Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer (13 page)

I betrayed her confidence by telling Robby about her father but if she murdered him, I owed her nothing. If she was innocent, Robby would be discreet. Stuck without a good answer, I ignored her questions.

“Last year, a bookie that also made loans, Breaker Burke, was found dead here. Did you know him? Was there any connection between him and your Dad?”

“No. I heard about it after it happened but I didn’t know him. I doubt he hung around here. If he were a bookie or a loan shark, Pops would have had the men run him off. Pops looks out for us and we look out for him.”

“And your Dad? Could he have known him?”

“When I knew him, he didn’t gamble and from what I’ve heard about him since I left, his farm was doing well. He didn’t need any money. Why are you asking?”

“Yesterday, somebody murdered a banker named Harold Thomas and left a Kewpie Doll at the scene. Did you or your Dad know him or do business with him?”

“Thomas? No. Is that why all of the Police were here?”

“Yeah. You know anything about stolen tickets?”

“Only that one roll’s been missing for a while. When Pops first noticed it last season, the girls at the gate had to check every number. After a while, they didn’t see any that matched so Pops stopped looking. Checking slowed the crowd too much.”

“Any ideas on who stole them?”

“Could have been anyone. Pops keeps them in his safe but everyone who knows him knows the combination. It’s Rosa’s birthday. I’ve got another show in a few minutes. Sorry. I’ve got to go.”

“Sure, thanks.”

I had no other leads to follow here so I left. It was time to talk with an old newspaperman.

On my way back to the office, I stopped in Adler’s for two coffees to go. If I wanted Uncle Bill’s take on things, I’d do better with a bribe and our own office coffee was terrible. When he saw me standing outside his office with large two cups of “outside” coffee, he stood up and waved me in with both hands, as if he were helping someone back up a car. When I got within two feet of his desk, he lunged forward, grabbed a cup and sat back down with a heavy sigh.

“Now, I’m especially glad you survived getting blown up, aside from you being my favorite niece. How’re you feeling? Your hearing OK?”

“I’m your only niece and I’m OK.”

“Good, I’m glad to…” He stopped talking but continued to move his lips.

I reached to take back his coffee cup. “Very funny, Uncle Bill.”

“No, please.” He held his cup close to his chest, pried off the lid and sniffed the steam rising from the cup.

“Ahhh. Real coffee. What’s this gonna cost me?”

“Not much. Just some idle chatter.”

“About your Kewpie killings?”

“Yes.”

He leaned back in his chair, took a sip from his cup and said, “Shoot.”

“I’ve got disjointed facts. I can’t reconcile them.”

“What do you know?”

“There were six deaths over the last 20 years where Kewpie Dolls were found near the bodies. Three in Florida, three in New York, two were twenty years ago, two this year and one a year for each of the last two years. The first two died from a murder-suicide. In each case, the doll matched the victim’s occupation and each victim had a connection to one of three carnivals. A couple of the victims had free tickets to Kelly’s Carnival. The timing makes no sense and I don’t know what to do next.”

Uncle Bill put down his cup and sat forward, “The recent increase in the frequency of the killings doesn’t seem odd. Serial killers sometimes become emboldened with success. Also, the killer may feel he has to finish something quickly before he gets caught. Got any suspects?”

“Could be. There’s a photo, which may help. Someone, maybe a man, ran from the murder scene just before Brenda found the body.”

“Brenda?”

“The Bearded Lady.”

“So this is the Farmer Finley killing. Is this picture the reason someone’s trying to scare you?”

“Could be.”

“OK so who’s in the photo?”

“Can’t tell who, only that he… or she’s wearing a white shirt.”

Uncle Bill looked down, grabbed his white shirt between his thumb and forefinger and asked, “Like this one? Maybe a man?”

“Don’t know.”

“You know what you’ve got?”

“Yeah, nothing.”

“Good girl.”

We sat and sipped our coffee. Then I asked, “But what about the twenty year gap?”

“You don’t understand that gap so it’s throwing you off but I’ll bet that if you can figure out why there was a twenty year delay, you’ll find a major clue to the identity of the killer.”

“How do I do that?”

“I don’t know, but if you can’t solve that puzzle. Solve the ones you can. Research each victim. Find out what one thing connects them all.”

“I’m working on that.”

“Good and one more thing. Your killer intentionally left dolls. If you don’t want to get caught, you don’t leave a calling card… unless you’re nuts… and this guy is a total whack. He’s killing for a reason and it’s important to him that everyone knows he murdered these victims. He probably feels these killing are justified and those dolls could point to the reason. Find out why he’s leaving them and you’ll find him.”

* * *

I was home in the shower when my phone rang and thought, “Let the machine answer,” but my body moved quickly to finish up and get the call. I got there just before the machine picked up and stood naked, chilled and wet. Dripping onto the floor, I picked up the handset and wondered if the call would be worth this effort.

“It’s me.”

Eddie, so far, so good. “What’s up?”

“Guess who phoned me this afternoon?”

“Would it be someone from the W.P.D.?”

“Gee, you reporters find out everything. How’d you know?”

I didn’t want Eddie to think him insincere so didn’t say anything about telling Robby to apologize. “I thought he’d call. We’ve been friends since Middle School and I never saw him act like that. You didn’t give him a hard time?”

“I accepted his apology.”

“Good, I’d like you two to get along.”

“Yeah, we’re OK.”

“Then, I guess you won’t mind what I’m going to say next.”

“Depends. What’re you going to say?”

“We’re sitting together at Kara’s wedding. Crystal, one of the other bridesmaids invited him.”

“I’d rather be alone with you but if we have to sit with a bunch of bridesmaids, he might as well be there too.”

“Robby’s sweet. You just don’t know him well enough yet. We’ll all have a good time.”

“You almost ready?”

“When the phone rang, I was in the shower.”

“Then I don’t have to ask what you’re wearing.”

“Good bye. Eddie.”

I finished my makeup and just pulled up the zipper on my dress when the doorbell rang. I waited for Mom to answer it. After it rang again, I realized she must have gone out. She’d never leave it unanswered that long.

It was Eddie. When I opened the door, he pulled me close and we kissed.

“Wow,” he said, “you look great.”

“Thanks, but gimme a minute. I’ve got to straighten my dress, get my shoes and put in my earrings.”

Eddie sat on the couch while I went to my bedroom. When the phone rang, it was the last thing I had time for so I called to him to get it.

All dressed, I entered the living room where Eddie sat holding the phone to his ear. He saw me and held up a finger. The color drained from his face and he put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Raquel, it’s for you.”

Eddie punched the speakerphone button and sat back. An electronically distorted voice asked, “Raquel Flanagan?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is you have something I want.”

“What’s that?”

“A photograph.”

“What photograph?”

“Don’t play with me. I want the one you took at the carnival. Bring a memory card with the photo to the bus station. Place it in locker 59 in the next 60 minutes. Don’t call the Police… or else.”

The line went dead.

Eddie asked, “You got the memory card?”

“In Mom’s safe. I’ll get it.”

When I came back into the room, I found Eddie pacing back and forth.

“Eddie. How does he… or she… whoever it is, know about the photo?”

“How long were you there taking pictures?”

“A couple of hours.”

“He might have seen you shooting, might have a connection at the Police lab, maybe read a Police report. Who knows?”

“Should I call Robby?”

Eddie said, “Too risky and not enough time. I’ll go with you. Keep my distance… watch who makes the pickup.”

“I can’t go like this.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I’m wearing a tacky bridesmaid’s dress in bright fuschia with oversized bows.”

“Put a coat on.”

“In this weather?”

“Look, we don’t have much time.” Eddie pulled a tan trench coat from the front closet. “Put this on.”

“That’s Mom’s. It’s way too big.”

Eddie gave me a look I hadn’t seen before. “Raquel, we gotta go. Now.”

I wrapped the coat around me and tied the belt. Buttoning something so oversized would make me look even more ridiculous. “Fine, let’s go.”

Eddie dropped me off at the bus station entrance and left to park the car. Inside the building, it took a while to find the lockers and then a few more minutes to locate number 59. With only a few minutes to spare, I placed the memory card inside, deposited a quarter and pocketed the key. When I turned to leave, I saw Eddie sitting on a bench, drinking coffee and reading a magazine.

I scanned the station for a hiding place with a view of number 59. While the center of the Bus Station rose to the second story ceiling, a second level ran along the front of the building. From there, I should be able to see whoever accessed the locker. I took the elevator up but Bus Company offices bordered the hall and blocked all views of the station floor. I entered a door marked “Customer Relations” where beyond a waist-high counter, a floor to ceiling window looked out onto the level below. A man with a briefcase walked towards the lockers but a young girl approached me and blocked my view. She asked, “Hi, I’m Emily. May I help you?”

“Um, yes.” I showed her my Press credentials but she seemed to be staring at my coat instead. I looked down to see the belt came loose to reveal a fuschia bow from my gown. I pulled it shut. “I’m researching a story on seasonal trends in tourism for our Sunday edition and I was wondering if you might have information regarding peak seasons for bus travel.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Winter when it snows, we get the skiers. The fall, we see a peak due to the Leaf-peepers. Summer, we get the downstate City folks escaping the heat.”

I needed to get closer to that window and I had to drag this out until someone opened locker 59. “That’s pretty much what we thought. What we’d really like is to compare monthly ridership over the last few years. We’re going to view that against rising gas prices.”

“Oh, sure. I guess I can get that. It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Um. Could I sit while I wait.”

Emily hesitated so I said, “These new shoes are hell.”

She leaned over the counter to see my spike heeled fuschia pumps, smiled and said, “Sure.”

I came around the counter and followed her to her desk, right next to the window. The man stood in front of locker 59 with one hand in his pocket. Then, he removed something and reached out with it. I couldn’t make out what he held but it could have been a key. I squinted but still couldn’t see. I leaned on one butt cheek to get closer to the window and narrowed my eyes again when the girl asked, “Um. Are you OK?”

“Unh, yeah. Just a… leg cramp… from the shoes.”

“Oh.”

By now, the man had opened a locker, the empty one above number 59. He inserted the coin in his hand and stored his briefcase. Not my guy.

As Emily punched keys on her computer, I sat back and watched the locker. After a few moments, she said, “I think this’ll do it… made you a print out. Be right back.” Just as she returned, a second man approached the lockers, opened 59 and reached inside.

Emily stood in front of me and blocked my view. She handed me some papers and said, “This should meet your needs. My email address is at the bottom if you need anything else.”

I stood and peered around her. “Unh, thanks.” Eddie sprinted to the locker and when he spun the man around, I recognized Jim Farrell.

I snatched the paper from Emily’s hand and my coat flopped open. “Thanks. Breaking story. Gotta run.”

By the time I got downstairs, Eddie had his suspect cuffed and seated on the floor. People passed by without staring as if handcuffed men sat on the floor daily.

“Farrell.” I said. “What the hell are you doing?”

Eddie asked, “You know this guy?”

Farrell tried to stand with his hands cuffed behind him and fell back on his ass.

“He’s Jim Farrell from the Tribune, one of the sleazier reporters, from one of the sleazier papers.”

Farrell paused struggling to get his feet under his butt and said, “Hey, no need for insults. I took a shot. It didn’t work.” The he smirked, “Oh, and nice dress.”

Eddie asked, “What do you mean?”

Farrell nodded towards me, “You don’t see your average reporter wearing stuff like that to work.” Then he tried again to stand.

Eddie pushed him back down, looked at me and then at Farrell. “No, dumbass. What didn’t work?”

“I figured I could scoop the Chronicle.”

“You threatened Raquel and committed extortion for a story?”

“I never extorted anything… unh, not from her. Raquel made an anonymous drop. My sources do that all the time… and I never threatened her. You gonna help me up or what?”

“No, I’m not. How you know about the photo?”

“A confidential source told me a photo from the farmer’s killing showed up in the W.P.D. lab’s evidence log. Then I remembered Raquel shooting pictures at the Carnival. I wanted to see what she shot. No reason why the Chronicle should have an exclusive.”

“So you threatened her?”

“I didn’t threaten anybody. All I said was I wanted the photo and not to call the Police.”

I said, “You told me, ‘not to call the Police, or else’.”