—
They wound upin a Caribou Coffee in downtown St. Paul, got a coffee for Virgil and a hot chocolate for Lucas, sat at a table whereVirgil asked the key question: why would somebody risk murdering a man who seemed like a nonentity? It wouldn’t be the tipster—the tipster wanted to use Light, not kill him.
“I can see three motives—probably the same ones you see,” Lucas said. “And they are…”
Virgil considered for a moment then said, “One: money. He was the leading contender to get the five million. Somebody killed him to eliminate competition for the money.”
“That’s one,” Lucas said.
“Is this an IQ test? If it is, I can think offourpossible motives. So, two. Despite appearances and what Dahlia Blair said, Bud actually had a little more on the ball than people knew. Maybe the tipster called him again, and something was said that gave away an identity. Bud stupidly makes a call to the wrong person—the Grandfelt killer.”
“That’s two. We don’t have to worry about that one, because the BCA has his phone.”
“Three: his murder has nothing to do with anything,” Virgil said. “He was in a bad motel that was used by druggies and street people. Somebody tried to rob him, he fought back, and got hit with a stick or a club of some kind but didn’t go down completely—he crawled at least as far as the door. Rather than fight someone who might fight back, or even scream—and maybe he did scream—the killer ran.”
“That’s my three,” Lucas said. “What’s your fourth one?”
“He’s a true-crimer with a metal detector. What if there’s something else out there? In the park? What if Doris’s killer knows he—or she—lost something during the attack, and doesn’t know where, but it could be used to identify him? A cuff or a ring or something. Or maybe Doris had something he gave her, and when he tried to find it on her body, he couldn’t.”
“Nah,” Lucas said. “That’s too TV.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Forget it.”
Lucas took a sip of his hot chocolate and squinted out at the street. The street was empty, a concrete canyon. He said, “I don’t like the money motive much. Those women are a little goofy and very competitive, maybe even money-hungry, but I don’t think they could do that.”
“You haven’t met them all,” Virgil said. “You haven’t even met very many of them.”
“True. Still. I don’t think any of them could do that. They’re a bunch of slightly barmy ladies. And I don’t think it’s Grandfelt’s killer. How would Grandfelt’s killer even know about a tip? Even if he did know about it, how would he know how to find Bud? And I have to think that whoever killed Grandfelt would be a lot more lethal than going after a guy with a club.”
“A club’s quiet,” Virgil said.
“So’s a hammer or a knife or an axe,” Lucas said. “Kill him with one whack, Lizzie Borden notwithstanding.” After another moment of silence, he continued: “Street people, a junkie, a robbery…A meth freak is a possibility. Maybe the strongest. But that’s not what we’re doing. Right now. You and I.”
Virgil leaned into the table. “I don’t see us investigating Bud’s murder at all. St. Paul and the BCA got the troops, and we’re supposed to be on the Grandfelt cold case and watching the true crime people. I read the interviews with Stephanie Brady…”
“Who’s that again?” Lucas asked.
“Didn’t spend enough time with the paper, huh?” Virgil asked. “She’s Grandfelt’s last roommate. I’d like to wring her out. See if there’sanythingthat got missed.”
“That’s a thought,” Lucas agreed. “Something else. When you look at these true crime sites, they’ve got a lot of readers. The readers are out there doing their own research, and they’re kicking into the whole online discussion. That could be a resource for us. I’d like to get together with the owners of the biggest sites, see if we could set up something.”
“Resource for what?”
“Like they could go through a zillion old newspaper and magazine stories, look at pictures and hook people together and see who was talking to who, way back then. Look for Doris. The ’net was already getting big back then. I know AOL was around in the nineties…”
“Not a bad idea,” Virgil said, “But when and where? We don’t want them all, that’s a three-ring circus.”
“I sort of hate to suggest it, but the kids are still at summer camp and Weather’s working until late in the afternoon. We could meet at my place.”
“Dahlia Blair isn’t one of the bigger ones, but she knows them all,” Virgil said. “We could ask her to organize it.”
“There’s one other thing that I’d like to look at,” Lucas said. “Your BCA guys should have a list of every single person who had access to Bee’s executive dining room. Including the cooks and the dishwasher guy. I’d like to see the list in case it rings any bells downstream.”
“I’ll get it,” Virgil said. “In the meantime, the true-crimers and then the roommate.”
—
Virgil went outto Dahlia Blair’s website, which was headlining the murder of Charles Light, found her telephone number, and called.She was still at the motel and said eight or ten true-crimers were still there, including Anne Cash.
