The jump from an associate professorship at UNLV to owning a two-million-plus home on Lake Minnetonka seemed to require an extraordinary leap of faith on my part. Tie in his association with Kiki and Farrell I concluded something wasn’t right.
Just for the fun of being disappointed I decided to phone Louie. I was listening to the third ring, it was almost time for the full mail box recording to begin when a groggy voice came on the line.
“Lo,” cough, grunt, cough some more, “Hell, hello?”
“Louie, I don’t believe it, you’re alive, more or less. I wake you up?”
There was a loud exhale, some more coughing.
“This has to be Dev, that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Hey man, Christ, what time is it?”
“Five to eleven. Listen, Louie I wanted…”
“Are you fucking kidding me,” he screamed.
I had a vision, not very pretty, of a fat, naked Louie bolting upright in bed.
“Actually, now it’s four minutes before eleven. I..”
“Gotta run, bye,” he said and hung up.
My next two calls went unanswered. He was either in the shower or already racing to work. I phoned his office. Left a message to call me, that I had important information. The receptionist assured me that “as soon as he was able…” I got that sinking feeling, again.
On my way home that evening I lingered for a half hour in the KRAZ parking lot, I didn’t see Farrell, Farrell’s BMW or Kiki. My monitor call came through about nine-thirty that night, I was out the door and driving to Lake Minnetonka two minutes later.
Doctor Death’s house looked the same, except the lawn service guys were gone. The second floor shades were still drawn, there appeared to be a light on in the upper right corner of the house, most likely a bedroom, nothing unusual about that. The newspapers were still next to the flower pot. I drove back home and walked to a bar about a block away.
“Dev, the usual?” The bartender looked underage, with a neatly trimmed, three-day beard.
“Actually, nothing to drink, Tommy, can I just get a couple rolls of quarters from you?” I slid a twenty and a five dollar tip across the bar.
He looked left and right, took the cash as he did so, walked about three feet to a computer screen, hit the thing four times at lightning speed and came back with two rolls of quarters.
“Thanks, laundry,” I said.
“When you’re finished you can start on mine,” he laughed.
I walked about two blocks in the opposite direction to one of the few pay phones left in the city. I inserted fifty cents and called Doctor Death’s office number at the U. After four rings there were a couple of clicks and then his voice.
“Thank you for calling. This is Associate Professor Doctor Carroll Kevork, I’m unable to take your call at this time. My office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays between one-forty-five and three o’clock. If you wish to make an appointment outside those hours please press zero at this time. Leave a detailed message after the tone and I shall return your call at the earliest convenience.”
In case he didn’t seem like a pain in the ass with just two-and-a-half office hours per week, the affected posh accent did the trick. He was from southern Indiana if I recalled. I didn’t like the guy and I hadn’t even met him, yet.
“Wrong number,” I said once the recording began, then waited until a tone signaled the end of the recording time, hung up and redialed. I was almost through the second roll of quarters before I got the recording that said his voice mail was full. Thank God, listening to pompous Doctor Death’s message some thirty-plus times did nothing to endear him to me. I walked back home, took a couple of aspirin and went to bed.
Chapter Forty-Three
I was slurping breakfast coffee from my travel mug, parked in the far corner of the KRAZ parking lot. I had crumbs from a couple of blueberry muffins scattered across my chest. The crumbs were about the only thing I’d seen moving in the past half hour, not counting the trash blowing across the parking lot. Surprise, surprise, Louie actually called me back.
“Yeah, Dev, returning your call,” Louie sounded all business.
“Louie, thanks, to tell you the truth it’s been so long I’ve forgotten why I phoned you.”
“Real funny.”
“Hey, were you able to verify that information and get it over to Detective Manning?”
I thought I suddenly heard files being rummaged through and Louie sounded a little flustered.
“Well, we’re on that, working the thing, it shouldn’t be too long, now.”
He was breathing heavily and I had the sinking feeling he was pawing through his very messy desk looking for his notes.
“You lost the notes, Louie, right?”
“I’d say it’s more like I just momentarily misplaced them. They’re here, somewhere, I’m almost sure of it.”
“Hey Louie, does it resonate with you that I’m the guy charged with kidnapping and rape? Not to mention the fact that I’m the key suspect no, make that I’m the guy charged with Thompson Barkwell’s murder. I’ve had to hit up a good friend to pop for bail money and I’ve got a cop investigating this who already has me tried and convicted in his mind. And you can’t find your notes? You’re supposed to…”
“Here they are, told you.”
“Read ‘em back to me.”
“What?”
“Read ‘em back so I know you’re not bullshitting me.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No I’m not, come on Louie. You haven’t even passed this stuff on to be verified by anyone, have you?”
No answer.
“Well?”
“No, I, I haven’t Dev, I was just about….”
“God damn it, read it back to me.”
“You dug up the 2005 marriage records in Las Vegas, Nevada, of Farrell J Early and one Katherine “Kiki” Hinz, daughter of Ottmar “Loopy” Hinz. Ottmar was unable to attend…”
“Okay stop. Louie, I want to add a few more things to your notes,” I went on to tell him about Carroll Kevork, his stint at UNLV, then his move over to the U of M about the same time Farrell and Kiki appear on the scene. I wondered out loud about them dealing Ecstasy and Roofies since Doctor Death was a chemistry nerd and there were rumors of Kiki and Doctor Death in a relationship. Then I ended up with, “Louie, I want you to get someone in the office to verify that stuff. Today. I want you to call me, and tell me who will be doing it, and I want their phone number. Got it?”
“Yeah, not a problem, Dev.”
“I’m counting on you Louie, all my hopes are pinned on you.”
“I understand, look, could we maybe keep this between the two of us? I’m sort of not the most popular guy around here at the moment.” He was whispering.
“My lips are sealed, Louie. Unless you screw this up, then I’m coming down on you like a ton of bricks.”
“Thanks, Dev, I won’t let you down.”
I wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll expect your call with the guy’s name and number, sooner rather than later.”
I was in my office, looking out the window at absolutely nothing when Louie called me back forty-five minutes later. He gave me the guy’s direct dial number along with his name, Nelson.
I asked, “What’s his first name?”
“That is his first name, last name’s Tornvold.”
“He Irish?”
“No, I think…”
“I was kidding, Louie. Hey, were you able to get me some breathing room with those Sentinel Monitoring folks? Every time I walk down the hallway to use the can I have to call in and pay them fifteen bucks cause it’s not on my approved schedule.”
“I’m working it. I really am, Dev, but I’m dealing with some thick headed witch over there…”
“Muriel?”
“Oh, you’ve met her.”
“All four hundred pounds covered with cat hair.”
“There’s a surprise. So you know what we’re dealing with. I’ve explained your business, such as it is, more than once to her. We’re in the process of going through their appeal review, it’s gonna take a few more days. Just continue to keep that low profile, upstanding citizen thing going.” He slurped something.