Case of the Mouse Trap Legend Read online

  Case of the Mouse Trap Legend

  Jean Marie Wiesen

  Copyright © 2019 Jean Marie Marie Wiesen

  All rights reserved.

  A Jean Marie Wiesen Book

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Photo of author by Margot Clifford.

  Cover design and formatting by ebooklaunch.com

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

  Uncle Donald and Cousin Mara, for their unwavering support

  Acknowledgements

  They say if you follow a plan, it eventually comes to fruition. Sometimes, the road is windy and you’re not always certain of the direction and you need a gentle push to take that leap of faith. That’s where I found myself with the second Laura Jensen Mystery: Case of the Mouse Trap Legend. Case of the Missing Look Alikes was traditionally published, but this time around, with the encouragement and love of family and friends, I’ve decided to go the route of self-publishing. For anyone who’s wondering, Missing Look Alikes will be re-released in six months.

  When one enters new territory, one requires a guide, or else one tends to bump into walls and trip over errant things. Asking for assistance is how we learn. I’m blessed to be surrounded by authors who’ve walked many miles before me. Thank you to, Alex Adams who gave selflessly of her time and advised me what direction to take so I wouldn’t endlessly wander in some godforsaken forest, conversing with squirrels. She missed writing time to be sure I was on the correct path.

  I was fortunate to have various sources of technical support for this novel, all of whom were generous with their time—to be sure my characters were correctly armed. I can’t thank my longtime friend, Corporal Anastasia Le Beau, enough, who’s recently retired from the Westport Police Department. Her descriptions of which tasks belong to and are shouldered by local departments, vs state departments helped sift out the confusion. Trooper First Class Gregory Le Beau of the Connecticut State Police provided me with both the necessary CSP point of view as well as the military’s. He proudly served overseas in the Army National Guard. Richard Sprandel, (Retired Monroe PD) owner of Blue Line Tactical, made doubly certain that I had my character, Laura correctly depicted with extra ammunition, when necessary and why. Things I wouldn’t have thought of, but were crucial to the moment.

  Taking a trip out to McGuire Air Force Base for an air show was a special treat. Having the rare opportunity to interview two Thunderbird Air Force pilots was absolutely fantastic. Their call signs are, respectively: TB5 and TB6, who were so giving of their time. They took their time explaining the various aerobatic moves they would perform during the show.

  I was extremely fortunate to interview a family member of Jack Northrup’s, the designer and builder of the B2 Spirit Bomber. Without this individual, many stories would have remained in conflict with what’s found on the internet. They helped launch my novel and for that, I’m forever grateful.

  Thank you to Jim, at Peter’s Market, who made sure I was properly fed during the writing and editing of Mouse Trap.

  Thank you to my beta readers, the earliest of whom, goes by one name: Murray. He’s very meticulous. Thanks, Murray, your input was invaluable. He wasn’t too harsh with the red pen. Special thanks goes to both Teri Walsh and Anne Patterson, who made certain I maintained the flow of the story without getting bogged down in technical details. Thank you Ebook Launch for designing such a gorgeous cover as well as the exceptional layout design. Last but definitely not least, thank you to my crack editing team: Bette Johansing and Don Guy who went through the manuscript, inch by inch. In other words, any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

  If you are always trying to be normal you will never know amazing you can be.

  Maya Angelou February 2014

  Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “Holy smoke,” Mike O’Malley remarked as he tossed the early edition of the Soundview Times to me. I snatched it mid-air and tucked it under my arm as I entered our office with my old pup, Kola Bear, who walked slowly beside me. Even though he was twelve, I still referred to him as a pup. We’d had to shorten our early morning walk due to Kola’s difficulty with maneuvering, so I wasn’t in the mood to digest more bad news.

  “Everybody knows Kim Jong Un has missiles, but they can’t hit us. They can’t even hit the Hawaiian Islands. Not yet, anyway,” I said, scanning the headlines. “I have an old friend who’s one of the chief scientists at Northrup Grumman and is in the know about these things,” I commented.

  “Keep reading, Laura, it gets worse. It validates what we found on the body we fished out of the Sound.”

  Mike’s mention of the lifeless body brought me back to my first fishing expedition on Crosby Lattimer’s boat, one of Mike’s old cop buddies. We had been celebrating the close of our firm—Jensen and O’Malley’s Investigations first case when I’d literally hooked a body with my fishing pole. Catching a serial killer had put us on the national private investigator’s map, and given us overnight fame. Thanks to social media, business was pouring in. We were only a small cog in the large wheel that had brought the killer, Arnold Hansen to justice, but we were receiving national recognition nonetheless.

  “Says here, they may have found a way to sneak nuclear warheads into the U.S.” I looked at Mike and asked, “You seriously believe the map we found on the body I hauled out is the real deal?”

  “Crosby called a bit ago, and he’s rented his place out to a young Asian couple. The couple are college students, and he’s got a theory. Between his theories and the current shenanigans of Kim Jong Un, nothing would surprise me anymore.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, in protest.

  “Yeah, I know, Crosby and his theories, but this is kind of interesting in light of what we found and what’s in today’s paper.” Mike smiled.

  “Mike, it doesn’t specify how they’re sneaking this stuff into the country. That’s for openers. Plus, just because an Asian couple is renting from Crosby doesn’t make them guilty. I realize there were markers on the map we
pulled from Wastrel’s pocket, my first catch, but how in the world do you connect that to his tenants?”

  “This is where it takes another twist. Crosby’s been going through their trash, and he found a copy of a similar map that was in a few pieces. Seems someone forgot to put it through the shredder. It’s marked up in Mandarin, which he speaks a bit of. I guess the couple didn’t think twice and got lazy.”

  “Of course Crosby speaks Mandarin,” I said.

  “A man of many talents.” Mike grinned.

  “And what did our ingenious friend come up with, once he completed the full translation?” I sat down with the Soundview Times in my lap, the photo of Kim Jong Un with his silly haircut staring back at me.

  “It appears there are a number of these maps, circulating up and down the Eastern Seaboard, but each one is different. As in, each one comes with a unique set of instructions for the holder, or owner, if you will. From what Crosby was literally able to reassemble, there’s a master legend hidden somewhere that’s known only to this couple. The legend gives the location to every last one of the nukes. Out of what was shredded, he was able to piece together the words: Mouse Trap Trail, whatever that means. Hey, what’s wrong with Kola Bear, he’s not acting like himself, Laura.” Mike reached down to pat him on the head.

  “He had a lot of trouble on our walk this morning. I called the vet and am taking him in in a few hours for a check-up. At the moment, we need to focus on this map and the mouse trap thing. I don’t know why, but it sounds familiar.” I opened my laptop and entered the information into my search engine, and it popped up immediately. “Mike, it’s a trail not too far from here.”

  Mike leaned over my shoulder and groaned.

  I looked up at him. “Who sounds better, you or me, begging the Department of Environmental Energy Protection for a permit to dig up several miles of trail in a lovely bird and tree sanctuary?”

  “Neither of us. This is a deep job for Super Cop Lieutenant Grady Marshall, or our FBI buddy, Reggie Martin,” Mike answered.

  “My thought exactly, because according to this write-up, it’s very old acreage dating back to the early nineteen hundred’s which was privately owned and planted with all sorts of uncommon decorative trees. It was donated to the state about thirty years ago and is maintained by both the estate and private donations.”

  I continued reading, while Mike paced and added, “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess they’re not going to be interested in having a back hoe digging up their Mouse Trap Trail, even if we tell them it’s in the interest of national security. What say you?”

  “I say Grady and Reggie will have us do some of the grunt work, which is fine by me. Please don’t get me at the controls of the back hoe, ‘cause I’ll likely knock down some of those precious trees and then there go the donations.”

  I laughed, and said, “With your luck, the foundation will have you out there replanting whatever it is you destroy.” I rubbed my temples. “Mike, what if those kids buried the legend underneath one of the trees, knowing full well they’re protected and we can’t touch them.”

  “Oh, geez, they’d still be on Mouse Trap Trail, but underneath and possibly inside the root system. DEEP’s never gonna let us in there, much less the foundation and mess with their trees, or trail—sanctuary, or whatever.” Mike began to stride, back and forth, again and in our cramped quarters, he didn’t have much room. He insisted it helped him come up with solutions. “Laura, we need more space so I can do my pacing. You know how I am, I have to do it to work stuff out. Plus, it helps work out the kinks in my lousy back. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and talked with the building manager and he said he’d give us the small office next to us. There’s already a door between us. He can open up the wall, kind of like an archway, but I said I had to ask you. He won’t raise the rent much. We can talk to him later. I know, you have to go to the vet, and we have to get going on this.”

  “Mike, go ahead before you bump into the coat rack one more time.”

  “I knew it.” Mike grinned and pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door and swung it open. “Ta da!”

  “Wait, you already did it,” I said, as I stood and peeked through the doorway to an empty room nearly the same size as our office. The walls were painted white, matching ours. Mike was correct about the archway being a necessity. I could envision a builder having it constructed fast enough so it wouldn’t interfere with our work schedule. Kola limped by my heels, as he sniffed the new area, and whimpered. He wagged his tail ever so slightly, and sat by my side.

  “Mike, I’m glad you made the decision, it was the right one.”

  “Nothing is final. This is only a possibility. The offer’s on the table, and that’s all. When it comes to making decisions, we do it together. Got it,” Mike said.

  “Okay, and yes,” I answered. “Thanks, Mike.”

  “Let me help you out to the car with Kola before I break into a million pieces. Do you want me to go with you, Laura?”

  “Someone’s got to hold down the fort, and Annie’s going to meet me there. She’s finished up with her story about Arnold Hansen, our infamous serial killer. It’s all submitted to the papers and local TV, so she’s free for a bit.”

  Mike bent down and patted Kola, then hugged him. He stood up and hugged me.

  “Mike, quit it before I start crying all over again.”

  “I don’t know how you’re gonna do this.” He turned around and blew his nose. “I don’t know what to do for you.”

  “Be here when I get back. I have to go. I’ll see you later.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. Kola whimpered and followed me out to the car. My sweet boy knew.

  Chapter 2

  It had been years since I’d made the vet ride and I’d forgotten how miserable a drive it could be. I put the windows down so the early fall scents would fill the car. Kola Bear was in the passenger seat with his head resting on the center console. Now and then, he lifted his snout to sniff a particular smell wafting through the car only he knew of. I hoped it brought him pleasure while I stroked his head.

  My mind drifted back to our years together of lovely hikes in a variety of woods throughout New England, culminating in the tracking and capture of a notorious serial killer. Perhaps, I could convince my old childhood friend, Annie Tyler to write a book about our adventures, having Kola and her pup, Casey starring as a K9 tracking team. The thought of it made me smile.

  Annie and I had grown up together and had been inseparable ever since we were kids, playing in the waters of Augustine Bay, Florida. We both stood at five feet eight inches tall. I veered towards casual wear, whereas Annie was the trendy dresser. I had black hair and dark eyes to Annie’s blonde hair and blue eyes.

  When the time arrived for us to move on to college, I went to John Jay along with the love of my life, Matt while Annie pursued journalism at Georgetown. It was the first time we’d ever been apart.

  The three of us interned in our areas of interest—me with a private investigation firm in New York, Matt with a prestigious law firm and Annie with a top-notch news daily when 9/11 occurred. Matt had been attending a breakfast meeting when the world changed forever. I would have lingered that morning if I’d known our brief kiss was to be our last.

  Annie found a job with another paper and relocated to Soundview, CT to be near me, which coincided with the opening of, Jensen and O’Malley Investigations. Mike O’Malley, eleven years my senior, had been with the Soundview Police Department for twenty years, and following an on the job back injury, decided the arena of private investigation would be inviting. Being an old family friend, he’d promised my parents, who had perished a few years prior in a car accident to watch over me. He took me under his wing, upon my graduation from John Jay in criminal justice.

  I continued petting Kola, and instead of taking the quick route to the vet, opted for the scenic back roads. I was in no hurry to reach my destination to do what needed to be done.

  Without
realizing it, I’d been driving around the block the vet was on for fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath, and said, “I promise I’ll be with you every step of the way the same as you’ve been by my side, Buddy Bean for the last twelve years.”

  Kola sighed as I pulled into the driveway. I leaned over and kissed him, my tears dripping onto his head and ears. An hour later, I walked out, carrying his leash and collar, my head on Annie’s shoulder, crying uncontrollably.

  Chapter 3

  My wise, best friend, Annie made the decision to drive me back to the office. She said we would retrieve my car later on.

  “Oh dear,” I said, brushing away some tears.

  “We’ll still go for our afternoon walks,” Annie said.

  “Casey will miss Kola.” I sniffled.

  “Yes, he will,” Annie agreed.

  “Before you say it, I don’t know when the right time to get another puppy is. I have the business with Mike, and I don’t know if having a little puppy would be acceptable.” I dabbed my eyes with a Kleenex.

  “No, you’re not a terrible person for thinking about it. You’ve had pups all your life, Laura. You don’t know how to live without them, and neither do I.” She took a deep breath and pulled into the parking space at our office. “Is that Adelaide’s car?”

  “It certainly is. Much as I love her, I’m not sure I’m ready to see her. Although, she does make me smile.”

  “Wonder what she lost now.” Annie giggled.

  “Thank you, I needed a good laugh.”

  Adelaide Spencer had been our first so-called case, calling our office, insisting she had lost her valuable silver Sherwood Archery Pin. While the serial killer, Arnold was inside her lovely home in the woods, I had found the long lost pin. Adelaide had been at my side, with our guns aimed at the closed bedroom door while the entire Soundview Police Department, FBI and Major Crimes Squad of the Connecticut State Police surrounded the home. I had literally knelt on the famed Sherwood Archery Pin she had won years prior.