Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer (15 page)

Dennis said, “But they didn’t. If they did, I’d be picking somebody else up at the airport.”

Boy, my talent for saying the wrong thing never fails me. “You’re not with the Force anymore?” I mentally slapped myself. Duh, of course he’s not, he’s a reporter now. I was flustered by making a wise crack that was true, so I compensated by asking a dumb question. I got lucky. Dennis was too classy to point out my stupidity.

“Disability retirement. The attack left some damage.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too, but at least now, I don’t have to see this ugly mug every day.” He nodded at Eddie and reached for my bag. We followed him to his car and Eddie said to me, “Dennis is going to drop me at my place. Do you want to stay with me or can we take you somewhere?”

I did a fast estimate of how long my bank account would last if I stayed at a hotel while out of work. I didn’t want Eddie to get the wrong idea about me, but I also didn’t want to go broke just yet. Eddie seemed to understand my hesitance because he said, “I’ve got two bedrooms and two baths in my condo.”

I said, “Deal,” and got into the car. I settled into the back seat while the boys loaded the car. After Dennis negotiated the entrance ramp onto the Interstate, Eddie threw his left arm over the seat back and asked me, “You hungry?”

“Yeah, guess I am.”

“How bout we order in when we get home?”

“Sure.”

“Dennis, join us?”

“Thanks, no. I got things to do.”

We drove north on the highway for about an hour and a half and then exited when the sign read “Achalaca County”. By the time we pulled off the exit ramp, it was dark. We drove for a while without seeing any businesses, houses or lights. Then Dennis turned onto a side street leading into an apartment complex. Eddie turned around to face me in the back seat. “It may look spooky at night, but it’s very different in the daylight.” He pointed. “My place is over there. You can’t see it now, but there’s a pond outside.”

Dennis left us with our luggage at the curb in front of Eddie’s condo. Eddie picked up our bags and said. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

We climbed the steps to Eddie’s unit. He opened the door, switched on the lights and we went inside. He had a nice place, a bit masculine in the décor but still homey. Eddie dropped the suitcases and nodded towards the hall. “That’s the guest room. It’s yours as long as you want it.”

I followed him into the kitchen, where he put his gun in a cabinet and opened the refrigerator. He shook his head. “I’ll hit the store in the morning. In the meantime, we’ll have breakfast out tomorrow. Pizza for now?”

“What kind?”

“Mushroom and spinach?”

“Unh, sure.” I used to eat spinach and mushroom pizza with Danny Durham, AKA, the guy who dumped me.

Eddie moved his head to look in my eyes. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘What?’?”

“I’m a detective. I saw that look. You don’t like mushroom and spinach pizza, that’s cool. We can get something else. What do you like?”

“I like it.”

“Then, what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“Geez. I’ve interviewed felons that were more forthcoming. What’s going on here?”

“Nothing. You going to call in the food?”

Eddie headed over to the phone on his kitchen wall but watched me over his shoulder as he walked.

“OK, OK. An ex-boyfriend used to order spinach and mushroom pizza… It just reminded me of him… that’s all.”

“Oh… you want a salad or anything with this?”

“Don’t you want to ask me about it?”

“The salad?”

“The ex.”

“Sure… if you want to tell me anything.” He sat down on the couch. “I’m listening.”

“We were together for two years, until a few months before I finished college… I thought it was serious… that we’d get married… then he dumped me for a girl that looked just like me.”

Eddie sat for a minute. Then he got up and headed towards the kitchen phone. “Two things, Raquel. I’m not that guy and this isn’t a spinach and mushroom pie. It’s mushroom and spinach. Now. You want a salad or not?”

“What kind they have?”

“Greek. The best Greek around.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll get us a large, dressing on the side.”

I picked up the TV remote and channel surfed while Eddie called in the food. When he came back, he opened a bottle of Chianti and sat with me to watch the News.

As soon as he sat, the doorbell rang. Eddie got back up and said, “That was fast. Too fast.” He went into the kitchen and came out holding his gun behind his back. He walked to the door. I heard it open, then close before he said. “UPS. You know, I’ve never seen one of these guys from the front. They drop the box, ring the bell and walk away. All I ever see is their backs. Seeing a face is like trying to see Santa Claus on Christmas.”

“Who’s it from?”

Eddie put his gun down on the coffee table and looked at the box. “It’s… for you. The return address just indicates it came from Waalbroek. No name, maybe from your Mom?” He hefted the package. “It’s awfully light.”

He handed me the box and I read the label. Somebody knew I’d be at Eddie’s, they knew when and they also knew his address. I slit the tape with a fingernail. Eddie leaned in to look. “What is it?”

I pulled back the newspaper wrapping and removed the contents. “It’s a box of carnival popcorn.”

He sat back. “Oh, shit. I figured you’d be safe here.”

I drank some of my wine and we sat in silence pondering this new development. After a while, l asked him, “You think the killer’s still in New York?”

“You mean, do I think he followed you, us, here?” Eddie paused. “No. This came from Waalbroek. I think he’s still there. When we talk to Robby, we’ll see what he can find out about the sender.”

Eddie pulled a wadded sheet of newsprint from the box and smoothed it out on the coffee table. “It’s yesterday’s paper.”

I leaned against him and peered at it. “The Tribune? They could have at least used the Chronicle. I guess the message is, “Keep your mouth shut and oh, your paper sucks.”

“No. It’s more than that. These sheets of wrapping are all the same page. Listen to this. It’s an article by your friend Farrell.

Rival Reporter Sits on Story

Waalbroek, NY

A reliable source revealed the Waalbroek Crime Lab has custody of photographs taken during the murder of local farmer, Morgan Finley. Rumors exist that Chronicle rookie, Raquel Flanagan, inadvertently captured images of the killer currently sought by Police. Sources claim that by withholding photos of a killer from the public, the Chronicle places the community in jeopardy. Despite this, Ms. Flanagan has personally refused the Tribune access to them.”

Eddie folded the paper and put it back in the box. I shook my head. “That sleazy bastard.”

“Yeah, in one paragraph, he makes you look bad and puts you in danger. Can you sue him?”

“Probably not. It’s true the lab has the photos and that I personally refused him copies. Also, he used a lot of wiggle words.”

“Wiggle words?”

“Yeah, ‘rumors exist’, ‘sources claim’. He doesn’t actually say all of what he reports is true. He’s reporting rumors and opinions disguised as facts.”

“There’re five copies of this story in the box. Someone wanted to make sure you saw it and remembered your last encounter with carnival popcorn. You need to be careful.”

I shouldn’t have but I jumped when I heard a pounding on the door. I stood up in anticipation of I don’t know what. Eddie picked up his gun and went to the side of the door. “Who is it?”

“Italy’s Best.”

Eddie opened the door a crack, looked outside and smiled. “Pizza.”

After he paid the man, Eddie opened the box and pointed, “See. Not spinach and mushrooms. It’s mushrooms and spinach.”

He made me smile. The food smelled great and I ate more than I thought I could. We finished the entire order plus the bottle of wine. Eddie cleared away the dinner debris and asked, “Nightcap?”

“Of course.”

We sat with glasses of Amaretto and watched the local cable news program.

After dull headline after dull headline, I asked Eddie, “Boy, you don’t see a lot of crime here, do you?”

“I like to think that’s due to a superior police force.”

I leaned against his shoulder and a while later awoke with a start. “Oh, I guess I dozed off.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“It was kinda nice… feeling you sleeping against me. Besides, what could I say, ‘Wake up and go to bed?’”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s good night.” I rose and stretched.

“Sure. Good night.” We stood there looking at each other for a moment. Then, I took my bags and turned to head off to the guest room. When I looked back over my shoulder, Eddie was still standing there, watching me. It was one of those should I shouldn’t I moments. We both knew what we wanted, but neither seemed to know if this was the right time for it. Eddie took a step closer and as he opened his mouth, my cell phone rang.

Not wanting to take my eyes from Eddie, I answered the phone without looking to see who called. “Hello?”

“Oh, Raquel. Thank God. I’ve got you. There’s a man watching the house.”

“Mom?”

“Of course. There’s been a car outside all evening right after I got home from work.”

“What kind of car?”

“A black one with four doors.”

“Maybe it’s a neighbor’s car?”

“Everybody parks in their garages. Nobody parks on the street.”

“Visitors do.”

“No. There’s a man inside the car … and he’s watching me.”

“Why would he, why would anyone do that?”

“I think he’s looking for you… because of what you know about that killer.”

“Mom. I know nothing about the killer. That’s why I’m in Florida.”

“The killer may not know that. He left that box for you here. He may think you’re still here.”

“I don’t think so but if you’re that worried, call the Police. There’s nothing I can do from here.”

“OK, but stay on the line. I’m putting you on hold.”

When I stopped talking, Eddie asked, “What?”

I gave him the gist of Mom’s call and as I recounted a short history of her past hysterics, she came back on the line.

“OK, I called the Police.”

“What did they say?”

“They said they’ll look into it. Oh, my God. The man is leaving the car. He’s headed this way. Coming to the door. Oh, my God. He’s got a gun.”

The line went quiet.

I dialed back and got a busy signal, hit redial, got another one and then hit it again. This time, the phone rang and a man answered. “Hello?”

“Who is this?”

“Who’s this?”

“Raquel Flanagan. What have you done to my mother, you bastard?”

“Oh, Ms. Flanagan, Officer Roper here. I’m on protection detail outside your home because of that threat you got. I guess no one told your Mom so she got alarmed and phoned the Precinct. Dispatch called me and I came in to identify myself. She got a little startled and dropped the phone. I just finished putting the batteries back in when it rang. She’s pouring a drink. I’ll get her.”

* * *

After I finished with Mom, Eddie said, “I’m glad she’s safe. Too bad she got spooked.”

“She’ll be fine. Sometimes, she just gets carried away.” Despite the recent excitement, I yawned. Air travel always wears me out. Add a big meal and a long day, I can barely make it to bed.

Eddie “It’s late. We OK now to call it a night?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up his suitcase from the foyer floor and headed down the hall to his bedroom. I took my bag by the handle and followed. We stopped in front of an open door and Eddie said, “Here’s the guestroom.”

“Yup.”

He kept on walking down to hall to his room. I kept on following. When we were both inside, he reached behind me and shut the door.

* * *

I woke up the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee, put on my robe and planned to follow the smell. Then realized where I was and how I probably looked, I took a quick detour into the bathroom and made myself minimally presentable. Looking good for Eddie was important to me, but coffee waited and I’m a girl that needs her caffeine.

In the kitchen, Eddie worked at the stove. All dressed in a shirt and a tie with his shield and gun on his belt, he looked amused as he watched me drag myself to the table. He laid out two plate settings with coffee and juice. “I guess you’re not a morning person.”

I sat back, ran my fingers through my hair and asked, “What does it say about a man’s cooking when he has to arm himself to make breakfast?”

Eddie laughed and shoveled eggs from a pan onto my plate and then onto his. “I hope you like scrambled eggs. I ran out to the store while you were asleep.”

“Love’em, but what I really need is coffee.” I looked over at him by the sink and saw he had Café Bustelo, my favorite Latin espresso on the counter. “Bustelo? Did you get that for me?”

“No, why? You like it too?” He poured me a cup.

“Si, mas fuerte pero muy sabroso.”

“Yup, stronger but very tasty.”

“Did you mix it with heated milk?

“Of course. Do I think I’m a barbarian?”

“How come you know about Latin coffee?”

“I went to school in Miami.”

“Oh.” I realized then how little I knew about Eddie… and how much I wanted to learn more.

We finished eating and he said, “I’ve got to go to the squad room but need to pick up some things first. I’ll call Robby from the car, give him the scoop on the popcorn delivery. Then, how ‘bout I stop here on my way back and we’ll go downtown together?”

“Sure, ah, how long before you’re back to pick me up?”

“Forty five minutes?”

“I can be ready then.”

“Good.” Eddie kissed me and left. It felt nice, as if we were playing house. I smiled when I realized how easily I could get used to this.

He was gone only about ten minutes when his phone rang. I wasn’t sure if I should answer it. After the third ring, his answering machine picked up. When it started recording, I heard a familiar voice say “C’mon. Pick up. You know I don’t like leaving messages.”

I picked up the phone, “Eddie?”