Gumshoe #14

It's not that long of a drive to the Indianola watertower. From downtown Des Moines, it's maybe 45 minutes with traffic. Maybe. But time can stretch when you're sitting in the back seat of a cop car. This was an unmarked car without the cage, yes. But the principle still applies. Detective Edna Muldoon was driving and she asked for James Troop to sit in the front seat next to her. I assume this is so I am not allowed to mess with the radio, but I'm making this assumption based in part on past history and largely due to the fact that I don't want to consider what else this might signal. The fact that everyone in the car was dead silent, didn't help this car ride seem short either. The only sound was the occasional chatter from the police radio. No one said a word from the time we got in the car until we reached the outskirts of Des Moines' south side. I watched through the flurries out the back window as South Ridge Mall disappeared from view taking the bright city lights with it. As we entered the unincorporated countryside where the space between streetlights stretches wide in a dark abyss, I finally said, "This is a bad idea."

Edna shot me a look in the rearview mirror. "You don't want to go to the watertower now?"

"No, that's probably not gonna lead to much, but it's worth checking out." I took a deep breath. "Not listening to the radio is a mistake."

Edna chuckled, though I could tell she didn't want to. "Don't change much do you, [gumshoe]?"

I took another deep breath and let the car fall back into silence figuring silence was better than saying what I really wanted to say. It was a harmless comment, I knew, but something about it rankled me. Anything I said back would be insulting, I knew. So instead, I looked out the window as the snow started coming down in earnest on the dark, rolling hills of Iowa. There was enough light to see the road, but beyond them, on the land, where the fields stood waiting to be used next spring there was only darkness. The streets stood lined with the light of the living, I thought, but who knew what was beyond them? The unkown always conjures up the worst in people's imaginations. Few of us think of the unlimited possibility and see the possibility for good things to be out there. The next job. The next love. The next amazing moment. Instead we think only of the evil that must be lurking in the darkness. Beyond the reach of the light. And as much as I knew logically that Andrew Grassely would not, could not be at the watertower, I still had this sickness in my stomach that told me he would be there.

Edna pulled off the highway and shut off the car. We were maybe 200 yards from the watertower and it was dark. Edna reached into her glove box and pulled out a flashlight and handed it over the seat to me. She pulled another out for herself. "You picked up your gun, I assume?"

"Check." I said quietly. I had the gun laying on the seat next to me and I picked it up and showed it to her as I looked to make sure the safety was off.

"All right. We do this my way, everyone understand?" She waited for head nods before continuing. "All right. Troop, you're a civilian, so you stay here. [Gumshoe]--"

"No." Troop said quietly but firmly. "I'm not staying here. I've been shot at tonight and if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to be around someone who can shoot back if something happens again."

"I can't take you out there if there's a possibility of--"

"Kid's got a point, Edna. And Grassley's not likely to be here anyway." I said feeling my voice quiver. "But if he is, and he gets dead while we're looking at a watertower, that's not good."

"Okay James, but you're sticking with me, okay? You're right behind me. You don't get more than 2 feet away from me and you don't ever get ahead of me. You got it?"

"Thank you." James said, now realizing that going with Edna wasn't a cake walk either.

"And you," she said turning her attention to me. "You stay right fucking next to me. You see something, you tell me. You don't shoot unless you're shot at or I tell you to shoot. You don't run in ahead and get yourself shot. Got it?"

"I do." I said as I reached for the door.

"I'm serious [Gumshoe]. No cowboy shit."

"Don't worry, I'm all out of cowboy tonight." I looked at her and I could see from her reaction she was a little surprised. She expected some sort of verbal joust from me, but I didn't have it in me. Not with the growing feeling I was getting. He was here. This man who wanted to kill me was waiting just beyond me view in the cold embrace of the night.

Everyone got out of the car, James quickly making his way behind Edna. We advanced on the water tower slowly. It didn't take too long until our eyes adjusted to the darkness. The watertower stands on the edge of Indianola, a small town not far from Des Moines whose main attractions were Simpson College, the National Hot Air Ballooning Hall of Fame and a killer A&W restaraunt. Indianola officials used to light the water tower, but apparently had stopped. My best guess was because of cost. As I stood there in the darkness, my gun raised as I looked around the tower for any sign of life, or movement, or trouble, I would've paid quite a bit of money to have the tower lit up. Our flashlights cut through the heavy darkness well enough, but I got the feeling Edna and James would've pitched in some money too.

The only sound in the darkness was the sound of our breathing, heavy not from the roughness of the terrain, but the stress of the situation. We were about 25 yards from the tower when we heard it.

A car behind us and just over a hill from where we'd park, peeled out and headed back in the direction of Des Moines. I felt the adrenaline hit me again, awaking all my senses. James hit the ground, covering his head. Edna spun and started running toward the car. "Come on!" I turned to take a quick look at the tower and let out the breath of air I didn't realize I'd been holding.

As I reached to James to give him a hand up, I yelled, "It's not him Edna."

She stopped and looked back at me quizzically. I showed my flashlight on the ground next to the tower. I saw her eyes follow the beam and she started laughing as she reached the end. James's looked over quickly and exhaled loudly taking my hand and pulling himself up.

"Two half drank beers and a box of condoms. Ahh teenage romance." I said.

"It's too cold for that shit," James said with a chuckle.

I knelt by the area to take a closer look. "They had a blanket. Maybe a sleeping bag. A couple condoms missing, so--"

"Maybe you should turn your detective skills to the relevant questions, like was Grassley here? Is there some clue as to where he might be? You know, things like this." But I didn't move. I'd come all this way in the night sure I'd find the killer, a man named Andrew Grassley, sitting here. Waiting. I was sure tonight held another shoot out for me. I never thought I'd find this. Another love interrupted.

I stood there for a second. "Seriously, [gumshoe], you're not even looking. This was your fucking--"

"What do people do when love ends?" I said. As soon as I heard it I knew I sounded like a fucking idiot.

"The fuck?" was all Edna could muster in response.

"I mean. That's it. That's how Chance met this guy. I'd bet hard money on it." I could feel myself getting excited.

"What are you talking about?"

"A support group. For people who lost someone. It's all fitting into place. Grassley lost someone. Probably Geoffrey Franks, which is why he keeps playing that murder out again and again."

"I've had people looking at Franks and Grassley for a while. We can't find any connection to Franks. But hey, once we find this guy, why don't you ask him." The frustration in her voice was palpable. "That's right. We can't find him. And you're not fucking helping." She went back to looking around.

I took a deep breath, feeling the excitement letting go of me. She was right. I mean, I was right too, I could feel it. But it didn't help us. "Fine. There's no connection to Franks," I said calmly. "So, if you're reliving or redoing the last murder over and over...and you're hunting down one of the investigating cops...one who wasn't even around for that one. Or the case before."

"It's a mystery." Edna said.

"Who was the case before?" James said quietly.

Edna stammered. "What does it matter?"

"Edna Portis." I said quietly. "Why?"

"So you weren't on that case either?"

"No. I wasn't." Something was glimmering.

"Maybe--"

"he's connected to her." We finished the sentence together.

And there it was.