Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer Page 11

  “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.”

  Chapter Thirteen – Ticket to nowhere

  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.”

&
nbsp; 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’.”

  Farrell lifted his shoulders. “Yeah, or else I won’t be able to see the picture.”

  “You used an electronic device to disguise your voice.”

  Farrell beamed. “Yeah, cool huh? $89.95 online at the Spy Shack with free shipping. I had to use it. If you knew it was me, you wouldn’t have come.”

  Eddie shook his head in disbelief and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling W.P.D.” He walked off to call.

  Farrell said, “Flanagan, no hard feelings?”

  “Farrell. You’re an idiot.”

  I stood there fuming while Farrell squirmed on the floor seeking a way to stand. As I put my foot on his cuffs to hold him down, I thought about kicking him or at least ‘accidentally’ stepping on his hand but Eddie returned.

  Eddie said, “Patrol’s on the way,” pulled Farrell to his feet and hooked his cuffs to a row of connected plastic chairs. “Let’s go.”

  As we left the bus station, I hear Farrell calling. “Hey, you can’t leave me like this. What if they don’t come for a while? What if the place catches fire? What if I gotta pee?”

  Eddie kept on walking. I followed close enough to hear him say. “This is worth the price of new cuffs.”

  Chapter Fourteen – Forever hold your piece

  An hour later, I stood in the chapel and watched yet another childhood friend get married. It was good to have a hanky hidden in my glove. I still got misty watching dads give their daughters away.

  After the ceremony, Waalbroek River Lodge staff herded the crowd into the banquet room to await the entrance of the newest newlyweds. When Eddie and I entered the ballroom and looked for our table, identically clad bridesmaids stood out like a beacon. Lucy patted the empty seat next to her and said, “Raquel, love your dress.”

  I sat. “Oh, but it’s not as nice as yours.”

  Eddie took the seat between Robby and me. Stan looked at us and shook his head, “But you’re both wear –“

  Lucy said, “Oh, shush, Stan. Honestly, Raquel, sometimes I don’t know if his great body makes up for his… you know…”

  “Hey,” Stan said, “I’m sitting right here… besides, you seemed pretty sure watching me dress for the party.” Then he raised his eyebrows at me and said, “I’m not as dumb as I look.” Lucy slapped him on his thigh and they both laughed.

  Lucy said, “Listen up Gentlemen” and then pointed to each of us in turn. “Raquel, Eddie, Robby, Crystal, Pam, Kevin, Stan and Lucy. Now we all know each other, let’s drink.”

  Stan and Robby just finished filling our glasses from the wine bottles on the table when the bandleader announced the entrance of the newlyweds and the party got underway.

  We drank, danced, ate, danced and drank. Kara’s Dad, her sister Pam and Tommy’s friend Drew made the obligatory wedding toasts. Pam spent most of the night catching up with folks she hadn’t seen since she moved to Albany. Her boyfriend, Kevin tagged along doing a good job of appearing glad to greet people he never met before and probably wouldn’t see again.

  Lucy and I spent most of the evening in front of the band. We periodically dragged Eddie and Stan up to join us. Somehow, when you’ve had enough to drink even the latest novelty dance seems like a good idea. By the time we finished dinner, Eddie was massaging my feet in his lap and I was glad to sit while Kara and Tommy cut the cake.

  When Kara stood at the bandstand to throw the bouquet, Lucy grabbed my hand and dragged me back onto the dance floor. Crystal looked shyly at Robby and then followed. Pam glanced at Kevin, shrugged and joined the pack.

  During a long drum roll, Kara faked throwing the flowers over her shoulder and fooled several women into raising their arms. After teasing the crowd twice, she finally let loose. The bridal bouquet flew high over our heads, close to the ceiling and brushed a chandelier. As one, we all turned to see where it would land. The floral missile headed directly for the center of a table already covered with a centerpiece, wine bottles, glasses and plates. At the last moment, a hand reached out, caught the flowers and averted a messy landing. The woman at the table stood to applause and bowed. She was Mom.

  After we emptied the first few wine bottles, Eddie and Robby started acting like old friends. By the time the waiters refilled their coffee cups, they began talking about the case like partners.

  Robby nudged Eddie with his elbow. “That Farrell’s something else, been a jerk since High School.”

  “Oh, you got him squared away?”

  “Yeah, too bad there’s no crime against being an opportunist asshole.”

  “He threatened Raquel.”

  “No proof. He said. She said.”

  “No, he said. We heard… and one of us is a Police Officer.”

  “No tape, no proof. You gotta know we don’t have a case.”

  “Know it but don’t have to like it. Think he’s clean?”

  “Hell, no, but a killer? Nah. Too much of a wuss.”

  “You let him go?”

  “Yeah, after busting him for vandalizing the bus locker.”

  “So where’s that leave us?”

  “Well, the lab guys worked on the photo’s… but still couldn’t ID anyone.”

  “Because they don’t recognize the face?”

  “Too far away, can’t make out the features. Could even be a woman.”

  “But you think it’s a picture of the farmer’s killer?”

  “Could be, now that Cavanaugh’s given me his cases, I’m considering it a homicide.”

  “Smart move. So you think the killer tried to scare Raquel into keeping the photo quiet.” Eddie took his napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table. “How’s he know she’s even got a picture?”

  “Everybody seems to know. Maybe the creep saw her shooting. Could be he saw the flash. Maybe, like Farrell, he’s also got a contact in the lab. Who knows? … but we also went through the Northeast Savings and Loan records… for accounts handled by Harold Thomas, the dead banker. We found one carnival listed but no mention of Kelly’s.”

  “My newspaper contact in Florida did some research too.” Eddie said. “We knew the clown died at the Nichols Show but we didn’t have the name of the other carnival he worked down there… the one with the twenty year old murder-suicide, turns out to be the name of the dead couple. I figure if we cross-reference all three carnivals with all of the victims and their professional lives, something might pop.”

  Robby pulled out his pad, “Sounds good. What’s the name?”

  Crystal asked, “You carry that everywhere?”

  Robby turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. “I use it more than my gun and I never go anywhere without that.”

  Eddie saluted Robby’s comment with his wine glass and said. “Medici’s.”

  I asked, “Medici’s?”

  Robby finished writing, then thumbed through his pad, “Medici sounds familiar. Here it is. Th
e only carnival Thomas handled at Northeast was Medici’s.”

  Robby sat there with his mouth open a moment while he read something. Then he said, “Twenty years ago, Thomas seized some collateral from the Medici Carnival when they failed to pay back a loan. Bank gave them an extension based on some big upcoming show. Looked like Thomas expected them to make enough to pay back their loan, but that show never happened. I don’t know why.”

  I said, “I know. The Medici’s used to set up on Maupin’s farm. When Old Man Maupin died, Finley bought the place but refused to let the carnival use the land. He wanted to get his pumpkin crop in.”

  Eddie turned to look at me. “How…?”

  “Benefits of being a local girl. Folks were upset. We didn’t have another carnival until they built the fairgrounds and Kelly’s came to town.”

  Eddie said, “Well, there’s a trend here. The Clown, Banker Thomas and Farmer Finley… each one had a negative financial impact on the Medici carnival.”

  Robby sat back. “Revenge for losing money could be a motive for killing the Farmer and the Banker… and losing the carnival could explain why Medici killed his wife and committed suicide, but we don’t know who else lost money when the show failed.”

  Eddie shook his head. “Business setbacks in New York may have contributed to Medici’s suicide. Maybe losing his star clown was a factor too, but I don’t see him killing his wife over this. There has to be more there than that. We also don’t know why someone killed the Loan Shark slash Bookie.”

  “A gambling problem or an outstanding loan could have also led to the show’s downfall.”

  “Or the loan shark may have just leaned on the wrong person, but I don’t get the timing.”

  “Yeah, everything else happened long after the Medici’s died. We need to make sense out of that if we’re going to find the killer. Do you think maybe Medici didn’t really die back then, could still be alive?”

  “Geez, dunno, hard to imagine he’d get away with faking his death under those circumstances, but working together, we made progress. We just got a little bit closer.”

  “So now what?”

  We were all quiet for a few moments. Then, Eddie said, “Look for investors and take another look at the Medici deaths.”