Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date

by Steve Demaree

  "What do you know about garbage being dumped in the Comstocks' front yard?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Comstock says he has a video of you dumping garbage in his yard."

  Hacker cringed, but still denied it, so I moved on, since I hadn't seen the video.

  I mentioned some of the names of the deceased to Hacker, but he didn't give anything away with nervous hands or eye movements. Since whoever murdered them murdered them in their own homes, I would think he would recognize their names if he heard them. But Hacker definitely had a temper. He would stay on my list. I was wanting to take people off my list. Really, what I wanted was to get rid of the list and head back home to my recliner.

  I asked Hacker a few more questions, then told him that would be all for now, but we might be back. He grunted some kind of response. I suspected he would stay out later for a few nights, just in case we came back.

  26

  Lou and I left and I decided not to try to race him back to the van. I looked at my watch and decided we had enough time to question one more person. I was curious about the receptionist Hacker talked about. Not only did she work in a doctor's office and have access to some things that might put someone out of their misery, but she could give me her observations about Charles Hacker. Maybe this receptionist was one of the lucky ones.

  I started the van, turned on the inside light, and looked over the list. I scrolled down until I found Charles Hacker and the three women he dated. The receptionist's name was Emily French. As far as I knew no one had murdered her. I had an address for her. She lived four songs away from Hacker. I turned the light off, so I wouldn't see Lou squirming in the seat, and took off. I could still hear him singing off key in the dark.

  Somewhere between ten to fifteen minutes later, or three songs from British Invasion groups and one from an American group later, I pulled up in front of a duplex. Emily French lived on the right. Lou and I knew the drill. We got out and walked up and knocked on the door. Seconds later a porch light came on, followed by the door being opened, with the chain still intact. Emily French, or whoever stood on the other side of that door, had at least one eye.

  "Yes?"

  "Are you Emily French?"

  "What is this about?"

  "I'm Cy Dekker, Special Investigator for the Lexington Police Department. I need to ask you some questions, provided you are Emily French."

  "Have you got some identification?"

  I took out the credentials Eve Sanchez had given me and pressed them up against the door, hoping she could read them. She took a few seconds and looked at them, and then me. I guess I passed inspection because she took off the chain and opened the door.

  "Please come in. It's just that you can't be too careful these days."

  "I agree."

  "Can you excuse me a minute? I have something on the stove."

  "If it would be better for you, we can talk in the kitchen."

  "No, I'll just cut it off. It's only soup. I can reheat it."

  She was back in ten seconds.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Please have a seat."

  Lou took a chair. I sat on the couch. She sat on a chair with a floral pattern and a cornflower blue background that matched the one Lou sat in. Hers was near the door. Maybe that was just in case we weren't who we said we were and she felt the need to escape. And I wouldn't have paid any attention to what kind of a chair she was sitting in or known its particular color if Jennifer hadn't been educating me lately. I can't say I feel any better knowing this, but I think Jennifer does.

  "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

  "Do you know a man named Charles Hacker?"

  "Him! You bet I know him!"

  "How did you know his last name was Hacker? Just For You doesn't tell their clients their date's last name."

  "He came here one night, drinking. Called me the Queen of Sheba, told me to open up. I recognized him from what you called a date I had with him a week earlier. I called the police on him, but he had left before they got here. I didn't know his last name, just that his first name was Charles. But a policeman came in, and I told them where I met him. He called that dating service and demanded that they tell him the man's last name and address. They went to see him, but he wasn't home. They found him the next night. He denied coming here, but they warned him never to come around again. So far he hasn't. At least not when I've been home. And the outside of my place hasn't been damaged."

  "Do you have any idea how he knew who you are and where you live?"

  "My guess is he followed me home that night. I never thought to check to see if the creep was following me."

  "Was he your first date with the service?"

  "Yes, and the only one. The day after he was here I received a card fixing me up with someone else. I went to The Cheesecake Factory three nights later, but I didn't wear a rose. I got there and had just started to walk in the door when I noticed this Charles guy sitting there wearing a flower. I heard him tell a woman wearing a rose that his name was Dave. Luckily he didn't see me. I walked out and haven't been back since."

  "Did you let the dating service know about this?"

  "No, I just chalked it up to experience and decided to look for a man somewhere else."

  I asked her a few more questions, but she seemed like she was telling the truth, so I let it go. One thing that convinced me she was telling the truth was that my stomach growled. My stomach is never wrong about what time I should eat.

  We left, but I had to satisfy my curiosity. I started the van, turned on the dome light, and looked over the information we had on each of Just For You's clients. Emily French was Charles Hacker's third date. He must have spent another hundred dollars and used a different name for number four. He never told us that he re-upped under an assumed name. I wondered what else he didn't tell us. Somehow I couldn't see how the dating service could have put Charles and Emily together in the first place. Maybe they weren't picky as long as they got their money. Or Charles lied about some things on his application, which was more likely.

  +++

  I think Lou was weak from hunger, because he behaved on the ride to The Cheesecake Factory. By the time we got there we were later than the typical crowd, plus the fact that it was a weeknight meant we had only a ten minute wait. During those ten minutes I refrained from looking over at the case that held all the different cheesecakes. The old Cy would have been over there slobbering all over the case until they had cut a couple of pieces of cheesecake for him to consume before dinner. But I had turned over a new leaf. Well, so much for botany.

  On the way to our table I noticed a woman seated at a booth wearing a white rose. Seated across from her was a man wearing a white carnation. I didn't recognize either one of them, but both of them seemed to be having a good time.

  Neither Lou nor I had memorized the menu, so I convinced him to turn the page and point at some item. I had already convinced myself that there was nothing bad at The Cheesecake Factory.

  I'm not sure whether this was humorous or not, but after Lou and I had ordered and were waiting for our food I heard a familiar voice.

  "I think he's more your type."

  I looked up and there stood Bambi Fontaine. I felt sorry for her. She stood there only a second, but it was long enough for me to see that she wasn't wearing a white rose. She walked off, disgusted. As she walked away, a light went off in my head. Whether or not Bambi was the murderer, if whoever it was was someone who had used the dating service, or knew someone who used the service, he or she could come anytime and look for someone wearing a white rose or carnation. Then all they had to do was follow that person when they left, and the potential victim would have no idea that they were being followed. After all, the victim may never have noticed the person in the restaurant. The murderer could have been someone who waited with the masses, but never got on the waiting list. He or she merely waited until the victim left. As I thought of that I wondered if that revelation increased or decrease
d my list of potential suspects.

  Lou and I enjoyed a nice dinner and dessert, but both of us were tired after such a long and busy day. I came up with an idea and bounced it off Lou who thought it had merit, as we drove to the Hilton Suites, the closest place to spend the night to where we were. Maybe it cost more than most places, but the extra ten minutes of sleep was worth it.

  27

  After we ate breakfast at the hotel the next morning and Lou and I had walked back to my suite, I looked over my list of other people we needed to question. I wasn't sure that we could question all of them in one day, and even if we could we would be tired at the end of the day.

  "Lou, is there anything keeping you from staying here tonight, too?"

  "I guess I can do it. That will give Thelma Lou another day to get to feeling better, and I packed enough clothes to stay one more night."

  "Remember, if you need to wash anything you can check with Charles Hacker to see if you can use the apartment complex's laundromat."

  "I was thinking about waiting until Friday night, check out that woman he was talking about, and see what I think of his taste in women."

  "She's probably some college student who's just being nice to him."

  "So, what have we got lined up for today, Cy?"

  "I'm anxious to check out Phil Pendleton and Patty Moran, the two people who survived after sending back green cards, while the person each of them dated didn't fare so well. Also, I'm going to dread every part of this, but I guess I need to see the three women I met at The Cheesecake Factory, come clean, and see if I think any of them are viable suspects. Talking to two of the three will be rough on me."

  "Cy, I understand that it's dangerous to leave your car in a trailer park, so I'll stay in your van while you go up and question Miss October."

  "No, I'll let you guard my van when I go talk to Sarah Jane Fulkerson."

  "That reminds me, Cy. I don't remember you giving me a report on her. I assume that she's a looker."

  "She looks a lot better than the other two, but don't let that get back to Jennifer."

  "Oh, so you still remember Jennifer, do you?"

  "Of course I still remember Jennifer. I've been missing her ever since we left home."

  +++

  Lou went back to his room to brush his teeth. When he came back I could tell from the look in his eye that something had happened.

  "Out with it, Lou!"

  "Cy, I got another message. Now I don't think there's been another murder, since today is Wednesday, but I got a message anyway."

  "I know you had one yesterday, too, but God hadn't been giving them to you everyday in this case like He did before we retired."

  "Do you think God has retired, too?"

  "No, Lou, I think God is still God, and He's willing to help me with my floods just like he was Noah. So what's today's message?"

  "Doc Hollywood."

  "Hey! I saw that movie. The Doc part fits in with this case, because whoever it is has been using a syringe to kill people, but I don't think we have any Hollywood connection."

  "Maybe a pig did it."

  "A pig?"

  "Yeah, wasn't there a pig in that movie?"

  "Lou, you know what you're like when you don't take your medication. Now go back to your room and pop your pills."

  "I'm not on any medication, Cy."

  "Then that's it. Let me drop you off at a doctor's office and he can see you and tell you what's wrong with you."

  "I already went. He said I've been hanging out with the wrong people."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Lou. I know Thelma Lou will take this hard, but boy do I have a woman for you. Actually two of them. You can take your choice."

  +++

  We left the hotel a few minutes too early. I didn't know that we left too early until my phone rang. The number was blocked, but I was curious as to who might have my number.

  "Dekker here."

  "Lieutenant, this is Eve Sanchez."

  "Yes, Eve, uh Detective."

  "So not only do you stutter when you meet an attractive woman in person, but it doesn't go away when you talk to one on the phone."

  "Listen, this is a bad time. Can we talk later?"

  "I was just checking to see if you learned anything yet."

  I didn't say, "Yeah, not to answer an unknown number on speakerphone with Lou in the van."

  "I talked to several people yesterday. I'm talking to more today. I'll call you tomorrow and we can compare notes."

  "That works for me. And remember, I'm there if you need me."

  I ended the call and prayed silently. My prayer wasn't answered. I turned to Lou and the Cheshire Cat was looking right at me.

  "Cy, I didn't know that you stutter."

  "Oh, that's an inside joke. She's with Robbery & Homicide here in Lexington. See, I didn't know when I met her the other night that she was a woman."

  "I've got a feeling she's quite a woman, so I think I would realize if I saw her that she was a woman."

  "No, I mean before she walked up to my van, in the Fayette Mall parking lot, the part out near Nicholasville Road. Detective Gruber only told me I would be meeting Detective Sanchez."

  "Cy, this is getting better all the time. Enlighten me."

  I swore Lou to secrecy, which to him meant he wouldn't put anything I said on Facebook but might share it with someone who would, and then I told him about the two gorgeous women I saw on Sunday night. I told him that if it wasn't for Jennifer I could have been interested in either of them.

  "Maybe Jennifer won't mind if you see them, too."

  "Maybe Thelma Lou won't mind if you start something with Bambi Fontaine."

  "I'm not going to start anything with her, Cy. I've seen her. And I don't want to be her next victim."

  "Lou, we don't know that she's the murderer."

  "No, but I'm sure she's capable of it."

  +++

  I knew that Patty Moran worked in the gift shop at the Baptist Hospital, and that more than likely she would be at work. I decided to drive by there, fight for a parking place, knowing I wouldn't find one until I drove all the way up on the roof. Then I was off to see if she could get a break to talk to us.

  Like I predicted, I found no parking places until I got to the roof. I was sure that some people leave their cars there all the time, otherwise the law of averages would tell me that sometime I would find a better parking place. I was thankful that I wasn't someone who needed to visit the hospital often. As I passed each car as I kept rising and going to the right all the way to the top of the Tower of Babel, I wondered if any of those cars had any bodies in them. If so, they weren't our concern. Lou and I walked down the ramp and across Level 5 toward the elevator. The two turtles we passed on the way down arrived before the elevator did. I was beginning to wonder if the elevator made only two trips a day. Eventually we made it to ground level. Once there it wasn't that much farther to the gift shop and there was nothing to impede our progress. We walked in and a woman smiled at us.

  "Are you Patty Moran?"

  "I am. Do I know you?"

  "I don't think so. I'm Cy Dekker, Special Investigator for the Lexington Police Department."

  "What could I possibly help you with?"

  A customer came in before I could answer.

  "Is it possible for you to get someone to cover for you, so we can talk someplace more private?"

  She looked worried.

  "I would tell you tomorrow would be better, because I'm off then, but I'll be out running errands most of the day, so that won't work. But I have someone coming to relieve me for an early lunch in twelve minutes, if you don't mind waiting."

  I told her fine, but I refrained from looking at the stuffed animals, flowers, and Get Well balloons that would stay there until someone decided it was just what they needed to perk someone up. I motioned to her that Lou and I would wait just outside of the gift shop. Around fifteen minutes later her replacement arrived and Patty Moran walked out the do
or and asked us to follow her to the dining room. I'm sure that I had walked two miles before we got there. There weren't a lot of people in there yet, but still Lou and I picked a table in a far corner away from everyone and waited on Patty Moran to go through the line. Five minutes later she slid a tray down across the table from us.

  "So, what is this all about?" she asked, just before taking a bite of her lunch.

  "Miss Moran, do you know a man named Ben Connaughton?

  She smiled, careful not to open her mouth while she chewed.

  "I sure do. Met him recently through a dating service. We really hit it off."

  She noticed the grave look on my face, and then asked, "Wait a minute. If the police are here, there must be something wrong. Is he not who I thought he was? Please don't tell me that."

  "I'm going to tell you something worse. He's been murdered."

  "Murdered?"

  It took a moment for it to sink in, and then her eyes began to water.

  "How?"

  "I can't give you too many details, but let me see if I have this right. You two were fixed up by the Just For You dating service. You went out and were attracted to each other. Both of you sent back green cards Do I have that much right?"

  "You do. But I don't understand."

  "I don't understand, either. Someone is out there murdering people who have been on dates through this agency, in which case both of them sent back green cards. Evidently, someone, for some reason, doesn't want people to get together. There have been a few people murdered lately, and sometimes both the man and the woman have been murdered. Have you noticed anyone following you, or did anyone you didn't know visit your house lately, or someone suspicious come to the gift shop when you were working?"

  "No, but I haven't been home. Ben and I went out on a Wednesday night, just before I left on vacation on Friday. I was gone all the next week. When was Ben murdered?"

  I consulted my notes and told her.