I refrained from saying that would cover up a lot of tracks and hoped Bob didn't bring up the subject again. He didn't. He just put my application in his bag and smiled at me.
I tried to forget about Bob's smile, and wondered if it was too late to sign up for Meals on Wheels beginning on Tuesday.
Bob realized that his detective work had cost him a few minutes, so he drank the hot chocolate as soon as he could do so without scalding his throat, then headed on his way. I stood in the door and watched him. He left tracks. I made a note to check back in an hour to see if I could still see those tracks.
I hoped he didn't have a lot of mail to deliver, because the deep snow would slow him down. Most of the houses in Hilldale are old enough that the mailboxes are on the houses, not the street. A few people had shoveled their walks, but no one had shoveled their yards. Instead of taking the shortest route between two points Bob would head back to the sidewalk between deliveries.
I had forgotten what two movies I had ordered, so when Bob left I opened the package. I was about to enjoy a Michael J. Fox double feature of Back to the Future and The Secret of My Success.
+++
I sat down to watch the first movie. Just after Marty McFly asked for a Tab, the house phone rang. I got up to answer it. It was Lou. He wanted to make sure I hadn't slid off the road into a snowdrift. I thanked him for his promptness, chatted a minute, and told him what I was doing. Lou had started a Thomas Kinkade jigsaw puzzle after he finished reading his book and he was far from finished with it. After all, it had two thousand pieces. We both commented on how thankful we were that we had food to eat, and I reminded Lou as to whose idea it was to stock up for the day. He promised to leave me his firstborn in his will and I thanked him profusely. We took a couple more minutes to solve the problems of the world, then we hung up. I headed back to my movie, and Lou to his puzzle of lights.
I was most of the way through the movie when I heard a noise outside. Either Mark had made good on his promise or the shovel slayer had shown up to bury the people on my street. I refrained from looking out the window, finished the first movie, and headed to the kitchen to fix lunch. I heard occasional noises of a shovel making contact with concrete. I made a note to give Mark a little extra since God had given us a lot of extra snow. It had been a while since we had had this much snow.
I decided to eat the sandwich warm, so I grabbed it from the refrigerator, popped it in the oven for a few minutes, then headed to the living room to eat it. I didn't need a break. I was ready for the second movie, which incidentally is one of my favorite movies.
I was enjoying the elusive Carlton Whitfield when I heard a knock at the door. Either Mark had finished shoveling or Bob was bringing me a couple of more movies. I paused the movie and headed to the door. I opened it and was surprised at what I saw. Mark had a friend with him. At least I assumed that the bundled up guy carrying the snow shovel was Mark.
"Is that you Mark?"
"Sure is, Lieutenant Dekker. And this is my friend Andrea."
"Wow, Mark! I hope you didn't make her do all the work."
"He didn't," she chimed in in a melodious voice.
I would have commented on how attractive Andrea was, but if I told the truth all I would have been able to say was that she had cute eyes. Everything else was covered.
I paid Mark and slipped him an extra twenty.
"It's not that much."
"Well, there was a lot of snow, and who knows, maybe you'll want to take Andrea out somewhere."
"Thanks, Lieutenant, but we're just going over to her house and text each other."
I was halfway through with my surprised look before I realized that Mark was pulling my leg. He was going to take her to Antonio's for pizza.
Mark and Andrea left, but I couldn't help thinking that if this girl was willing to come with Mark and stand outside in the cold for an hour, he should do whatever it took to keep her. Then I wondered if I was going to have to start shoveling my own snow, or break in some eight-year-old. I know what love does to people.
+++
Not everyone knows this, but I'm a romantic. So I enjoyed The Secret of My Success as much this time as I did the first ten times I had seen it, all on VHS. I made a note to check and see if Jennifer had seen it. I didn't care if Bambi was familiar with the movie, but I doubted it, since Ed Wood didn't direct it.
16
I awoke Tuesday morning with thoughts of sending out a raven to see if the snow had melted, and then I remembered the last time I sent my raven out a cat almost got it. That raven came back nevermore. When I realized I had no raven, I opened the door and was blinded by the white stuff covering my yard. Then I thought of tying a note to my carrier pigeon, a note that said, "If you are reading this, let me know who you are by tying it to the leg of my carrier pigeon and sending it back." Then I remembered my pigeon didn't make it back the last time I sent it out. It was time to head to the kitchen and see what rations I had other than peanut butter.
If a man has a box of pancake mix, the other ingredients listed on the box that are necessary to turn that mix into pancakes, and a modicum of intelligence, he can come up with breakfast. I fried some bacon and added blueberries to the pancake batter and made it even better. I managed to finish eating and left only two drops of syrup on the table. I wiped them up and put the dishes in the dishwasher. If someone visited me, he or she wouldn't know that I had eaten at home that morning. Not all bachelors are slobs. Well, not all of the time.
+++
I walked away from the dishwasher and spent thirty-five seconds contemplating the rest of my day. The phone rang and interrupted my thoughts. I hurried to see who was calling. It was Sam. I felt like Nero Wolfe, never going anywhere, but receiving lots of phone calls. But my resemblance to the classic mystery detective ended there. I didn't have a greenhouse on the roof full of orchids, nor did I have a passion for beer. I didn't have an elevator, either.
"So, Cy, do you want to know what I've learned so far, or are you too busy making wedding plans?"
"Go ahead, Sam. This shouldn't take long."
"I'll have you know that I've done a lot of digging and located almost one hundred of the people who have used that dating service. I'm sorry to say that I've found three more people who have been murdered, and in the same way as the others. Two of them were women, the other one a man. And there are a few people I haven't located yet. I have names of people who have used the agency, names of the people they have dated through the agency, and even what color card each person sent back. If I send all of this to you in an attachment, would you be able to open it?"
"I'm not sure. Why don't you deliver it along with something for lunch and supper?"
Sam informed me that he had more work to do, but he could provide me with the phone numbers of restaurants that deliver.
"And, Cy, I can tell you a little about the house you asked about in Tennessee, the one Lou escaped from."
"Let her rip."
"Well, it's owned by an older couple named Wyckoff. We were able to run them down in Germany."
"Why did you do that, Sam? Now we'll never get any information out of them."
"Cy, did anyone ever tell you that you're not funny. Anyway, as I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted, the Wyckoffs live in Lexington and have been traveling through Europe for the last four weeks, visiting one castle after another. Seems like they have a good alibi for the time of the kidnapping and murder. Besides that, they have no family, and they didn't leave a key to the Tennessee house with anyone, although there is a key at their house in Lexington. Yet, according to the Tennessee police, whoever got in that house in Tennessee didn't break in. We sent someone by to check out their Lexington house and no one has broken in there, either."
"It seems like a lot of people connected with this case live in Lexington."
"Yeah, and some of them are dying in Lexington, too. And I checked to see if there's any connection between the Comstocks, who own the dating
service, and the Wyckoffs. They live only a couple of blocks from each other, but I haven't found anything yet that tells me they know each other. Well, that's all I have for now. I'll send all of this to you and you can see what you can make out of it."
I hung up, waited five minutes, then headed to the computer. I found Sam's e-mail, opened the attachment, and printed the information. I planned to look it over and then call Lou.
I spent fifteen minutes looking over what Sam had sent me and had come to one conclusion. Someone in this picture was a beast. Up to this point we had assumed that it was one of the women who went out on a date with the two missing men, whom we later found had been murdered. But did this tie in with Lou's kidnapping? The people were murdered in the same way. If so, was one of these women capable of hoisting Lou and dumping him in her trunk along with the dead man and woman Lou woke up to find beside him in that house? Did some woman dump Lou and his newfound dead friends in a one-of-a-kind house in the Smokies, then drive back to Kentucky? But then two of the latest victims were women? Or were they the latest victims? Or did they die first? Could it be that we didn't know about them as soon as the others?
Then another thought penetrated my mind, or escaped from it. Could the murderer be someone who was jealous because someone they knew used this agency? If so, why would they go about murdering all these other people? Was it strictly to cast suspicion in some other direction? Was that the reason Lou was kidnapped? Or could it be someone who has something against the couple who own the agency? Maybe because they are making a lot of money? I still couldn't figure out how Lou's kidnapping fit in with the dating service murders. Lou had never used that dating service. Had he?
I realized the case had too many suspects and it was time to call in the cavalry, so I picked up my phone and dialed.
"Hello, my good friend."
"Sorry, Cy. I'm not going to take your place on the next date."
"It's nothing like that, Lou. But if you do change your mind, I'll consider it."
"Okay, what does your frozen mind need from me?"
"How about your presence?"
"I'm not delivering food to you."
"I mean I need another inquiring mind to help me solve this case."
"I'll see if I think of someone, but my mind hasn't been inquiring."
"Remember who came to Gatlinburg to pick you up?"
"And remember who paid back that debt by making sure you lived through that night at The Cheesecake Factory?"
"I saw you only one time that whole night."
"See how good I was at remaining undercover? That was me behind the potted plant."
"I don't think there was a potted plant."
"Okay, I was the guy cleaning the case that housed the cheesecake after you slobbered all over the glass."
"So, are you coming over here, or not?"
"Or not."
"You're not going to help me?"
"I didn't say that. I've been solving your cases for you for years while you receive all the glory. So, do you have anything new?"
"Yeah. Sam found some more people who didn't make it through their dates alive, and some other information about the people who contacted the agency for a date, and he e-mailed it to me in an attachment."
"Fine. E-mail me what he sent you, and if you aren't capable of doing that, call Sam and tell him to send it to me, too. Or you can bring your copy over here and stop by and pick up lunch on the way over."
I told Lou I would e-mail it to him and that I would see him in the spring, but to let me know if he is kidnapped again.
"Oh, and Cy, I have another message. This one is 'both live in the same neighborhood.'"
"Both live in the same neighborhood what? Is someone murdering people because of where they live, rather than something to do with that dating service?"
"I don't think so, Cy. Remember, the one guy lived in Morehead."
"But both of whom live in the same neighborhood? I don't think any two of our suspects or victims live in the same neighborhood. What kind of clue is this?"
"Hey, I don't make up the clues. I just share them."
I hung up, more confused than I was before I talked to Lou, but that is usually the case.
17
I looked over the list of the victims. John Ed Caudill, who was the reason Heather contacted me, lived in Morehead. The other man, Chris Carlisle, lived in Lexington. If those two lived in the same neighborhood it was a large neighborhood, a well over sixty mile long neighborhood. The two women were Linda Halliday, also from Lexington, and Becky Flatt, from Frankfort. Again a large neighborhood. Then there was the guy found dumped with Lou, who had been identified as Roger Wilson. He lived in Winchester. All of the victims had been injected with the same fast-acting poison, so it had to be the same murderer, or a couple of people working together. But who was injecting people? Could the murderer be a doctor, a nurse, a pharmacist, a chemist, or just some psycho who merely knew where to pick up a large amount of poison? And I still couldn't figure out who lived in the same neighborhood. But I vaguely remember someone telling me that so-and-so and so-and-so lived close to each other. I was sure the cold temperatures had frozen my brain. It was time to move on.
Next I checked to see what color of card each of the murdered people sent back, to see if they all sent the same. They did. Green. I was glad I sent back yellow. Would I be brave enough to send back green next time? And if I did, who would kill me first, the murderer or Jennifer? After that it was time to see who each person had dated. Since there were both male and female victims, I doubted if anyone had dated the same person. Maybe we had a brother and sister victim? I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw who had dated Roger Wilson. Bambi Fontaine. She told me she had been to The Cheesecake Factory only one time before. Could that bad date have been with Roger Wilson? But then Roger sent back a green card. I looked to see what color of card Bambi had sent back. It was red. I couldn't picture Bambi turning down anyone. Or could it be that Roger was more enamored with her than she was with him? Or maybe Bambi only talked about the men she didn't murder? And then I saw that Roger had dated another woman, too.
Surprise number two wasn't far behind the first one. This time I found out that two of the victims had dated each other, and both of them had sent back a green card. Did someone happen upon the two of them on their date and murder both of them there? If so, why didn't the murderer repeat his or her double murder? So, Chris Carlisle and Linda Halliday had dated and then been murdered.
I was about to move on to see when each of the people was murdered when the phone rang again.
"Did you figure it out yet, Cy?"
"I have, but I didn't want to brag. I knew it would take you longer."
"So, I guess you saw the common denominator between the murders?"
"You mean the fact that each victim was injected in the same way?"
"I've moved beyond that. I mean the dates."
"I know all of them dated someone that contacted the agency."
"I don't mean that kind of date. I mean that all of them were murdered on either Thursday or Friday."
"I was just coming to that, Lou."
"And when you come to it will you tell me why they were murdered on one of those days?"
"Someone didn't want to spoil his or her weekend."
"Some people think Friday is part of the weekend."
"What about your buddy, the one you rented the chalet with down in the Smokies?"
"When you read it, you will find out that they can only guess as to the day he was murdered. They didn't find him soon enough to know for sure."
"I would think they could narrow it down. After all, you said he hadn't started deteriorating before you left."
"I think they call it decomposing."
"That reminds me, Lou. Did you realize that none of Beethoven's music is around today?"
"Really, then how come I've heard some of it?"
"Someone else did that. But as for Beethoven, after he composed
all that music, he decomposed."
"That was bad, even for you, Cy."
"Now back to the matter at hand. Your dead buddy. The murderer could have had him in cold storage. Of course we know when the young woman was murdered."
"Yeah, sometime between when I went to sleep after drinking that stuff and when I woke up in Tennessee."
"Do you think they'll go easier on you because you don't remember doing it?"
"I'll remember the next one. You'd better sleep with one eye open tonight."
"Okay. Back to the murders we know about. Couldn't the murderer have kept some of the others in cold storage?"
"They could have on a day like today. Just throw the bodies out the window. But the answer is no, Cy. When you read further you will see that each of the others was seen on the day before the murder, had gone about his or her normal routine, and had acted normal prior to the murder."
"So, do you think the murderer is someone who had been given three red cards and was out of dating possibilities?"
"You mean someone was mad at the agency and wanted to put them out of business because he or she thought the agency had provided them with bad dates?"
"Could be."
"It does make sense, so I guess we can rule that out."
Lou and I continued to talk about what we knew, but both of us were concerned about what we didn't know.
I hung up from talking to Lou and called Sam.
"Sammy boy, I'm trying to keep some of these other people alive. Do you know of anyone who has used the agency and is still alive? Maybe someone who sent back a green card?"
"I have two. Both in Lexington. A man, Phil Pendleton. A woman, Patty Moran."
"Did they go out with each other?"
"No, they both went out with someone who sent back a green card. Someone who was murdered."
"Really, Sam. That's something that's worth looking into. As for you, keep checking. This is getting too complicated for me."
Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date Page 8