Jeffrey Cohen - For Whom the Minivan Rolls (Aaron Tucker Mysteries)

Baltimore, MD

Copyright 2002 by Jeffrey Cohen
All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form orby electronic means, including information storage and retrievalsystems, without written permission from the publisher, except by areviewer, who may quote passages in a review.

The people and events depicted in For Whom theMinivan Rolls are fictional. Any resemblance to people, living ordead, or to events is unintentional and coincidental.

Published by Bancroft Press (Books thatenlighten)
P.O. Box 65360, Baltimore, MD 21209
800-637-7377
410-764-1967 (fax)
bruceb@bancroftpress.com
www.bancroftpress.com

Jacket Design: Stephen Parke/What? Designparke@imagecarnival.com

Book design by Theresa Williams,theresa@visuallee.com

1-890862-18-5 (cloth)
1-890862-19-3 (paper)
Library of Congress Card Number: 2002109251

Smashwords Edition

To Jessica, who knows the only thing I haventexaggerated is how much I love her.

Prologue

Part One: Searching

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

Intermission

Part Two: Finding

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

Epilogue

Praise for Minivan

Authors Note

About the Author

Eeeeuuuuurrrppp!

The noisewherever it was coming fromwoke MadlynBeckwirth, and she nudged Gary, who was snoring beside her. Everyfew seconds, eeeuuurrrp!

If she just lay there and listened, it was enough todrive Madlyn crazy. Thats the way things are at two in themorning. So she got out of bed and went downstairs toinvestigate.

Madlyn carefully checked the living room and thekitchen, but no one was there. She realized now the noise wascoming from somewhere outside the house.

Nothing else to do. Madlyn took the chain off thefront door, checking to make sure she had unlocked both the deadbolt and the lock in the doorknob. The last thing she needed was tobe locked out of her own house. Especially with a man upstairs whowouldnt wake up if you bounced him out of bed and screamed at himthrough a bullhorn.

Nothing on the doorstep, nothing on the lawn. Wherethe hell was that sound coming from? A-ha! There at the curb.Madlyn let the air out of her lungs, just now realizing she hadbeen holding her breath.

Somebodys car had lost a hubcap while riding pasther house. When the stupid thing had stopped rolling, it had cometo rest on a sewer grate, and wedged itself there. Every time thewind blew, it made a metallic scrapingsoundeeeeuuuuurrrppp!trying to break free.

Shed never get back to sleep with that racket goingon. So, resigned to venturing even farther outside the housedressed in her bedclothes, Madlyn headed toward the curb andreached down. Even with both hands, she couldnt pull the hubcapoutit was stuck too tight.

Madlyn looked up the street. All the usual cars wereparked in front of their owners homes, though a blue minivan shedidnt recognize was parked a couple of houses down, in front ofDiane and Bills.

Well, she couldnt bear that noise anymore, so shedecided on a new strategy. She picked up a stick lying near thecurb, wedged it in under the hubcap, and pried. Sure enough, aftera few tries, the hubcap came loose, but the Herculean effort causedher to stagger backward a few steps into the street.

It was at that moment that the blue minivan, itsheadlights now on, started down the street with a squealing ofbrakes and the smell of burning rubber. Madlyn didnt realize atfirst that it was headed directly at her, and by the time she did,it was too late to even put up her hands or scream.

Do you like mysteries?

Milt Ladowski sat behind what must have been, forhim, his cheap desk. For me, the real-wood monster with fivedrawers would have been an unaffordable luxury, but Milt is ahigh-priced attorney, accustomed to private practice extravagance.In his part-time position as borough counsel for Midland Heights,New Jersey, however, he had to accept an office in nondescriptBorough Hall, and the government-issued desk that came with it. Toserve his community, in effect, he had to go slumming. Many arecalled. Few are chosen. Or was it the other way around?

Yeah, I told him. I love mysteries. I just gotdone reading the latest Janet Evanovich. Why, do you want me towrite one?

No. I want you to solve one.

Well, that was a mystery in itself. You wantsomebody to solve a mystery, you generally dont go to a freelancewriter. Nine times out of ten, you might want to consult, say, aprivate detective. Or a cop. Freelancers are more likely to beconsulted when your goal is to publish a thousand-word featureabout the dangers of cholesterol in the newspapers Sunday healthsection.

Thats not really my line of work, Milt.

He nodded. I know. But Gary Beckwirth insisted. Hesaid to call you, and only you.

Beckwirth? Which one is Gary Beckwirth?

Beckwirth. You know. His wife is managing RachelBarlows campaign for mayor.

I stared blankly at him. I follow municipal politicswith the same enthusiasm I muster for the cricket scores fromBath.

Their son Joel is a patrol kid at the middleschool, he said, seeing if he could jog my memory.

Oh, is he the one who busted Ethan for going to thebathroom without a hall pass?

I remember everything that anybody has ever done toand for my children. The little Beckwirth son of a bitch hadnteven bothered to check with Ethans teacher, and hed practicallyforced my 11-year-old son to have an accident in the schoolcorridor. After that fiasco, Ethan had come home and locked himselfin his room with Pokmon Stadium for three hours, which is ahalf-hour longer than usual.

Youre going to take that to your grave, arentyou, Aaron? asked Ladowski. The kid did what he thought was theright thing.

So did Lee Harvey Oswald. Okay, so thatsBeckwirth. The father looks like some rich guy off a daytime soap,right? And the mother...

Madlyn is the mystery. Shes been missing for threedays, and Garys worried. She never goes anywhere without tellinghim, and then in the middle of the night, Monday, she vanishesright out of their bed.

My eye was distracted by a flier on Ladowskis deskthat mentioned the start of the Recreation Departments littleleague baseball season. Both Ethan and Leah would probably want toplay. And theyd both want me to coach. Thats three nights a week,and Sundays, from early April until late June. Id look like amember of the walking dead by the time the season was over. I dontremember my parents coaching me in anything. They took me to thegames and watched me strike out a lot, butcoaching...

Aaron?

I was jolted out of my Dad-of-the-Year reverie. Istill dont get why youre telling me about this, Milt. DidBeckwirth go to Barry Dutton?