Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer (18 page)

Eddie reached for the documents. “She must be a friend. Mooney said the State couldn’t find any heirs.”

“He did but does that mean there weren’t any or does it mean there were and the State just couldn’t find them?”

“Let me check.” Eddie picked up his desk phone and called Mooney. When he hung up, he said, “He doesn’t know. Mooney said Orazio never talked about any family except for his wife Agnese.”

“Family or not, if Bellini knew the Medici’s well enough to be their informant, she might know something that can help us or she might even be the murderer.”

“If we can find her… this is an old address. Let’s see if there’s something more current.”

I pulled out my laptop computer and searched online for Rosa Bellini while Eddie made a few calls.

After dialing a half a dozen numbers, he hung up. “Nah. Nothing. No phone number, listed or unlisted. No car registration. No driver’s license. Nada.”

“My search didn’t find anything either. Maybe she got married or divorced and uses a different name.”

“I checked that too. If she did marry, it wasn’t in Florida.”

“I checked the Social Security death records on line. She’s not listed.”

“You mean Bellini wasn’t listed. She could have died with a different name.”

I brought up a map on my laptop. “This isn’t going be easy. The carnivals pass through, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight states plus D.C. She could have married in any one of them.”

“…and more than once.” Eddie leaned over my shoulder and wrote down the names of the states on his pad.

“You think most people marry more than once?”

Eddie scratched his nose. “Unh, this is going to take some time. Let’s check out her last known first. She could still be there.”

“Now?”

“Might as well.”

As we exited the building, Jennie O’Donnell was entering. “Hey Guys. Where you headed?”

“Jennie,” Eddie asked, “you done for the day?”

“Nah, early recess for lunch. Gotta be back in a couple of hours.”

Eddie opened his pad, ripped off a page and handed it to her. “See if you can find any marriage records or anything on this woman Rosa Bellini, OK?”

“Eight states?”

“Plus DC.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Take a drive in the country.”

We left Jennie at the door and got into Eddies car where he keyed Bellini’s address into his GPS. We drove county roads through towns where the only buildings seemed to be gas stations, bars and churches. I lost count of how many stands we passed that sold boiled peanuts.

About an hour later, inside Cypress Corners city limits, Eddie stopped the car in front of a pair of low-rise brick buildings shaped like shoeboxes. The bare dirt lawn and broken discarded appliances made the place look like a war zone.

I followed Eddie up three flights of stairs to the top floor in the closest building. He looked at his pad, motioned me aside and pounded on one of the doors. The thin metal rang with each blow of his fist.

“Ms. Bellini? Rosa Bellini?” He brushed his jacket back behind his gun butt and knocked again. “Ms. Bellini? Police. I want to ask you about the Medici’s.”

The apartment door behind Eddie opened a crack and I could hear a game show blaring from the TV inside. An old man with thick glasses and a sleeveless T-shirt peered out at us through the chain on the door. “You looking for Rosa? You ‘bout twenty years late.”

Eddie faced the man. “You know Ms. Bellini?”

“Did. Long time ago. Left when she ran off with that guy in that baby blue Cadillac. Nice car. She lived here long time before that, used to be friends with my wife. Now, they’re both gone.” He gestured across the hall with his head. “Young working couple lives there now.”

I felt bad for the man. “Oh, I’m sorry about your wife.”

“Don’t be. She’s her third husband’s problem now. Be sorry for him.”

Eddie asked, “Do you know if Bellini was her maiden name or her married name?”

“Yes.”

We waited and when the man said nothing else, Eddie asked, “Which is it?”

“Maiden.”

“You know if she ever married or where to find her?”

“Nope. Sorry, gotta go.”

“Ever hear the name Medici?”

“My program’s ‘bout to start.” He shut the door.

We walked out to the car and I asked Eddie, “Now, what?”

“Let’s head back to the station, have some lunch in town. There’s a new Italian place I want to try.”

“Sure.”

* * *

The woman stood next to our table and wielded a crayon in her hand. “Good Afternoon and welcome to Romano’s Macaroni Grill. I’m Brittany and I’ll be your server.” She leaned over and wrote her name on the paper tablecloth. “Can I interest you in a cocktail? Our signature drink is a Leaning Bellini.”

Eddie put down his menu. “A what?”

“We serve it blended and frozen with Bacardi Rum, peach nectar, white wine and champagne. If you prefer, we have our Ultimate Leaning Bellini which adds a twist of red raspberry liqueur.”

“Um, I’ll have the Eggplant Parm and a coke.”

“Very good sir. Ma’am?”

“The Insalata Blu, please, dressing on the side.”

“Grilled chicken with that?”

“No, thanks.”

“Be right back with your drinks.”

Eddie asked me, “Did you hear that? A Bellini is a drink.”

“Yeah, and when you add the raspberry, it turns pink. Know how to say that in Italian?”

“No.”

“Rosa Bellini.”

Eddie asked, “You mean Rosa Bellini may be a made up name?”

“Why not?” I said, “Carnivals are show business.”

“Geez, no wonder we can’t find any records. How do we track down a fictitious name?”

“What‘s the one thing all performers need to stay on top?”

“Fans?”

“And to get fans, you need publicity. Let’s see if the local paper mentions Rosa Bellini. Can you get us access to the morgue?”

“They don’t keep bodies that long.”

“No, the morgue at the Achalaca News, where they store copies of old papers.”

Eddie phoned his ex-partner Dennis and he agreed to meet us in his office at the Achalaca News.

When we arrived, Eddie said, “Lots of well-lit parking, modern building, near good restaurants, safe neighborhood, seems like a nice place to work.”

When he didn’t react to my glare, I realized Eddie wasn’t going to give up trying to convince me to move to Florida.

A woman on her way out the door told us where we could find Dennis. He greeted us warmly and when Eddie explained what we wanted, Dennis said, “C’mon, let’s go down to the basement. We keep the older issues on film.” We followed him to the elevator.

Eddie asked, “Can’t we see them on the computer?”

“Not from twenty years ago. We’ve only got the last fifteen years online. The older stuff is still on microfilm.”

“Microfilm? Like the tiny pieces in the old spy movies?”

“No, you knucklehead. These are rolls of 35-millimeter film. Each roll has copies of old newspaper editions.”

“Hmm, So, how do you know which roll to look at? You got some kind of computer index?”

The elevator doors opened into a dimly lit windowless room. Dennis walked to a filing cabinet and pointed to the label on a drawer. “No, you pick a year and you pick a month.” He opened the drawer and removed a box. “Then you take a roll, load it onto one of these machines and read.”

“Each page?”

“Each page. I usually skim the headlines first. It also helps if you know which section you want.”

“OK, Let’s start with the year the Medici’s died and look in the entertainment section for any mention of the show or Rosa Bellini. We can work our way back from there.”

Dennis pulled three rolls of film and threaded them onto three film readers. I had used machines like these in school but Eddie acted as if he never saw one before. Every few minutes, he’d swear and Dennis had to get up and rethread Eddie’s machine.

We read for about an hour and my eyes got tired. Then Eddie said, “High wire performer takes the plunge.” Dennis and I got up to see what Eddie found. “Look here,” Eddie read from the screen, “High wire artist Rosa Bellini, star of the Medici Circus took a second plunge Saturday night and married popular circus strongman, The Great Eroe Forte. A horrified audience witnessed her first plunge last week when she fell from a rope ladder and broke her leg. Ms. Bellini has walked the tight rope since her childhood in Italy where she performed with her twin sister Agnese Medici as the Buongourna Sisters. After Illusionist Orazio Medici performed the ceremony under the big top, the couple vanished in a flash of light. The Circus will be in town until the end of this month.”

Eddie sat back and sighed. “Finally. Now we have her connection to the Medicis. Hey Dennis, can I print this?”

Dennis reached over and pressed a button on the reader.

Eddie asked, “You think Buongourna’s the real maiden name? What about Eroe Forte? I knew a guy named Forte. What’s Eroe, Italian for Errol?”

Dennis said, “In Latin, Errol means wanderer – “

“But,” I said, “in Italian, Eroe means Hero and Forte means strong.”

“So,” Eddie said, “Strong Hero could be another stage name. Let’s run these names anyway. Look at marriage licenses for that date and work back. Dennis. Got a computer I can use?”

We went back upstairs and Dennis pointed to an unoccupied desk. “This is all set up for our new reporter. You can use that computer.”

“Oh, so this is where the new hire would sit?” Eddie nudged me with his hip. I hip checked him back and he stumbled a moment before regaining his balance.

Dennis seemed to be doing his best to ignore our behavior but said, “Umm, unh, yeah. So far, the spot’s still open.”

“Nice.” Eddie threw me a sideways glance, then sat and reached for the keyboard. “OK. Marriage licenses for the name Forte for the period one week before the article… nope. Forte two weeks prior… one month prior… nope. OK, Buongourna, how’s that? B-U-O-G? Where’s that print out?”

Dennis handed him the article Eddie found on the film.

“Oh, B-U-O-N-G-O-U-R-N-A, no wonder she changed it. Let’s see… one week before the big event… two weeks. Wait, here it is.” He clicked the mouse a few times, squinted at the monitor and sat back. “Holy crap. Rosa Buongourna married Viktor Popslowski.”

Dennis asked, “Who’s Viktor Popslowski?”

I answered, “He runs Kelly’s Carnival. We found one of his patrons in New York dead next to a Kewpie Doll. We need to notify Robby.”

Eddie said, “I’ll call him,” and reached for the desk phone.

Dennis asked me, “Who’s Robby?”

“A detective in Waalbroek, New York handling the Kewpie killings up there.”

We watched Eddie talk. He hung up and said, “Robby’s up to speed now. He’s going to go talk to Popslowski.”

I asked him, “What else do we have on Rosa Buongourna? Any current address?”

“No. Let me check county records.” He typed some more and said, “Wait, here’s a claim she made against the Medici estate. Looks like she surfaced after the State seized everything and then she walked off with a bundle of cash. Set up a trust. There’s an address here for property the estate owned…but again, it’s old.

Dennis asked, “So, what do you have?”

Eddie paused before answering. I expected him to tell Dennis that he couldn’t discuss the case but he said, “Money wasn’t the motivation for the Medici deaths. Except for the Medici’s, the other victims had gold charms and all of the dead had Kewpie Dolls. Rosa Buongourna is Agnese Medici’s sister and Popslowski’s wife. We don’t know whose charm bracelet these gold pieces came from. We don’t know where Rosa Buongourna is now, who’s killing these people, why they’re doing it or why they’re leaving this stuff behind.” He wiped his face with his hand.

I said, “If the trust address is old, let’s see if there is anything more recent.”

Eddie turned back to the computer. “No phone listing or DMV for Rosa Buongourna or Rosa Popslowski.”

Dennis said, “A woman without a car or a phone might as well be dead.”

Eddie grimaced. “Could be… let’s see. Social Security death index shows Rosa Popslowski died four years ago. That’s the year before Connelly the Clown was killed. She can’t be our killer.”

Eddie’s cell phone rang. “Yeah…”

“Shit…”

“OK. Thanks.”

He put his phone back in his pocket. “That was Detective Carlyle in New York. He sent a car to the carnival grounds for Popslowski but he wasn’t there. Carny folks told the guys in the cruiser that he went to check out a new location for the show’s next stop.”

I asked, “When’s he due back?”

“That’s the problem. He was supposed to be back two hours ago… and his cell phone goes straight to voice mail.”

Dennis stood up from the desk he sat on and said, “I don’t get it. What connection does Popslowski… or his wife have with the dead men?”

Eddie swiveled his chair to face him. “That’s the problem. We don’t know.”

“So why the interest in him and his wife?”

“We know all of the dead men connect to the Medicis because of the Kewpie Dolls. So, we’re looking into people who knew them. Now, we find the guy that runs the show where we found the dead farmer is a Medici relative. Bears a closer look.”

“Yes,” I said, “but Pops is missing. What can we do in the meantime?”

Dennis said, “Me, I’ve got to finish my article before deadline.”

Eddie looked at the computer and wrote something on his pad. “Well, we’ve got this old address for Rosa from the trust papers. Let’s see what’s there.”

* * *

We drove south on the Interstate in silence for about an hour, then exited onto a rural county road. A gas station and a fruit stand stood out at the exit, but no other roadside commerce existed for the next ten miles. We entered what the sign said was Summerfield, and over the next twenty minutes passed two mobile home parks, a few farms, fields with horses or cows, a bar, a church and a restaurant.

Eddie pulled off the road onto a dirt path next to a rusty mailbox painted with faded numbers. “We’re here.”