Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer Page 6

  A woman stepped down from the wrap-around porch, clapped her hands and shouted, “Daisy. Stop that.”

  The dog turned and ran into the open garage.

  “I’m sorry. She gets like that sometimes. You here ‘bout the room? It’d be a bit tight for two.”

  I said, “Oh, we’re not a couple.”

  “That’s good. You know it’s just a room with kitchen and bath privileges? Those damned newspaper people can’t seem to get anything right. I been explaining this to people all day.”

  Electric guitar power chords, drumming and Daisy’s howling echoed from the garage. The woman faced the house long enough to yell, “Kirk. Stop that till I’m done talking here.” Then she said to me, “You’re not together? Huh, I woulda thought… wanna see the room?”

  “No… thanks. I’m going to need something a bit bigger.”

  “Sure you do, Sweetie, a girl your age. You know anybody, send them by.” She called the dog and headed back to her porch. As we walked back to my car, Eddie paused and said, “Ya know? I think I’m going to miss Daisy.”

  I dropped Eddie at the rental place and went back to work.

  * * *

  I finished at the office around five, which left me plenty of time to go home and get ready for dinner with Eddie. Eddie. One minute, he’s Detective Franklin treating me like a suspect. The next, he’s Eddie treating me to dinner. Life can be funny sometimes. You look for that certain someone, go on blind dates and then when you’re not paying attention, someone comes into your life in a way you didn’t expect.

  I showered and spent the next hour in my underwear trying on outfits. I wanted something that looked provocative but not sleazy, professional but not dowdy. I settled on a mid-thigh cocktail dress with a reasonable neckline and a plunging back, black of course. I did my make-up and slipped into my dress just in time to hear the doorbell.

  I opened the door to my mother. My mother? What was she doing here?

  “Good evening, Raquel. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “Um, I.”

  She looked me up and down. “Lemme guess. You have a date?”

  “Yes and I need to finish getting —”

  “—Let me give you some advice. If you ever have kids of your own, timing is everything. If I didn’t happen by and find out you had a date, would you have told me? Nooooo, of course not, but parenting lessons aside, that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to apologize. It’s not easy being your mother and the Boss both. I’ve got an obligation to the paper and the people that depend on it to make a living.”

  “I understand.”

  “I know but if a child has a rough day at the office, she can go home and Mom will have an ear and a shoulder for her. Nevertheless, when that bitch in the office is your mother, it’s kind of tough to get that kind of sympathy. I know that and that’s why I’m here.”

  “Huh?”

  “I wanted to make sure that you knew. I may be the Boss at work, but I’m still your mother at home and you can come to me anytime for anything. So, who is it, that Robby from High School?”

  “Mother, please. I’m expecting someone and I have to get ready.”

  She peered over my shoulder into Kara’s tiny studio apartment. “Raquel, why stay here? Why not come home? We have so much space at the house.”

  “Mother.”

  “OK, OK, Gimme a kiss and I’ll go.”

  “Mom, I just put on lipstick.”

  “OK, OK, Air kiss. Love you kid. See you tomorrow.” She hugged me and left.

  I shut the door and went to the mirror to do my final check. Not too bad, I was loading my clutch from my shoulder bag when the doorbell rang again. This time it was Eddie.

  As I expected, he was wearing his grey suit. He stepped inside Kara’s apartment and said, “Boy, you looked good at lunch but now, wow.”

  I said, “Thank you.” and twirled to show him the low cut back.

  I took his arm and when we got to his rental car, he opened my door for me. I reached over and unlocked his side but when he reached for the door, I locked it. He rolled his eyes and smiled. When he shook his car key at me, I let him in.

  He drove to the River Lodge, an old riverside mill converted into one of my favorite restaurants. Since it was a weeknight, it wasn’t too crowded and we didn’t have to wait for a table. The maître d’ put us next to a window overlooking the river. We sat close enough to the piano that we could hear the soft jazz but far enough that we could hear each other talk.

  A server came over with menus and lit the miniature hurricane lamp on the table.

  “Raquel, I’m impressed. I like this place.”

  “Thanks. If you like the atmosphere, just wait till you try the food.”

  We were reading our menus when Eddie waved at someone behind me. A good-looking woman standing by the door began to walk our way. When she got to the table, Eddie said, “Haven’t seen you for a while.”

  The woman laughed and flipped her long straight hair back over her bare shoulder. “Nice to see you again too.” She smiled at me with toothpaste commercial teeth and then said to Eddie, “I guess I’ll see you again later.” She looked back towards the maître d’ podium just as a man approached it from outside. “Gotta go. My date wouldn’t let the valet park his car.”

  We watched her leave. She looked as good going as she did coming. If Eddie knew women like her, I wondered why he was dating me. He must have noticed me watching her because he said, “It’s not what you think.”

  “What do I think?”

  “You think, ‘This is his first day in Waalboek and he’s spent it chasing women.’ It’s not true.” Eddie picked up his menu again.

  “OK.”

  He lowered his menu. “Just OK? I was hoping you’d care enough to want to know how I know her.”

  I put down my menu. “OK, so who is she and why does she expect to see you later?”

  “Desk clerk at the hotel. Just checked me in a few hours ago. Then she told me where I could find an ATM and gave me directions to your place. All on the up and up.”

  “Feel better now?”

  “Yes, I do. A man’s nothing without his reputation.”

  We had a leisurely dinner. Eddie had a steak, me the fish special and we split a bottle of Bordeaux. When dessert came, I watched him eat the house dessert, a creampuff filled with soft vanilla ice cream covered with chocolate and whipped cream. It was bad enough watching him eat it but then I had to listen to him rave about it.

  As we relaxed over coffee, the waiter brought the check and Eddie handed him his credit card. Our talk turned back to the Kewpie killings and I asked, “New York aside, do you have any other leads on that clown’s death?”

  Eddie pushed back from the table and said, “I did find one lead. About 20 years before, the dead clown worked for a while at another Florida carnival, where there was a murder suicide, a husband and wife.”

  “Yes, I think I read about them. The carny owner and his wife. You think that there’s a connection between their deaths and the clown’s?”

  “They knew each other plus the owner, his wife and the clown each had a Kewpie with the head snapped off. We also heard that the clown and the dead owner had a falling out. Seems the clown was a big draw and he left for a bigger show. After that, business at the first carnival started to slide.”

  “That sounds like motive.”

  “Yeah, but that first case was 20 years ago. The owner and this wife were long dead by then.

  The waiter returned. Eddie signed his name and then drove me home. As we sat in the car, I felt natural and easy. Eddie made me feel at home wherever we were. We got out of his rental and walked up the stairs where I stood with my back against my door and faced him. Eddie raised his arm, leaned in and kissed me on the mouth.

  When he finished, I put my hand around his neck, pulled him closer and kissed him back.

  Eddie asked, “Can I come in?�
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  Chapter Seven – Time changes everything

  I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to hook up but thought I might want something long term. I was afraid to seem cheap.

  “You’re hesitating. That’s a good sign.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. If you didn’t like me, the answer would be a fast ‘No’. Also, the fact you’re thinking about your answer tells me you care what I think about you. That’s good because I care what you think about me. Maybe I can come in? We can chat and save the hot, sweaty but wonderful sex for another date?”

  “How can a girl refuse a rain check for hot, sweaty but wonderful sex? C’mon in.”

  I made coffee and we talked. Then, I made more coffee and we talked some more.

  After a while, we got around to how we both grew up without siblings.

  I said, “Mom couldn’t have any more kids after me. She felt guilty I was an only child and tried to make it up by playing with me.”

  “Lots of parents play with their kids.”

  “Yeah, but with her, it was a mission. After a few years, it was obvious. You know how sometimes you arrange your social life to make a point of seeing friends you haven’t seen in a while?”

  “So, you remain close…”

  “I had to include her in the rotation and do gal-pal things or she acted like she failed me. Then, when my Dad died, it got worse.”

  “She thought she had to be both Mom and Dad?”

  “Yeah, she felt guilty Dad died. She believed she should have been able to do something to save him.”

  “Was she with him at the time?”

  “No, that was the year Mom ran for City Council, Dad died in Florida working on a story. She thought she should have been with him, should have spent more time with him instead of campaigning… she dropped out of the race. He spent a lot of time alone then, what with me away at school and Mom trying to get elected.”

  “Could she have saved him?”

  “She’ll never know. He fell and hit his head.”

  “That’s too bad. Even if she went with him, she might not have been with him at the right time.”

  “And now, she’s my employer. You know, the result is instead of being a full time mom; mine spends our time together trying to be someone else… my girlfriend, my Dad and my Boss. There are only so many hours in a day. I already lost Dad. I guess I just want Mom to be my mom. I don’t want to share her.”

  “Sure, that makes sense.” He seemed to get why I needed my mother to be just my mother and nothing else.

  “I never realized this before. I guess I needed to talk it out. Thanks.”

  “Glad to help. I often don’t know what I think until I say it.” He put his arm around me and I snuggled in.

  My revelation led to more conversation about my Dad, a painful topic rarely discussed. When I rehashed the story of his funeral, how we had his body shipped back home, I started to cry. Eddie held me and stroked my hair until I stopped. Then, with a tissue in my hand, I shared memories of Dad, how much I loved him driving me in his restored ’65 MGB with the top down. When I talked about an interstate trip we planned but never got to take, I cried again.

  We cuddled some more and after a while, we got around to his family and he told me about his folks. They lived an hour or so from Eddie where they retired to a barrier island off the east coast. I didn’t hear too much more of what he said because I kept dozing off. It wasn’t due to lack of interest and I hoped he didn’t notice.

  When the sun rose, the light through the one big apartment window woke me. My hands went to my head to smooth out my hair and I saw we both fell asleep on the couch. Eddie stirred, looked at his watch and said, “Geez, I’ve got to leave for the airport in a few hours.”

  “So now what?”

  “Tomorrow, actually today, I go back to Florida and serve justice. You?”

  “I go to the office and inform the public.”

  “About what?”

  “All the news that fits.”

  “Would it be ok if I called you from time to time?”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Later that morning, Uncle Bill assigned me a new story. He wanted a feature for the Sunday edition about the effect of city construction projects on downtown businesses. Morty’s Dry Cleaning store wasn’t the only place that suffered when the city and contractors had a dispute.

  The story seemed dull but he was right. Local business people and city management folks would probably read it. I wanted to seek a link between the victims in the Kewpie killings, but this new story gave me an excuse to talk to Morty again. I wanted to ask him more about Burke.

  Once the city finished the sewer project in his neighborhood, business improved. Finding a parking space was hard before due to the construction. Now, it was hard due to the increase in business. Some folks would call that progress. After a couple of turns around the block, a spot opened up near Morty’s store.

  When I entered, the little bell on the door rang and Morty looked up from his cash register. It only took a moment for him to recognize me and wave. His customer pocketed some change, took clothes from the rack and left.

  Morty looked past me. “So, is Officer Robby here too?”

  “No, just me.”

  “Even better.”

  “Morty, I’m a reporter for the Chronicle and we want to do a story about how city projects impact local businesses. Can we talk about that?”

  “Oh… you’re not going to include what I told you about Robby and Burke, are you? I couldn’t have that get out. If I knew you were a reporter, I never would have said anything.” His head swayed loosely from side to side.

  “No. It’s all right. Nobody finds out anything about what you told me before. That was different. Besides, we reporters protect our sources. OK?”

  He relaxed and smiled when I rubbed his arm. “OK.”

  “But, before we get to the story, could you answer one more question about Burke for me?”

  “In confidence?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess so.”

  “After Burke died, who took over his accounts?”

  “Well, I don’t know if anyone ‘took over’ his business, but these days, if folks need cash, they see Dimitri Fallinger.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Owns the pawn shop on Third. Why do you want to know about him?”

  “I want to know if Finley owed Burke money.”

  “You think maybe he killed Burke instead of paying him? Then who killed Finley?”

  “Don’t know. That’s why I want to talk to Fallinger. Maybe he took over and wanted to send a message?”

  “If he did, that talk could be very dangerous.”

  “Thanks, Morty. You’re a sweetheart. I’ll be careful. In the meantime, tell me and our readers, how did the city project affect your business?”

  He beckoned me behind the counter. “Pull up a chair.”

  After an hour with Morty, there was still time to see Fallinger before lunch. First Avenue divided the named streets from the numbered ones. Only a few blocks away, Third could have been in a different city. Once you crossed Maple to First, you could see the graffiti and the change in businesses. Buildings on named streets housed dry cleaners, boutiques and salons. Those on the numbered ones catered to poorer residents. Laundromats, second hand stores, furniture rental companies and bail bond offices peeped out between other buildings vacant and boarded. In addition, vendors populated the street corners selling whatever they could from folding tables and cardboard boxes.

  It took only a short stroll to cross the economic divide, so after considering the fact that I was still driving Kara’s car, I left it where it was. A few minutes later, I saw an abandoned Waalbroek Savings and Loan building with three pawnbroker balls painted on a dirty window covered by a metal screen. Above the drawing, painted gold letters said, “CASH FOR GOLD”. No one seemed to be inside.

  I tried to
open the metal mesh covered door but it didn’t budge so I pressed the doorbell and waited. Letters on the door read, “Check Cashing, Mail Boxes & Safe Storage.” When I noticed a camera peered down from above me, I smiled and waved. The door buzzed. I pushed it again and entered the shop in time to see a man come out from a back room.

  A waist high counter ran along each of the room’s walls. Some type of clear glass or plastic extended from the countertop to the ceiling. Except for a sliding window in one spot, it looked thick and possibly bulletproof. The man took a seat on a high stool behind the opening, smoked a cigarette and watched me.

  “Mr. Fallinger?”

  The man sat quietly smoking his cigarette.

  “I’m Raquel Flanagan. Did you know Bradley Burke?”

  He used his cigarette to light another one and then said, “I know of no such man.”

  “You may know him as ‘Breaker’ Burke.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “He is dead.”

  “Yes, I’m a reporter… looking into his death. How did you know him?”

  “He got mail here,” Fallinger exhaled cigarette smoke, “… and stored things in my vault.”

  “His mail came here?”

  He nodded. “Many of my customers live in bad neighborhoods where bad people steal mail, especially the government checks.”

  “You have safe deposit boxes?”

  “No, not like bank, but there is original vault from when this building was bank. I rent space in my vault.”

  “Burke left behind a lot of business.”

  “Yes.”

  “So you took over his loan sharking and book making after he died?”

  “No, no betting.” He made a face. “Collecting from gamblers is much work. I’m not shark either. I loan advances to some of my regular check-cashing customers. Take collateral. No strong-arm stuff. These are poor working people, not enough money to open and keep bank accounts. What they have, they have to spend. I help them.”

  “You don’t charge them?”

  “Of course, I do. If I go out of business, then what they do?”

  “Standard bank rates?”