"You look like you've never seen a policewoman before."
"Not at all. The person who replaced me in homicide is a woman. It's just the combination of expecting you to be a man, plus having to go through another date in a few minutes that I don't want to go through is making things seem like a snowball rolling downhill."
"That's okay. You're not the first man to stutter the first time he saw me."
"I didn't stutter."
"So you're saying that you're completely comfortable, just the two of us inside your dark vehicle?"
"Okay. Maybe I get a little nervous around an attractive woman, no matter who she works for."
"Thanks for the compliment. Now let's get down to business. Like you said, you'll be meeting another woman in a few minutes. Tell me what you've learned so far."
By the time we finished I felt that she had learned more that Lexington cops didn't know than I learned from her. Although she did confirm that all the Lexington victims were murdered in their homes, just inside the front door. As if someone had shown up and injected them as soon as they answered the door. And the Lexington police had talked to the neighbors in every case, and none of them had seen anyone. They were pretty sure that all of the murders had taken place on Thursday, but some of them happened in the morning, while others were murdered at night. So far they had no idea why the murders took place on Thursday.
Satisfied that I might be a help in their investigation, she took out a badge and credentials which said I was a special investigator for the Lexington Police Department. She gave me a list, including names and addresses of people I might want to talk to, and I told her I would get busy the next day.
She smiled and said, "Thanks for your help, Lieutenant. I hope the next time we meet I don't make you quite so uncomfortable."
"You don't expect to look so good next time?"
"Oh, you charmer you. I hope you don't have a wife back home while you're out meeting all these women."
"No. Only a girlfriend. And the first time I was here she arrived unexpectedly with my former partner and his girlfriend."
"Oh, the jealous type."
"They said they were here to protect me. And another lieutenant and our medical examiner were at another table."
"Well, I hope no one has captured the two of us and is ready to put us on YouTube. But just in case someone did, should I come around and give you a kiss goodbye?"
"You know what they say. No man should arrive for a date with lipstick on him. Now how about you? Are you married?"
"Only to the department. But if you break up with your girlfriend and you'd like a date sometime, you can give me a call. I'd probably be a safer date than the ones you've found through the agency."
"I'm not sure about that. But I've enjoyed meeting you. I just won't remember to tell my girlfriend about you."
Eve Sanchez smiled, got out of my van, and shut the door. As she turned to walk away she gave me a sexy wave goodbye and a wink. I watched her walk away. She looked good walking away. Suddenly realizing why I was there, I looked at my watch. I had fifteen minutes to make a five minute walk. And not only didn't I have what it takes to walk like Eve Sanchez, I was glad that I didn't.
Instinctively, I turned the radio back on. The Beatles were singing Paperback Writer. It got me to thinking. I needed to watch my step or someone might write about me. Then I thought that writing must be easier than solving murders, so maybe I should write during my retirement years. How hard could it be? All I would have to do would be go to the computer to write a few words. After a few days I would have a novel. Everyone would buy it, and I would have a best-seller and a lot of money. It sounded almost as easy as preaching. But then there must be a catch somewhere. After all, there must have been some reason that Poe and Hemingway drank a lot. For the time being I would have to forget about writing. There was a woman inside waiting on me. I hoped she was better than Bambi Fontaine, my date from the other night. I wondered how much difference it would make that I had told mostly the truth about myself this time.
21
I looked around the parking lot. Eve Sanchez had disappeared. I saw only a couple of people in the distance, hurrying to get inside, out of the cold. I bundled up and stepped out of my van, only to be greeted by a blast of wind. That wind motivated me as I hustled through the parking lot and into the restaurant. The warmer air felt good. The cheesecake in the display case off to my left looked even better. I looked around at the people waiting. There were a couple of women alone, but I saw no white roses. I took a card out of my pocket to check the name I was using that night. Then I walked up and gave my fake name and requested a booth for two. They asked for my cell phone number. I wonder if I would have been turned away if I had come prior to getting a cell phone. They told me the wait for a party of two was approximately thirty minutes. I walked over to take a seat when a woman walked in. I'm a leg man, but her legs didn't look anything like Eve Sanchez's legs. This woman was at least ten years my senior, and she was followed in by a man who seemed to be the rest of her party. The man headed off to put his name on the list.
A couple of minutes later another woman walked in. This one younger, mid- or late thirties, nice looking, and wearing a mink coat, but no white rose. Her hair was the color of honey, and about shoulder length. She smiled and walked over to me.
"Can you help me with my coat?"
I hadn't used a different deodorant, and I don't use aftershave anymore, so I wondered why women were suddenly attracted to me. Could someone have told them I won the lottery? Or was she a plant sent by George, Frank, or Lou, or even Jennifer to see how I might act around an attractive woman?
As soon as I'd helped the woman take off her coat, I realized why she had approached me. Underneath her mink coat was a white rose.
"She sat down beside me. I'm Sarah Jane. It sounds funny that we can't tell our last name, but I'll play by the rules."
The experience of being approached by two attractive women in so short of a time unnerved me. I'd forgotten the name I'd used on the application. I contemplated taking the card out of my pocket again, but figured that wasn't a good idea. Luckily, Sarah Jane saved me.
"I assume that you're Al."
"That's right." I said, feeling greatly relieved that she helped me out of one predicament. "I think we're allowed to tell what we do. What's your occupation, Sarah Jane?"
"I'm a pediatric nurse. At the Baptist hospital. And you?"
"I'm in public relations. I try to help people in difficult situations overcome those situations."
"I bet you have to think fast."
Not nearly as fast as I have to think when I'm dating women using a fake name.
"I do, but sometimes I don't think fast enough."
"You must be pretty good. You still have a job."
"Have you been here before?"
"No, it's my first time. You?"
"I was here not too long ago with some people I work with. I'm sure you will be impressed."
"And I hope you are, too," she said, as she smiled.
I wasn't sure if we were thinking the same thing. Once again I wondered if I had somehow used a different deodorant. I wondered if women in Lexington are more desperate. I smiled back, then scanned the place to make sure Jennifer wasn't lurking nearby.
Thirty minutes passed quickly. We were soon seated and this time I didn't hide behind my menu.
"I usually feel uncomfortable eating out for the first time with a man. I don't think it's right to order the most or least expensive item on the menu. But since we are each supposed to pay for our own, I'll get what I want."
"Two entrees, huh?"
She laughed. A point in her favor. And then I realized I wasn't hoping for a love connection. I already had one. Most men don't live long if they have more than one.
"From what my friends have told me about this place, I'll probably save half of mine for tomorrow night."
So, she had friends who had been there. I wondered if any of them h
ad used the Just For You dating service, and so I asked.
"Do you know of anyone else who has used this dating service?"
"No, but it was one of my friends at work who saw something about them and recommended I try them. She said I had nothing to lose."
Except your life, provided you aren't the murderer.
But she couldn't be the murderer. She looked too good. Murderers look like everyone else, except they smile a little more or a little less.
I looked at her. She was smiling.
"You look nervous."
"I get that way sometimes around an attractive woman."
She smiled again. I needed to turn off the charm. I didn't want to give her the wrong impression.
We took a few minutes to study the menu. After she had ordered Shrimp Scampi and I had ordered Bang-Bang Chicken and Shrimp, I moved the conversation along.
"So, what do you like or don't like about your job?"
"Well, I don't like seeing crying babies, having to give them shots to make them feel better, but I like it when we are able to get them to where we can send them home with their parents. I see you cringed when I mentioned shots. Does that mean you don't like to get a shot?"
"You mean somebody does?"
"No, I don't think anybody does. But sometimes people need to get a shot to make things better. I don't like to brag, but I'm good at what I do."
We continued to talk until the food arrived. I found out that we had a similar interest in movies, and we both enjoy reading murder mysteries.
"Sarah Jane, I think we both can tell that I'm several years older than you. Did you put anything on your application that stated that you like older men, or did they just pair us because of our similar interests?"
"I assume that they put us together because of our similar interests, although I do prefer older men. A lot of men my age are so immature. I'd like to find someone, but if I end up raising someone I'd want them to be a child, not some thirty-plus-year-old man who acts like he's still a teenager. A man can have fun without being immature. I mean I think it sounds romantic for a man and a woman to walk barefoot on the beach, or go to a park and swing side by side, but a man who wants to see how loud he can burp isn't for me."
"Then I don't guess I should tell you that I won my neighborhood burping contest last summer."
She laughed again. A nice laugh, without overdoing it.
We finished eating, and talked for a while. If it wasn't for Jennifer, I would definitely have given this woman a green card. It wasn't supposed to be like this. All the women were supposed to look and act like convicts. I wasn't sure I wanted to go through with another date the next night, but I knew I would quit after that. Unless I needed to date more in order to solve the case. Why couldn't someone confess? Or a cop happen by and catch someone just before he or she was about to bury the needle?
We sat there for a couple of hours, talking. I didn't mean to stay so long, but the time flew by. I looked at my watch and noticed the time.
"I can't believe we've been here this long. Time seems to have flown by."
She glanced at her phone, and said, "It hasn't seemed that long to me. I guess we'd better give up the booth. I bet there are still people waiting."
She picked up the bag containing her leftovers, including part of a piece of cheesecake with strawberries.
"There's no way I could come here a lot. I have to watch my figure."
"Me, too."
"You mean men watch their figures, too?"
"Oh, I thought we were talking about your figure."
"Oh, oh. Is the real Al starting to come out?"
"No, I always like to compliment an attractive woman, even if she's seventy-five years old."
"I think especially when she's seventy-five. Those are the ones who need to hear it the most."
"I disagree. I think the ones who need to hear it the most are the ones who are just starting to get crow's feet and are traumatized by that first gray hair. Those who are seventy-five have already come to realize they won't be twenty-one again, and have accepted themselves as they are."
"You know, I think you're right."
"Well, we've been told we aren't supposed to walk out together. Do you want to go first, or do you want me to?"
"Whichever you like?"
"Ladies first."
I waited five minutes, then walked out and looked in every direction to make sure she wasn't still around. If she was, I didn't see her. I continued to look around as I walked to my van. It didn't hit me that this woman was on the suspect list until I sat down and buckled my seatbelt. But it couldn't be her. Well, the odds were against it.
No sooner did I start the van than the first song that came on 60s on 6 was Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind? I already knew the words to this song. "Did you ever have to make up your mind? Pick up on one and leave the other behind. It's not often easy, and not often kind. Did you ever have to make up your mind? Did you ever have to finally decide? Say yes to one and let the other one ride. There's so many changes and tears you must hide. Did you ever have to make up your mind?" As I listened, Jennifer, Sarah Jane, and Eve Sanchez flashed through my mind. I caught myself singing along with the music. But my mind was made up. I had made up my mind before I left Hilldale. Jennifer was the one for me. I hit the button on the radio and changed what I was listening to to 50s on 5. Instead of The Loving Spoonful I was greeted by The Platters singing Only You. Much better. I envisioned Jennifer pushing all the other women out of the picture, and that was fine with me. I was a one-woman man. Before I knew it I had left Lexington behind and was making tracks for Hilldale. One song after another made the trip home seem quicker. In my mind I swayed with the music, but in reality, on a dark, country road, I kept my hands on the wheel and my focus on the road.
As I neared Hilldale, having listened to 50s on 5 and some silly songs and doo-wop all the way from Lexington, my mind focused on the two women I had dated so far, and the one I would meet the next night. It was obvious that Bambi and Sarah Jane were nothing alike, so maybe this dating service was on the up-and-up. After all, the answers I gave on the application that paired me with Sarah Jane were much different than the ones I gave for Bambi. And then it hit me. Tomorrow I would be "dating" Lucy. The answers they used to pair me up with Lucy are the same ones I put down for Bambi. I tried hard to remember what name I used for Bambi. Chances were Lucy wouldn't remember my name like Sarah Jane did. Maybe she wouldn't know if I made up a different name.
22
"What time did you get in last night?"
My mother had never said those words to me when I was a teenager because I was always home before my parents went to bed. But Jennifer asked me this question on Monday morning.
"Oh, not too late. You know me."
"So, was this one like the last one?"
"Pretty much. A little different because I used a different profile, but you know, similar. I mean it was the same dating service."
"Cy, I have a feeling this one looked better. What did she look like?"
"You know. Like a woman who's not married."
"Uh huh. And how old was she?"
"You know, I didn't ask. Do you want me to ask her out again, so I can get answers to all of your questions?"
"No, that's okay. Just hurry through this dating stage of your life and come back to me, where you belong."
The growl Jennifer did at the end made me wonder if she had been there last night and seen these two attractive women. Or had talked to someone who had concealed himself or herself better than those clowns the last time.
+++
A few minutes after I hung up from talking to Jennifer I called Lou. I shared with him about Detective Gruber, but failed to share any information about Eve Sanchez or anything about Sarah Jane. I did tell him that the Lexington Police Department gave me permission to see what I could find out about the murders and asked Lou if he was ready to tag along on Tuesday. I told him we might stay somewhere overnight, becaus
e we might not get a confession in one day. He was still disappointed about not getting to see Thelma Lou, so I told him if we had time we could drop by The Cheesecake Factory before we left Lexington to come back home. He realized that it wouldn't do him any good to hang around Hilldale, so he agreed to go along. I told him that I would pick him up around 8:30. He said he would be ready.
+++
I didn't plan to do much on Monday, since I had another drive to Lexington and back, so I leaned back in my recliner and closed my eyes. It took only a few seconds for me to realize that wasn't going to work. Visions of Eve Sanchez, Sarah Jane, and my Jennifer battled for my undivided attention, and when those were joined by four other competing Jennifers (Aniston, Garner, Lopez, and Lawrence), I gave up and opened my eyes. I needed to listen again to The Platters singing Only You.
+++
I was getting used to the drive to Lexington and back, but I hoped I didn't have to make it many more times. I arrived at Fayette Mall just as The Platters were singing Twilight Time. This time I parked as close to The Cheesecake Factory as I could and arrived a few minutes early. I walked inside and spotted a mousy-looking woman wearing a white rose. She looked up and saw my white carnation and seemed to be a little afraid. I was sure that I was her first date through the dating service, and maybe her first date since she was in school. She jumped as her phone rang, telling her that our table was ready. She must have been there a while, working up the courage to go through with it.
I motioned for her to walk ahead of me. I already knew she was Lucy and as she walked ahead I removed a card from my pocket to remember who I was, and what I liked to do. I was Edgar Norman again. I'm glad I didn't plan any more dates. Tomorrow I would go back to being Cy Dekker, Detective Extraordinaire. On the way to the table I decided to let her lead the conversation and just agree with whatever she said. I soon learned she was a librarian and had never been married. She spent most of her evenings reading books she checked out of the library and didn't date a lot. I refrained from asking her the year of her last date. She asked me if I cared what she ordered, even though she was paying for it herself, and asked again if it was okay to order dessert. I assured her that if a dessert was in the name of the restaurant then ordering one was a requirement. She smiled briefly. At least I think it was a smile.
Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date Page 10