Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer Read online

  “Girlfriend?” Morty asked.

  Robby raised his eyebrows and rocked his head side to side. I made a subtle “Who knows?” gesture and Morty said, “Ahh. Too soon to tell. Robby, after what you did for me, I can’t let you pay.”

  “What did Robby do for you?”

  Morty duplicated Robby’s side to side gesture but also put his shoulders into it so it became a sort of dance. I guessed he was weighing whether he should tell me his story. It was then I realized why Robby cut off my introduction. He was afraid I’d mention I was a reporter and Morty wouldn’t tell me anything. Morty must have decided I was OK because he began to speak, “Business got poor when the city ripped up the sidewalk in front of the store, repairs to the sewage system. Then the contractor and the city got into a snit and the lawyers got involved. Then the cold delayed the sidewalk repairs. It took months to fix.”

  Robby chimed in, “Folks didn’t like carrying clean clothes over open sewer pipes or big piles of dirt.”

  Morty shrugged and said, “I fell behind, couldn’t get a bank loan and borrowed from the wrong man. Thought I could pay him what I owed plus the agreed interest and be done. Uh uh, he wanted to keep me in debt, kept adding fees and changing rates. He kept increasing the amount and when I couldn’t pay, he got violent. He broke things, tore up clothing and threatened to break my fingers. Did you know he broke his own mother’s finger because she pointed it at him. That’s why they called him Breaker Burke, a nasty, nasty man.”

  “He wasn’t a bookie?” I asked.

  Robby added, “A multi-faceted thug, also ran protection scams, only loan shark around without an enforcer. Some folks said he didn’t really care about money, just wanted to hurt people… and yet, women adored him.”

  Morty nodded and said, “That was my hellish life until one day, Robby took out a loan against his car, paid that bastard and chased him away… ” Morty bent his head down, looked side to side as if to see if anyone was listening and then whispered, “… at gunpoint.”

  I was impressed. “Wow, Robby. That’s something.”

  Robby seemed embarrassed. “It wasn’t such a big deal. By then business was good again and Morty was making money. We signed some papers. If things went bad, I’d own a dry cleaners and I was justified to draw my weapon. The crook was carrying. I could see it. He was lucky I didn’t arrest him.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I asked.

  “All I had was Morty’s testimony against his and the guy had a carry permit for the gun. Charges wouldn’t have stuck.”

  Morty stood a little straighter after telling the story and said, “And to sweeten the pot, a week later, they found the bastard dead at the carnival.”

  Robby took his dry cleaning from the rod next to the cash register and said, “Thanks, Morty.”

  Morty grinned. “Please, Robby. Come again soon… and bring your friend.”

  As we sat in Robby’s patrol car, I realized why we came here. Robby wouldn’t steal a file. Robby wouldn’t violate his oath as an officer, but Robby could visit a friend and pick up his dry cleaning. I also realized that a violent man like Breaker Burke wasn’t likely to have been carrying a Kewpie Doll. Someone else must have left it there, someone like Burke’s killer.

  I said, “Morty’s a nice man and you’re a nice guy for helping him.”

  “Nah, just doing my job. Now, let’s go see Brenda.”

  When we arrived at the carnival, Robby asked for Brenda at the ticket booth. A tattooed girl in the booth sent us to the sideshow. Only a few years ago, the ticket girl could have been an attraction. Now, she was just another heavily inked teenager.

  The sideshow tent smelled of canvas and animals. We passed a six-legged goat, a three-foot tall man playing basketball with a nine-foot tall woman and then we came to Brenda. A good sized group stood in front of her low stage as she juggled four bowling pins and then three knives. Robby and I watched her from a distance. When she finished her act, she waved her fingers at us and then came over.

  She spoke to me but stared at Robby in his uniform. “Raquel… why are you here? You didn’t tell any –”

  “Brenda, this is my friend Robby Carlyle. If you answer his questions and you’ve done nothing wrong, no one else will know your secret. You can trust him.”

  “I don’t know. You shouldn’t have –”

  Robby said, “Brenda. It’s OK. Raquel’s right. Just answer a few questions, please.”

  “Didn’t you see my note?”

  I asked her, “Your note?”

  Her voice rose. “If people find out about me, there will be dire consequences. I’ll be humiliated. I could lose my job. None of the boys would have anything to do with me.”

  I pulled the note from my bag. “You mean you left me this?”

  “Yes. You’ve got to keep my secret. Please!” Tears started to form in her eyes.

  “Brenda, did you also send me a Kewpie Doll?”

  “A Kewpie Doll? No, why?”

  “When I saw you last, did you throw a knife at me?”

  She took a step back. “What? No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

  Robby spoke up. “We might believe you if you can answer some questions.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Where were you just before you found your… the body?”

  “I was here in the show, a couple of hours, doing my act. We had a big crowd. A lot of people saw me here.”

  That was a strong statement. If she just told a lie, it would be easy to find out. I believed her.

  Robby asked, “On your way out to the field, did you see anyone? I mean other than the patrons enjoying the show or the staff working?”

  Brenda shook her head.

  “You know Breaker Burke? A loan shark and bookie that died near here last year?”

  “No.”

  “OK, Brenda. Thanks. Stick around, stay out of trouble and we’ll have no reason to say anything to anyone.”

  On our way back to the car, I asked Robby, “So, you believe her?”

  “Yeah. The ME put the time of death about an hour before Brenda reported the body. She would have been on display in front of a hundred people then. Unless she had help, she’s clean.”

  “I wonder how many folks can alibi with, ‘I was juggling knives in a circus sideshow’.”

  Robby laughed.

  I said, “Then someone else sent me the Kewpie Doll with the eyes and mouth covered.”

  “Yeah, and someone else threw a knife at you.”

  “And we don’t know who it is but we do know it’s easy to find where I live.”

  “Maybe you could stay with your Mom a while?”

  “I’d rather risk the knives.”

  “Why? I like your Mom.”

  “She’s OK, it’s just that she’s my Mom, my Dad and my Boss. I don’t need her to be my roommate too. She’s accomplished quite a bit in life and I’d rather stay out of her shadow. Does this make any sense?”

  “No, not to me, but I never knew my real parents. I guess it’s different.” Robby opened the car door for me. “You could stay at my place.”

  “That’s sweet but no thanks. I’ve got to move anyway. That reminds me.” I pulled my Chronicle from my bag and thumbed to the classifieds.

  As we drove away, Robby said, “There’s got to be some other connection between Finley and Burke.”

  “And I’ve got to find someplace to live.”

  I circled a few more ads while Robby drove me back to my office. He accomplished what he set out to do. We learned about Breaker Burke and who sent me the note. I planned to go back to my desk to call about apartments, but when I entered the newsroom, I found a man in a grey suit sitting in my side chair.

  Chapter Six - A Southern Son

  Lucy, my friend in sales, stood by the photocopier and fanned herself with the papers in her hand. As I walked by, she raised her eyebrows and said, “Hmm, two hot men in one day. If I didn’t have my Stan…”

  I nev
er saw this man before and wondered who he was and why he was here. He stood and asked, “Raquel Flanagan?”

  We faced each other. He had about three or four inches on me. “Yes?”

  He showed me a wallet containing a gold badge. “I’m Detective Edward Franklin…”

  When he saw my blank stare, he added,” …from Achalaca County, Florida. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

  I sat down at my desk, “Yes. I remember. Why are you here?”

  He remained standing, looked around and asked, “Is there someplace private we can speak?”

  I got back up. “Sure,” He followed me to one of our conference rooms. When we got inside, he shut the door leaned against the table and asked, “Do you know why I’m here?”

  “No.” I sat down. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me.

  “Yesterday, you asked me about the death of Bert Connelly.”

  “Who?”

  “The carnival clown.”

  “Yes?”

  “You asked me about a clown Kewpie Doll.”

  “Yes?”

  “We didn’t release any information about the doll. How did you know about it?”

  “What? You think I killed him? I’ve never even been to Acka whatever it is.”

  “Achalaca.” Then he snorted and said, “As if Waalbroek is world famous. Please, just answer the question.”

  “Why?”

  “The only people who knew of the doll were the officers on the scene and the killer.”

  “What about the person who found the body?”

  “Patrol Officers found him. Now, will you answer my question or do I need to have the local Police bring you in for questioning?”

  I decided I made him work hard enough for his information. “I didn’t know there was a clown Kewpie Doll.”

  “What? But, you called…you asked about a doll.”

  “I followed a lead. We had a death here the other day. A local farmer died at a carnival and the Police found a farmer Kewpie Doll next to his body. This is the second carnival death in Waalbroek in two years. In both cases, Police found a Kewpie Doll. When I did background research for the story, I found out a clown died at a carnival in Achalaca so I phoned to see if there was any connection.”

  Detective Franklin sat down and rested his wrists on the table. “And you think that there is one?”

  “I don’t know, didn’t even know there was a clown Kewpie until you spilled the beans.”

  Detective Franklin smiled. “I spilled the beans? Oh. OK” The smile seemed to loosen him up. “Look, I’m sorry if I came off abrupt. I’ve been up since 4:00 am, flew four hours stuck between two of the biggest people in the world, missed lunch and sat at your desk for 90 minutes.”

  I started to soften a bit. “Yeah, that side chair is kind of uncomfortable.” He was cute when he wasn’t playing cop.

  “I’m really hungry. Do you think that maybe we can go somewhere I can eat and we can talk more about these cases? We may be able to help each other.”

  “Sure, I haven’t eaten yet. What do you like?”

  “I’d love a real New York style kosher hot dog. Sautéed onions, ketchup, mustard, relish and sauerkraut, but at this point? Anything that can’t run faster than me.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we sat in a booth at Adler’s, menus in front of our faces, and I asked, “So, Detective Franklin, see anything good?”

  “Eddie. Call me Eddie.”

  “Does that mean that I’m off the hook for the murder or are you just so glad to be near food that you no longer care about the case?”

  “Don’t think we’ll know that until after I’ve stuffed myself. Check with me after we eat. What’s good here?”

  “Pretty much everything. It’s not fancy food, but it’s all good.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. The lunch place near my precinct serves lousy food but they make up for it with large portions.”

  It was an old joke, but I laughed anyway. There was something about his delivery. There was something about him. He looked to be in his early thirties and had that quiet confidence many younger men lacked. I’m not talking about bravado, false pride or ego. He just seemed to know who he was and was content to be that person, a long haul kind of guy.

  The same young girl that waited on Robby and me the other day came over and stood silently with her pencil poised over her pad.

  Eddie asked, “Got any kosher hotdogs?”

  “Just what’s on the menu. No substitutions.”

  “OK I’ll have a cheeseburger deluxe, medium and a diet cola.”

  She looked at me.

  “Egg salad on wheat toast with coffee, please.”

  She took the menus and walked away without a word.

  Eddie said, “I just noticed. You’ve got blue eyes.”

  “Some detective you are. Yeah, my Mom’s Spanish and my Dad was Irish. I’m probably the only blue eyed, black haired Latina in Waalbroek.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. It’s a very pretty combination. I was just surprised. Please don’t be offended. Take pity on a sleep and food deprived civil servant.”

  Somebody called my name, “Raquel? Oh, my God.”

  I turned to see Kim Ashcroft walking our way. She reached our table, bent down and hugged me.

  “My God. I haven’t seen you in ages. When did you get back? Are you home for good now? Scootch over.” She sat next to me in the booth.

  “About a month ago and yeah.”

  She gave Eddie the eye. “And is this your…”

  “Friend. Eddie, Kim and I went to High School together.”

  “Hi.” She offered Eddie her hand. “Raquel and I go way back till she went off to college. I stayed here, married Kevin, had Benjie and Sara. The three of us used to hang together. I mean Raquel, Kevin and me. Can’t wait to tell the old gang at Mommy and Me I saw you.” She pointed back to her table where a two-year-old boy kicked at a stroller holding an infant. “That’s my family.” Kevin waved at us while he tried to control his son.

  “You’ve got a nice family.” Eddie said. “You and Kevin are very lucky.”

  Sara started to cry and Kim turned back to her table. “Gotta go. Call me. We’re in the book. Love ya.” She waved and ran to console her daughter.

  I asked Eddie, “You mean what you said about her family?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Even with Benjie terrorizing Sara and Kevin being tied to the table.”

  “Even good kids get a little cranky sometimes. Could be he missed his nap. Sure, there’re some challenging moments but in the end, it’s all worth it.”

  “I guess you have children.”

  “Nope, no kids, no wife.” Eddie smiled at me, “… and not even a girlfriend.”

  “If you thought I was a suspect, how come you didn’t come with a W.P.D. officer? You’ve got to know you’re out of your jurisdiction.”

  “Yeah, well about that… I sort of left the house without checking my wallet… ” Eddie lifted his shoulders and dropped them, “only had enough cash for cab fare to the Chronicle. Did you know the Police station is ten bucks further from the airport?”

  “And in Acha-whatever, lunch is always free?”

  “No. I’ve got my two buddies here, Visa and MasterCard. Their logo stickers are on the cash register. I am a detective, you know.”

  “Have you detected how you’re going to get to your next destination?”

  “I guess I’ll have to rent a car after all. You know, the car rental company picks you up or rather, picks me up, unless you’d like to take a ride?”

  The waitress re-appeared carrying plates. Eddie looked up at her and said, “Whoa, this looks good.”

  The waitress placed our plates on the table and he was right. They did look good and from the way he attacked his food, he must have gone a long time without eating. After a few minutes of stuffing our faces, I asked, “What can you tell me about the murdered clown in Florida?”

  Eddie pushed away hi
s plate and reached for his coffee, “Well, as far as we know, the carnival he worked at, Nichols, never came to New York. Their route was West and East. They kept south of the Mason Dixon line.”

  “Any fingerprints found on the doll?”

  “None that could be recovered.”

  “What was the C.O.D.?”

  “Blunt force trauma.”

  “With the doll?”

  “Could be. The doll had a metal plate on the bottom and we never recovered any other weapon. Odd thing though, someone broke the head off the doll. Like they held the doll upside down and hit the victim with the base.”

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  “Don’t know. The Kewpie Dolls seem to connect things but the Florida victim was a Carny. The New York victims were patrons, plus we have no connection between Florida and New York.”

  I smiled at him, “Except for you.”

  He grimaced. “Not funny, but I deserved it. How ‘bout I make it up to you? I’ll buy you dinner. You pick the place. My flight home isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “OK. Considering you flew here to accuse me of murder, I’d say you owe me.” I wrote my home address on my business card and handed it to him. “Pick me up at 8:00.”

  He put my card in his shirt pocket and said, “If only I could always profit this much by paying my debts.”

  The waitress cleared our plates and Eddie said, “That was nice. Thanks for eating with me.”

  “You really want a ride to the rental place?”

  “I was kidding but if it’s on your way, it beats waiting here an hour for a pick-up.”

  “I want to look at an apartment that’s not far. If you don’t mind the detour…”

  “That’s great. Thanks, lunch is on me.”

  I pulled out my Chronicle classified section to check the apartment address. “Thank you.”

  “I sort of have to buy you lunch or the bill won’t be big enough for the minimum credit card charge.”

  I swatted him with my newspaper.

  * * *

  The address in the ad was a restored Victorian era house complete with a round turret. When I pulled up in front of the house, a beautiful, gregarious, golden lab bounced up to my car. When he saw us emerge, he buried his nose in Eddie’s crotch. Eddie asked me, “Is this the usual Waalbroek greeting? No one did this at the airport.”