Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date (2 page)

It was
Saturday morning when Heather and Dan came to tell me the news of the missing
young man. I was undecided as to what to do that day, had no plans until church
the next morning. I called Lou to see what he planned to do. Like me, Lou doesn't
usually have that big of a social calendar. Lou and I read books at the same
pace, so we usually read the same mystery at the same time, then discuss them
when we have finished. Both of us had finished and discussed our latest
endeavor the night before, so I wasn't sure if Lou was up to beginning another
mystery yet or not. Lou, being the party animal that he was with a schedule the
envy of every playboy, also enjoyed working jigsaw puzzles and pencil and
crossword puzzles. I found out a long time ago that I didn't have the patience
for jigsaw puzzles of more than twenty-four pieces, so that was one hobby Lou
did on his own. But if Lou planned to do something other than read I would
watch a movie or practice banging some cornhole bags off the wall so I could
spring a trick shot on Lou the next time we played.

I picked
up my phone and dialed. Lou didn't answer his home phone. Maybe he was eating
lunch with Thelma Lou. I was in one of my lazier moods so I narrowed my movie
choice down to
No Way Out
or
Dead of Winter.
One is about an innocent
man trapped inside the Pentagon by a murderer and his henchmen, and the other
has to do with a woman being kidnapped in the middle of the winter. Since I was
already in a kidnapping mood in the middle of the winter, as long as I didn't
have to go outside, I planned to watch
Dead of Winter.
If Lou wasn't
home by the time I finished watching the movie I would make it a double
feature. I was ready to plop down in my recliner and enjoy. All I had to do
first was pop some popcorn and locate a Hershey Almond candy bar. Then I could
lean back in my recliner and pretend I was the late Roger Ebert.

+++

As it
turned out, it was two enjoyable hours, including the intermission to replenish
my popcorn at less than movie multiplex prices. It was time to call Lou again. Before
arising from my recliner I picked the popcorn off my shirt a kernel at a time and
shot it into my mouth. I missed only twice. Then I hurried to the phone to call
Lou. Whether he was home or not I already knew I would be enjoying a late
lunch.

This time
he answered my call.

"Is
that you, Cy?"

"No,
it's your mother."

"Hi,
Mom. You sound different. Do you have a cold? Or is it because you died a few
years ago and are calling me from the grave?"

"So,
where have you been?"

"Oh,
so now you're my parole officer?"

"Of
course. Have been for almost fifty years now."

"If
I've behaved this long, why do I still need a parole officer?"

"Who
said you've behaved? So, where have you been?"

"I
decided to treat Thelma Lou to lunch out and an ice cream sundae."

"Like
I always say, 'There's nothing better than an ice cream sundae in
January.'"

"That
does sound like something you would say. So, why are you being nosy today?"

"I
was just wondering if you are ready to read another book yet."

"I
think I'll pass until tomorrow afternoon. I'm thinking about taking a nap then
popping in a movie."

"Well,
I just finished watching
Dead of Winter
. I can recommend it. And I might
watch
No Way Out
with Gene Hackman and Kevin Costner after lunch. I'll
pick you up in the morning for church, and we can talk about our next book
then."

It wasn't
until I had hung up that I realized I had forgotten to tell Lou about the
missing young man. Oh, well! That would give us something to talk about on the
way to church.

+++

I'm a
wimp. The weather forecast said it was supposed to start snowing sometime late
that afternoon, and we were supposed to get several inches before it quit. I
wondered if it was too late to catch a flight to
New Zealand
. It was summer there. While I go out in bad weather to
attend church and go to the bookstore, now that I'm retired I try to stay in
when it's cold or snowy. So, I picked up the phone and had lunch delivered. I
couldn't go out on a date like Lou could. Jennifer was out of town for a few
days.

+++

Who says
that a man can't have fun by himself? I smacked and licked my lips while eating
each bite of my
Stromboli
sandwich and French fries with
gravy from Antonio's, while I watched Kevin Costner go from one dilemma to
another in
No Way Out.
I was home by myself, so I planned ahead and
protected my shirt with an adult bib from the linen closet. I untied the bib
when I finished and refrained from drawing lines connecting the gravy stains
and sauce stains from the
Stromboli
.

I tossed
the bib in the clothes hamper as I headed to my bedroom to take a much-needed
winter's nap. When I awoke, I looked out the window to see if it had started
snowing. Not only had it started, the entire backyard was covered and the snow
was still coming down. I stood there watching it fall until it got too dark to
see. Feeling well rested from my nap, I was in the mood for a few laughs, so I headed
back to my DVD player and slid in
Weekend at Bernie's.
It had been a
while since I'd seen that silly movie.  After I watched and rated my third
movie of the day, I headed to my Wii board where I did a few stretching
exercises, and a few other maneuvers that totaled thirty minutes. I wasn't sure
if I had worked off all of my lunch, but I had at least worked off some of the French
fries and gravy. I plopped down in my recliner and contemplated my next move,
which wouldn't occur for a few minutes. Wiiing can be exhausting. Once my heavy
breathing subsided, I propelled myself from my recliner and headed to the
kitchen for a light, late dinner and then off to bed. Before putting on my
pajamas I shook out my undershirt and picked up a few kernels of popcorn from
the floor and pitched them into the trash.

I awoke
Sunday morning, showered, ate breakfast, and read the devotional books I read
each morning, plus I read and studied a chapter in the Bible. I have some of my
priorities right. After I finished I called Lou to let him know I was on my way
to pick him up for church. He didn't answer. That was unusual, but I figured he
was either talking to Thelma Lou on his cell phone, was still doing his Bible
study, or was still getting ready, even though he usually did all of those much
earlier on Sunday morning. He has a habit of getting up earlier than I do. That's
probably the reason I look better than he does. I get more beauty sleep.

I opened
the door a crack and let some of the cold air in. I didn't have to look too
hard to see that the snow was still coming down. I found a note on my door that
told me that Mark, my yard boy, would be back to shovel the sidewalk and
driveway as soon as it quit snowing. Normally I don't leave the house until
after Mark comes to shovel my driveway and all the streets have been plowed,
but church hadn't been cancelled so I figured that meant I could go dashing
through the snow. Carefully, I walked from the house to my to my salsa red
pearl
Siena
. Unlike Lightning, my yellow VW
bug that preceded the van I now drove, I hadn't yet named my new ride, even
though I'd had it a few months. That morning, walking was hard. The snow was
higher than the top of my shoes. I should have worn boots. The temperature was
lower than anything I wanted to be outside in, but I didn't want to
miss
church
, so I trudged on. Because of the low temperature the snow
was more fluffy than crunchy as I walked through it, and the blowing wind
helped fill in my tracks so that I didn't leave any footprints. As I passed the
side of my house I plucked the broom that was leaning against it, there for the
purpose of brushing snow from my van. It wasn't a good snow for having a
snowball fight, but because I got there before it turned to ice, I would have
no problem brushing the snow from the windshield and windows. But before I did
so, I got in and started the van, and put the front defrost on high and pushed the
button so the rear one would work too, just in case I needed some assistance in
clearing the snow.

I was
still getting used to having a minivan instead of a VW bug. One difference was
that the roof of the van was higher than the one on the bug, so I had to reach
up to brush the snow away. After I started the van and let it warm up, I got
out again and cleaned the snow off the windshield and windows. Then I got back
in and listened to 60s on 6 blaring from my radio. Those old songs always put me
in a good mood. Herman’s Hermits were singing about Henry VIII. I sang along,
tried to imitate Peter Noone's voice. Slowly I backed out of my driveway. There
was already enough snow that it was hard to tell the driveway from the yard. I
hoped that I remained in the driveway rather than making tracks through my
yard. To better do so I looked at the camera that showed me what was behind me,
a feature I didn't have on my VW. Afraid of getting stuck, I kept a steady foot
on the gas pedal, and a few seconds later I touched down in the street, not too
much worse for wear.

My street
and the cross street were still covered with snow, but the main streets had
been plowed, and four songs later I pulled up in front of Lou's apartment
building and waited for him to come out. Most of the time, in cold weather, he
looks out the window until he sees me pull up. On pleasant days, which wouldn't
happen for at least another two months, he waits on his front porch. But
regardless of the weather, he always came rushing out, sometimes before the van
comes to a stop.

I looked
up at Lou's door. No Lou. I waited a few seconds. Still no Lou. I didn't know
how late the old ladies in his building slept, so I refrained from blowing the
horn. After another minute, I got out and walked up and knocked on Lou's door.
Still, no one came to the door. It didn't look like the snow in the yard was
that much higher than the unshoveled snow on Lou's walk, so I cut through the
yard and headed around back. There were no tracks in the snow other than mine,
but I wasn't sure how long it took the new-fallen snow to cover any tracks. I
didn't think about that for a long time, because it was hard to tell where I
had walked. I headed to Lou's garage and looked in. Lou's 1957 Chevy
convertible was where I expected it to be. I was getting more concerned by the
minute. I headed back to Lou's front door, pulled out the spare key he had
given me in case he lost his or forgot and locked his key inside the apartment.
I slid the key into the lock and turned the key. The door unlocked like normal.
I opened it a little and hollered.

"Hey,
Lou! Are you here somewhere?"

There was
no answer. My demeanor changed to detective mode. I searched Lou's small
apartment. It took only a few seconds to realize he wasn't there. I went to his
bathroom and checked the bath towel. It wasn't damp. Lou hadn't taken a shower
that morning. So, where was he?

I hurried
to Lou's house phone, dialed Thelma Lou's number. She didn't answer. I looked
at my watch. Thelma Lou always went to Sunday school at her church. She would
have left already, and she always turned her phone off when she got to church.
Had Lou gone to church with her and forgotten to tell me? I didn't think so. I
had told him the afternoon before that I would pick him up the next morning. He
didn't say anything about having any other plans.

I walked
out of Lou's apartment. I didn't care if I woke up someone else. I was going to
knock on each of the other three doors in Lou's building to see if any of his
neighbors could tell me where Lou was. No one answered at any of the other
apartments. Was the owner repainting the apartments? Not on a Sunday. Where was
Lou? I couldn't picture him having a slumber party somewhere with the old
ladies in his building.

There was
nothing else I could do, so I headed to church. Got there a couple of minutes
late. The weather had kept some of the older people at home. Maybe a lot of
other people too, because I managed to find my normal seat on the back row. Lou
wasn't sitting there grinning at me. I continued to worry about my friend. This
kept me from getting anything out of the service. Well, I did pray and ask God
to keep Lou safe.

I left as
soon as the service was over and drove to Thelma Lou's. I doubted if she would
be eating out, since Jennifer was out of town. On occasion the two of them ate
out together after church. Thelma Lou wasn't home yet. I pulled up in front of her
house and waited. She pulled into her driveway ten minutes after I docked out
front. I took the direct path from my van to her car. Again I wished I had worn
boots. I was at her car door by the time she opened it. She had a concerned
look on her face.

"Is
something wrong with Lou, Cy?"

"That's
what I came to ask you. You haven't seen him or talked to him this
morning?"

"Actually,
I haven't talked to him since he left here early yesterday afternoon. I thought
about calling him last night, but then I got another call and forgot all about
it."

I had an
idea. I debated whether to share it with Thelma Lou, but I decided she was a
strong woman and could handle it.

"Maybe
we should call the hospital, see if he might have had an accident."

"I
don't think he would have driven in this snow. He's too particular about that
car of his."

"No.
I mean maybe he fell at home and the paramedics came and took him to the
hospital."

It was
worth a try. I called, but Lou wasn't listed as a patient, not even in the
emergency room. I told Thelma Lou not to worry, that Lou would turn up, but I
knew that both of us would continue to worry until we found him, safe and
sound. As I left, I told her to call me if she heard anything and I promised
her that I would do the same.  

My good
friend George Michaelson, who should have retired from the police department
when Lou and I did, lived closer to Thelma Lou than I did, so I drove by his
house on my way home. He saw me headed up the walk and met me at the door.

"Cy.
Come on in. What brings you by, especially in this weather? I thought you would
be hibernating until after Easter."

"It's
Lou, George."

"You
might be able to try that on the phone, but I can tell that you're Cy."

"I
mean Lou is the reason I'm here."

"He's
okay, isn't he?"

"I
don't know. He's missing."

"Missing?"

"Yeah,
missing, like the title of that Bill Noel mystery."

"What?"

"Never
mind."

I
proceeded to tell George everything that Thelma Lou and I had done and asked
him if he had any other ideas. Since Lou was a fixture at the police department
for over thirty years and was known to everyone who worked there, I figured we
would have heard if Lou had turned up beaten in some alley somewhere.

The only
idea we came up with was to return to Lou's building, see if he had returned,
and if not knock again on the doors of his neighbors, hoping that one of them
had returned and knew where Lou was. George and I decided that if we didn't
find anyone at home this time that we would call the owner of the building and
have him open all of the apartments. Lou wasn't lying on the floor of his
apartment when I went by earlier, but we weren't sure about his neighbors, all
of whom were elderly women.

I got
back in my van, and George, after telling his wife what was going on, followed
me to Lou's place. We jumped out of our vehicles and rushed to the first of the
apartments. Maybe it was a good thing that George drove a cruiser, because we
were about to holler, "Police! Open up!"

We did
that at the first apartment. No one answered the door right away, but we
waited. Sometimes it takes older people longer to get to the door. Would it
make any difference that we hollered, "Police! Open up!?" Was that
about like shining a bright light on shepherds, and hollering, "Fear
not!?"

In the
length of time it might take one old lady to shuffle to a front window, look
out and see if she saw a police car, stand there a minute wondering why there
was a police car out front, then shuffle to the front door, and slowly open the
apartment door, but with the chain still engaged, that scenario happened.

A small,
frail woman squinted at us through her glasses.

"How
do I know you're policemen? You don't look like policemen. Show me your badges."

Luckily
George had identification. He showed it to the woman, who squinted to look at
it. Evidently she was satisfied.

"Some
little girl came by last night, wanted me to try a sample of a new drink, and
give my opinion of it. Not long after she left, I felt faint, and the next
thing I knew I woke up lying on the floor."

After we
got what little information we could from her, we knocked on the other doors
and received similar statements. But Lou wasn't lying on the floor when I
visited his apartment. We left the last apartment, ready to report what we
found and check with the other neighbors, but first we searched the immediate
neighborhood. Maybe Lou, weighing more than any of the three women, had
stumbled outside of his apartment, and had fallen somewhere, unconscious. We
didn't think so, but our leads had dwindled to none. We found no one. Our next
move was to check with other neighbors, to see if they had seen anyone, see if
they had been visited by a little girl with a new drink. No one had seen
anything or anyone. I wondered if the little girl was involved in some way. I
didn't think she was the leader of the gang.