Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer (19 page)

“Of course we’re here. Wherever we go is ‘here’. Don’t you mean ‘We’re there’?”

“How can we be ‘there’ if we’re ‘here’?” He shook his head as if he was trying to shake something loose. “This empty field… here… looks like it could be where Medici’s show set up.”

We got out of the car, stretched and walked to the only structure in sight, an antique silver trailer that looked like an airplane without wings. A few steps outside the trailer door, an old man sat in a lawn chair under the shade of a canvas canopy. In his lap, he held a portable radio tuned to a ball game.

He looked up at us, but didn’t say anything. Each of us waited a few moments for the other to speak. The way the man’s gaze lingered on the badge and gun on Eddie’s belt made it clear he knew the Police wanted to talk. Finally, Eddie asked, “What’s your name?”

The man said nothing but reached out an open hand. Eddie looked at it for a bit, and then took out his wallet. The man shook his head and pointed to Eddie’s shirt pocket. Eddie put his wallet back in his pants and handed the man his pad and pen. The man wrote something and handed it back. Eddie looked at the pad and asked,

“Mr. Dragoni, is this where the Medici Carnival used to be?”

The man made an affirmative nod.

“Did you know the Medici’s?”

Another silent confirmation.

“What can you tell us about them?”

The man took a long time making clearing sounds in his throat and then spoke with a hoarse, scratchy voice. “What you want to know?” He sounded like every word must hurt.

Eddie put his pad away, “For starters, how did you know them?”

“Worked the carny. Sword swallower, fire breather.”

“You around when Medici killed himself?”

The man turned off the radio and nodded.

Eddie asked, “Mrs. Medici, she have a gold charm bracelet?”

“All the ladies did.”

Eddie handed him photos of the charms. “Recognize these?”

The man looked at the pictures of the big shoe, the dice, the dollar sign and the tractor. “Yup. She wanted to add a sword… but I couldn’t do that to Orazio.”

“Do what?”

“Sleep with Agnese. He knew she slept around but the poor guy had no clue what those charms meant. Long as she came home, he mostly handled the one-nighters OK… but that sailor… he thought she’d leave with him, final straw after all those men, broke his heart. He killed himself, but not till he killed her.” The sword swallower coughed into a blue bandana. We stood there and waited until he finished.

When he recovered, he took a sip from a bottle of ABC Brand Dark Rum he had under his faded canvas chair and then said, “Poor baby.”

Eddie asked, “You mean Agnese?”

The old man squinted up at Eddie. “No. Cops took son away.”

I asked, “The Medici’s had a son?” This was new information.

The old man took another sip with an audible swallow and said, “Three years old. Saw his father kill his mother, then his self.”

“That’s horrible,” I said. “What happened to the boy?”

“Don’t know.”

Eddie asked a few more questions that went nowhere and it appeared we learned all we could. As we drove back to Achlaca, the first few miles went by quietly.

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think about what the sword swallower said?”

“You mean that the affair with the sailor being the thing that put Medici over the edge?”

“No, the fact that Medici’s son saw the killings.”

“Yeah, that’s gotta screw you up… makes my family seem normal.”

“How old do you think the boy would be now?”

“Oh, guess about your age. Why?”

“Well, in each of the Kewpie killings, we thought the victim had something to do with the Medici Carnival’s failure. Now, we know that it didn’t fail but there was infidelity in the marriage. Could the Medici’s son be avenging his father? Killing the lovers he thinks led his father to kill his mother?”

“Hmm, could be. Archives must be incomplete, wasn’t anything about a son. Have to check the birth and adoption records.”

“Robby Carlyle’s parents adopted him. He told me that it’s hard to get records.”

“It won’t be hard with a court order, just takes some time getting them, but it’s this sailor thing that’s bothering me.”

“What about it?”

“If the affair with the sailor put Medici over the edge, and his son is killing folks that wronged the old man, wouldn’t he want to kill the sailor?”

“Maybe he did?”

“No dead sailors with Kewpie Dolls on my beat, no little gold boats either. You?”

“No, none came up in my research. Maybe he’s still alive?”

“Maybe, but if he is, who is he?” Eddie turned the car around and headed back to the old man and his trailer. When we got there, the old man looked up at Eddie and then turned off his radio.

Eddie asked, “This sailor… you know his name?”

The old man shook his head.

“Navy or Merchant Marine?”

The old man pressed his lips together in thought. Then he said, “Don’t know.”

Eddie seemed to run out questions so I asked, “Has anyone else asked about this sailor lately?” I thought that if we were searching for the sailor, the killer might be too.

“Only folks here in months, you and the florist.”

Eddie perked up, “Florist?”

“Every year this time. Cemetery out back.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder indicating the dirt path that vanished into the wooded area behind the trailer.

I looked down the path and saw nothing but the woods. “Are the Medici’s buried there?”

“Twenty years, this month.” He reached for his bottle of rum.

Eddie took out his pad and pen, “Which florist?”

“Dolly’s.”

“Eddie,” I said, “this is a chance to see if Orazio Medici is really dead.”

“What?”

“All of these murders point back to Medici. If he wasn’t dead, who’d be your primary suspect?”

“He’d be, but he died 20 years ago.”

“Did he? He was an illusionist. That article said he made the married couple disappear in a flash of light.”

“You think… naah…you really think he might have faked his death?”

“Wouldn’t be the first. Can we exhume his body?”

“Lotta red tape…even if we could do, we have no way to tell it’s him.”

“What about DNA?”

“His would have to be in the system or we’d need a known sample… not too likely.”

“What if we can identify some other body buried there? We’d know he faked his death.”

“No, all we’d know is that someone else is buried here. Look, we’ve got three good leads now. We have a son, a sailor and whoever’s sending flowers, but, sorry, Raquel,” Eddie broke out in a big smile, “this grave is a dead end.”

I swung at him but he ducked.

We drove down Mulberry Lane in Summerfield and Eddie asked, “See it yet?”

“Next block on the left.”

Eddie passed a storefront sign “Dolly’s Flowers”, made a U-turn and pulled into a lot behind the store. When we entered the flower shop, a young woman ignored us as she positioned flowers inside a bowl.

Eddie asked her, “Dolly?”

“You mean Dolores?”

“Sure.”

“Just a moment please.” The woman faced the curtain behind the counter and bellowed, “Lolo!”

After a short pause, my hearing returned and a bulky, dark haired man appeared behind the counter. “Yes?” he asked.

Eddie looked down at the man’s rounded belly poking against the fabric of his sleeveless T-shirt. Then up at the unlit cigar sticking out of the man’s unshaven face and asked, “Dolores?”

“Yeah. That’s me. Whaddya want?”

Eddie asked again, “Dolores?”

The man took the cigar from his mouth and said, “Look, maybe you don’t get around too much Buddy, but Dolores is pretty common for men in Guatemala. I’m named for the Blessed Virgin, our Lady of Sorrows, just like my mom was.” He crossed himself. I didn’t know if he did this for the Virgin or for his mom.

I said, “Eddie, Dolores is Spanish for sorrows.”

“My friends call me Lolo. Mom was Loli back home. Dolly here.”

Eddie showed Dolores his badge and asked, “Every year this time, you deliver flowers to a family plot out where the old carnival used to be?”

“That’s not a Summerfield badge, not even State or the right county either. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

I said, “Por favor. Muchos hombres están muertos. Este hombre podría ser el asesino o podría ser la próxima víctima.”

Dolores looked at me quietly for a moment and then asked, “What man could be next?”

I said, “The man who ordered the flowers. Can you tell us his name?”

Dolores thought about it for a while, then said, “Darlene, bring up last weeks delivery schedule.”

The girl behind the counter typed on a keyboard and turned the computer screen towards Dolores. He moved the computer mouse and said, “OK, here it is.”

Eddie whispered to me, “A fire breather named Dragoni. A florist named Delores. What next, a sailor named Taylor?”

Dolores let go of the mouse and dropped his hands to his sides. He looked at Eddie as if he were about to say something. Then he sighed, looked at me and said, “Order came from an affiliate store in New York. All we did was fill their order and deliver.”

Eddie wrote on his pad, “Where in New York?”

“Some place called Waalbroek.”

“And?”

“And you need to contact them to find out who placed the order, the originating store handles customer billing.”

“OK, what’s the name of the store?”

“Wahl Flowers.”

“W-a-l-l?”

“W-a-h-l. Gimme your pad. I’ll write the phone and order numbers for you.”

“Odd they spell Waalbroek with two As and Wahl Florist A-H.”

I said, “Not if you know why. The shop’s not named for the town, it’s for Edna Wahl. It’s an inside joke, Edna’s not exactly the first girl men would ask to dance.”

Eddie looked up from his pad. “How you know that?”

“She’s one of Mom’s Book Club friends.”

“Can you call her?”

I dialed the number Dolly wrote down and turned on my speakerphone so Eddie could hear. Edna wasn’t in but Chet, the college kid that worked for her checked the order number for me.

“Gee, I’m sorry, Ms. Flanagan. The book only shows a cash sale. It doesn’t say who bought the flowers. Ms. Wahl might know though, she took the order.”

“Thanks, do you know where can I reach her?”

“Yes and no. She’s out camping for a few days but to save her battery, only turns her cell phone on if she needs to make a call. Due back tomorrow, but if I hear from her, I’ll ask her to call you.”

“Thanks, Chet.” I gave him my number and hung up.

Eddie closed his pad. We thanked Dolores and got back in the car for the drive to Achalaca.

Once we got on the highway, Eddie said, “Our flower customer could be our killer. He’s got connections to Waalbroek and Achalaca… motive, too.

“What motive?” I asked

“Killer could be that sailor. Medici killed his love. The sailor can’t kill Medici, but he can kill those that drove Medici to kill his wife.”

“… or Medici could still be alive, sending flowers to his dead wife and the sailor could be the next victim.”

“Hey, it could be Popslowski sending flowers to his sister-in-law.”

“…or they’re from the son who saw his Mom die.”

Eddie held out his hands, stuck out his lower lip and then asked, “… in which case the killer would be?”

“The son, avenging the loss of his family and his childhood.”

“The son? We don’t know who he is, where he’s been or where he is now.”

“You said you can get birth and adoption records.”

“It takes time we don’t have. We’ve got to go to New York and find out who sent these flowers.”

“Can’t you put in the request before we go?”

“For the records? Sure, Jennie can do it. Consider it done.”

“If you’re anxious to follow up, we can send Robby to look for Edna. He can also check the New York birth and adoption records.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not going to like my reason.”

I sat and glared at Eddie.

“OK. First, we don’t know that Robby can find her in the woods or even if Edna’s going to be able to ID the customer. Second, you told me Robby’s parents adopted him. Does he know who his birth parents are?”

“No.”

“He’s lived in Florida and New York?”

“Are you kidding? You think Robby –“

“Raquel, please keep your voice down. You’re the one who suggested the son could be the killer. This is just protocol. Robby’s probably not involved. It’s just that, well, what we don’t know can get somebody killed. OK?”

Eddie’s attitude about Robby surprised me. I thought they overcame their differences at Kara’s wedding. Maybe this was just protocol. Whatever it was, it was Eddie’s call. He was the cop, not me but he was making a mistake about Robby.

“OK, we don’t have to tell Robby about the son, but you have to call New York about the sailor. If he’s the next victim, he needs protection. If he’s the killer, the police need to watch him.”

“Call and tell them what? Look for a man who used to be a sailor. That’s all we got and it’s not enough. It’s too late tonight but there’s an early flight to New York tomorrow.”

Eddie unlocked his condo and tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. He pulled his holster from his belt and placed it with his gun encased into a cabinet over his stove. I leaned against his refrigerator and kicked off my shoes. He removed his suit jacket, took off his tie and unbuttoned his collar.

I said, “Don’t stop there.”

“Enjoying the show?”

I put my arms around his waist, pulled close and said, “You’re just getting started.”

We kissed and I heard bells ringing. It took me a moment to realize they were doorbells. Eddie held me at arm’s length and asked, “You expecting anyone?”

“At your condo?”

“I guess not.”

He retrieved his gun from the cabinet, held it down at his side and went to the door. After squinting through the peephole, he said, “Damn. I gotta replace this thing with something that works.” Then he hollered, “Who is it?”