Homecoming Homicides

by Marilyn Baron

  “Rodney, your girlfriend fell asleep,” Donny asked. “Is she okay?”

  “Sure, Donny. She just passed out. We need to get her home and take care of her, so help me get her into the back seat.”

  Donny picked her up as easily as if she were a ragdoll and placed her gingerly in the back seat of the car.

  “You can sleep now,” Donny said.

  “Good job, bro. Now, shut her door, and let’s get back home and prepare for our next contestant. She’s a real beauty, isn’t she?”

  Donny smiled. “She is real pretty.”

  Rodney drove along. He needed a new challenge. Not that it wasn’t fun carving them up and tossing them in campus drop zones, but it was so predictable, and the cops couldn’t figure it out. He could have called and invited them to the party himself and they’d still be stymied. They deserved the hassle, just for being such bunglers.

  For years he’d been looked over, scorned, cast off, rebuffed by girls just like Dana. And payback was sweet. So, maybe these particular girls hadn’t offended him, but they were all the same type. A type that needed to be taught a lesson. Beauty’s only skin deep, yeah, yeah, yeah.

  Take Traci Farris, for example. A first-class slut if there ever was one. And Traci’s recklessness had gotten the bus driver killed, too. Rodney had nothing against the city worker. The man was just collateral damage.

  Anyone who would snake her best friend’s man got what was coming to her. If he’d been in Philippa’s shoes, he’d have killed her right there in bed, along with her worthless fiancé.

  When Philippa found out what he had done for her, she would thank him. And he’d give her a chance to thank him for killing off the competition in the person of one super-bitch Melinda Crawford, who so didn’t deserve the title of Homecoming Queen. But thanks to him, justice was served.

  And then, sweet, pure, heartbroken Philippa Tannenbaum made her first mistake. Getting drunk and picking up a guy in a bar—not just any guy, either. The cop who’d been “protecting” Melinda Crawford. He’d been so disappointed in her, he wanted to wring her little neck. All women were tarts. She’d have to be taught a lesson, but he wouldn’t make her suffer too much. She could be saved. He would grant her a last-minute reprieve, and she’d be so grateful to him she would be willing to do anything. He was sure of it.

  After all, he was saving himself for her. He hadn’t been with any of the women. He’d been tempted with the others, but he’d held back because she was worth the wait. That Boy Scout Luke Skywalker was another matter. He’d have to be dealt with severely. No mercy. First Philippa would wander into his trap, and then the hero would come riding to her rescue, and boom, end of story. He hadn’t decided exactly how it would play out yet. But he had a schedule to keep. Couldn’t keep Contestant Number Nine waiting. Or was it Number Ten?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Luke, it’s Misty. I think you’d better get over here.”

  “Misty, thank God. I’ve been trying to call Philippa forever, and all I get is her voice mail message. She must have turned her cell phone off. Or she’s not answering for some reason. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you, too. Is everything all right?”

  “I’m not sure. I uh, went out for a few minutes—next door to talk to Riley at DaVinci’s. Because Flippy said I had to be honest about my feelings, so I confronted Riley and told him how I feel, and he told me he felt the same about me and, guess what, we’re together now.”

  “I’m happy for you, really happy, but where’s Flippy? I have an important message for her. Write it down and give this information to Flippy and to Director Beckham. We got a call from a bus driver in training who’s been riding the routes, shadowing the regular drivers. When he saw Traci Farris’ picture in the news, he recognized her as a girl he’d seen at the bus stop that Monday night. A week later she turns up dead, and the regular bus driver was missing, so he figures he should call us. He’s down at the station now, giving his statement. Crystal Ball Kate says she’s seen a house in a vision that fits the description of the one at the end of that route. She said Flippy faxed some information over to her about a man named Rodney Willis. Did she say anything to you about it?

  “No, I never heard that name.”

  “Will you put Flippy on the line?”

  “Well, I would, if she were here, but I can’t find her.”

  “What do you mean you can’t find her? She’s missing?”

  “Well she went out for a slice of pizza, but Riley said she never came in to DaVinci’s.”

  “Jesus, Misty. It was your job to keep an eye on her. I told you to call me if—”

  “I am calling you, NOW.”

  “All right. Okay. Now where do you think she could have gone?”

  “I have no idea. Her purse is still here. Her keys are still here. And she left her cell phone. Her car is still parked in the lot.”

  “Don’t leave the phone. She might call you. I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Was that the new homeless man at the back of the bus? No, Flippy’s eyes were playing tricks on her. She’d only seen him once. When she stared at him, he looked the other way. It had to be someone else. Steadily, people got on and off the bus. It was a busy route, but as the bus veered out of town, there were only three people left on the bus, besides the driver. The homeless man, or the man who looked like the homeless man. And another man, a boy, really. He looked like a boy. Why, he was the boy who had asked for her autograph at the pageant. She had worked with the police forensic artist, and he’d done a composite sketch. It was the same face. His hair wisped out from under a baseball cap, and he had on the same outfit he wore the night of the pageant. He even had the same camera around his neck. As she studied him, he flashed a killer smile, a smile that would knock your socks off. And he was coming over to sit next to her.

  This wasn’t Rodney Willis. But it was the man at the pageant who had asked for her autograph. This boy was no killer. She was sure of it.

  “I’m Donny. I live at 5555 Skyline Road.” He pointed to a crumpled piece of paper pinned to his shirt, then pressed his hand to his heart. His coat was blocking the note so she couldn’t read it.

  “Hello, Donny.”

  “You’re pretty. My mama was real pretty.”

  “Thank you.” What was happening here? Who was this person?

  “I saw your picture.”

  “You saw my picture, where?”

  “Don’t you remember me? You signed your picture.”

  “At the pageant? Do you mean I autographed my picture for you in the pageant program?”

  “You signed your picture.” Donny smiled again.

  “What did you say your name was?”

  “Donny. Donny Willis.”

  Flippy’s heart raced.

  “Do you have a brother?”

  “My brother was supposed to pick me up, but he’s at work. He cleans the buildings.”

  My God! This is the mentally-challenged brother of Rodney Willis. That’s the connection. She needed to tell Luke right away, but in her haste, she’d left her cell phone in the office. Stupid.

  “You said your mother was real pretty. Tell me about her.”

  “She was a beauty queen,” Donny said. “I loved my mother. She took real good care of me. But then she got burned up. So now my brother takes care of me. Would you like to see my house?”

  “Well, uh, I don’t know.”

  “I want you to see my house. It’s at the End of the World.”

  “The end of the world?”

  “That’s where I live. The End of the World.”

  If she could get into the house, she could tell for sure if a serial killer lived there. She wished she had told the director she had gone to check out the Willis house. But if anything happened, the director had Rodney’s name and she’d know where to look.

  “Is your brother home?”

  “My brother cleans buildings at the university. He’s at work now.”
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  She raised her voice to get the bus driver’s attention.

  “How often does this bus run?”

  “We run this route every thirty minutes.”

  A plan was beginning to form in Flippy’s head. She could get off with Donny for just a few minutes, look around the house before the brother got home, then ride the bus back to the office and call Luke and the director.

  “We got lots of nice things in the house. Things you would like to see.”

  “Well, Donny, I think I might like that. I can only stay for a few minutes, though.”

  Donny’s smile shone.

  She and Donny got off the bus, but the house wasn’t close to the bus stop. It was a long walk. Trees covered the walkway like a canopy, dark and dense. By the time they got to the series of wooden structures at the end of the road, Flippy was winded. This was beginning to turn out to be a bad idea. By the time she saw the house and walked back to the stop, the thirty minutes would be gone. She’d have to catch the next bus. But it would be worth it if she could gather some evidence.

  “This is the last stop—The End of the World,” Donny said.

  Flippy hoped it wasn’t her last stop.

  The house was a ramshackle series of wooden buildings, some single story, some two stories. None of them matched architecturally. The back portion looked older and was a burned-out jumble. The front part of the house was more modern. One of the structures was circular and seemed out of place. Donny walked through the door in front of her.

  “Would you like a pop?”

  “A pop?”

  Donny led her to the refrigerator and held up a bottle of orange soda. “A pop.”

  “Oh, a soda pop. Okay.”

  Donny smiled. It was definitely not the smile of a serial killer. He handed her the bottle.

  “Do you have an opener?”

  He produced a bottle opener, and she opened the bottle and placed the opener back on the table. She took a drink. The long walk through the woods had made her thirsty.

  “Can I see the rest of the house?”

  “I’ll take you on a tour. Usually Rodney does the tour. But he’s at work. He cleans buildings for the university. He was supposed to pick me up, but he was late.”

  Donny led the way through a threadbare living room, undecorated except for a lace doily and, on the doily, a picture of a beautiful woman.

  “Is this your mother?”

  “My mother was real pretty, just like you. That’s my mother.”

  Flippy picked up the picture to get a better look. Gracie Willis was beyond pretty. She was beautiful. Or had been.

  “You look just like my mother,” Donny said, smiling.

  And, Flippy had to admit, the woman in the picture did look strangely familiar. According to the papers, Gracie had been burned badly in the fire. Flippy had not learned if she had died in the fire or not. Perhaps she was home.

  Donny led her into a small room with bunk beds.

  “This is Donny’s room. I have bunk beds. I can sleep on the bottom or on the top. One night I sleep on the bottom. One night I sleep on the top.” There was another picture of Gracie Willis with her two boys.

  Then they walked into Rodney’s room.

  “This is Rodney’s room. Rodney takes care of me.”

  Flippy could sense the dark energy as soon as she crossed the threshold. The bed was made neatly. There was a Bible on the nightstand, and several other things displayed like trophies on a table. Ponytail holders, eyeglasses, a bracelet. Not just any bracelet. It was Traci’s bracelet. Flippy had given it to her last year. Flippy picked up the bracelet.

  “Who does this belong to?”

  “That belongs to my girlfriend. Rodney has a lot of girlfriends.”

  Flippy put the bracelet in her pants pocket.

  “Are there any other rooms?”

  “The auditorium.”

  “You have an auditorium in the house?”

  “It’s in the back of the house. Rodney built it. Sometimes he lets me watch, if I’m good. That’s where he brings his girlfriends.”

  Flippy’s stomach lurched. She’d already sensed she’d made a mistake by coming here. She had stumbled onto a House of Horrors, the home of a monstrous serial killer. She was sure of it. And she needed to get out of here as fast as she could, make it back to the bus before the killer came home.

  “Show me the auditorium, and then I really have to go.”

  Donny went to a drawer in the living room and got a key. They walked down a long, dark hallway, and he used the key to open the auditorium door.

  Flippy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was a duplicate in miniature of the Performing Arts Center auditorium where the homecoming pageant took place, complete with spotlights, a hardwood floor stage, and a backstage dressing room, even auditorium-style seating. No money had been spent on the front of the house, but this room must have cost a fortune.

  “What does Rodney do in the auditorium?”

  “This is where he takes his girlfriends when they visit.”

  “Are there any other rooms I should see?”

  “There’s Rodney’s workshop, but I don’t have a key to that. Rodney says that room is off limits.”

  Off limits. Was that where the killer tortured and burned his victims, in the privacy of his “workshop?” Where no one could hear their screams? Was that where he had killed Traci?

  All right, this was her opportunity. Sure, she was scared, and she knew she was stupid for coming here alone, but she was here, so she forged ahead.

  “Can we see Rodney’s workshop? I want to see your brother’s workshop.”

  “Rodney’s workshop is strictly off limits.”

  “Well, can’t you make an exception?”

  “Only Rodney’s girlfriends can go there. Are you Rodney’s girlfriend?”

  Flippy was repulsed at that thought, but she answered weakly, “Yes.”

  “Well, then, I guess it’s okay. But he won’t be happy. Rodney said his workshop is strictly off limits.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Luke ran into the office and shook Misty’s shoulders.

  “Where is she?” Luke shouted. “Has she shown up yet?”

  “Luke, you’re hurting me.”

  Luke was desperate, but he colored as he realized what he had done.

  Luke paced the office. “I’m sorry, but I’m worried sick about her. I should never have left her alone. If she’s not at DaVinci’s and she’s not at home, where is she?”

  He bounded into her office. Her purse was on her desk, along with the manila file. The file that had been missing since last night. The file Flippy had taken from his condo.

  There had to be a clue here as to her whereabouts. He rifled through the file until he came to a circled name. Rodney Willis, maintenance. Then he found the crumpled newspaper article about the fire, the beauty queen mother, and the older brother, and he began to put it together. Holy shit. Flippy had found the killer. The address in the article was the same as the house Kate had described, the one at the end of the bus route. Luke rubbed the back of his neck. He had a terrible feeling. Katherine had been right. The killer was focused on Flippy. Surely Flippy couldn’t be stupid enough to have gone there on her own. Without her cell phone. And without contacting him. Or had Rodney Willis kidnapped her from outside her office? Neither of those scenarios made him feel any better.

  “Anything else?” Luke snapped.

  “This fax just came in from Ajax Production Company, the one Philippa has been waiting for. Ajax is the company that produced the homecoming pageant video. They sent over a list of people who purchased the video and the name of the man who shot it.”

  Misty stomped back to her desk.

  Luke scanned the list and compared it to the list of employee names in his file. The name stood out like a neon sign. Rodney Willis.

  “I’m calling it in,” Luke said to an empty office, as he picked up the phone and dialed police headquarters to give
them the particulars.

  “I’m sure,” he said over the phone. “I’m goddamn sure. I’ll meet you over there. Contact Director Beckham. And get someone over to where Rodney Willis works. I don’t know exactly where he is, but find him and find him fast. He’s got Philippa Tannenbaum.”

  He sprinted into the outer office. “I want you to call me if you hear anything from her. Pray to God we do hear something from her, and soon.”

  “I’m sorry, Luke.”

  Luke relented. “It’s not your fault.” He bounded outside and walked over to the rosebushes. “Matt, are you in there?” He told Flippy he’d sent someone over to spell him. Matt Bauer, his partner on the force. Matt was supposed to pose as a homeless man and keep an eye out for Flippy, but he was gone, too, and Luke couldn’t reach him on his cell phone.

  “Shit.”

  “She took the bus,” said a voice from the bushes. “Miss Tannenbaum took the bus.”

  “Who are you?” Luke grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt.

  “My name’s Chuck. I was stretching my legs and I saw her get on the Number 5.”

  “The Number 5?” Luke pulled out his cell and dialed the office. I need the route for the Number 5 city bus.” Then to the homeless man he was still holding he said, “Have you seen any strange people here lately?”

  “There’s a new man who showed up here yesterday. He got on the bus with Miss Tannenbaum.”

  Luke breathed again. It was Matt. Matt had followed Flippy. Matt was armed, but why hadn’t he called in or answered his phone?

  “Are you going to find Miss Tannenbaum?”

  “Yes. I hope so.”

  “I’m coming with you. You could use me.”

  “Yes, I can use all the help I can get. Thanks. My car’s over here.” The two got into Luke’s car and drove off. Luke was waiting for a call-back to confirm the route, but he knew what the answer would be. 5555 Skyline Road would be on that route, and that bastard Willis had Philippa.

  His cell phone rang. It was the call he was expecting, with the answer he was expecting. And he got some more information that made him sick. Rodney Willis had not come to work today. He’d called in sick. He was sick all right, Luke thought. And he had taken the only thing that mattered to Luke. “We don’t have much time,” he said to Chuck, muttering to himself, “I hope we’re not too late.”