Easy Prey

“Call 911.”
    Del got his cell phone out and they both stood up, over Olson’s crumpled form. A half-dozen horns were going again, and then the sudden brrrrp of a cop touching a siren. A squad car rolled around in front of the Porsche, and the honking stopped.
    Lucas took his ID out of his pocket and started toward the cop car as a Bloomington cop got out of the near side, another out of the far side of the car. They kept Lucas’s Porsche between them. Lucas held his badge case above his head and shouted, “Minneapolis police. We need an ambulance and some help.”
    The cop behind the Porsche turned to say something to the other cop, and when Lucas closed up he held out the badge case, but the cop on the far side of the squad, the taller of the two, a sergeant, said, “Chief Davenport . . . what’s going on?”
    “We don’t know. We just talked to that guy at the motel and were leaving, and all of a sudden he came running across the lot screaming at us and now he’s had some sort of fit. We need a paramedic right now, and we need you guys to hang around. Could you hold on a minute?”
    “Sure.”
     
 
HE WALKED AROUND to the Lexus; the driver had slid back inside, but Lucas grabbed the handle and jerked the door open. The man was in his fifties, red-faced, wattled. Lucas said, “I’m a police officer. We had a serious problem. My inclination is to jerk your ugly stupid ass out of this car, cuff you, and send you downtown on a charge of interfering with a police officer. A body-cavity search would teach you the real meaning of the word asshole. ”
    “I just want to get going.” The man was furious, un-apologetic. “You had me blocked in. I’m busy, I’m in a goddamned hurry, and you’re screwing around with some asshole.”
    Lucas said, “Put your car in park.”
    “It is in park.”
    Lucas reached past him, turned the key, killed the engine. “Sit here until I tell you you can go. If you move, you go to jail.”
    “I’m in a fuckin’ hurry,” the man screamed.
     
 
LUCAS WENT BACK to the Bloomington cops and explained what had happened with Olson. An ambulance siren started in the distance. The traffic jam intensified as people leaving the mall stopped to gawk at the Porsche and the police car, and the man lying on the grass.
    “The thing is, he was fine in the parking lot when we were talking to him,” Lucas said. “Then he headed back to his hotel room, and a minute later, here he came running after us. Now he’s had whatever this is. A fit.”
    A car was passing in the outside lane, and a kid yelled, “Did you shoot him?”
    “Maybe a stroke,” said the sergeant.
    “He’s just out,” Del said. “He’s like somebody knocked him out.”
    “I think we better go look at the motel,” Lucas said.
    “Could you guys stay here and handle the paramedics and traffic, but send another car over to the motel?”
    “Yeah. Have somebody here in a minute.” He looked at the Lexus. “What’s the story on this guy?”
    Lucas told him quickly, and the sergeant nodded. “Fuckhead. We’ll keep him around for a while.”
    “That’d be good,” Lucas said. “At least until he’s cooled out.”
     
 
LUCAS AND DEL walked toward the hotel, off the grass, across the parking lot. The desk clerk had come to the front window to watch the commotion at the curb. Lucas showed him the badge case and said, “We need the room number and a key for a guest named Olson.”
    The clerk stepped behind the desk, punched up a computer. “We’ve got two Olsons—a Mr. Tom and a Mr. Lynn Olson.”
    “Give us both keys,” Lucas said.
    The clerk never hesitated. He looked in a slotted drawer, took out two keys, and pushed them across the desk. “Is there anything else I can do?”
    “A Bloomington police car is gonna be here in a minute,” Lucas said. “Send the cops up.”
     
 
THE OLSONS’ TWO rooms were adjacent, up an interior stairway and down a long carpeted hall that smelled faintly of disinfectant and something else, like wine or beer. “Would something in his own room freak him out?” Del asked as they counted the room numbers down the hall.
    “I was wondering that,” Lucas said. “Let’s try his folks.” The elder Olsons’ door came up first. Lucas knocked. No answer. Knocked louder. They listened, then Del shook his head and Lucas put the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed.
    No chain. The door swung open and Lucas stepped inside, smelled the blood and urine.
     
 
LYNN