Killer Dreams Ch. 16-20

Larry and I escorted David past the crowds and reporters. I got him into my car, then pulled into the line for the funeral procession. While we waited, we saw reporters gathering around Klinesmith on the steps. "Can you find out what he's saying?"

The police car had equipment mounted in front of the car radio, so I pulled out my phone and found a live stream of the coverage on a local news station. "...asked not to speak by the family? Why the late change?"

"I decided it was no longer appropriate for me to comment on the case or have any involvement," Klinesmith responded. "This has nothing to do with Ms. Hardin and was not at the request of her family. This morning, investigators identified a single piece of DNA evidence at the crime scene that matched mine. I had nothing to do with her death, and I was never inappropriate with Ms. Hardin, nor were we in any form of relationship. I am cooperating with the investigators and expect they will exclude me as a suspect once all the facts are known."

The reporters were shouting questions, and he held up his hands to speak again. "I had to act immediately to ensure no conflict of interest. I have recused myself and my office from involvement with this case. The Hennepin County Attorney's Office will have oversight of the investigation and prosecution of Miss Hardin's killer."

One of the reporters asked if he had ever been to her apartment. "No. I have not socialized with Miss Hardin outside official functions and have never been in her apartment."

"Sir, how did your DNA end up there if you weren't there?"

"The killer planted the evidence. He obtained a bourbon glass I'd used and left it on Miss Hardin's bedside table, intending to turn me into a suspect and hinder the investigation. One of our detectives even predicted the DNA and fingerprint evidence would match me before the BCA had the results." What the fuck? That information is part of our hold-back!

"How could a detective predict that, Mr. Klinesmith?"

"The killer in David Hardin's first book, Bloody Knife, did the same thing. The bar glass was one of nearly thirty crime scene characteristics that match her ex-husband's first book."

Holy shit!

The County Attorney bailed and tossed a grenade into the Detective's Room on the way out the door!

Chapter 18

Talia Devine's POV

St. Paul Cathedral

Friday, September 24, 2021

"What the HELL is he talking about, Talia?"

I squeezed the steering wheel, my head reeling from what County Attorney Klinesmith's statement just did to our murder case. Captain Cullen had warned us about releasing the correlations between the crime scene and the Killer Dreams murder chapters. It was a key holdback for the investigation. "I'm not at liberty to discuss the case, David."

"Bullshit. Your County Prosecutor admitted that crime scene techs found his DNA and fingerprints INSIDE Tracy's bedroom. He passed that off as being framed for murder because he is innocent, and the real killer is following my book like an instruction manual. What was it that he said? THIRTY crime scene characteristics that match the murder described in Bloody Knife?"

He wasn't going to let it go, and I didn't blame him. This revelation would focus public opinion back on him as a suspect. For an intensely private man like David Hardin, that was a hard pill to swallow. If I wanted to get information from him, I had to give him something back. Maybe I could limit what I said to just a little more than what was public information now? "I predicted it, you know."

"Predicted what?"

"I was the first to connect the crime scene evidence to your book. I'm a big fan of yours. I've read all of your books at least three times." I sounded like such a fangirl. "The details and the crime scene photos were like the book coming to life in a sick and twisted way. They found a whiskey tumbler on her bedside table that didn't match anything else in her home. In your book, the glass had the DNA of the victim's senior partner. The corresponding person for the victim would be the senior lawyer in Tracy's office."

"Ramsey County Attorney Michael Klinesmith."

"Yes. I told everyone to expect the glass to point the finger of blame directly at Tracy's boss."

David leaned his head back in his seat. "Let me guess. He's married, has a good story about how the killer got DNA onto the tumbler and has a reputation for hitting on women in the office."

I raised my eyebrow as I looked at him. "You're good."

"I wrote the book," he replied. "You verified his story?"

I nodded. "The whiskey tumbler matches the glassware used at the bar he regularly visits."

"Surveillance video?"

"The bar only retains it for seventy-two hours unless something happens. Bag the tumbler and preserve the DNA and fingerprint evidence. The killer might have been planning this for years."

"Up to five years," he remarked. "Is there anything else tying Klinesmith to the crime?"

"I don't know. That press conference was the first confirmation I've heard of the DNA and fingerprint results. I was preparing for my trip and the funeral this morning, not hanging around the office."

He thought about it for a moment. "I was pretty happy with that plot twist when I wrote it. The press will go nuts, and his denials will ring hollow. I give him two weeks before he resigns."

"Why do you say that?"

David just shook his head. "You used the similarities to the book to get the search warrant for my house, didn't you."

There was no point in holding that back now. "We didn't have enough at first. It wasn't until you went to the emergency room with a lacerated finger that we could convince a judge. He approved the warrants without any questions. We all knew that if we could tie your finger cut to the attack, we'd have our killer."

David nodded as he kept looking out the window at the scene on the stairs. "It didn't work. I'd cut my finger just before Larry arrived, and I had nothing to do with the murder. You have nothing to tie me to the murder scene. We both know it. If there is ANY chance of me being a sadistic criminal like this asshole, you wouldn't be in the same car without me being in handcuffs."

"I don't believe you are the killer, David."

"I don't believe I'm a killer, either," he replied. "I have killed a man, though."

The man he shot and killed the night his partner accidentally shot him in the hip and ended his police career. "That isn't the same thing, and you know it. It was a clean shoot, and you warned him. I read the shooting investigation as part of my background study."

"It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. You take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have."

I chuckled. "Seriously? 'Unforgiven' quotes as a coping mechanism?"

"He's not wrong," David said.

Something he said clicked. "You never answered my question, David. Why will Klinesmith resign in the next two weeks?"

"Men at his level are political animals," David replied. "The only hope for him to keep his reputation and career is for you to solve the case in the next day or two. How likely is that to happen?"

Shit, we had nothing. The motorcycle cops started to move, leading the funeral procession out of the secure parking lot towards Interstate 94. Our car was a dozen back from the limousine carrying her parents. "Barring a witness coming forward or a confession, not that likely," I replied. "Lars couldn't have done it, and you didn't either. Michael is the best suspect we have right now, and your book casts the only tie to him in doubt."

David covered his face with his hand as we drove past the press, ignoring the shouted questions. Once the procession was on the freeway, he quit hiding. "There are two options here, Talia. Let's take the first; Michael Klinesmith is innocent of the murder, and Tracy's killer set him up like in my book. How does the press treat him over the next two weeks?"

"They don't believe his claims of innocence, not when he's the prime suspect," I reply after a moment. "You know who he is married to, right?"

David chuckled. "Laura Brickline, the elder daughter of Thomas Brickline, owner of Brickline Constructions Company. They're only the largest commercial construction company in the Twin Cities, and he's one of the richest men in the Cities. If her family stands by him, he could ride it out, thanks to their money and influence. That lasts only as long as his reputation does, right?"

"In the best case, Michael is pure, innocent, and faithful to his wife. She'll put out a statement of support later tonight, telling everyone what a great husband he is and how he couldn't be involved in a crime like this. He takes a leave of absence, the couple withdraws from public life, and they wait for the police to find the killer. We eliminate Michael as a suspect, the publicity kills his aspirations to become Attorney General, and the scandal forever taints him."

"And if he isn't as pure as a January snowfall?"

"If the rumors of him having office affairs are true, the tabloids and press will be all over it. The truth ALWAYS comes out. Stories come out one after another, building on each other, and Tracy is one of his many women. His wife leaves him, his political career is over, and he resigns as County Attorney in disgrace."

"And all that with him being innocent of the murder," David said. "Now, what if he IS the killer?"

I had to think about that. "Following the book is fucking brilliant," I replied. "No murder is perfect. No matter how well you prepare, the killer always leaves some evidence behind."

"They do," David said. "Michael would know that after her death, their affair would become public. Since Tracy was single, he likely spent time in her place and her bed. His DNA evidence would tie him to the case and might be enough to convict him. Unless..."

"Unless he follows the book and makes it look like a setup. Dammit!" I smacked the steering wheel in frustration. "The hair evidence."

"The killer collected random hairs and spread them on the crime scene, right?"

I nodded. "Dozens so far, and as many unidentified, on and under the blanket she was on and around the room."

"Find out what barber shop Klinesmith uses. I'll bet you a beer that some hair evidence ties back to men using the same barber. Michael could have collected and saved it, grabbing it off the floor or out of the garbage. If you find any incriminating hairs, he's got an excuse." He was good; David would have made a good Detective if he'd stayed on the force. "I can't believe Michael killed her to hide a simple affair. He had to know her death would result in the affair coming out anyway. The threat must have been far greater, or he's a sick fuck who gets off on torturing women."

"I find that hard to believe," I replied.

"But you can't rule it out, can you?" He was right. "Let's say Klinesmith needs her dead, but he doesn't want to go to jail. The book is the perfect defense! Reasonable doubt is baked right into the crime scene. The killer followed everything else in the book, so why not the part about framing her boss for the murder? A kid fresh out of law school could find enough reasonable doubt for a jury. He walks away a free man."

I didn't say anything for a few minutes as I thought about it. I didn't see Michael as a killer, but you never knew. The true psychopaths were charming and trustworthy; that's why the neighbors always said he was a 'nice boy.' I focused on driving as we exited the freeway and drove into the Lake Elmo Cemetery. "Why did you write that fucking book, David?"

He just shook his head. "We don't have time for that story," he replied. The procession came to a halt, and I stopped the car. "This murder was planned for weeks, maybe years. You know how, but not WHY. Was it jealousy? Revenge? Was Tracy blackmailing him, or did she learn something she shouldn't have? Was Klinesmith dirty? Was my ex-wife in the way of powerful people? Was it the Cartels wanting to send a message? If you find out who needed her dead badly enough to go through all this trouble, you might find the killer."

I didn't have answers, just a lot more questions. We got out of the car and followed the crowd heading for the freshly-dug grave.

Chapter 19

Talia Devine's POV

Lake Elmo Cemetery, Minnesota

Friday, September 24, 2021

"I need to talk to her parents," David said before he walked away. I stayed where I was, looking over at her grieving family already seated graveside. The pallbearers had assembled behind the hearse, waiting for the mourners to gather. David ended up behind Tracy's parents, with Larry at his side.

When my boss arrived, I'd been standing on the edge of the mourners for a few minutes. "What a fucking mess," he told me.

"Did you have any idea Klinesmith planned to do that?"

"Are you kidding me? Hell, no. I can't believe he laid us out like that at the press conference. It's not even his CASE yet, and we weren't going to reveal he was a suspect! As a courtesy, I gave his assistant a heads-up when the CSI report came across my desk. He could have recused himself later on."

"David and I had an interesting discussion about this on the way over," I said. I recounted our conversation. "We should find out where our County Attorney gets his haircuts."

"Damn." He kicked at a stone on the walkway while he thought about it. "I think he's right. Michael Klinesmith knows that the longer this investigation focuses on him, the worse it is for him."

"He's selfish, Captain. By leaking the similarities to the book, he's throwing suspicion back on David Hardin and his millions of fans. If we get a tip out of it, he shows us that the holdback was harming the investigation."

"He knows the investigation is for shit right now anyway," Cullen replied.

"I have an idea, sir," I said as he started towards the group surrounding the grave, heading for where the St. Paul Police brass and honor guard waited. "I'd like to pick David's brain about the crime scene on the way to Duluth. Nobody knows that book better than him, and he has good instincts. He might pick up something we haven't."

"Hardin is still a suspect," Captain Cullen replied.

"We both know he didn't do it," I replied. "We need something new because Klinesmith is our only suspect, and I'd be shocked if he's our guy. What could it hurt?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "Talk to your partner first. It's his call."

Detective Maloney was back at the office. I stepped away from everyone else and made the call. If anything, he was more pissed at Klinesmith than the Captain was. I explained what I wanted to do, and he was skeptical. "I get it, Talia. There are two problems, though. The first you probably know already."

"Yeah. If David is the killer, he will know what we know."

"More importantly, he will know what we do NOT know. I agree that he's probably not the guy, but we can't exclude him as a suspect. Now, what is the second problem?"

"The press might find out?"

"Nope. We've already served search warrants on David's person and home. He's officially a suspect and he has a lawyer. Did you Mirandize him?"

"No. David is not under arrest."

"So your talk with David leads to evidence against him, and the judge tosses it because you didn't give him the warning."

Shit. "If I Mirandize David, his lawyer won't let him talk."

"It's one thing to give him a ride and hope he volunteers something. It's questionable if we discuss evidence and our case, then use his answers against him."

"So give him the warning and let him talk to his lawyer," I replied, thinking this was now a fool's errand.

"Yeah. Hey, as long as you're chasing rainbows and unicorns that crap Skittles, see if David will let you record the conversation."

I closed my eyes. "I just made an idiot of myself in front of the Captain," I said.

James laughed. "You won't forget the lesson, will you?" He hung up, and I walked back to the crowd and stood in the back, where the Captain wouldn't see me.

The graveside service was short. I didn't know Tracy Hardin's family, so I walked back to the car as the mourners filed by and tossed dirt onto her casket. While I waited for David, I pulled my laptop bag out and removed my hardcover copy of Killer Dreams, placing it on the dashboard.

Lars Anderson never showed, the little bitch. Larry Miller said he texted her mother and apologized but 'didn't want to create a scene.' I took his ten-dollar bill plus one from the Captain as I waited by the car. I was listening to the local news when David finally made his way over. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," I said before we got in. It was almost four, and I was getting hungry. I pulled out of the parking spot and headed for the exits. "Any ideas for dinner?"

"Drive through. I don't think a sit-down dinner is a good idea today." We passed the press, and I spotted a few unmarked vans pulling out to follow us. David was a celebrity involved in a murder case, so the paparazzi were out in force. I used my local knowledge, taking 10^th Street to 694 and leaving them stuck at the stoplights.

I saw the sign before the White Bear Avenue exit. "Do you like chicken?"

"What, they have a KFC here?"

"Better." We got in line at the Raising Canes drive-through, even though the end of the line was a full block long.

"We couldn't go somewhere faster? This line is nuts."

I laughed at him. "These chicken fingers are the bomb. Do you trust me?"

"You've not given me a reason not to. Larry trusts you, and that's good enough for now."

I'll take it. "Call your lawyer while we are waiting."

Gerald Costley started laughing over the speakerphone when I finished. "You want my client to provide crime scene analysis for you WHILE he is a Mirandized suspect in the same case? Are you nuts?"

"I'm trying to find the killer of David's ex-wife, sir."

"Not at his expense. David, my advice for you is simple. Stop the car, call an Uber, and go home alone. Nothing good can come out of this."

David put the phone on private. "Thanks for the advice, Gerald. I'll call you tomorrow."

He hung up the phone, and I let out a breath. "I'll let you out here," I told him. I had been looking forward to spending time with him, and now that was over.

"Read the card," he said. My eyes got wide. "I'm not going anywhere, Talia. I want to try this chicken of yours." He pulled out a small electronic voice recorder. "I won't let you record this conversation, but I will. If I don't like your question, I won't answer it."

"Agreed." I got out my wallet card and read the Miranda warning. He took my copy of his first novel off my dashboard, opened its cover, and started to sign it before I could say anything. I put my hand over his, keeping him from putting it back. "No," I said. "Take a look at the murder chapter. I've highlighted all the evidence you bring up in yellow, and everything that matches the crime scene is in pink."

He read through the chapter, looking up only when I opened the window to order. "What do they have other than chicken fingers?"

"Fries, Texas toast, and coleslaw. Do one thing and do it well," I replied with a smile. "How hungry are you?"

"It's a long drive, Talia." I ordered him a four-finger combo and a three for me. He tried one as I pulled out of the parking lot. "Damn, I'm glad I trusted you."

We'd both finished our dinners on the way out of town. David returned to reading the highlighted section as the traffic started to thin out on Interstate 35 north to Duluth. "You know, this was a sick fucking chapter to write. I never thought someone would try to make it real. Was the scene as bad as I think it was?"

"Worse."

"Do you have a pad of paper?" I gave him that and a pen from my laptop case, and he started taking notes and asking questions. I noticed a trend. "Why are you asking so many questions about blood marks?"