Return to Murder

by John Osipowicz

  This time Todd could not call 911. He was beginning to realize that he, Todd, is 911 in the town of Calypso. So he called himself into action. It took him a minute to get over the shock of his new partner lying there dead, before he saw the note pinned to her wounded shoulder. The note read: STOP YOUR INVESTIGATION AND LEAVE TOWN. THIS IS YOUR FIRST AND FINAL WARNING. THE NEXT DEATH WILL BE YOURS!

  Todd placed a call for Wendy to come get another body.

  “You sure have been piling them up,” she said.

  “I just don’t want to be next,” Todd replied. “I’ve got to find this killer.”

  Waiting for Wendy to arrive, he had to go outside. He couldn’t take looking at the dead body of this person who had been so vibrant a day earlier. He called the South Bend police chief to tell him the bad news. The reply was that no more help could be sent. Todd was totally on his own. He was told it would be at least another month before a full-time sheriff could be in place in Calypso. He was wished good luck in the meantime.

  Wendy arrived with her hearse and her condolences. Todd showed her the note. “This killer means business,” she said. “You’d better be careful, although if there would be no one to do the investigating, maybe this killer would stop killing. Just kidding, Todd. For all our sake, everyone in town hopes you catch this fiend.”

  The body was removed. At the moment Todd still couldn’t get Nancy out of his mind. Maybe he was still thinking about her because he had been so attracted to the woman, but also she had flown under his radar and could be more of a suspect than he had originally thought.

  He had to find out more about Nancy. He remembered that she had told him that her disabled mother was in a managed care facility near Calypso. Todd decided to talk with the mom to learn more about her daughter.

  There was one person in town who seemed to have all the local information. Todd drove to the bar to talk with Lulu.

  She ended up giving him a big frown and saying, “Todd, I don’t know of any such place. I’m pretty familiar with everything around here within a fifty mile radius. To my knowledge, no such place exists that you’ve been talking about.”

  This was puzzling to Todd because Nancy has said it was close by and was a major reason she had come to live in Calypso. She had also told him the facility was connected to the Cleveland Clinic so he called them for information about a Mrs. Skylar who had Parkinson’s disease. He said it was a police matter, so they said they would check. Five minutes later he was told that person didn’t exist in their records.

  This was totally baffling. Todd next called Cleveland’s municipal records office to ask about the birth of a girl named Nancy Skylar, possibly thirty years ago. Again he said this was for a police investigation and gave his badge number. He was told they would call him back. Twenty minutes later he was told there was no such person in any of their records. They had checked five years before and after the thirty year mark.

  For Todd, reality had become unraveled. Who the heck was Nancy Skylar, if that was even her real name?

  He decided to go to the source and phone Nancy’s home for an explanation. Mitzi Green, Nancy’s assistant answered. She said Nancy informed her yesterday she was going to take a much needed vacation starting today and would not be back for two weeks. In the meantime Mitzi would be putting out the paper. She told Todd in a querulous voice that she herself did most of the work, anyway.

  Todd hadn’t had any breakfast yet, so for the next twenty minutes he sat at McDonald’s staring at his half-eaten Egg McMuffin and still full cup of coffee, trying to figure things out. After he finished that sandwich and drank his coffee he still had no answers.

  He remembered Nancy telling him that she had once worked for the Chicago Tribune, but the job became too hectic causing her to seek a quieter place like Calypso. He phoned the Tribune, but they would release no information over the phone despite his words about a police investigation.

  The Tribune was Todd’s last hope at finding some thread connecting this woman to her origins, but maybe she had lied about that job also. Todd was discovering that this woman, whom he though he knew so well, was an expert dissembler. Chicago was not that far away, a two hour drive. He would go to the Tribune personally and see what he could find. While he was in the city, he could visit his sister, whom he at least knew was real. He needed some kind of assurance that the entire world had not been turned upside down.

  He called his sister, and Carrie said in her usual welcoming manner that a visit would be great. “Tonight we can have dinner out and then tomorrow a Cubs game. The team is so bad tickets are not hard to get.”

  Again Todd was miffed at how pleasant Carrie always was. She was the perfect sister who had the perfect success story, damn it.

  He told her he would be at her condo by six.

  “Good. I’ll make the reservation for seven. It’ll be cool to see you again, Todd. How have you been doing lately?”

  “Not too well. I’ll explain it to you when I see you.”

  Immediately she was concerned. “Have you been ill? Is it job troubles? How can I help?”

  “We’ll talk about it at dinner tonight.”

  Couldn’t Carrie just for once be out of sorts, grouchy and complaining? But that would never happen.

  After packing an overnight bag, Todd started on the Interstate toward the Windy City. Every time he was there, it actually was windy. His first stop would be the Tribune to see what he could find out about Nancy.

  From visiting Carrie a few times, Todd knew some back roads and side streets in order to avoid the man traffic thrust. The neighborhoods he went through were not pretty, but the cars moved along. He parked in a municipal lot two blocks away from Tribune Tower, and walked up Michigan Avenue to the impressive entrance across from the Wrigley Building. He was met with immediate opposition by the desk clerk who would not allow him to go any further than the lobby.

  In their arguing, the key word became the fact that Todd was investigating a series of murders. The clerk called upstairs and soon a portly gentleman appeared. Todd showed his I.D. and told a little fib saying he had already cleared this with the city Police Commissioner. He said he would not wander through the building, but wanted to talk to the office where the reporters gathered. Portly himself called upstairs, and they were joined by a young man who looked a heck of a lot like Clark Kent.

  “Reichert will escort you upstairs,” Portly said, and disappeared into an elevator.

  Reichert who had a first name of Evan, shook hands, and said, “This place still hasn’t recovered from the terrorist attack on New York City, fifteen years ago. Every hour we expect a group of armed militants to attack us. I don’t know why they would. I probably shouldn’t be light about it, but the terrorists have made us terrified. Baughman had me look at your credentials, so I guess you are who you say you are, a Philadelphia cop. I’m curious. What the heck are you doing in Chicago?”

  “I started out with one murder in Philly, progressed to now five more in Indiana, and am still trying to find the killer.”

  “The killer might be here in Chicago?”

  “I’m looking for a particular person, and yes, she is a suspect.”

  “Wow, a woman serial killer. That’s going way out to establish themselves as a force in society. I should apologize for that comment. Don’t tell the women reporters you will meet what I just said. Women are some of my best friends.”

  They took an elevator to the eighth floor, which opened up into a series of cubicles full of folders, newspapers and computers. “This woman worked here a few years ago so it would be helpful if I could talk to someone who had been here at least ten years,” Todd asked Reichert.

  “That narrows it down. The turnover is fast. A lot of people use it as a stepping stone to bigger and better things.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “I don’t know yet. Newspapers themselves are becoming obsolete. I don’t want to be driving an Edsel. I’ve been here only a couple years and like
it so far. I’m young and fancy free, as the song says. I don’t have to make a decision yet. I’ll introduce you to Alan Fairchild. He’s been here for that ten year period. There are two other guys, but Alan is a lot friendlier. He at least will not spit on you.”

  Fairchild was a round-faced, rosy-cheeked cherub wearing a bow tie and suspenders. His eyes had a mellow quality to him. If something tragic had happened in Todd’s life, and Fairchild wanted information about it, Todd might give it to him. He looked like a person who could be trusted, but so had Nancy.

  “Yes, I did know Nancy,” Fairchild said. “A very conscientious person, eager to get the story right, but I think the job made her nervous. In fact, I know it did. Sometimes we’d have a coffee together, and she always talked about the strain she was under. She eventually left for a more peaceful place, I guess.”

  “Did she have any friends among the reporters here, a person or two she hung around with?”

  “Not really. Nancy always appeared friendly, but there was a kind of distance about her. She was always into covering the story but not telling you too much about herself. No one here was really close to her. One time, though, when we were having coffee at the little shop across the street, a man came up to her and practically ordered her to go with him. She said, no, and he grabbed her arm and started to pull her out of her seat. I objected, but he pushed me back into my seat. She ended up leaving with him. A couple days later we were having coffee again, and I asked who the heck that guy was.

  “At first she wouldn’t say, but then she got a little emotional which was rare for her. She said his name was Brumfield, and she had made a mistake connecting to him. That’s all she would say. Being a reporter, I found out more about Nathan Brumfield. He had made millions in the marketing world the last twenty years, but he had also gotten the attention of the Chicago police for his shady business practices. A couple people who were supposed to testify against him ended up dead. It seemed that Nancy was involved with a dangerous person. That was the only time he showed up during our coffee time, and then a year later Nancy left the Tribune.”

  Alan Fairchild had no other information to give. Todd thanked him for his help. He talked to the other two men who had been there for a few years, and Reichert was accurate. They were surly, but didn’t quite spit on Todd. They were not friends with Nancy they told him.

  So at least Todd now had a name.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  Again Carrie’s condo embarrassed Todd.

  On the sixteenth floor overlooking the harbor inlet of prime yachts, the entire place was white: walls, furniture, and kitchen cabinets. The sunken living room led to the magnificent view off the balcony. The bathroom itself was almost as big as Todd’s total Philly lower-level walk-down. He always wanted to inquire how much she had paid for all this, but it would sound too gauche to ask.

  The woman herself was tiny, just a little over five feet with a pixie face and haircut. Of course she was still trim, with a shape that wasn’t so different than her high school one, even though high school had been fifteen years ago.

  And as usual she didn’t hide her thoughts. “Todd, you look terrible.”

  “Well, I work at it, Carrie.”

  “That’s what it must be, that job of yours. Listen, you’re smart enough to work at our marketing firm. Give up chasing those crooks.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Dad. He wants me to come sell air-conditioners with him. No thanks, so far I’m staying in the sleuthing world.”

  “Let’s go get some food, and you can tell me all about that world.”

  Her dark green Mercedes glistened as they approached it in the underground parking garage. The stereo played, Moon River, as they pulled out onto the street toward the restaurant. The music surrounded them as Todd leaned back in his leather seat. As much as Carrie’s success dwarfed Todd’s he knew deep-down that this life of luxury was not for him. Maybe he was crazy but a cheeseburger and shake at McDonald’s satisfied him, and as long as the ceiling didn’t leak his basement apartment was just fine. But who was he kidding? He would take Carrie’s life in a minute. He just wasn’t capable of achieving it, and that made him feel bad.

  The restaurant was a tenth floor rooftop terrace called, Le Blanc. Tuxedoed waiters floated around the dark brown tablecloths. The menu had no prices on it.

  “How do we know how much something costs?” Todd asked.

  “If you have to ask, you don’t belong here,” Carrie said. “It’s like the Easy Pass on your car; every purchase here is simply deducted from my bank account. I pay no attention to it. My accountant will tell me if I’m ever broke, but he hasn’t so far.”

  Todd, on the other hand, kept track of every dollar he spent, but he wasn’t going to say that.

  After they ordered, Carrie smiled and said, “Now tell me about the evil people you’re trying to put in jail lately.”

  “I’ll skip the details, but there have been a series of murders. I’m trying to track down the killer, and I think she may be in this area.”

  “Oh, so this isn’t a special trip to see your adorable sister?”

  “That was part of it, but you’re right, I’m sort of here on business.”

  “You said, she. This killer is a woman?”

  “She’s only a suspect. I’m trying to locate her. She’s momentarily disappeared, and I don’t know why.”

  “I think when women kill, it’s always out of love or lack of it. Alas, I’ve skipped that sort of thing in my life so far.”

  “No boyfriends on the horizon?”

  “My boss tries to show a personal interest in me, but I ignore his advances. He’s filthy rich, but too old for me. No, I haven’t found Mr. Right yet. I know I’m bringing this up again, Todd, but you could do better in your life by pursuing certain stocks and commodities instead of the bad guys. All right, I know by the look on your face, I’ve again overstepped my boundary. Let’s order dessert.”

  The next day was muggy and cloudy but the rain held off, and Todd found himself in the bleachers at Wrigley Field. Carrie had said the team was woeful and they looked that way as the Dodgers got four runs in the first inning. Apparently there was a Dodger fan in front of them. Every time Los Angeles got a hit, he stood up and waved his banner around. The banner said, I am a Dodger Codger. The man was overweight with a sunburnt bald head. He was so overweight that when he stood up he blocked the vision of both Todd and Carrie. Also to add to the irritation he would remain standing until that half an inning was over, and the Dodgers were finished batting.

  The Dodgers scored two runs in each of the next two innings, causing Todd and Carrie to not see much of the game because of this constant obstruction in front of them. Finally Carrie had enough. She poked the man in the back. “Sit your fat ass down so I can see the rest of the game.”

  Todd had never heard her talk like that. Salty language indeed.

  The man whirled around spilling some of his beer on Carrie’s leg. “Oh, yeah, who’s going to make me sit down?”

  Carrie didn’t hesitate. “My brother here. He’s tough. He could beat the crap out of you.”

  The man maybe had a few beers before he came into the ballpark. “All right, tough guy. Give me your best punch. Let’s see it, right now.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Todd said.

  “I think there’s a lot of need for it.” The guy drew back his fist.

  Todd held out his hands. “Wait just a minute. Let’s go down by the bathrooms. We can fight there.”

  “Good idea. I’ll lead the way.”

  When they got down to the concessions stands, Todd said, “My sister is accustomed to getting her own way. There’s no need for us to fight. She’s rich and successful; she got that way by being aggressive. You just saw some of it. Why don’t I buy you a hot dog, and we’ll call it even.”

  “Man, I feel sorry for you. Is she like that all the time?”

  “Most of the time. She would harass me all the way home if I di
dn’t fight you. Let’s pull a prank. You eat your hot dog down here, and then we’ll go back to our seats. But before you go back, open up your shirt and look down at the ground like you’ve been defeated by me.”

  “Hey, I can put some ketchup on my chin and neck, like I’m bleeding a little.”

  “That’s the spirit. We’ll fool her. Just don’t say anything, but don’t stand up anymore. She will think I won the fight.”

  They went through their act with Todd looking proud and the guy looking downcast. Carrie clapped Todd on the back and gave him a thumbs up. The Cubs eventually lost 9-1.

  In the Mercedes going back to Carrie’s condo, she said, “You really tamed that guy. That’s what’s needed in the business world. You have to show the other guy who’s boss.”

  “Speaking of boss, how much older is yours than you?”

  “Almost twenty years. Besides he’s married. All he wants to do is fool around. I don’t want a relationship like that. I want someone committed. Brumfield is only committed to making money.”

  They drove another mile while Todd digested what Carrie had just said. “What did you say your boss’s name is?”

  “Brumfield. Nathan Brumfield. He’s made a ton of money around here. Sometimes he oversteps the line. People have taken him to court, but usually the charges are dropped. He’s not exactly famous in this area. Notorious would be a better word.”