A Perfect Match

By Kelly

Eighteen-year-old Kevin Knapp leaves his home in Iowa to begin his broadcasting career in Austin, Minnesota, where he meets his future wife, Maggie McGovern, who is still in high school. Kevin quickly moves up the corporate ladder at the local radio station as Maggie graduates and begins her own career path as a features writer and then news reporter for the Austin newspaper. The couple are quickly attracted to each other but as practicing Christians, they let their relationship develop slowly. Ultimately, they fall in love. After some initial reluctance and cautionary messages, Maggie's parents give Kevin their blessing to marry their only child. Shortly after returning from their honeymoon, Maggie and Kevin learn about a tragedy involving Maggie's best friend, Sam. When a blizzard blankets Austin, a series of coincidences and a little help from their parish priest move them from routine news reporting to crime investigation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644588871

Book preview

Chapter 1

Day one hadn’t been so bad. Minneapolis is a big city. With all the reporters, lawyers, Austinites, and Eden Prairie supporters surrounding us, time passed pretty quickly.

Prosecutor Marty Ryder looked even younger than me and seemed to be playing a part in some single-season courtroom drama complete with horn-rimmed glasses and an over-the-top contrived sneer. Even Shirley Stanley, the public defender, looked more experienced, which wasn’t saying much. As someone trained in dynamic speech, I could tell this proceeding wasn’t going to be a barn burner. Yet there we all sat, rapt as if we were watching the trial of the century. Judge Meredith Stromwell was patient at the start but as the day wore on, he tried his best to pick up the pace. By midmorning, we’d gotten through the voir dire and a few motions heard in the judge’s chambers.

While waiting for the trial to resume, I kept replaying how we’d all ended up here, listening to the now common parade of witnesses share every detail of death. How could someone so young and promising take a life over something so inane? Who could have conceived that a preacher’s kid from Austin would be a character in such an avoidable tragedy? No matter how interesting television or Grisham novels make them seem, the truth is that trials involve a lot of time just waiting. Sitting through sidebars, procedural or evidentiary disputes, and the inevitable recesses allows one’s mind to wander. With so many breaks, I rewound my mental tape back to that snowy day in January 1968, when I exited Highway 218 to start my grown-up life in a city then known mostly for a can of meat distributed to World War II soldiers. As I arrived, the city’s welcome sign told me I’d be joining 27,908 other Austinites. I’d imagined myself being number 28,000 by now with the mayor greeting me with a Key to the City and a can of Spam. Four years later, I really did get that key. It was one of those moments that resided deep in my memory bank, pulled out periodically like a video replay. I suppose that made sense, given my chosen profession.

*****

On a chilly Tuesday afternoon, Mayor Robert Enright stood at the podium in the King’s Wood Hotel telling a This Is Your Life story with drama and pomposity that would have made Ralph Edwards shed a tear. Heck, I almost shed one myself and I was the honoree!

"This young man from Water Falls, Iowa, chose to start his career in our fair city all because his father, Harold, was born here back in 1918. Even after Harold’s family settled in Water Falls, Austin memories ran deep. When they had the chance, Harold and Monica returned for softball games and just to visit now and then.

"Without a twice-broken leg, we might never have had the benefit of the many ways this resident has added to our community. While cooped up in the hospital for those lengthy stays, his parents scraped together enough money to buy him a transistor radio to keep him company when they couldn’t be there.

"Now most of you here today probably listened to what I did at age eighteen—Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, and the Andrews Sisters—but this young man heard the new sounds of rock n’ roll. He’d have none of that syrupy stuff his dad played on the RCA Orthophonic on Sunday nights before Ed Sullivan. He progressed from the Everly Brothers and Dion and the Belmonts to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and all the rest.

"At age ten, his dad took him to a radio station to meet one of his favorite local DJs, a part-timer his dad worked with during the week. From there, he was officially hooked. That road led him to a rapid rise here at KAUS, one he might never have imagined just four short years ago. From rookie evening DJ to a star salesman helping our business community grow to his new role as station manager, he’s made his mark at an early age.

"And that mark has extended to being an active member at St. Augustine Catholic Church, a frequent speaker here at our chamber meetings and even stints at the concession stand on football nights at Austin High. But with all those accomplishments, our guest of honor says his favorite thing about finding a home in Austin was meeting his wife, the former Maggie McGovern. You probably know her best now for her columns in the Austin Daily Herald. She’s here today to celebrate as we present this key to the youngest recipient ever. Please join me in congratulating Kevin Knapp!"

Most of the rest was a blur, but I’ll never forget seeing my mom and dad in the first row. Dad’s eyes were shining and Mom was looking at me with admiration and pride. I wanted everyone there to understand how grateful I was for their encouragement and support so I offered a few personal thoughts to flesh out Mayor Enright’s remarks.

"My dad, right there in the first row in the blue-and-white tie, worked for John Deere in Water Falls. He would come home around four each day from an engineering job with little variety and even less turnover, given the union’s success. Mom, the beautiful lady beside him in the red jacket, kept the home running in the way those 1950s moms did but without the pearls and shirtwaist dress. It took me longer than it should have to realize how much my parents’ consistency and reliability kept me grounded and helped shape my own beliefs about life and family.

"For a kid raised on the early days of American Bandstand and rock ‘n’ roll, one of Dad’s most memorable gifts to me was when we went to the local radio station to meet Bob Brown, the weekend DJ. When I knocked the needle off the record as I went to shake his hand, I cringed, but he reassured me it was okay and that he’d done the same thing more than once.

"From then on, I knew I had to be a DJ one day and took every step along the way to make that happen. From broadcast school to internships at local radio and TV stations to listening to every decent DJ I could pull in on my transistor, I watched and listened and learned from the best. Actually, I learned a lot about what not to do from a few of them too."

After a few moments, I quickly wrapped it up with another round of thanks, reserving some special remarks for lovely Maggie, who kissed my cheek and held my hand before the mayor presented me with that enormous key! The brass has turned and the engraving’s a little faded, but that key still has a place of honor on the wall behind my desk.

*****

Suddenly, the judge strode quickly back to the bench. I came rushing back to the present. As the trial resumed, I looked around at the people I’d come to know as friends. I knew we’d be there to support each other, regardless of the outcome.

Chapter 2

By day two, the courtroom crowd had already thinned a little, probably the result of all the technical evidence that most people find boring. Of course, Maggie and I found that part the most interesting since we’d been there when some of it was discovered. She took notes for every witness, already framing the article for tomorrow’s edition. Meanwhile, I had my own radio report and the TV stand-up to handle. We compared and combined notes to make sure we covered it all.

What’s your lead going to be? I asked, always interested in sharing thoughts about Austin’s high-profile stories.

For me—I mean, I knew him ever since I can remember. I know I’m a reporter but it feels pretty personal. She looked away briefly to compose herself. How about you? she asked, wiping a tiny tear from her eye.

Patting her shoulder, I said softly, I know, Mags, but we do have a professional role and need to remember why we’re here. I know that’s hard for you especially. I really only met him a few times, at the wedding and that one day during our honeymoon.

I had to cover the story fairly. I made sure to review all the tips I got from our news director, Brian McCombs, when we decided I’d cover the story since I’d be up here with Maggie anyway. I did my best with my two minutes to cover a full trial day. I managed to overcome my general distaste for the TV blow-dries—at least for the sake of this story—but I still gave the first report to KAUS. As general manager, I wasn’t about to let KACM-TV scoop my own station. After Maggie finished sending in her story, we decided on supper at the hotel restaurant and an early turn-in at the hotel. Not fancy or romantic, but a bed, sink, and shower were all we had on our mind for the moment.

By day three, the only ones left were a few local reporters, close family, friends, teachers, and Maggie and I representing the Austin media. With tears and an occasional smile, those who knew the victim and the accused sat on separate benches. The details of the case were coming together but the tapestry was woven by two very different artists. The threads and colors were similar, but the picture created by the prosecutor was clear and bright and without nuance while the defense’s picture had more subtle hues, trying to tell a story with more shades and room for interpretation. Any reasonable doubt would do. Most of us gathered that night at Pracna’s, which just reopened after its latest renovation. Something about those vintage brick walls and stained glass created an ambience for sharing stories about Sam with good friends and Austin neighbors. Of course, we built on the stories we’d heard that day, added some of our own, and even laughed a little when wandering through our emotional scrapbooks. We stayed later than planned. Slowly, the stress of the day caught up with us and we said our farewells.

The hotel bed was surprisingly comfortable that night. I drifted to sleep to the distant voices of Jimmy Jones (a tick-a-tick-a-tick-a good timin’), Billy Bland (She never danced before so let her on the floor), and Skip & Flip (Little Jack Horner sat in the corner eating his cherry pie). Covering a murder at age twenty-four, especially one that affected Maggie so deeply, I already longed for those days gone by.

I awoke disoriented but relieved to find that I’d finally slept more than a couple of hours since arriving at the hotel. It felt good to sleep, to dream, and to pretend for a while that the events that brought us to the Minneapolis Criminal Court hadn’t happened.

Chapter 3

Even though I was eager for a verdict, I welcomed the daylong adjournment the judge announced late yesterday due to some urgent pretrial motions on another higher-profile case.

I looked over at the sleeping Maggie then saw some photos she’d brought on the bedside table. The nightlight and the moonlight glowed over the Polaroid of a favorite childhood memory of hers, one of many she shared with Sam. There she was, tallest kid in the photo as usual. It was Decoration Day 1960, but eight-year-old Maggie McGovern wasn’t thinking about flags or poppies or the annual Austin parade that signaled summer’s arrival. Instead, she was celebrating her birthday. Her good friends - Mollie, Caroline, Nelva, Leslie, Sam, Brian and Duane - shared the beautiful day, all eagerly anticipating the end of their third year at Banfield Elementary. May’s sunny days were made more special by the knowledge that the season was so short. The party was filled with badminton, bubbles, and the colorful streamers and balloons her parents placed in their budding maple tree. After the kids wore themselves out, her mom brought out snacks and Maggie’s favorite lemon cake, which another photo showed them wolfing down as only third grade best friends can do! Another photo showed Maggie surrounded by all her friends and the presents they’d brought that day: a silvery baton with bright white caps, a jump rope, a new Little House book, a toy typewriter, and a coloring book with fresh crayons. But the best of the whole lot was the GE portable record player Mom and Dad got her.

Maggie and I shared a love of music. Her favorites were Brenda Lee and Connie Francis. She was sure she sang as well as they did. She didn’t, but she still loved to belt out Stupid Cupid in the shower. She sounded good to herself and had an easy time remembering the lyrics. Sometimes she even made up new ones to fit the songs she heard on the radio, not Weird Al caliber but passable. She and Sam sometimes laughed in the cafeteria so much about those silly songs that the lunchroom monitors told them to hush and threatened to separate them.

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