Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer (14 page)

Farrell lifted his shoulders. “Yeah, or else I won’t be able to see the picture.”

“You used an electronic device to disguise your voice.”

Farrell beamed. “Yeah, cool huh? $89.95 online at the Spy Shack with free shipping. I had to use it. If you knew it was me, you wouldn’t have come.”

Eddie shook his head in disbelief and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling W.P.D.” He walked off to call.

Farrell said, “Flanagan, no hard feelings?”

“Farrell. You’re an idiot.”

I stood there fuming while Farrell squirmed on the floor seeking a way to stand. As I put my foot on his cuffs to hold him down, I thought about kicking him or at least ‘accidentally’ stepping on his hand but Eddie returned.

Eddie said, “Patrol’s on the way,” pulled Farrell to his feet and hooked his cuffs to a row of connected plastic chairs. “Let’s go.”

As we left the bus station, I hear Farrell calling. “Hey, you can’t leave me like this. What if they don’t come for a while? What if the place catches fire? What if I gotta pee?”

Eddie kept on walking. I followed close enough to hear him say. “This is worth the price of new cuffs.”

An hour later, I stood in the chapel and watched yet another childhood friend get married. It was good to have a hanky hidden in my glove. I still got misty watching dads give their daughters away.

After the ceremony, Waalbroek River Lodge staff herded the crowd into the banquet room to await the entrance of the newest newlyweds. When Eddie and I entered the ballroom and looked for our table, identically clad bridesmaids stood out like a beacon. Lucy patted the empty seat next to her and said, “Raquel, love your dress.”

I sat. “Oh, but it’s not as nice as yours.”

Eddie took the seat between Robby and me. Stan looked at us and shook his head, “But you’re both wear –“

Lucy said, “Oh, shush, Stan. Honestly, Raquel, sometimes I don’t know if his great body makes up for his… you know…”

“Hey,” Stan said, “I’m sitting right here… besides, you seemed pretty sure watching me dress for the party.” Then he raised his eyebrows at me and said, “I’m not as dumb as I look.” Lucy slapped him on his thigh and they both laughed.

Lucy said, “Listen up Gentlemen” and then pointed to each of us in turn. “Raquel, Eddie, Robby, Crystal, Pam, Kevin, Stan and Lucy. Now we all know each other, let’s drink.”

Stan and Robby just finished filling our glasses from the wine bottles on the table when the bandleader announced the entrance of the newlyweds and the party got underway.

We drank, danced, ate, danced and drank. Kara’s Dad, her sister Pam and Tommy’s friend Drew made the obligatory wedding toasts. Pam spent most of the night catching up with folks she hadn’t seen since she moved to Albany. Her boyfriend, Kevin tagged along doing a good job of appearing glad to greet people he never met before and probably wouldn’t see again.

Lucy and I spent most of the evening in front of the band. We periodically dragged Eddie and Stan up to join us. Somehow, when you’ve had enough to drink even the latest novelty dance seems like a good idea. By the time we finished dinner, Eddie was massaging my feet in his lap and I was glad to sit while Kara and Tommy cut the cake.

When Kara stood at the bandstand to throw the bouquet, Lucy grabbed my hand and dragged me back onto the dance floor. Crystal looked shyly at Robby and then followed. Pam glanced at Kevin, shrugged and joined the pack.

During a long drum roll, Kara faked throwing the flowers over her shoulder and fooled several women into raising their arms. After teasing the crowd twice, she finally let loose. The bridal bouquet flew high over our heads, close to the ceiling and brushed a chandelier. As one, we all turned to see where it would land. The floral missile headed directly for the center of a table already covered with a centerpiece, wine bottles, glasses and plates. At the last moment, a hand reached out, caught the flowers and averted a messy landing. The woman at the table stood to applause and bowed. She was Mom.

After we emptied the first few wine bottles, Eddie and Robby started acting like old friends. By the time the waiters refilled their coffee cups, they began talking about the case like partners.

Robby nudged Eddie with his elbow. “That Farrell’s something else, been a jerk since High School.”

“Oh, you got him squared away?”

“Yeah, too bad there’s no crime against being an opportunist asshole.”

“He threatened Raquel.”

“No proof. He said. She said.”

“No, he said. We heard… and one of us is a Police Officer.”

“No tape, no proof. You gotta know we don’t have a case.”

“Know it but don’t have to like it. Think he’s clean?”

“Hell, no, but a killer? Nah. Too much of a wuss.”

“You let him go?”

“Yeah, after busting him for vandalizing the bus locker.”

“So where’s that leave us?”

“Well, the lab guys worked on the photo’s… but still couldn’t ID anyone.”

“Because they don’t recognize the face?”

“Too far away, can’t make out the features. Could even be a woman.”

“But you think it’s a picture of the farmer’s killer?”

“Could be, now that Cavanaugh’s given me his cases, I’m considering it a homicide.”

“Smart move. So you think the killer tried to scare Raquel into keeping the photo quiet.” Eddie took his napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table. “How’s he know she’s even got a picture?”

“Everybody seems to know. Maybe the creep saw her shooting. Could be he saw the flash. Maybe, like Farrell, he’s also got a contact in the lab. Who knows? … but we also went through the Northeast Savings and Loan records… for accounts handled by Harold Thomas, the dead banker. We found one carnival listed but no mention of Kelly’s.”

“My newspaper contact in Florida did some research too.” Eddie said. “We knew the clown died at the Nichols Show but we didn’t have the name of the other carnival he worked down there… the one with the twenty year old murder-suicide, turns out to be the name of the dead couple. I figure if we cross-reference all three carnivals with all of the victims and their professional lives, something might pop.”

Robby pulled out his pad, “Sounds good. What’s the name?”

Crystal asked, “You carry that everywhere?”

Robby turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. “I use it more than my gun and I never go anywhere without that.”

Eddie saluted Robby’s comment with his wine glass and said. “Medici’s.”

I asked, “Medici’s?”

Robby finished writing, then thumbed through his pad, “Medici sounds familiar. Here it is. The only carnival Thomas handled at Northeast was Medici’s.”

Robby sat there with his mouth open a moment while he read something. Then he said, “Twenty years ago, Thomas seized some collateral from the Medici Carnival when they failed to pay back a loan. Bank gave them an extension based on some big upcoming show. Looked like Thomas expected them to make enough to pay back their loan, but that show never happened. I don’t know why.”

I said, “I know. The Medici’s used to set up on Maupin’s farm. When Old Man Maupin died, Finley bought the place but refused to let the carnival use the land. He wanted to get his pumpkin crop in.”

Eddie turned to look at me. “How…?”

“Benefits of being a local girl. Folks were upset. We didn’t have another carnival until they built the fairgrounds and Kelly’s came to town.”

Eddie said, “Well, there’s a trend here. The Clown, Banker Thomas and Farmer Finley… each one had a negative financial impact on the Medici carnival.”

Robby sat back. “Revenge for losing money could be a motive for killing the Farmer and the Banker… and losing the carnival could explain why Medici killed his wife and committed suicide, but we don’t know who else lost money when the show failed.”

Eddie shook his head. “Business setbacks in New York may have contributed to Medici’s suicide. Maybe losing his star clown was a factor too, but I don’t see him killing his wife over this. There has to be more there than that. We also don’t know why someone killed the Loan Shark slash Bookie.”

“A gambling problem or an outstanding loan could have also led to the show’s downfall.”

“Or the loan shark may have just leaned on the wrong person, but I don’t get the timing.”

“Yeah, everything else happened long after the Medici’s died. We need to make sense out of that if we’re going to find the killer. Do you think maybe Medici didn’t really die back then, could still be alive?”

“Geez, dunno, hard to imagine he’d get away with faking his death under those circumstances, but working together, we made progress. We just got a little bit closer.”

“So now what?”

We were all quiet for a few moments. Then, Eddie said, “Look for investors and take another look at the Medici deaths.”

Robby put away his pad. “I’ll see if there’s any money trail in New York.”

“Medici links the clown, the farmer and the banker – and Medici was in Florida, so I guess it’s time for me to go home and see what I can find there.”

We clinked glasses and put the case discussion aside. We finally got a handle on the Kewpie Killer but there was nothing more we could right now except eat cake.

* * *

Sitting in front of my mother’s desk reminded me of High School visits to Dean Waller’s office. Then when my mother said, “No, you can’t go,” I felt like a 12 year old asking to attend a rock concert.

“What do you mean, ‘No.’? This trip is for a story. I think there’s a connection between this dead farmer and a killing in Florida.”

Mom leaned back in her chair and threw her pencil onto her desk. “As your Editor-in-Chief, I don’t see a story, and if I did, I don’t think what happened in Florida is relevant to Waalbroek readers. If it is and the Florida papers run anything, we can reprint what they publish. Besides, this is dangerous.”

I wasn’t going to give up easily on this. If she believed in a story, as I did in this one, Mom would have fought to go. I decided to fight too. “Then, I’ll take it as vacation time.”

“You haven’t been here a year yet. You don’t have any vacation time.”

“Then, unpaid leave.”

“No such thing. It’s against company policy.”

“I’m going anyway.”

“Raquel, the only way you can go is to resign.”

I stood up. “Then, I quit.”

As I left her office, I heard her say, “Raquel, as your mother, please don’t do this. You’ve got a promising start here. Please don’t ruin it.”

The next day, Mom’s plea came back to me as I buckled my seatbelt and watched the Flight Attendant talk about airplane safety. I didn’t hear anything the attendant said. I was too involved reviewing my talk with Mom. Eddie leaned over the arm separating our seats and asked, “You OK? You seem distracted.”

“Yeah. I guess so. I mean. I’m OK You?”

“Sure. You just look a bit occupied by something… like you’re not here.”

I didn’t want to tell him what happened. If I did, I’d feel like a child. What was I going to say? “Oh, my Mom said I couldn’t go with you but I came anyway.” Gee, that sounds all grown up. Instead, I said, “It’s nothing, just some family nonsense.”

I also wasn’t going to say I quit my job to go with him. That could scare him out of any romantic relationship we might have starting. So, I hit him in the arm, hard, and asked, “If I wasn’t here, could I have done that?”

“Ow!” Eddie said. “If you punch like that when you’re away, I’d hate you to hit me when you’re here.”

The safety spiel was over and the flight crew strapped in for takeoff. I asked Eddie, “So what happens when we land?”

“They taxi to a stop and open the doors.”

“Wise guy.”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

A little more than three hours later, we touched down in Orlando International Airport in Florida. I last landed here when we came to claim Dad’s body. We got off the plane, took the tram to the main terminal and entered the waiting area full of Disney garbed tourists. Eddie looked around and when his face brightened, I saw he was smiling at an approaching man. They waved at each and when the man was close enough, they hugged.

Eddie broke free and turned to me, “Raquel, meet Dennis Mason, star reporter for the Achalaca News.”

Dennis took his right arm from around Eddie and shook my hand. “Pleased to meetcha.”

Eddie said, “Remember when I told you I had a contact at the local paper? This is him.”

Dennis said, “Eddie told me all about you. I’m very impressed. You know, we’ve got an opening at the News… if you’re interested.”

“Oh, well. I don’t know.”

Eddie took me aside and whispered in my ear, “Does a reporter without a job really want to let this slide by?”

I pulled away from him. “How do you know? Who told you?”

Eddie shrugged, “You mother phoned me. She wanted me to talk you into staying in New York. I told her you were big enough to decide on your own.”

I grabbed the handle on my Pullman bag and started walking towards the door. Eddie and Dennis followed silently. I felt angry with Eddie for saying what he did about me being unemployed. Then I realized I was mad at my mother, not him. He stood up for me when she called him and now he was trying to help me maintain my independence – plus my lack of a job didn’t scare him away. I turned to face Eddie. “I’m –“

“Yeah, it’s OK,” he said, “but the parking lot’s the other way.”

“Oh.”

Dennis stood there quietly as if Eddie and I weren’t involved in something personal. In comparison, I felt rude, “I’m sorry, Dennis. We’re trying to sort things out. I’m not so sure it’s time for a move.”

“We’ll be posting that opening sometime next week. If you decide you’re interested, just let me or Eddie know. I’ve got some influence at the paper and Eddie has some clout with me.”

“What did he do? Save your life?”

“I think so. We were partners. I had a heart attack in the squad room and Eddie did CPR, until the paramedics arrived. He saved my life.”

Eddie said, “Oh c’mon. It was a minor attack and everybody in the squad knows CPR. Anybody could have done it.”