Death Notice

by Lolli Powell

  “Eggo waffles with maple syrup and butter, orange juice, bacon, and coffee. And a big kiss for a great mom.” Brandon leaned over and kissed her, giving her a hug before he pulled away.

  “I love this service,” Jen said. “You can’t get the kiss and hug at the pancake house.”

  “You probably could if you played your cards right.”

  “Very funny. Now what’s this all about? You must want something.”

  Ever since he was little, Brandon had always plied her with special favors and treats whenever he wanted a certain toy or privilege. When he was younger, he had drawn her pictures or picked her flowers. Once, when he was six, he had proudly given her a toad he’d found on the school grounds. Now that he was older, he generally prepared food or did housework to soften her up for whatever he wanted. She pitied the women he would know when he was a man. They wouldn’t have a chance against him. By that time, his charm would be perfected to a fine art.

  “Mom.” He drew the word out to two syllables. “I just wanted to fix you breakfast in bed for a change.”

  “And I certainly appreciate it.” She stuffed a slice of bacon in her mouth. “It’s delicious. Now, did you have anything you wanted to ask me?”

  Brandon grinned, unable to hide any longer that he did indeed have something to ask her.

  “Can I go with Matt and his mom and dad to the lake this weekend? They’re taking their boat, and it’ll be a lot of fun.”

  Matt Phillips was Brandon’s best friend. His father and mother were both registered nurses. Matt was their only child, and they often invited Brandon to go with them to their lake cabin.

  “Did Matt’s parents ask you, or did Matt?”

  “Mrs. Phillips did. Is it okay?”

  “I suppose so.” Jen knew that Brandon would be as safe with Jack and Carrie Phillips as he would be with her. They were conscientious people and never took chances on the water. “Is Carrie working today?”

  “I think she’ll be home. Matt said she started vacation yesterday. They’re going to leave tomorrow after Mr. Phillips gets off work and come back Sunday afternoon.”

  “I’ll call her when I get to work.” Jen took a sip of her coffee. “Or maybe I should hold off giving my permission till I see what you fix for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, Mom!” He managed two syllables again, and she chuckled. She thought for a moment.

  “How would you like to have company for dinner?”

  While tossing and turning overnight, she had decided to forgive Will his slip of the day before. After all, she wouldn’t want a man who wasn’t concerned for her well-being. As long as he didn’t go overboard with it, she thought she could overlook it.

  Wait a sec, she thought. What do I mean, I wouldn’t want a man who wasn’t concerned? Who said I wanted a man, period!

  She shook her head. It’s just one dinner, she thought, and he did say he wanted to meet my son.

  “Sure,” Brandon said. “Who is it? Some new dude you’re dating?”

  “I’m not dating this ‘dude,’ as you put it. I just met him a couple of days ago. His name is Will Anderson. He’s an FBI agent who’s been assigned to assist our department with these murders.”

  “FBI? Wow, sure! Wait’ll I tell Matt!”

  “Now I don’t want you to bug Will tonight. He’ll be our guest, and I expect you to be polite.”

  “I’m not going to bug him.” She thought Brandon did a passable job of appearing indignant.

  “Uh-huh. I know you. You’ll expect him to tell you about every case he’s ever been on. If you have your way, the poor man’s food will get cold while he tells you stories.”

  “Okay, I promise. I won’t bug him till after he’s done eating.”

  “Worm.”

  She ruffled his hair, and he grinned.

  “You must like him a lot, huh, Mom?”

  “He’s okay.”

  “Yeah, I bet he’s more than just okay. You never brought any guys home to meet me before. This FBI guy must really be something.”

  Jen stared at her son in amazement. For thirteen, he was amazingly astute. What have I done here, she thought, created a monster?

  “You’ve met guys I’ve dated,” she protested.

  “Yeah, when they came here to pick you up. You never invited any guys here to eat with us.”

  “I haven’t? I guess I never thought about it.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Isn’t it about time you left for school?” Jen scowled. “You’re going to make me late for work.”

  Brandon giggled and kissed her again.

  “Sure, Mom, whatever you say.”

  He left the room, still giggling. Jen leaned back against the pillows, thinking over what he’d said. He was right. She’d never brought any male she’d dated home for dinner. She hadn’t even thought about it when she decided to invite Will; it had just seemed natural to bring him home to meet her son. Brandon had picked up on the significance of that fact before she had realized it herself.

  She set the remains of the breakfast aside and got to her feet, sighing. She looked at her reflection in the dresser mirror across from the bed and grinned self-consciously.

  “Your kid’s right, you know,” she said to her reflection. “You do like this FBI guy, don’t you?”

  Still grinning, she headed for the shower, anxious now to see if Will had plans for the evening.

  CHAPTER 21

  Judging from the expression on Will’s face when she invited him to dinner, he was more than a little relieved that she wasn’t holding his protectiveness of the day before against him. He accepted eagerly.

  “Can I bring anything?” he said.

  “No, I’ll have everything. If you want wine, you can bring that. Since I’ll be going out to The Factory later, I think I’ll pass on alcohol with dinner.”

  “So you set it up with Jamie?”

  “She can’t make it. She’s already committed to going out with her parents for their anniversary. One of the female patrol officers is going with me.”

  Jen had cornered Jamie first thing that morning and had been disappointed to learn she was unable to accompany her to The Factory. The two of them had done stakeouts and undercover work before and worked well together. Jamie had suggested that she call Trish Peters. Trish was a recently divorced patrol officer who had just bought a new car and needed every bit of overtime she could finagle. It was her day off, and she readily agreed to Jen’s plans.

  “What time are you going?”

  Jen could see that he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of her trolling for a serial killer, but she appreciated that he was resisting the impulse to say anything.

  “I told her I’d pick her up in the employees’ lot about a quarter till nine. That should give us plenty of time to relax and enjoy dinner.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Will’s voice was as warm as his eyes. “And I’m looking forward to meeting Brandon.”

  “It’s mutual. I apologize in advance if he bothers you with too many questions. I think he’s been watching too many FBI shows on television.”

  Will laughed.

  “Kids do tend to think we’re all pretty wonderful,” he said. “I don’t mind if Brandon thinks that about me. I just hope his mother will come to agree with him.”

  They were in Lonnie’s office, alone for the moment, and Jen was suddenly aware of the smallness of the room and the nearness of the man. His pull was almost magnetic, and she had to force herself not to move toward him. Her breath quickened, and she ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips.

  The gesture nearly drove Will mad. He felt himself hardening in response, and he struggled to control himself. They were standing in Lonnie’s office after all. He had no doubt that Jen’s observant sergeant would be the first to notice if his suit pants were pulling a little too tightly across his crotch.

  Then he saw Jen’s eyes drop involuntarily before she looked away, blushing. Well, maybe Lonnie wouldn’
t be the first to notice after all. He picked up a stack of reports and settled himself in a chair, laying the reports across his lap. They would have to remain there until the evidence of how she affected him had disappeared.

  He was amazed at himself. He reacted like a pubescent kid to this woman, his emotions and desires exposed for all to see. What’s more, there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. He had never felt this way before. He would do whatever it took to have this woman in his bed. But once he had, he wondered if he’d be able to ever let her out again.

  The door to the office opened. Lonnie and Al came in, and Will pulled his thoughts away from Jen Dillon and back to the case.

  The morning passed quickly and unproductively. They went over statements from the victims’ neighbors, relatives, and friends, but nothing new stood out in light of the most recent killing. The only common ground seemed to be BodyFit, but since it was the newest and hottest club in town, they couldn’t be sure there was any significance in all three victims having gone there.

  The Factory was still a possible link. A couple of Carla Edwards’s female friends thought she might have stopped in there once or twice with dates, but they had been unable to find any men who recalled taking her there. Careful and roundabout questioning of Judy Sams’s friends and family made it clear that none of them had known about Judy’s secret walks on the wild side.

  Lab reports were in on the contents of the drain traps at the Edwards and Kaufmann crime scenes. Hairs matching the ones found in the bedrooms had been located in the drains. The killer had showered after doing Carla Edwards, just as he had after killing Vicki. The information didn’t put them any closer to locating the monster, but it was interesting.

  Just before noon, Will and Don excused themselves. The Cincinnati office had called to tell them they had located Arthur Kelty’s last known address, and agents had talked to people who knew him. Since Don also had to check on his other cases, they had decided to pick up the transcripts rather than have the documents faxed.

  Jen and Al headed out for lunch together. Al drove to The Waterwheel, just outside of town, and they found a quiet table in the corner. It wasn’t one of their usual lunch spots, and she suspected he’d chosen it knowing it was unlikely they’d be interrupted. He’d been unusually quiet on the way there. Something was bothering her partner, and Jen had a pretty good idea she was going to find out what it was. But instead of speaking whatever was on his mind, he ordered and ate without anything more than normal conversation.

  She watched him as he ate. He was not a particularly handsome man, but he looked strong and steady. His face was deeply lined, and his hair was steel gray and still thick. He didn’t work out or run, but he kept strong and fit through physical labor during his off hours. He cut firewood and sold it for extra money, and he raised a garden during the summer in addition to hunting and fishing.

  His wife, Sally, was a few years younger than Al. She was a rosy-faced and slightly chubby woman whom Jen had grown to love very much. In fact, Jen felt closer to her than she did to her own mother. Al, however, was more than a father figure. They were partners, and that was closer in many ways than even lovers.

  They finished eating. Al ordered coffee for both of them. She knew he was finally going to say what he had brought her here to say.

  “We’re going to get him,” he said after the waitress had brought their coffee.

  “I hope so. Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

  “We’ll find him,” he said again. “I know it, Dillon, don’t ask me how, but I know it. It’s going to be you and me that gets him.”

  “What are you trying to tell me—that you’re psychic or something? How can you possibly know that we’re going to get him at all, much less that it’s going to be you and me?” Jen shook her head in exasperation. “I don’t believe you. It’s not like you to go all mystic on me.”

  “I can’t explain it myself. It’s just a feeling I have, a feeling that my whole damn career has led up to this.”

  “Oh, come on, Al!”

  “Okay, okay.” He waved a hand at her. “Forget my male intuition. Let’s just play pretend for a minute, okay? Let’s pretend we—you and me—do get him. What then?”

  “What do you mean, what then? We do whatever the situation calls for. Just like we always do.”

  Al looked at her for a long time as if debating with himself whether he should go any further. Finally he made his decision and took a deep breath.

  “What if you and me do find him,” he began, “and we do a little more than the ‘situation calls for,’ as you put it? Will you help me do just a little more if we get the chance?”

  “Al, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I don’t want to discuss it.”

  She signaled the waitress for the check.

  “Damn it, Dillon, I do want to discuss it. You’re my partner, and I’d like to have some idea where you stand and whether or not you’ll back me up. I know what I want to do, what I will do, if I get the chance. But I don’t know what you’ll do.”

  “You know what you’re saying, don’t you?” Jen lowered her voice. “You’re talking execution, Al. You’re a cop, for Christ’s sake, and you’re talking about execution.”

  “So what? If we don’t do it, do you think anyone else will? Do you think those women’s families will care if we waste the animal that butchered them?”

  Al’s voice was starting to rise in agitation. He stopped for a moment and looked around to see if anyone was listening. No one appeared to be, and he went on in a lower tone.

  “Do you want to see those poor people put through months or years of waiting to see justice done? You know as well as I do that Kelty or whoever this maniac is will probably never see the needle.”

  “Al, I don’t know whether I’ll be the one to kill this man or not, but I can tell you one thing. I won’t kill him in cold blood.”

  “He has to die, Dillon. You know that.”

  “I don’t know any such thing, and neither do you. We don’t even know who he is, for Christ’s sake. He could turn out to be your brother, your friend, even another cop. What then, Al? Could you execute him then, or would that make a difference? He’s somebody’s friend, somebody’s brother, somebody’s son. What if he’s yours? Could you kill him then, or would he become a poor sick individual who couldn’t help himself?”

  She pulled a ten out of her purse as she saw the waitress approaching and slammed the money down on the table.

  “Think about it, Al. Think about it real hard.” She stood up. “I”m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you in the car.”

  In the restroom, Jen saw that her hands were trembling. She took several deep breaths and toyed with her makeup until she was calm. She was suddenly grateful to Lonnie that he had paired the two of them with the FBI agents. If and when they found the killer, the two of them would not be alone. Al would not get the chance to waste the killer if he gave up without a struggle, and she would not be faced with the decision of what to do if he did.

  CHAPTER 22

  The afternoon passed much as the morning had. Will and Don returned around four with little to report on the search for Arthur Kelty. His last known address had been a rooming house in St. Louis. The Bureau had discovered that only because he and his father had once stayed there during Wayne’s cross-country killing spree. Artie had shown up a week after his escape from the juvenile detention center and stayed six months. The man who owned the rooming house had been convinced of Wayne’s innocence and put Artie up without question. Later the man had been accused of molesting a neighborhood boy, but the charge had been dropped when the boy refused to testify. The agent who had interviewed him about Artie suspected the man had been more interested in Artie than in Wayne’s innocence.

  At four-thirty, they called it a day. Since Will had decided to follow her to her apartment directly from the building, they walked to their personal vehicles together, Jen trying hard to ignore Lonnie and Al as they
walked behind them. They were talking in low tones, and she was thankful she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Most of it was probably x-rated.

  As she approached her home, she grew more nervous. She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted this meeting between her son and Will to go well. It was a kind of test, she supposed, a test of how well Will might fit into their lives, as well as a test of his intent.

  Are we talking long-range thoughts here, Dillon, she questioned herself. It surprised her that she had gotten that far in such a short time. It had never happened before, not even with Jake. She knew it was a measure of just how much Will had affected her.

  Brandon had opened the door by the time they started up the steps. He’d apparently been watching and listening for their arrival. His blond hair was still damp from his shower, and he’d put on clean jeans, a shirt, and a lightweight pullover sweater for the occasion. She smiled at him in appreciation of his efforts.

  “Will, this is Brandon Dillon, my son. Brandon, this is Will Anderson.”

  Brandon grasped Will’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly. Jen felt her heart lurch at the grownup gesture. She wouldn’t have her baby boy much longer.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Brandon,” Will said warmly. “Your mother’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Don’t believe any of it, Mr. Anderson.” Brandon grinned. “I’m not really that bad.”

  Will laughed.

  “Call me Will. Mr. Anderson makes me feel too old.”

  “Okay, Will.”

  They moved into the apartment, and Jen dropped her purse on the table just inside the door.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she offered.

  “No, thanks. Can I help you with the food?”

  “Not a lot to do, but thanks anyway,” she said. “I’m just going to grill some chicken and bake some potatoes in the microwave. Why don’t you two get acquainted?”

  “How can we do that, Mom?” Brandon grinned mischievously. “You told me not to bug him with questions.”