Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date

Murder on a

Blind Date

Steve Demaree

Cy Dekker plans to continue his life
as a retired homicide detective, until he receives a plea from a friend about a
missing person, finds another friend is missing, and learns that some people
who have gone out on blind dates through a dating service have been murdered. 

Copyright
ã
2014

Steve Demaree

All Rights Reserved

Table of Contents

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I thought
I was retired, but then I was asked to pursue one case in November and another
one not long after the first of the year. That doesn't sound much like retired
to me. I guess that was the price I had to pay because I was so good at what I
did. But January arrived and so did a plea to help find a missing person. I
figured I would give it a day, two days tops. I didn't know that I would get
drawn into a kidnapping and multiple murders,  not to mention a few things that
I felt would be hazardous to my health. I guess God didn't want me to become a
couch potato. But before I get into that, let's talk a little about what
happened between cases.

When you
are a widower with no family, you don't have much experience with large family
gatherings at Thanksgiving. Luckily I, Cy Dekker, had a good friend, Lou
Murdock, who was my partner in solving murders for the Hilldale Police
Department for over thirty years. And I have a girlfriend, Jennifer Sharp, who
has been there for me the last couple of years. And Lou has a girlfriend,
Thelma Lou Spencer, and both Jennifer and Thelma Lou love to cook. While Lou
and I no longer eat three gargantuan meals a day, and our diminishing
waistlines show it, on occasion we cook something more complicated than a TV
dinner. Still, cooking is not the highlight of my day. Neither of us care a lot
about football and I had no interest in heading to Thelma Lou's early to watch
a Thanksgiving Day parade, so I slept in, then ate a small breakfast before
arriving to pleasant aromas wafting through the air, and kisses and hugs that I
enjoyed even more. The girls knew enough about Lou's lack of skills, and mine,
that we weren't asked to help with anything. We found a couple of comfortable
seats out of the way of the girls, but close enough to them that we could
engage them in conversation. We learned that none of us planned to get up in
the middle of the night or stay up late to be one of the first shoppers on
Black Friday. But we spent a few minutes discussing those who weren't as
enlightened as we, who would throw a body block to get the last of the number
one toy of the season. I never even took time to find out what the number one
toy was last year. We spent most of the afternoon at Thelma Lou's, and Lou and
I enjoyed ourselves. We ended up eating as much as everyone else across America
on that day, and even had a little time to rest before tackling our Christmas
shopping list, even though neither of us would consider shopping for a few days.
Nor would we wait until almost Christmas Eve to get started.

Even
though I live alone, I still decorate a tree each Christmas. My tree always has
enough color lights to make it an electrical hazard. Neighbors gather in my
front yard to look in the front window and gaze upon the aurora borealis. And I
keep adding ornaments until at least two of them have fallen to a lower branch.
I try to make it look like it wasn't something constructed by a blind man or
two cats in a blinding snowstorm, but if the neighborhood committee members
knocked on my door, I doubt if I would win any of the prizes for Best Decorated
Christmas Tree, unless they had a category for Men Over Fifty. Even though I
have no wife or children, there are still gifts under my tree. Unlike most men,
I take my time selecting the right gift bag and right color of tissue paper to
hide the identity of my gift selection, even though many of my gifts go to men
who won't notice, or will remove the tissue paper, throw it down, and ask,
"What's this?" And I'm happy to say that I've never given anyone a
chia pet or a fruitcake, even though I've been tempted. 

It wasn't
that long ago that a person's choices on what to get me for Christmas consisted
of socks, or a season of DVDs of one of my favorite classic TV comedies,
depending on whether you wanted to spend a buck fifty on me, or fifteen dollars
or more. Luckily for most people, I wasn't on their Christmas list. I was lucky
to get classic videos from Lou, and a fruitcake from some of the guys I served
with on the police department for many years. Actually, I didn't get many
fruitcakes, but I did receive an occasional Hershey Almond candy bar, which
saved me from buying my own. And Christmas is the best time to receive Hershey
Kisses wrapped in foil of various colors.

I must
say that Thanksgiving and Christmas are the times I miss my Eunice the most.
She died of cancer a short time after we married. Those two holidays are even
less fun alone than it is to eat out by yourself on Valentine's Day.

But
Jennifer surprised me at Christmas by buying me a couple of romantic Christmas
movies,
Home Alone
and
Die Hard.
And Lou followed up and bought
me a couple more movies after Christmas,
Stakeout
and
Another
Stakeout.
I enjoyed all four movies, so I got on the computer and ordered
four classic movies, three of which were made before I was born. But
Dial M For
Murder, Witness For the Prosecution, Wait Until Dark,
and
No Time For
Sergeants
provided me with as much enjoyment as some of the mysteries Lou
and I have been reading over the last couple of years. That didn't mean that
Lou and I started deserting Mrs. E. at the Scene of the Crime bookstore. We
just waited until after Christmas and reloaded. I couldn't wait to get my hands
on the latest books written by Linwood Barclay, Mary Higgins Clark, Lee Child,
and David Baldacci, although in some of the books I had to overlook some of the
language. And on every trip to our favorite bookstore Mrs. E. is capable of
finding a new home for some of our money we've received during our retirement.

But a
person can only read, watch movies and TV shows, and eat so much, so Lou came
over one day and he and I moved my cornhole boards into the house. We found
that if we shortened our backswing a little we could play in the house, and if
we shortened our backswings a little more we could play without breaking
anything. At least that was how everything went until we hit the downturn at
the end of January. While I enjoyed who I received a phone call from on that
cold January day, I didn't enjoy the reason for the phone call, or most of the
other phone calls that followed.

There are
two ways I can tell that God has a sense of humor. One is by looking in the
mirror. If the mirror isn't steamed up when I see myself I look like a rough
draft, or someone's first attempt to make a human. But I said two ways, and the
second way I can tell that God has a sense of humor is that he always sends a
major snowstorm just before sending me out of the house on a case. Well, during
the winter at least. To me snow is something to be enjoyed from a window of
your home. Snow shoveling is to be enjoyed as you stand in front of that same
window and watch the young man you placed a phone call to toss each shovelful
of snow to the side until you can see the sidewalk and driveway that were more
visible before one snowflake after another led to an overabundance of the stuff.
Ice skating and skiing aren't something you should do on purpose, and if God
meant for people over the age of twelve to make a snowman He would have sent
snow that packs together at seventy degrees. But enough about the white stuff
and on to the phone call.

I
remember the morning the call came. My phone doesn't ring often and when it
does it's either Lou or Jennifer. Except this time.

"Okay,
which one of you two is it?"

"I'm
hoping you will think I'm the better of the two."

"Heather.
So good to hear your voice. And you are definitely the better of the two."

"Oh,
Dan has his good days. And you might not think I'm the better of the two, Cy,
after you hear why I called. We need to talk."

"You
mean you've come to your senses and decided to leave Dan for me?"

"Cy,
you know you've always been the number one man in my life ever since we met. But
while you're sometimes a piece of work, I think you can make it better on your
own than Dan could. I don't know how that man made it before I took him to
raise."

"And
I don't know how he's made it this long as a cop. Of course he's still creeping
up on thirty, so he might be better in another ten years. Are you calling me to
tell me that the two of you are about to tackle your first homicide investigation
together, and you need my help?"

"I
hope not, but I would like to come over and talk. Is it okay if I bring him
along?"

"As
long as he doesn't get in our way. How would he feel about waiting in the
car?"

Heather
laughed.

"Can
he leave it running so he won't freeze to death?"

"Absolutely."

"Well
then would thirty minutes be too soon?"

"I
was thinking more like thirty seconds. I don't think I can wait thirty minutes
to see you."

"Cy,
have you ever thought about writing romantic novels?"

I left
that question unanswered. Heather ended the call and I turned around to check
on the house. The maid had been there the day before, so all I had to do was
pick up the newspaper from where I had tossed it. At least I hadn't scattered
the sections.

As I
waited for Dan and Heather to arrive and wondered what was so urgent, I thought
of the first time I saw Dan Davis, on his first day as a cop riding by himself,
when I wondered if he would make it to his second day of being a cop. And I
remembered some time later when Lou and I met Heather, all one hundred pounds
of her. I think that was the day I fell in love with her, even though I was
twice her age. When Lou and I decided to retire we even recommended that
Heather and Dan, who were about to be married, would replace us as the homicide
division of the Hilldale Police Department. Only in Hilldale, and a few other
places, can a married couple work together in solving murders. Well, maybe they
can. There hasn't been a murder in Hilldale since Heather and Dan took over from
Lou and me.

+++

The
newlyweds arrived and I told Dan he could wait outside while I kissed the
bride. He gave me one of his sheepish grins. He was used to Heather greeting me
with a big hug and kiss from well before they were married. He didn't mind, as
long as I didn't greet him the same way. I wasn't about to do that. After I had
hugged and kissed Heather enough, I motioned for her and Dan to take a seat and
refrained from asking Heather to sit on my lap. Word might have gotten back to
Jennifer and I wasn't sure whether bones heal as quickly in the winter. I let
Heather lead the conversation, so we spent a few minutes in small talk, until
she was ready to let me know what was so urgent.

"Cy,
you're probably wondering why we're here. Well, my cousin's best friend's
brother is missing and has been missing for over a week now, and she's worried
sick. So is everyone else. He's a very responsible person, always at work on
time, but, of course, he hasn't been at work lately, either."

"Has
anything happened lately that would make him want to disappear?"

"Not
as far as she knows. She saw him a week before he disappeared and he was in
good spirits. He even told her that he was about to do something he'd never
done. Go on a blind date. He was really excited about the idea."

"Maybe
he got cold feet. I tried to get out of a blind date once."

"No,
he went on the blind date. Even talked to his sister after he got back from the
date, but told her he wasn't allowed to tell her anything about the date until
after he found out if his date enjoyed the date, too. Something about a red
card and a green card that has nothing to do with sports or immigration."

"I
don't understand that. Couldn't he tell her what he thought of the woman? What
was this? A date arranged by a religious cult? Or a mountain family with
several daughters and the oldest and ugliest daughter wasn't married yet?"

"I
don't think so, Cy. At least when she called me she didn't mention anything
about Kool-Aid or shotguns."

"So,
what else do you know about this?"

"That's
pretty much it."

"So,
what do you want me to do? Go out on a blind date with the same woman?"

"I
don't know what I want you to do, and I have no idea who the woman was. But if
he doesn't show up in the next couple of days I might want you to check into it
if you would, see if you can find out anything for me. Everyone is worried
sick."

"So,
where does this guy live? Here in Hilldale?"

"No.
Morehead."

"Has
anyone contacted the Morehead Police?"

"Yeah,
and they sent someone to his house. But they can't do anything unless there is
evidence that he has been kidnapped or harmed somehow."

"So,
I assume there was no blood left behind or any overturned chairs."

"I
don't think they went into the house to check. From what I understand they rang
his bell, knocked on his door just in case the bell didn't work, and asked a
couple of neighbors if they had seen anything out of the ordinary."

"And
your cousin's best friend doesn't know of anyone who has a grudge against her
brother?"

"Evidently
not."

"What
kind of work does he do?"

"He's
a teacher at the high school."

"Well,
then that explains it. Either someone kidnapped him until he agrees to change
their grade, or some girl is in love with him and is holding him in a love nest
somewhere."

"Cy,
this is serious."

"I
know. And either of those could have happened. You did say he lived in Morehead,
didn't you? Isn't that one of those places with only three last names, where
cousins marry? But enough about that. I'll tell you what I'll do. If you want
me to take a look, let me know and I'll check into it. In the meantime, have
someone check with area hospitals to see if they have treated anyone with
amnesia lately. And check with neighboring towns, show people a picture of him,
find out if someone answering his description has been seen in their town in
the last few days. And check with other police departments to see if they have
had any similar cases. If you strike out on all of those, then get back to me
and I'll see what I can come up with."