Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (14 page)

David Fowler wasn't a sentimental individual.
In fact, he thought that sentiment of any kind - especially for the
past - was for fools. But he recognized that a lot of people put a
great deal of energy into old memories - especially ones involving
their childhood. Being a student of human nature, he recognized a
useful tool when he saw one and now put that understanding to
use.

When he had first started seeing Diana, she
had talked about her memories of going to Duluth as a child long
before the freeway had been put in. So he had probed casually, did
a little research and discovered that most of the old route still
existed, including all the podunk little towns along the way. He
knew immediately that he could put their honeymoon on solid footing
by taking that same route. While he was extremely careful, it was
easy to slip up and he knew she would overlook a great deal if he
stacked the deck in his favor by reviving old memories.

Women loved it when men did something that
showed they'd been listening. Since most men didn't listen and
didn't care enough to pay attention, Fowler's ability to tune into
the tidbits not only gave him all kinds of advantages, it also
helped hide (or at least obscure) his true intentions. Plus, he
knew if he made a minor mistake, women would make all kinds of
allowances for him or even come up with excuses for him simply
because he had demonstrated that he had listened to them.

The interstate had only one thing going for
it, he thought as he took the exit ramp at Hinckley. It was fast.
But in this part of Minnesota, it was also as boring as hell, and
he was glad for an excuse to bypass it. Diana had zoned out after
they passed North Branch and didn't notice where they were until he
pulled into the parking lot at Cassidy's and turned off the
car.

"I know it's not exactly the same as it was
when it was right in downtown Hinckley, but would you like to go in
for some pie before we go on?"

"Oh, my god," she said, just now taking in
the name of the restaurant. "I can't believe you stopped here. Did
I tell you about Cassidy's?"

"You did," he grinned. "I seem to recall you
going into raptures over their lemon meringue pie."

She laughed. "It's probably not as good as it
was back when I was a kid, but let's see if they have any. What a
fabulous idea. Thank you, David."

He smiled as she took his arm as they went
inside.

After pie at Cassidy's, Fowler drove into
Hinckley. It looked as if everything had been frozen in time when
the freeway had gone in and bypassed the town for good. A couple of
blocks and several boarded up buildings and then they were out in
the country on a two-lane road. Diana was watching him with a
quizzical look that turned into a huge smile when he reached an
intersection several miles up and turned onto Highway 23.

"You aren't," she said.

"I am."

Fowler had no doubt she would have scooted
over and snuggled up to him if the car had been one of the old
types with one long bench in front instead of bucket seats. As it
was, she reached over and rested her hand on his leg.

"You're the best, darling," she said. "I
still can't believe how lucky I am."

"I'm the lucky one," he replied. He took her
hand and kissed it before putting it back. "I had given up on love
before I met you," he smiled. And thought, so far, so good. When
Diana had told him about her trips to Duluth for the family thing
when she was growing up, she had described in glowing detail how
her parents would take Highway 23 as a treat, instead of old Route
61 which had eventually become the interstate. He had known
immediately that it was the perfect opportunity for the next part
of his plan.

While Highway 23 also went to Duluth, it
bypassed the freeway on a straight diagonal of long rolling hills
covered with pine trees and little else. As Fowler drove, he
discovered it also had the advantage of little traffic. Once they
left Sandstone, it was miles before they saw another car, let alone
the obnoxious and crazed drivers trying to get 150 miles north in
twenty minutes or less. While he wasn't a big fan of the so-called
great outdoors, he had to admit this route was far more relaxing
than he'd expected. It also meant he didn't have to watch out for
the highway patrol and he had plenty of time to get the information
he needed.

When he had first researched the route, it
had occurred to him that this might be a good place to get rid of
Diana. There were huge stretches of nothing and a body could easily
go undiscovered forever. The big drawback, though, was the chance
it might be found sooner rather than later. Which would put paid to
Fowler's long-range plans. There were far too many so-called
hunters who tramped through the woods all over the state and seemed
to have the uncanny ability to stumble upon bodies in the most
obscure places. What Fowler wanted, and was counting on, was
Diana's body never being found. So while he could make use of the
scenic route to get what he needed, he had given up the idea of
disposing of her on the drive north.

Once they were well under way, Diana leaned
back and watched the scenery with a dreamy expression. He let the
silence drift on for awhile, knowing she'd say something in a
little while and then he'd have the right opening.

And sure enough, as they came over a rise,
the road took a huge dip and Diana sat up, her dreamy expression
gone as they passed a sign near the bottom. "Oh, my god," she said.
"The Kettle River. I'd forgotten all about it. You have no idea how
many memories this brings back."

She laughed and turned towards him as far as
the seal belt allowed. "This was one of the major milestones when
we came this way. My brother and I always tried to be the first to
see it."

Fowler smiled. "Who usually won?"

"Me."

He chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, I am a little older and he was usually
entranced with his latest Matchbox car, so he wasn't looking as
hard as I was."

Fowler also had an idea that Diana was also
competitive even then and that her little brother hadn't had a
chance against her.

"Which reminds me," he said casually. "I
remember meeting your brother at the wedding and I seem to remember
meeting a cousin, but it was such a big day, I've lost track of who
was who. Tell me I didn't miss any members of your family."

Diana looked out the window as she thought.
"Well, my great aunt Agnes couldn't come and I have another cousin
in California somewhere, but we've pretty much lost touch with her,
so she wasn't there. And there's my sister, Anna, but we're not
close. Last I heard she went off to the Yukon or maybe it was Peru,
but that was ages ago, so she could be just about anywhere now."
She shrugged a little as she turned to look at him. "I'm afraid you
didn't get a lot of family when you got me."

Pleased, he reached over and stroked her
cheek with the back of his hand. "We'll be our own family," he
said. "Family is the people you care about and who care about you.
I have great friends who are closer than some of my relatives and
who I consider family. Besides," he added. "We have each other
now."

Fae had driven down to the Twin Cities late
yesterday and checked into a motel in order to be fresh for the
interviews she had set up. Now that she was familiar with the
information in the files, she wanted to talk to some of the
victims. Partly it would give her a feel for the people Devious
Dave had victimized. But she was also hoping at least one of them
would remember an overlooked detail or come up with something that
wasn't in the files. Bailey was expecting a report and she wanted
to give him a new piece of the puzzle - something substantial that
put them a step closer to catching the guy.

Her first appointment was with David
Morrison, whose name had been appropriated by Devious Dave, causing
the real Morrison years of headache and grief. The conman had
apparently been attracted to Morrison's position as a senior
partner at Lennon, Joplin & Morrison, one of the top
Minneapolis brokerage houses. He had used Morrison's reputation to
give his cons believability and respectability, which had been
aided by the superficial resemblance between the two. According to
the notes, Devious Dave had actually pulled up the brokerage's
website and pointed out the page about Morrison to prove he was
legitimate. He had even had the nerve to point out how the picture
was a little old, so it didn't look like him any more, comparing it
to a driver's license mug shot. That had put hundreds of people at
ease faster than anything Devious Dave could have said.

The real Morrison, of course, had had to deal
with angry victims after they had been fleeced and Fae was willing
to bet it hadn't helped the firm's reputation much, either.

Even so, she was surprised when she entered
his office and saw him coming towards her. The real Morrison looked
so much like the mug shot they were working with that she hesitated
slightly before shaking his hand. His smile turned into a grimace
as he turned away.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't expect
you to look so much like him. It must be so hard for you."

He sat down in the big chair behind his desk
and looked out the picture window for a long moment. When he turned
back to her, although his face was composed, Fae could see the
strain.

"You have no idea," he said quietly. "That
fucking bastard started using my name almost six years ago and my
life has been a holy hell ever since. If I hadn't already been a
partner with a solid reputation, I wouldn't even have a job. I
would've been out the minute the whole mess started and no one else
would have been willing to take me on. Most people assume the
worst. Did you know that? I didn't. I used to believe the best
until proven otherwise. What I've discovered is that when most
people hear the stories, they automatically assume there must be
some truth to them. Doesn't matter what the truth actually is.
Perception is everything."

"Do you have
any
idea why he picked
you
out?" Fae asked. "Any chance you met him somewhere?"

He shook his head. "I've given that a great
deal of thought," he said. "But I've never been able to come up
with anything. If we met, I don't remember it. My guess is he went
looking for someone who had the right look and I won his perverted
lottery. I just wish we had met. At least I'd be able to go after
the son of a bitch."

"And he's never contacted you in any way?
Directly or indirectly?"

"No. Never."

"Anything new? Especially the past few
months?"

"No." He leaned back in his chair and looked
at her speculatively. "Is he up to something again? Is that why
you're here? Do I need to prepare for another bout of angry
callers?" He sounded tired rather than angry and Fae wished she
could give him good news.

"I don't know," she said. "We're pretty sure
he's up to something, but we don't know exactly what. I don't think
it involves you this time, but I can't be sure. That's why I wanted
to know if you've heard anything."

"If the BCA had been this interested when I
first contacted them, most of this never would have happened," he
said tightly. "You might have even caught him then and we wouldn't
be having this conversation. I might even still be married. But no
one was interested."

"You're right," Fae agreed, knowing that any
defense would only piss the guy off even more. "However, we may
have a good lead and with any luck we'll be able to catch him and
put him away for a long time."

"I'll believe that when I see it," he said.
"Fortunately it's been quiet recently and I hope it stays that
way."

"I do too," Fae said. She handed him her
card. "If you hear anything, please contact me directly." She
started for the door and then turned. "We're pretty sure he has
informants who've helped him stay one step ahead of us, so I'd
appreciate it if you'd keep this conversation completely
confidential."

"Will you call me when you finally arrest
him?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Fae promised and then let
herself out.

By the end of the day, Fae's energy was
flagging. Most of the other people she interviewed didn't have
anything new for her and she was beginning to wish she had spread
the interviews out over two days instead of trying to cram them all
in on the same day. Pain was gnawing away at her back like a beaver
with dull teeth and she was beginning to feel like an overused
floor mop. Seeing she had a few extra minutes before her next
appointment, she detoured to a Starbucks in Roseville for a mocha
frappucino with a Vicodin chaser.

She pushed back the seat in her car so she
could take some of the weight off her back and sipped at the drink
while the Vicodin went to work. She was tempted to cancel the last
appointment and simply head home, but she knew that it was often
the last interview that yielded the nugget that made everything
worthwhile and she let the pain meds do their thing.

By the time she was done with the frappucino,
a lot of her energy had returned and she headed for the last
appointment of the day. Which turned out to be more than worth her
trip down to the Cities.

At the end of the interview, the victim
handed her the tidbit she had been hoping for. The off-hand comment
came when she asked him if he had seen Devious Dave since the scam
that had cleaned out his bank account.

At first he had shaken his head.

"Perhaps somewhere unusual or unexpected?"
she prodded, trying to get him to think sideways.