“Everybody has. Peanut butter chili. The woman who came with him is trying to arrange for a cremation, but they’re expensive and she doesn’t have any money.”
“I can handle that,” Lucas said.
“You’re going to pay for it?”
“No, I’m going to guilt-trip Lara Grandfelt into doing it.”
“Ah. Excellent solution. Keep me out of it. I’m going to find the biggest clump of weeds I can find, and jump in. And you guys…easy. Easy does it.”
They ended the call, and Lucas said, “He was a pretty good investigator.”
“Right now, he’s a pretty good bureaucrat, as bureaucrats go,” Virgil said. “He does try to take care of me. Let’s find Dahlia. You can call Grandfelt on the way.”
Lucas did that.
—
The parking lotat the Wee Blue Inn was almost deserted, but Dahlia Blair’s car was parked outside her room, and when they knocked, she opened the door a crack and peeked out, then opened it all the way and said, “Thank you. Lara Grandfelt called. She’ll handle the cremation when we get Bud’s body from the medical examiner, and she offered to pay for a gravesite and a headstone.”
“Or, you could just pour him in the Missouri River when you go back home,” Virgil said.
“Nope. He’s getting the full deal,” Blair said.
Lucas: “What’s happening with the photos? Are you staying in touch?”
“Yes. I picked up a lot of readers today, and the other guys are starting to pay attention to me,” Blair said. “We got Darius Carmel, he’s the CEO of a big tech company…”
“We heard,” Lucas said.
“And we think we might have spotted another one—people have been getting calls about a man named Elias Johannson, we’re prettysure we’ve got him,” Blair said. “He’s a retired pharmacist, which is why people remember him—they looked at him over a drugstore counter for thirty years.”
“He’s here in St. Paul?”
“No, he’s in a place called Golden Valley,” Blair said.
“Are all your friends congregating outside his driveway?”
“No, I don’t think so. Nobody’s put his name up, yet, in case it’s wrong and you’d get sued,” Blair said. “We’re being careful. That first guy, the CEO guy, is kind of a public figure, a publicity hound, so we’re safer there.”
“Since you got the word about Bud…you feel safer?” Lucas asked.
“Yes. Definitely. I’ll stay for a few more days, at least, to get the whole Bud thing settled, but now…I don’t feel so guilty about him,” Blair said. “I’m going to keep working on the Grandfelt case. I could use that reward money.”
Lucas looked at Virgil, who said, “Golden Valley.”
—
Lucas used Virgil’siPad to download DVS—Driver and Vehicle Services—background on Elias Johannson, helped along by the unusual name. He had three cars, registered in his name and apparently in his wife’s, Jemna Johannson.
“We might have to deal with a wife,” Lucas told Virgil.
“Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time,” Virgil said.
“That’s very empathetic of you,” Lucas said. “The guy’s got a Corvette Stingray, a ’69. That’s something.”
“Is that a good one?” Virgil asked. “I mean, I drive Tahoes.”
“Yeah, a ’69 is pretty good. It’s not a Porsche, but if you have todrive a Stingray, that’s the one you might want. In fire-engine red, of course. Tires licked by Jemna. What kind of name is Jemna anyway?”
