Homecoming Homicides

by Marilyn Baron

  “What do you think? I walk in on my fiancé and my best friend in a very compromising situation, and I’m supposed to forgive and forget? I forgive Traci because I know she didn’t initiate this. And, she’s gone now. Being angry won’t do anyone any good. But you, Jack, you know my history with my dad, how I feel about his cheating, and you know that’s the one thing I won’t put up with.”

  “I don’t know what got into me, Flip. You were never around. I’m still not over Major’s death, and then you bailed on me, and now Traci is dead. She was so sweet and caring. She said she loved me, Flip.”

  Flippy bit her lip. “And you encouraged her, didn’t you? You loved the attention. She was my best friend, Jack. Do you even get the significance of that?”

  “I said I was sorry. You’ll never know how sorry. Do you think it was my fault, that she’s dead?”

  “You didn’t kill her, did you?”

  “You know I didn’t. It’s just that if she hadn’t run out just then, maybe she’d still be alive.”

  “I’ve thought of that too. I’m just as guilty. But neither of us is responsible. The killer is responsible, and I’m going to get him.”

  “Flippy, if there is any way you could find it in your heart to forgive me…”

  “You broke my heart, Jack.”

  Jack took Flippy’s left hand in his.

  “You’re not wearing my ring,” Jack noticed.

  “I still have it. I haven’t had time to return it. I’ll mail it to you.” She removed her hand from his.

  “I don’t want it back. I want you to keep it, in case you change your mind.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Are you really with him?” Jack asked, indicating Luke.

  “I’ve moved in with him,” Flippy said. She hadn’t intended to give a false impression, but if her mother called Jack, he’d back up her story.

  “After only a week?”

  “I’ve known Luke for years.”

  “Have you slept with him?”

  Flippy pursed her lips. “That’s not your business anymore.”

  “Flippy, just give me another chance.” Jack was crying now. She hadn’t seen him cry since they buried Major. He looked so forlorn and vulnerable.

  “Luke says he brought you in for drunk and disorderly. You’ve got to stop drinking, Jack. And you’re not using your crutches. The doctor says you need to exercise or you’ll never be back to a hundred percent.”

  “You still care about me then?”

  “Of course I do, as a friend. But I’m not coming back to you.” She turned to walk away.

  “Flippy, don’t,” Jack pleaded, grabbing her hand. “I love you more than anything.”

  “I wish you well, Jack.” She looked at Luke and back at Jack and suddenly she didn’t want to be there anymore. She reached out her hand gratefully to Luke, and he was there in an instant.

  “Come on, Philippa, let’s get you home.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke drove by Flippy’s office, and they walked in to retrieve her messages and gather some files to take to his house.

  “I don’t see the guys,” Flippy said.

  “They’ll be back tomorrow,” Luke assured her. “They’re being well treated.”

  “I don’t feel like going out for dinner,” Flippy said. “Can we eat in?”

  “Fine with me. There’s a great sushi place right around the corner from my condo. I’ll pick up something.”

  Luke was smiling as he opened the passenger door for Flippy and then ran around to hop in and start the car.

  “What’s that smile all about?” Flippy asked, noting that his dimples were making an appearance.

  “I’m just happy, I guess. I’m right where I want to be, with the person I want to be with. It’s no fun eating alone. I’m enjoying the company.”

  “Just so you know it’s not permanent.”

  “I know that.” Luke took the wheel. “How did it feel, seeing Jack?”

  “Surprisingly, I feel relieved. Happy that chapter of my life is over with. I think if I truly loved him it wouldn’t feel this good.”

  Luke smiled broadly. “Then there’s hope for me, for us?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I don’t give up easily. That’s one thing you have to know about me.”

  “That’s good to know, since you’re on the trail of a serial killer.”

  “Can we not talk about Jack or the serial killer for a few hours?” Luke said. “Let’s just have a nice dinner, with a nice bottle of wine, and try to relax.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Relaxing?”

  “No, the bottle of wine.”

  “Don’t trust yourself?”

  “Don’t trust you, yet.” Or myself.

  “You can. You will.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You might need some fortification. Your mother’s coming tomorrow.”

  She’d completely forgotten about Barbara’s visit.

  “Maybe you’re right. But I don’t think there’s enough wine in Graysville to help me prepare for that.”

  They pulled into Luke’s complex, and he parked the car and walked up the steps next to her.

  When they opened the door, Cruz was already waiting at the entryway.

  “Cruz,” she cried. “Cruz.” She lifted the dog into her arms, buried her face into the dog’s neck—and then lost it.

  “Flippy, what’s wrong?” Luke looked alarmed.

  Flippy couldn’t talk. She just cried and wiped her tears on Cruz’s nubby coat.

  “Here, sit on the couch. I’ll get you a drink of water. Then I have to walk Cruz.”

  “Don’t take Cruz,” Flippy wailed. “I’ve lost everything. I loved Traci. I wish I had told her that before she died.”

  Luke sat down next to Flippy on the couch and handed over an agitated Cruz.

  “I think you’ve held it in for the past two days and now it’s all coming out. It’s okay.” Luke rubbed her neck gently. “But I really have to take Cruz out. She has great bladder control for a small dog, but it only lasts for so long.”

  Flippy reluctantly gave up the dog.

  “What kind of sushi do you like? I’ll go downstairs, walk the dog, then get our dinner. There’s a bottle of white chilling in the fridge. You get into your PJs and those cute little fuzzy slippers of yours, and I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Thank you,” said Flippy. Luke really is special, and I do enjoy being with him.

  She went into the guest room, pulled on her pajamas, a robe, and the fuzzy slippers, and stretched out on the couch to wait for Luke.

  The next thing she knew he was nudging her awake.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up. Dinner’s ready.”

  She blinked and smiled. “Hey, you, you’re a really good guy, you know that? You’re really sweet.”

  “Have you been tapping the vino while I was gone?”

  “No, I just get this way when I’m sleepy.”

  “You mean sexy?”

  “No, I babble.”

  “Well, keep babbling.”

  Luke pulled her up from the couch and led her to the table in the kitchen. He had poured her a glass of wine and set out the dinner on fine china plates with cloth napkins.

  “Very fancy for a Boy Scout used to roughing it,” Flippy said, smiling. “I’m impressed.”

  “Let’s just get something in your stomach, along with a little wine. It’ll help you sleep. Then we’ll tackle the files tomorrow.”

  “No, Luke, tonight. We don’t have a minute to waste.”

  “Whatever you say.” They ate and looked across the table at each other. She sipped her wine and played footsie with Cruz under the table. From the smoldering look Luke was giving her, she guessed he wanted to play footsie with her.

  “Flip,” Luke said, “I just want to say how happy I am that you’re here.”

  Flippy wa
s on her second glass of wine.

  “You already said that.”

  “I know, but it bears repeating. And may I also say you look terrific in those PJs.”

  “This robe is hideous.”

  “I think you’d look beautiful in a potato sack.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You were much prettier than last year’s homecoming queen. You should have been queen.”

  “That’s nice of you to say. I wish I had won on my own merit instead of coming by the title the way I did.”

  “From what I heard, Melinda Crawford played dirty.”

  Flippy shrugged. “Maybe she did, but that’s all in the past.”

  Luke cleaned up the dinner dishes, and when he left the kitchen he came to sit with Flippy on the couch, where she was reviewing some files.

  Luke took the files from her and placed them on the coffee table.

  “You feeling relaxed yet?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re looped. It doesn’t take much, does it?”

  “Nope. I have a very low tolerance for alcohol.”

  “How’s your tolerance for me?” Luke inquired, moving closer and putting his arm around Flippy’s shoulder. “I just want to give you some advance warning. I’m going to kiss you now.”

  Flippy’s mouth opened in surprise, and Luke moved in smoothly to capture her lips and her tongue.

  “Mmm,” he purred. “You taste like fruit.”

  Flippy looked up at him cautiously.

  “It’s the wine.”

  Luke moved his hand up slowly under her robe and undid two of the buttons in her pajamas, cupping her breast in the palm of his hand and teasing her nipple. When she didn’t object, he unbuttoned the rest of the pajama top and angled his head in to taste one nipple, then the other. She made some half-hearted protestations that turned to satisfied sighs before she snuggled against him.

  He was kissing her, now softly, then insistently, and she was responding. It was the wine, she knew, but it felt good and she didn’t want him to stop. Apparently, he had no intentions of stopping.

  “Philippa, you’re so beautiful,” Luke said, kissing her tenderly, while he removed her pajama top completely, then her pajama bottom, until all she was wearing were panties.

  She felt loose and limber, and her only thought was Luke and what he was doing to her and what she wanted him to keep doing to her.

  Cruz was barking.

  “Get out of here,” Luke shouted and scooted the dog away with his foot. “Get your own girlfriend.”

  Flippy laughed.

  He was hard now, and his penis was pulsing against her.

  “Can you hang on a minute, honey? I’m going to put Cruz in my room and get some protection.”

  “Mmm,” Flippy said.

  Luke was back in a flash.

  “A Boy Scout has to be prepared,” he repeated his motto—really his mantra.

  Then he was kissing her again, her lips, her nipples, her breasts, and he removed the last barrier, her panties, and touched her until she was wet and wild with her need for him. After she climaxed he climbed on top of her and drove into her, holding her shoulders and looking into her eyes, which had glazed over.

  “God, that felt good,” Luke said as he slumped over her body.

  “For me too.”

  “I never thought you’d, I mean that I’d get another chance to, I mean I’m so crazy about you I can hardly be around you without touching you. What I’m trying to say is—”

  “Sssh,” Flippy whispered, placing her fingers on his lips. “Don’t say anything.”

  “But I have to get it out or I’ll burst,” Luke said.

  “I thought that’s what you just did,” she laughed.

  “Flip, you’re killing me here.”

  “You were saying.”

  “What I wanted to say is that I love you, Philippa Tannenbaum. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

  Flippy sat up. “We’ve only been together for a week.”

  “We’ve known each other for years. I’ve been in love with you for years. I’ve dreamed about this—us—forever.”

  Flippy sighed.

  “I don’t expect you to say it back. I just wanted you to hear it.”

  “It’s nice to hear, if you mean it.”

  “Of course I mean it. I want to be with you in every way. You’re all I think about. Was it okay?”

  “It was more than okay. Couldn’t you tell?”

  “I mean…” Luke began.

  “You want to know how you compare to Number Ten?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very favorably,” Flippy murmured.

  “I mean, Jack Armstrong is practically a legend.”

  “In his own mind, maybe. It felt great, Luke. I mean that. You don’t need to compare yourself with Jack. Jack was a very selfish lover. He only cared about satisfying himself. I hope you’re nothing like him.”

  They lay there contentedly on the couch, kissing, snuggling, until Cruz demanded to be let out of the bedroom.

  “I hate to break this up, but I guess I’d better get Cruz,” Luke said. “She’s getting jealous. And she might just have an accident on my carpet to prove her point.”

  Luke jumped up and strutted over to his bedroom door to let Cruz out. Flippy covered herself with an afghan draped across the couch. She was comfortable in this place with this man. Maybe too comfortable.

  “I guess we’d better start poring over these files,” Flippy called out.

  “Okay, I’ve got some more studying to do first. Do you mind getting a head start?”

  “I want to do some Internet research first, anyway,” Flippy said.

  She put her pajamas and robe back on and opened her computer in the kitchen with Cruz nipping at her feet.

  She typed in “fires in Graysville, Florida, mysterious, deaths,” and then hit Search.

  A lot of entries appeared, so she clicked on the most promising links. There had been a rash of mysterious fires in Graysville over the last few years, and she went back farther, up to ten years ago and then fifteen years and bookmarked the articles she wanted to study. Then she honed the search by entering beauty queens. Probably nothing would come up, but you never knew. She wouldn’t tell Luke about this right away. She would check out the stories herself to see if they panned out before she got his hopes up. But his idea of cross-checking the names of personnel at the university, or even ex-university personnel, would be a good plan once they got that list.

  Of all the prospects, one stood out, making the hairs on the back of Flippy’s neck rise. Was she having a sixth sense moment, like Crystal Ball Kate?

  There was a story in the Graysville Reporter about a former beauty queen, Gracie Willis, who was raising two small boys after her husband had deserted her. One night, the younger boy, Rodney, accidentally set the curtains of his mother’s bedroom on fire. He rescued his mother, but not before the left side of her face was burned and her good looks lost forever. She placed that article on favorites. Her computer wasn’t hooked up to a printer, but she would print it out on Luke’s printer later.

  The boy, Rodney, would be about thirty now. She needed to do a search on him, see what else she could find. See if he was still in Graysville around the time that Melinda Crawford was killed.

  Rodney Willis. Could he be the one? Unlikely. But in cases like this you had to take the breaks where you found them.

  You’re smart, Rodney Willis, aren’t you. Top of your class at Graysville High. Where did you go to college, or did you? And if you did, and my hunch is correct, where did you go wrong, so horribly wrong?

  Flippy made a note to check if Rodney had applied to NFU and if he had been accepted or rejected. If rejected, he could be bitter toward the university. And the fact that his mother was a beauty queen was a nice tie-in.

  There was a picture of fifteen-year old Rodney. Looked like he could have been good-looking at one time, but he had extensive burns across his fa
ce, so probably he had been an awkward teenager. She’d need to consult with Katherine to see if she got any warning signs when she looked at his picture.

  It says he has an older brother who is mildly retarded and attended the Graysville Community Day School for special needs children. Was he working? No picture of the brother that she could find. The mother…what ever happened to the mother? It didn’t say she was killed in the fire. If she was disfigured, then she couldn’t work, she couldn’t enter beauty contests, or model. Then, Rodney, it would be up to you to support your mother and older brother. Caring for a brother with special needs would have been very expensive.

  Flippy’s fingers raced across the keyboard. What kind of job do you have now? Nothing that would require meeting the public, not with that face scarred the way it is. And the girls would steer clear of you. Is that why you hated beauty queens, or did it have something to do with your mother? What set you off? Maybe you read about the NFU homecoming pageant or went there yourself and it was the trigger that dredged up your hostile feelings. Did you see an opportunity for retribution against beautiful girls, or the university, or both? Or am I just grasping at straws, practicing amateur psychology? I may need Katherine’s help to analyze Rodney as a potential candidate.

  Why can’t I find out more about you, Rodney Willis? There was a lot about Gracie. She was a beautiful woman. Won a slew of beauty contests in and around Graysville over the years.

  Flippy copied down the last known address for Rodney Willis. Did he still live there? She was going to pay a visit to Mr. Rodney Willis and find out what he knew. She definitely wasn’t going to tell Luke. He’d never let her go alone. But he’d certainly thank her if she came up with anything they could use. It was a long shot, but worth a try.

  And what do you do with the girls once you get them? We know you hold them for a week. Do you kill them in the privacy of your own home? Where do you do it? In a workshop? A basement? Or do you bring them to an off-site warehouse?

  You’d have to be a strong man to lift the bodies, drag one up the steps of Centennial Tower, drop it over the side—unless you had help.

  Look at her. She was silly to think that she had it right on the first try. It wasn’t even worth mentioning to Luke.

  “Luke,” Flippy called. “Do you have a printer I can send something to?