Since 1930, the Plaza lights have been a Christmas tradition in Kansas City. On Thanksgiving night, a ceremonial switch is thrown and eighty miles of wire and 280,000 lights come alive, outlining the buildings of the famous shopping district.
No holiday season is complete without a visit to the Plaza.
Maggie was indeed thrilled.
We met Ox and Judy at the steakhouse and were seated by the window where we could watch the twinkling lights and the shoppers bustling by with their purchases.
You haven’t lived until you’ve sunk your teeth into a Ruth’s Chris filet, served still sizzling in melted butter on a hot metal platter.
I was in the mood to slowly savor each bite, but I noticed that Ox was gobbling his down like there was no tomorrow.
Judy must have noticed it too. “Slow down, Babe. We’ve got all evening. Chew slowly and enjoy. That’s five bucks a bite.”
Ox did make the effort, but I could see that he was fidgety as all get out.
I thought that he was going to pop a blood vessel when the meal was over and the rest of us decided to order coffee.
When we finally hit the sidewalk, Ox summoned one of the many horse-drawn carriages that ply the streets carrying holiday revelers through the maze of glowing lights.
They come in many shapes. Ours must have been a replica of Cinderella’s famous carriage. I hoped it wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin before our ride was over.
It was drawn by a horse that had to have been the subject of the song, The Old Gray Mare, and it was pretty obvious that she wasn’t what she used to be.
The driver was a big jolly black man that looked like he could have been Aunt Jemima’s husband.
Before he and Judy climbed into the back seat, I saw Ox slip the guy an extra twenty. “When we get to the J.C. Nichols fountain, pull up onto the grass.”
The driver nodded and we were off.
The lights were beautiful and the weather was mild for December. It was a wonderful ride, but, of course, every silver lining has a cloud.
We had just passed the huge Barnes & Noble when we heard a growl from the engine compartment up front.
Soon, our trusty steed was depositing big steamy piles of poop right in the middle of 47th Street.
I heard a kid on the sidewalk say, “Ooooooh, gross!”
Since there were at least a half dozen carriages roaming the Plaza streets, I wondered who was in charge of emission control.
I soon found out. A young guy with a broom and a scoop was right behind us making the streets safe for pedestrians once again.
Seeing that, I vowed to never complain about my job again.
We crossed the intersection and the driver pulled up onto the grass in front of the beautiful J.C. Nichols fountain, just as Ox had asked.
It was indeed a beautiful setting, the fountain with its four horses and children riding dolphins on one side and the twinkling lights on the other.
We all just sat quietly drinking in the beauty.
I heard Ox rustling in the back seat and then the silence was broken.
“Judy DeMarco, will you marry me? Will you be my wife?”
I heard a gasp from Judy.
I felt Maggie squeeze my hand and we both held our breath in anticipation.
It was in that electrifying moment of silence that the old gray mare lifted her tail and belted out a fart that got the attention of passersby a half block away.
As the gentle breeze carried the aroma of fermented oats into the carriage, I heard Ox mutter, “Good Lord!”
That was the last straw. Judy, Maggie and I just couldn’t hold it in a minute longer.
We burst into fits of laughter.
When we finally had things under control, I heard Judy whisper, “Of course I will you big lug. What girl could resist a proposal like this?”
I’m sure it didn’t go down exactly like Ox had imagined that it would, but it worked.
My partner was getting hitched!
CHAPTER 20
Let’s face the facts. Weddings are for the bride. The groom couldn’t care less, but he has to pretend to, because that’s all part of the process.
I almost went into a coma when Maggie started talking about receptions, flowers, cakes and a guest list for our upcoming nuptials.
I lucked out. Maggie and I decided to get married in the beautiful Hawaiian Islands, so I never had to decide whether butter crème frosting was the perfect topping for a cake.
The guest list was easy --- we dragged Willie and Mary along as the best man and bridesmaid.
For a couple in their sixties, all of the pomp and circumstance of a traditional wedding seemed a bit much. We both were thrilled with our Hawaiian wedding.
Ox and Judy were another story altogether.
After Ox popped the question, Judy accepted, and the last remnants of the old gray mare’s flatulence had drifted away, Maggie and Judy were already busy making plans.
Ox and I might as well have been in a different carriage.
The only time Ox was drawn into the exchange was when the timing of the ceremony came up.
Thankfully, Maggie kept her yap shut while Ox and Judy quietly conferred in the back seat.
The decision didn’t take long.
“We’re both cops,” Ox said, “and every day we go out on the street and put our lives on the line. God forbid that anything should happen, but anything could. We’ve decided that every minute together is precious and we don’t see any reason to put this off. Christmas Eve! We’re getting married on Christmas Eve! I can’t think of a better gift for either of us.”
“Christmas Eve!” Maggie wailed. “That’s just two weeks away. How are we going to pull off a wedding in two weeks?”
From that moment on, Ox and I were relegated back to the ranks of second-class citizen while the girls chatted away.
“Pretty clever,” I whispered.
“How so?” Ox asked.
“Married at Christmas --- only one date to remember --- only one gift to buy --- real slick!”
“Never gave it a thought,” he said.
“Yeah, right!”
Oscar knew that if he were going to make a cop his next target, his plan would have to be perfect.
He had no illusions that he could physically subdue a police officer. Fighting just wasn’t his thing. He would have to take his prey by surprise and render him unconscious very quickly.
After much thought, he figured that a stun gun was his best option, but he couldn’t just go to a retail store and buy one. The cops would be sure to check out any recent sales.
Then he thought of Craig’s List. He fired up his laptop and typed ‘stun gun’ in the search field.
Immediately, the listing he had hoped to see popped onto the screen.
“My husband got this stun gun for me when he was still living in Germany. It works like a charm. Looks like a cell phone. Has a LED flashlight on the end that is wonderful while you're walking at night or to your car.
“It is in perfect condition and all original packaging ..... great for a gift for a single woman or someone who is out and about alone, walking to the car at night from work, from the mall etc.
“It's a stun gun disguised as a mobile phone. Although it does not function as a cellular phone, it's designed to look like one. It makes it easy to conceal and carry the device without drawing much attention. You may not be able to make phone calls with this device but you can deliver 900,000 volts of electricity to any would-be assailant or attacker. It’s very light- weight and durable and resembles a Nokia N series cell phone. It comes with rechargeable batteries so you don't need to constantly change batteries after using the device. It even has a built in LED flashlight which is very handy. It's very practical and easy to use. Ideal for both men and women, especially those who work night shifts.
“Rechargeable battery included.”
Perfect, and she was only asking fifty bucks.
The woman had listed a cell phone number and indi
cated that she lived in Overland Park, Kansas, just a half hour drive from the hospital.
He met the woman in the parking lot of the Metcalf South Shopping Mall and sealed the deal.
This kill was going to cost him some money, but it was worth it.
His next hurdle was to construct an airtight alibi.
As soon as the cop’s body was found, he was sure that the detective would be all over him, so he would have to account for his whereabouts at the time of the murder.
The movie alibi had worked perfectly, but he couldn’t risk that one again. It would be too obvious.
It would be ideal if he could be out of town. You can’t be accused of killing a cop if you’re somewhere else, but that would be a hard one to pull off.
Then an idea began to form. It was elaborate and would take the rest of his savings, but if he pulled it off, the cops wouldn’t have a clue.
The timing had to be perfect.
Oscar checked his work schedule for the next week. He had been working midnights and he saw that after his two days off, he would be on second shift. This would be perfect.
He called the number of the Branson Tourism Center and ordered a ticket for the Andy Williams Christmas Show.
He was dog-tired, but as soon as his midnight shift was over, he climbed into his old Honda and began the four and a half hour drive to Branson, Missouri.
He pulled into the Branson Tourist Center on the outskirts of town at one in the afternoon and picked up his ticket to the Christmas show.
There were dozens of hotels and motels in Branson, but when he saw the listing for the Barrington Hotel and Suites, he knew that had to be the one.
When he was involved in the Midtown Book Club, Stuart Woods’ Stone Barrington character was one of his favorites. Woods had written twenty-five mystery novels with the salty detective, Stone Barrington, as the hero.
He checked into the hotel and pre-paid his room with his credit card.
It was just two o’clock, so he figured he could get a couple of hours sleep before the long drive back to Kansas City.
After a short nap, he changed into the clothing he had brought that gave him the appearance of a homeless guy, and was on the road back to the city by four o’clock.
Once back in Kansas City, he drove to a Dunkin’ Donuts shop in Midtown which he knew was a favorite stop for the cops, parked on a side street, and waited.
At nine-thirty, a cruiser pulled into the lot. One of the cops headed for the donut shop while his partner waited in the car.
Oscar slipped out of the Honda, approached the cruiser and tapped on the window.
The cop rolled down his window. “How can I help you?”
“Just got into town and need a place to sleep,” Oscar said. “Somebody told me about a homeless shelter. Can you give me directions?”
The cop looked at the tattered coat. “Sure,” He turned away briefly to point the way.
Oscar took that moment to press the stun gun into the cop’s neck.
The officer went rigid and then still.
Oscar quickly pulled the razor sharp knife from its sheath and sliced the officer’s throat.
He carefully placed the novel in the cop’s lap and hurried back to the Honda.
He was a block away before the second officer discovered his partner’s body.
Oscar drove to the river and tossed the gunnysack with all of the incriminating evidence into the swift current.
He looked at his watch. It was just eleven. He couldn’t return to his apartment until at least ten the next day.
He drove to a deserted road and curled up with a blanket in the back seat.
He was cold and stiff when he awoke, but it had been worth it. He had carried out his plan without a hitch.
All that was left was to make sure his landlady saw him come home.
Christmas or not, the Librarian would soon be front-page news again.
CHAPTER 21
The timing couldn’t have been worse.
While we were celebrating Ox’s engagement, just a couple of miles away, the Librarian had savagely taken the life of a fellow officer.
At squad meeting, the Captain addressed a solemn and red-eyed group of men and women.
“In the ten minutes that Officer Rosenbloom was in the donut shop, his partner, Officer Mason was brutally murdered.
“There is little doubt that his attacker was the Librarian. A novel had been placed in the dead officer’s hands. The title was Targeted, by John M. Wills, about a cop killer on the loose in Chicago.
“It appears that the Librarian has moved from homeless men and prostitutes to his newest target --- us!
“This is a clever and calculating killer. I can’t emphasize enough the importance of working in pairs. Until we have this bastard behind bars, never let your partner out of your sight. Based on his track record, he is probably already planning his next kill. Don’t let it be one of you!
“We’re sending you out this morning to canvass the area around the donut shop. It happened in a lighted parking lot on a busy street, for chrissakes. Somebody had to see something.
“His previous murders were bad enough, but now this is personal. He has killed one of our own. Let’s get the son-of-a-bitch!”
After the meeting, the Captain pulled Ox and me aside.
“Blaylock wants you to pick up Roach. We have to question the guy. He’s our only lead.”
We started to walk away and the Captain added, “Oh, something else. Call his attorney and give her a heads up. He won’t talk unless she’s here, so we might as well save some time.”
On the way to pick up Roach, I called Suzanne Romero’s office. Her secretary put me through.
“Walt, what can I do for you?”
“Have you heard about Officer Mason?”
“Yes, tragic. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.
“Let me guess,” she said. “You’re on your way to pick up Oscar Roach.”
“I’m afraid so. He’s still the closest thing we have to a lead. Thought we should give you some advance warning.”
“Do you have anything to tie my client to this latest murder?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“I hope you’re not just fishing. You know I have to defend the guy.”
“Yes, I know.”
The landlady was sweeping leaves off of the sidewalk when we arrived at Roach’s building.
“Good morning, ma’am. Do you know if Mr. Roach is in his apartment?”
“Why yes, I believe he is. He arrived just a few minutes ago and went straight to his apartment.” Then she covered her mouth and whispered, “Didn’t sleep here last night. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend.”
We climbed the stairs and knocked on Roach’s door.
I could see where this was going and I didn’t like it.
Oscar had seen the cops pull up and talk to his landlady. He saw her whisper and was sure that the old busybody had told them that he had spent the night elsewhere.
So far, so good.
He heard them climb the stairs and knock, and when he opened the door, he feigned surprise, “You again! What now?”
“You need to come with us, Mr. Roach,” Ox said. “We have a few more questions for you.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my attorney,” Oscar protested.
“We’ve already called her,” I said. “She’ll meet us at the station.”
Suzanne Romero and Detective Blaylock were already in the interrogation room when we arrived.
Ox and I watched from the next room.
“A police officer was brutally murdered last night,” Blaylock said.
“Sorry to hear it,” Roach replied. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“We just need to know where you were last night?”
“Last night? Last night I was a couple a hundred miles away from here. I was in Branson --- went to a Christmas show. Wait a minute.” He reached into his po
cket and pulled out the stub to the show. He had ditched the other half of the ticket in a trashcan at a roadside park. “Here, see for yourself.”
Blaylock looked at the ticket. “Andy Williams. Really? You don’t look like the type.”
“I’m sentimental. What can I say? Saw the show, spent the night in a hotel, got up early and headed back to Kansas City. I had just gotten home when your goons picked me up.” He looked at his watch. “I had to be back in time to get ready for work. I’m on second shift today.”
“What hotel? Where’s your receipt for that?”
“Uhhh, Barrington. Yeah, the Barrington Hotel and Suites. I told you, I left real early. Prepaid with my credit card so I didn’t need a receipt. You can check it out.”
“We will.”
Suzanne had been quiet up till now.
“Detective, it’s pretty obvious that my client was nowhere near your crime scene last night, so unless you have something else?”
Blaylock looked discouraged. “No, nothing else. Your client is free to go.”
Oscar had to suppress his smile as he walked out of the station.
Another kill --- perfectly executed. The cops didn’t have a clue.
Blaylock handed us the ticket stub. “You heard?”
We both nodded.
“Check out this guy’s story --- get his credit card history --- anything you can.”
I already knew how it was going to turn out --- another dead end.
CHAPTER 22
Ox and Judy discussed the possibility of postponing their wedding in light of the recent death of Officer Mason.
They concluded, and I think rightly so, that there might not ever be a perfect time, given the violent nature of our profession.
In fact, the officer’s untimely death only underscored the notion that every moment they had to spend together was precious.
Maggie and Judy busied themselves with details like flowers, cakes and the all important, ‘what are we going to wear’.
[Lady Justice 10] - Lady Justice and the Book Club Murders Page 11