Read Online The Mortal Groove by Ellen Hart - Free Book Online Page A

Melanie.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWe were together for five years. How flattering that you remember our time together so clearly.”
    â€œWhat are you doing now?” asked Jane, trying to head off a potential disaster. She sat down in the rocker by the fireplace.
    Melanie chose the couch. “I teach journalism at St. Cloud State. But I’m on sabbatical. Believe it or not, I took a job with
City Beat.
I interned at the
Star Trib
for a while after college, but what I really wanted to do was teach. Now I’m so sick of it I could puke.”
    â€œWhy
City Beat?”
asked Jane.
    â€œBecause for the last couple years I’ve been dying to do some real-life, hands-on investigative journalism. I broke that story last February about Arnold Hammond, one of our fine local judges who was selling crack out of the trunk of his car.”
    Cordelia sat down next to Melanie and slipped her arm across the back of the couch—behind Melanie’s back.
    Melanie noted the arm with a nod of her head. “You haven’t changed much.”
    â€œI am the Sphinx. Waiting and watching.”
    â€œAnd hustling women.”
    â€œNot everyone. I discriminate.”
    â€œConsider me unhustleable.”
    â€œI’m just stretching out,” said Cordelia. “Don’t take the arm personally.”
    â€œWhy’d you come by?” asked Jane.
    â€œWell, actually, I wanted to talk to you about your dad’s campaign manager.”
    â€œDelavon Green?”
    â€œGreen, yeah, and two others. Randall Turk and his brother, Ethan.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt’s part of some research I’m doing.”
    â€œWhat research?” asked Cordelia, eyeing her with a kind of grim concentration.
    â€œWell, since you’re interested, a friend sent me some information recently on a cold murder case in Iowa, one that happened back in the early seventies. The name Delavon Green came up. I knew that was the name of your dad’s campaign manager, Jane, but I didn’t know if it was the same guy. Turns out it is. I think there’s an important story there that was never told—a murder that was never solved. And if my instincts are right, it might also have some contemporary relevance.”
    â€œGo on,” said Cordelia, arching an eyebrow.
    Melanie stared at her a moment, then continued. “Well, I think most people would agree that America is involved in another Vietnam, another endless war that grinds men and women up and then spits them out, expecting them to just pick up and go on with their lives when they get home as if the brutality they witnessed never happened. I’m becoming convinced that the murder in Iowa back in ‘71 had its roots in Vietnam, and if so, it may be a cautionary tale for us today.” She removed a small notebook from her pocket. “If you don’t mind talking to me, Jane, why don’t we start with Randall Turk? Give me your impressions of him.”
    â€œWell, he’s a longtime friend of my dad’s. He and his wife used to throw a lot of dinner parties, so I’ve been to their house many times. I don’t know Randy all that well, but I mean, he’s quiet, and I suspect he’s also pretty intense. My dad thinks the world of him. He’s known for his aggressiveness in the courtroom.”
    â€œHe and his wife recently split,” said Melanie.
    â€œReally. That surprises me.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know. They seemed like such a great couple.”
    â€œClose? Happy?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œRandy ever talk to you about his tour in Vietnam? Or after he came home?”
    â€œNo, not that I remember.”
    â€œDoes he have any close friends? Other people I could talk to?”
    â€œSorry. Like I said, I don’t know him that well. You might talk to my dad about him. Not that he has a lot of time at the moment, but I’m sure I could connect you