspected she already knew about Padden's murder, but he wanted to stay on her good side by making an effort to honor their deal.

  "I was just about to call you," she answered.

  "I assume you heard about Dr. Padden. I just found out a little while ago."

  They compared notes. The only thing Keen could add was the location of the cabin. "It's on Turtle Lake. We have a crew on the way. Anything you can tell me about Padden that might be helpful?"

  "I don't think so. He was also in management, but that's the only thing I'm aware of that he has in common with Heckathorn and Kupmeier."

  "I did hear one other thing you'll find interesting. My insider at the police department heard some detectives grumbling that they should have searched your truck sooner – the night you found Barry Heckathorn. They delay gave you time to dump incriminating evidence."

  "They hadn't dreamed up their theory about me yet. That took some imagination ... probably mixed with desperation."

  "What theory?"

  "Off the record?"

  "Nope."

  "Then I better not get into it. I'll just say they're still unsure about me, probably because they're having trouble coming up with good suspects."

  After hanging up, Kelly had time to make a sandwich before camping out in front of the TV to watch the late news. He changed channels often to sample the coverage at all three stations. None of them had video back yet the lakeside crime scene. Turtle Lake was about an hour out of town and they'd apparently gotten word too late. Instead, they all had a map showing the location. One of the stations did a live shot outside the Naughton building, another went live from police headquarters, and the third used file video of the Naughton building. All three had a sound bite from Lt. Warren Powers, the supervising officer. Despite the light rain, Powers had held an impromptu news conference outside the police station. They also had bites from Bryce Dilman. The CFO read from a prepared script and took no questions.

  Shortly after the stations moved on to other news, Jessica called.

  "Hope I didn't wake you."

  "Nope. I'll hit the hay pretty soon, but whether I can sleep or not, well, we'll see. How'd your meeting go?"

  "Okay. We're still here, watching all three stations on the big screens in the auditorium." Jessica was speaking softly, and Kelly could hear the TV audio in the background.

  "I've been watching, too," said Kelly. "I see Dilman has taken over as company spokesperson."

  "For now. I think he'd like to appoint someone else, but Emily is still pretty young, and Diane really isn't all that media savvy. Connie Deacon, the consultant with George March could do it, but we all felt it was a little strange to have an outside voice. So, until they hire a new vice president of communications and PR, it's probably Dilman."

 
"So, who's there tonight?"

  "Emily, Diane, Mr. Dilman and Connie. She's going to be working with the team until things settle down."

  "Oh, look at Channel 5," said Kelly.

  The Naughton Murders graphic was back, the newscaster announcing that they now had video from the scene. He pitched to a reporter live shot.

  "That's right, Dane. We're in lakes country, not far from the crime scene."

  The video came up, with "exclusive" superimposed. Several emergency and law enforcement vehicles lined a rural road, some with lights flashing.

  "Investigators are hard at work tonight, searching for clues in this third mysterious murder of an executive at Naughton Pharmaceuticals."

  The video switched to distant shots of a well-illuminated crime scene – a fishing shed near the shoreline.

  "The body of Dr. Jamie Padden was found by his wife in this fishing shack. A sheriff's deputy on the scene says the manner of death was similar, if not identical, to the earlier victims."

  The video had switched to emergency personnel carrying a stretcher out of the darkness and loading the covered body into an ambulance.

  "Connie thinks the national media might jump on the story now," said Jessica.

  "Probably so."

  "Oops. Gotta run. Resuming our meeting. See you tomorrow."

  Kelly set the phone aside and leaned back in his old rocking chair. As the newscast moved on to the weather, he hit the power switch on the remote, and sat quietly for a moment.

  A third murder; this one away from the office.

  "I bet every executive has their doors locked and guns loaded," murmured Kelly. He didn't own a gun, but he had a baseball bat somewhere. Maybe in the basement storage unit.

  Despite imagining the possibility of a murderous intruder, Kelly didn't feel threatened. Nonetheless, he got up and locked the doors.