Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer Page 14

Eddie and I sat on the sofa. Mooney shook our hands, took a plush upholstered wing chair and said to the receptionist, “Thank you, Marsha.”

  After Marsha left the room and closed the door, Mooney asked, “Now, how may I help you?”

  Eddie displayed his badge and said, “I’d like to talk to you about the Medici’s?”

  “Who?”

  “Orazio and Agnese Medici. Twenty years ago, you told the newspaper their deaths were a ‘terrible personal tragedy.’”

  “And you’re just now coming to ask me about them? What took you so long?”

  “I had to finish High School.”

  Mooney chuckled. “OK. What do you want to know?”

  “The newspaper called you and Medici ‘business associates’. Can you tell me about your relationship?”

  Mooney shifted his weight from one side to another and then said, “I obtained investors for the carnival. This was back in the days when I first started out, didn’t have the credentials or the training I have now. I was just a hungry guy with a knack for making money with money.”

  “So how did you meet?”

  “Orazio had a poor engagement due to unseasonably bad weather and he came to me for help. He brought his books – both sets. I liked what I saw, put together some investors and we all made money.”

  “How did he find you?”

  “Mutual acquaintance, some of my investors financed a local feed store that sold to his show.”

  “Ever go out to the carnival?”

  “Phew, no, I hate the smell of those things. He always came here. Orazio wanted to expand so each year, he’d come to office with the books and we’d meet with investors.”

  Eddie placed some photos on the table in front of the sofa. “Recognize any of these men? They may be older in the photos since you saw them last.”

  Mooney took a pair of glasses from his suit jacket and leaned forward. “My God, these men look dead. Who are they?”

  “Recognize anyone?”

  “No.”

  Eddie pointed to the pictures one at a time. “Morgan Finley, a New York farmer. Bradley ‘Breaker’ Burke, a New York and Florida bookie and loan shark. Harold Thomas, New York banker. Bert Connelly, a Clown who worked the New York-Florida circuit.”

  “Connelly? I remember him. Doesn’t look the same older and um… dead. For a while, he was Medici’s big draw, the main attraction.”

  “Did it hurt business when he left Medici?”

  “Some.”

  “Were any of your investors particularly upset when the carnival went bust?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean after the carnival went broke was anyone upset enough to kill for revenge?”

  “The carnival never went broke. No one was upset about any loss because there wasn’t any.”

  “What?”

  “Medici’s died intestate, no will. Florida State couldn’t find any heirs so they escheated the estate. They seized the property, liquidated the assets and put the profit in escrow. A sizeable amount of money, far greater than the business owed.”

  “I thought that Medici’s Carnival was broke.”

  “Every investor made money. When the show closed, they all got back what they put in… plus a sizeable return. If anyone was upset it would have been because the golden goose was dead.”

  “But he had setbacks. He lost Connelly to another show, had a broken engagement in New York, a repo when he couldn’t pay a loan…”

  “Yes, he had ups and downs. Medici was often feast or famine, but at the end of the fiscal year, he was always in the black. Always.”

  Eddie asked me, “You hear that?”

  “Yeah. So what’s it mean?”

  “These dead men didn’t cause the carnival to fail. It means our theory of the case is all shot to hell.”

  Chapter Eighteen – A Clown of Vast Proportions

  Back in the car, Eddie rubbed his face with his hand and said, “Geez, Now what do we do?”

  I said, “Just continue what we’re doing. We came here to probe the connection between the dead men and the Medici’s. That connection is still there. Maybe our theory on the motive was wrong but that doesn’t change the facts of the case.”

  “Hmm, now that we’ve ruled out revenge for financial loss, we could actually be closer to finding the real motive. Let’s focus on how the dead men connect to the Medicis, start with the first man murdered, Bert Connelly. See what happens when we re-interview some folks at Nichols Circus.”

  * * *

  Eddie drove to the Achalaca County Fairgrounds and parked on the grass outside the Circus entrance. The girl at the ticket booth asked, “Two?”

  He flashed his badge and asked, “Nichols?”

  The girl looked at her watch. “Prolly in his trailer.” Then she nodded over her right shoulder.

  I followed Eddie to a large motor home parked so it overlooked most of the grounds. When Eddie knocked on the door, a deep voice inside yelled, “It’s open.”

  We entered and someone I mistook for a child climbed down from a built-in dinette to greet us. Eddie said, “Good to see you again, Mr. Nichols,” and shook his hand. Mr. Nichols looked up at me. “I remember the Detective, but I don’t believe we’ve met.” He held out his hand and said with a straight face. “David Nichols, folks call me Dave… for short.”

  “Hi, I’m Raquel Flanagan.”

  Eddie said, “Ms. Flanagan’s assisting me in this investigation. You mind if we ask again about Bert Connelly?”

  “Sure, have a seat.” Nichols climbed back onto the dinette seat and leaned over the table to push aside some papers. “What’s up?”

  “Well, we’re taking a closer look at Connelly’s relation to the Medici Circus.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “We’ve recently learned of some similar deaths and each victim had some connection to the Medici’s. We just don’t know what.”

  “That all you got?”

  “That and that Kewpie Doll.”

  “You mean the doll Bert brought with him from Medici’s?”

  “Medici gave it to him?”

  “Dunno, got it from someone over there, but yeah, brought it here when he started, kept on display in his trailer. He was very proud of it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It was him. The face he recorded with the National Clown & Character Registry.”

  “The National Clown & Character Registry? For real?”

  “Yeah, It’s like a trademark. You ever visit the International Clown Hall of Fame?”

  Nichols actually appeared surprised when we shook our heads.

  “You gotta see it. They got each clown face painted on a goose egg. Honest to God and that Kewpie had Bert’s clown face.”

  “We recovered Connelly’s body and the doll in a field, so somebody had to take that doll from the trailer.”

  “Bert wouldn’t have taken it out. Kept it like a shrine on his shelf.”

  “So, if the killer took the doll to break over his head, it may have been more than just a weapon of opportunity.”

  “Yeah? So what’s that mean?”

  “Something, I don’t know what yet but it’s something. Katerina around?”

  “Should be in her trailer. The same black one she had last time.”

  We navigated a maze of tents, trucks and motorhomes until we came to a black trailer painted with giant red letters proclaiming, “KATERINA THE GREAT” over an image of a beautiful woman hanging by her heels from a swinging trapeze.

  Eddie knocked on the door and female voice answered, “Come.”

  We entered the trailer and I saw a woman with long, thick, flowing, red hair, lounging on a red velvet chaise with a magazine in her hand. Black fishnet stockings covered her long legs.

  “How’s my favorite detective today?” She asked.

  “I’m back to ask you about that body you found.”

  She put down her magazine and stretched like a cat revealing a large breasted b
ut taut muscular body barely covered by a low cut, skintight, red sequined costume.

  “I’m doing a show in a few minutes.”

  It looked to me like her show had already started but since she and Eddie seemed to forget I was there, I kept my mouth shut.

  “Tell me again how you found the body.”

  “Please, you make it sound so impersonal, Eddie. The poor man’s name was Bert and not bad looking under all that makeup. Even better under those baggy pants, but then he needed all of that room to contain his, shall we say, equipment.

  “How did you find him?”

  “I need to unwind after a performance. Being outside in the dark under the stars away from the crowd helps me come… down. Sometimes, I’d meet a friend to help me relieve the tension from the show. I was supposed to meet Bert. He was a bit older but handsome and exceptional in a very important way. When I arrived, he was dead.”

  “On your way to meet him, did you see anybody coming from where you found him?”

  “No.”

  “How about, on the way back?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Just a new lead, we’re looking into. That doll you found, ever see it before?

  “Just in Bert’s trailer.”

  “Ever see any like it?”

  “No, just those plastic ones.”

  “Thanks for your time.”

  “Oh, Eddie, come anytime.”

  After we exited the trailer, I asked, “You told me patrol found the body. How come you never mentioned her?”

  “When you phoned out of the blue and asked me about the Kewpie Doll, I had no idea who you were. You could have been the killer. Then, when we met, you were being a smart ass.”

  I stopped walking to look at him. “A smart ass?”

  When Eddie realized I was not longer next to him, he stopped and turned back to face me. “Raquel. C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Yeah, how many meanings does smart ass have?”

  “I’m sorry I said that, I only meant that you were coy about the doll. You told me you didn’t even know there was a clown doll at the Connelly scene till I quote, ‘spilled the beans’.”

  I remembered saying that.

  “I didn’t mention the doll because we didn’t release that information. Yeah, Katerina knew but telling you that on the phone wasn’t going to help me catch a killer while keeping it quiet could have developed a lead. I also didn’t want to put a witness in danger.”

  I didn’t like him withholding information and I really didn’t like him calling me a smart ass. “If the killer’s a man, I don’t think Katerina would have any problem. Finish your interviews. I’ll wait in the parking lot.”

  As I leaned against Eddie’s Police car and waited, I became aware of the radio, the colored light on the dash and the shotgun between the seats. For the first time since we started dating, I began to see him as a Law Enforcement Officer again. I realized there were some things he had to keep close. After a while, Eddie came back to the car.

  “Find anything?”

  “Nah. Nothing new.” He started the car and we drove for a while in silence.

  “Eddie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “’bout what?”

  “I’ve been… you know…”

  “Acting like a crazy person?”

  “Yeah… and I’m sorry. It’s not right. I hate being like that. I was never like this before.”

  “Ah, it’s OK, kinda flattering, besides, I know why you’re like this.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You gonna tell me?”

  “Insecurity.”

  “Insecurity?”

  “Yeah, you just finished school and now have to prove yourself on the job. Your best girlfriends are all getting married, while you’re living with your Mom and she drives you nuts. A twisted killer’s sending you broken dolls and oh yeah, we keep finding dead bodies.”

  “And how is this flattering?”

  Eddie turned to look at me for a moment. “It’s only normal to be anxious. I like the idea you’re comfortable enough with me to be yourself.” He put his hand on my knee. “I like being with you.”

  I leaned over and kissed him. If I wanted to be with him before, I really wanted to be with him now. “I didn’t see it till now. You’re probably right. I just know this isn’t like me.”

  I sat back and Eddie tried to kiss me without taking his eyes off the road. He caught me on the side of my head and said, “I know.” Then he hesitated and added, “I wish you’d reconsider moving in with me.”

  When he said that, I realized how pointless it was to worry about my future. I made it this far by living in the moment and focusing on the present. “Eddie, that’s sweet and I think I’d like that someday but it’s not time yet.”

  “Think about it. You’re not the only one who would benefit from the arrangement.”

  * * *

  When we arrived back at the precinct, I was tired from the ride and sat down in Eddie’s side chair.

  “Your friend Katerina indicated that Connelly was quite a ladies man.”

  “She’s not my friend.”

  “In New York, that gangster, Fallinger, told me all the ladies loved Breaker Burke.”

  “You leading up to something?”

  “Yeah. Finley and Thomas were better looking than average.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “… and they had money. Each dead man was a good catch.”

  “So maybe the charms on the bracelet were like notches on a gun belt?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But whose belt? Why is someone killing the men now and who the hell is killing them?”

  He unlocked his desk drawer, started to refill the evidence boxes and said, “I might as well put these back.” He left the Medici dolls and folder on the desk while he closed the Connelly box.

  I never saw death certificates before these so I opened the Medici folder for another peek. “Eddie, look at this. Both of these list a ‘Rosa Bellini’ as ‘informant’. What’s that mean?”

  “Often, it’s a family member that attends the death. Typically, the same person who handles the arrangements.”

  “Well, maybe the Medici’s were Bellini’s relatives or at least close friends. Maybe this isn’t about the Medici’s. Could this be Bellini’s bracelet and she’s killing her ex-lovers?”

  Chapter Nineteen – Prosecco and Peaches

  Eddie reached for the documents. “She must be a friend. Mooney said the State couldn’t find any heirs.”

  “He did but does that mean there weren’t any or does it mean there were and the State just couldn’t find them?”

  “Let me check.” Eddie picked up his desk phone and called Mooney. When he hung up, he said, “He doesn’t know. Mooney said Orazio never talked about any family except for his wife Agnese.”

  “Family or not, if Bellini knew the Medici’s well enough to be their informant, she might know something that can help us or she might even be the murderer.”

  “If we can find her… this is an old address. Let’s see if there’s something more current.”

  I pulled out my laptop computer and searched online for Rosa Bellini while Eddie made a few calls.

  After dialing a half a dozen numbers, he hung up. “Nah. Nothing. No phone number, listed or unlisted. No car registration. No driver’s license. Nada.”

  “My search didn’t find anything either. Maybe she got married or divorced and uses a different name.”

  “I checked that too. If she did marry, it wasn’t in Florida.”

  “I checked the Social Security death records on line. She’s not listed.”

  “You mean Bellini wasn’t listed. She could have died with a different name.”

  I brought up a map on my laptop. “This isn’t going be easy. The carnivals pass through, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight states plus D.C. She could hav
e married in any one of them.”

  “…and more than once.” Eddie leaned over my shoulder and wrote down the names of the states on his pad.

  “You think most people marry more than once?”

  Eddie scratched his nose. “Unh, this is going to take some time. Let’s check out her last known first. She could still be there.”

  “Now?”

  “Might as well.”

  As we exited the building, Jennie O’Donnell was entering. “Hey Guys. Where you headed?”

  “Jennie,” Eddie asked, “you done for the day?”

  “Nah, early recess for lunch. Gotta be back in a couple of hours.”

  Eddie opened his pad, ripped off a page and handed it to her. “See if you can find any marriage records or anything on this woman Rosa Bellini, OK?”

  “Eight states?”

  “Plus DC.”

  “What’re you going to do?”

  “Take a drive in the country.”

  We left Jennie at the door and got into Eddies car where he keyed Bellini’s address into his GPS. We drove county roads through towns where the only buildings seemed to be gas stations, bars and churches. I lost count of how many stands we passed that sold boiled peanuts.

  About an hour later, inside Cypress Corners city limits, Eddie stopped the car in front of a pair of low-rise brick buildings shaped like shoeboxes. The bare dirt lawn and broken discarded appliances made the place look like a war zone.

  I followed Eddie up three flights of stairs to the top floor in the closest building. He looked at his pad, motioned me aside and pounded on one of the doors. The thin metal rang with each blow of his fist.

  “Ms. Bellini? Rosa Bellini?” He brushed his jacket back behind his gun butt and knocked again. “Ms. Bellini? Police. I want to ask you about the Medici’s.”

  The apartment door behind Eddie opened a crack and I could hear a game show blaring from the TV inside. An old man with thick glasses and a sleeveless T-shirt peered out at us through the chain on the door. “You looking for Rosa? You ‘bout twenty years late.”

  Eddie faced the man. “You know Ms. Bellini?”

  “Did. Long time ago. Left when she ran off with that guy in that baby blue Cadillac. Nice car. She lived here long time before that, used to be friends with my wife. Now, they’re both gone.” He gestured across the hall with his head. “Young working couple lives there now.”