More to the point, next to a photo of Doctor Carroll Kevork was a brief bio. He was originally from the town of Dale, Indiana. He did his undergraduate work at Purdue University, and then went on to get a doctorate from Berkeley in 1999. He did post-doctorate work at MIT from 1999 until 2002. Rummaging around online some more, I learned that interestingly, in 2003 he washed up on shore as an associate professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. From there he drifted to the University of Minnesota in 2008. Nothing of a criminal nature that I could find, nor any marriage records. He was the owner of a home somewhere in Minnetonka, not exactly slumming it.
Kevork’s University Nevada Las Vegas and U of M gigs seemed to dovetail with Kiki and Farrell’s wanderings. Was his chemistry background tied into their drug distribution? But then what about KRAZ and Thompson Barkwell? Distributing illegal drugs via radio to the Evangelical far right seemed to be a bad business plan right from the get-go.
There was only one thing to do, I returned to my intensive research of Girls Gone Wild at Mardi Gras. I was still diligently researching two hours later when the phone rang.
“How did it go?” Sunnie asked, no hello.
“The food was lousy, the coffee wasn’t the best.”
“I don’t care about that, and what’s that moaning in the background, are you alone?”
“Oh some commercial on the radio, medical stuff or something,” I hit pause on the laptop screen.
“So?” Sunnie asked.
“It went very well. Josh is fine, Mandy seems like a very nice girl, she…”
“I knew you’d say that.”
“Maybe because it’s true. It’s not like they’re smoking dope and drinking all day. They cut short my clever conversation to get prepared for a class. Did you know her father happens to be a County Attorney up north? Doesn’t sound like the type who’d put up with a lot of nonsense.”
“Those are exactly the kids you have to watch, as soon as they get out of the house it’s party time.”
“You could be describing your own son, there.”
Long pause.
“Sunnie, I think they’re fine. I know it’s hard to let go, but maybe you could, just a little. I did tell them the way to win you over was to keep the grades up.”
“You said that?”
“Yeah, of course, if the grades are there…”
“Not that, you idiot. You said the way to win me over? Like I’m some pain in the ass, single mother, who’s not letting go of her little boy? Not turning him over to some blonde bimbo with big boobs and loose morals?”
“Don’t forget the thong.”
“You saw it, didn’t you? I don’t believe it.”
“Sunnie, I like the girl, she’s pretty, she’s nice and I think she’s good for Josh and by the way, Josh is good for her. See how the grades come in and…”
“I should never have trusted you.”
“Okay, now you’re sounding like the idiot. Stop, cut the kids some slack. I’ll tell you this, the more you resist the more attractive she’ll seem. You’ve raised him well, he has a good head on his shoulders, he can think.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worrying about, now what’s he going to be thinking about, after your comment.”
“Can I make a suggestion?”
“Maybe.”
“How about dinner, my treat. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, deal?”
I thought I’d better phone Louie before I returned to my Mardi Gras research. I wanted to give him the Doctor Death connection, slim as it was. I also wanted to see about getting a little breathing room on my travels. I’d been nicked for another fifteen bucks for my schedule change to take Sunnie out for dinner.
I drummed my fingers listening as his cell rang. I was developing a pattern, get the message on his cell telling me his message box was full, then phone his office where “Mister Laufen will return my call just as soon as he’s able.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Dinner was everything I expected or maybe feared. After filleting me for the first fifteen minutes because I hadn’t made a citizen’s arrest on Mandy, Sunnie calmed down and became more of her old self. On the way home she asked, “So what’s up with the no drinking? You in a twelve step program or something?”
“No,” I half laughed. “Just decided to give it a rest for a bit, you know, drop a few pounds, the good health thing, that’s all.”
“Good health? You? You’re kidding?”
“No,” I think I sounded defensive.
“Because I could see you look longingly at those beers over at the next table when your cheeseburger, fries and side order of onion rings arrived.”
“Is this a slam because we didn’t dine at some fancy joint that features grilled buzzard breast stuffed with duck shit as the chefs special?”
“No, that might have been nice, but really, I don’t mind having my hair done, getting all dressed up and then eating a cheeseburger and fries. The two kids crying in the booth next to us was a nice touch. I was the only one in there not wearing jeans, and it’s always tricky wadding through peanut shells in five inch heels, but I managed.”
“You saying I still owe you dinner?”
“Yeah, and I’ll choose where.”
“Well, look at it from my angle, I was with the best looking woman in there.”
“Thanks.”
I walked her to the door, exchanged pecks on the cheek. We’d never had a sexual relationship and neither of us wanted one. We were good friends, a moment of passion, enjoyable as it might be, would ruin the long friendship.
I drove home and waited for my monitor call. Once it came through I planned to drive by Doctor Death’s place out in Minnetonka. I told myself I was just going to take a casual pass and I wouldn’t get out of the car. I also knew I was lying.
The call never came through and I woke up about three in the morning on the couch, my laptop still prowling through sex starved girls misbehaving during Mardi Gras. I turned it off, even for me after eight or nine hours it all sort of ran together. I stumbled off to bed planning to sleep in so I didn’t set my alarm.
The monitor call came through at seven-thirty-seven in the morning. I wasn’t the happiest camper as I punched in my code and the pound sign. But, I was awake, wide awake. I decided to head west, into the wilds of Minnetonka, one of the more posh areas of the Twin Cities. I followed the MapQuest driving directions to Doctor Death’s house. It turned out not to be the most direct route, but eventually I got there.
The place was a pretty substantial, two story brick home, actually situated right on Lake Minnetonka, more of a mansion than just a home. It had two wings, an attached three car garage, circular brick drive, manicured lawn, and potted red geraniums on either side of a double front door. A couple of newspapers lay next to one of the flower pots, I guessed they were most likely something highbrow like the Wall Street Journal or New York Times. The shades were drawn on all the second floor windows. There was a little metal sign planted in the garden next to the front door advertising the alarm service. It looked to be a pretty pricey piece of property for a college professor.
There was a lawn service truck parked in front with four guys hustling around cutting the grass and blowing clippings off the circular drive. I drove past four times, but decided against getting out and poking around. The last two times I drove by, one of the lawn crew guys starred at my DeVille. He seemed to be making a mental note. I certainly didn’t need anyone taking notice of me hanging around and thought my time might be better spent finding out more about Doctor Death, Carroll Kevork, online.
Three hours latter I didn’t know much more about Doctor Death than when I had started. I could make a couple of assumptions. It didn’t seem to make a lot of sense that someone with a Doctorate in Chemistry from Berkeley, who had done post graduate work at MIT would settle for an associate professorship at UNLV, a school that, at least from my online research, seemed not to have much in the line of a chemistry department.