Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer
Page 17
He took it. “Good to see you again, Ms. Flanagan.”
She made a dismissive wave, “Please, Isobel.”
He mimicked her gesture. “Please, Eddie.”
“Mom, why are you here?”
“Missed you, darling. Can’t a mother see her daughter? When you have your own kids,” Mom turned to Eddie, “you’ll understand.” Then back to me. “After seeing you every day,” she threw her arms up, “now, I don’t see you at all.” She shook her key chain. “C’mon, the car’s double parked. Good thing I’ve got Press plates. Where we going?”
“We… are not going anywhere. Detective Franklin and I have work to do.”
Mom raised her left eyebrow, stuck out her lower lip and tilted her head to the right.
“Mom!”
“Did I say anything? Detective, did I say anything?”
Eddie picked up our bags and laughed, “C’mon, Raquel. Some cab drivers are even worse.” He winked at Mom and she glowed back at him.
After we settled into Mom’s Mercedes, she started the car and asked, “Where to?” I realized I didn’t know the answer.
Eddie said, “I’d like to check into a hotel. Make sure there’s a bed for me tonight.”
After Eddie put me up, I couldn’t let him spend money on a hotel. He should stay at my place except for the fact I didn’t have one anymore. I wanted to invite him to a hotel at my expense but my mother was listening and it would be awkward. Mom added to my problem when she said, “Nonsense. You’ll stay at the house, plenty of room for the both of you.”
Eddie said “Thank you, Isobel.” If I wasn’t sitting in the back seat like a little kid, I would have kicked him for accepting her invitation. Now, I had to stay with her too.
Eddie asked her, “So, how did you know our flight was in?”
“Dear, if a woman doesn’t have any contacts at the local airport, she’s not a reporter.”
“One of your Book Club ladies works at the airport, Mom?”
“Darling, effective networking is essential to a newspaper woman’s career. Barbara checks the incoming passenger list for me daily. You never know when a celebrity is trying to sneak into town. She’s incredible, can tell you the pseudo name for any actor you want. Oh, the phone. Wait a minute, Honey.”
The ringing sound coming from the car stereo system stopped when Mom pressed a button. “This is Isobel.”
“Ms. Flanagan. This is Anita at Blanket Security. An entry alarm sounded in your home. When no one answered your home phone, we notified the police. Are you all right?”
“Uhh, yes. I’m fine.”
“Good, may I have your password please?”
Mom told Anita the password “Raquel” and completed her call. She had just enough time to say, “Damn,” and the phone rang again.
Mom said, “I hate car phones,” pressed the button and took the call.
“Isobel, are you all right?”
“Yes, Bill. I’m fine.”
“Your address came on the Police scanner… I, we were worried…”
“I’m fine. I’ve got Raquel in the car. We’re both fine.”
“Good.”
“Do I need to remind anyone that this story doesn’t belong in my paper?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
By the time Mom finished assuring Uncle Bill we were indeed fine, and he convinced her the break-in wouldn’t appear in the paper, we were home. A police cruiser and a K9 unit sat in the circular driveway. Mom parked behind them and an officer came from the front porch to greet her.
“Ms. Flanagan?”
“Yes.”
“Alarm company contact you?”
“Yes.”
The cop nodded and took a pad from his pocket. “There’re signs of forcible entry on one of the rear second floor windows. There’re no sensors on those but the intruder tripped the motion detector inside.” He scratched under his hat with his pen. “We don’t see too many second story entries except in apartment buildings. Any event, you’ll need to tell us if anything is missing.”
Mom and I went into the house. Eddie followed. Everything on the first floor looked untouched. On the second level, Mom said her room, the guest rooms, the baths and the closets all seemed as she left them. When we entered my room, it was different. I saw dresser drawers only partially shut, things on the floor and an open closet door. I walked into the closet and spotted an empty space on the shelf where I kept my camera bag.
“My camera bag is missing.”
Eddie picked something up from the floor with his pen. “Is this it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s empty except for a flash, and some lens cleaner.”
“No memory card?”
Eddie held the bag upside down. “Nope.”
“Someone took the memory card that contained my carnival photos.”
Eddie said, “Well, at least we know who it was.”
Mom asked, “What do mean?”
“The thief left valuable items behind but stole Raquel’s pictures. Second story entries require a degree of acrobatic skill. Add the Kewpies somebody sent Raquel, the blast at the carnival and you’ve got the Kewpie Killer.”
Mom sat down, “My God, but why would he want her pictures?”
I said, “He thinks I have a shot of him leaving a murder scene.”
“But, he must realize that if you do there would be other copies by now.”
“Yes, but no one arrested him yet. Maybe he’s beginning to suspect that we can’t identify him.”
Eddie said, “Sure. Steal the picture and see how clear it is. Makes sense.”
Mom asked, “Do you have any idea who it could be?”
Eddie put the case back on the floor. “Jim Farrell tried to coerce Raquel into giving him those pictures. Let’s talk to him.”
When the police left, Mom called someone to fix the window. We tried to settle in and put the break in behind us. Since my room was full of fingerprint dust, she put me in the room next to hers and Eddie in the guest cottage by the pool. She could have put him in one of the other main house guestrooms, but she told him, he’d like it better in the cottage. What she really meant but didn’t say was she’d like it better that way. Eddie picked up his bag and headed for the door.
When he came back to the house, he said, “I checked in with W.P.D. Robby told me Popslowski’s turned up. Claims his car broke down in the boonies, no cell service and it took a while to get it towed and fixed. They’re bringing him for questioning while they try to verify his story. Says, we come by in ‘bout an hour, we can watch.”
“I’d like that.”
“Meantime, I located Farrell. Let’s visit your old friend.”
“Mom, we’re borrowing your car.” I grabbed her keys from the table in the foyer. She grabbed my hand.
“We’ll see about that.” Mom released me and took a small gift-wrapped box from the credenza. “I planned to wait for a better time but… ”
I opened the box and found a key with engraved with the letters “MGB”. “Mom? Is this… I thought you got rid of…”
“Nonsense, it’s in the garage. Your registration and title are in the glove box.
“You got the car back? Wait… my registration and title?”
“Never got rid of it. Bernie just had to restore a few things. You know Dad always planned to give you the car. Now that you’ve lost the Kara-mobile… well, a girl’s gotta have wheels.”
I hugged her, then kissed her and before she could react, said. “See ya.” Eddie followed me out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Five – A Farrell of Monkeys or Does Pops drink Snapple and crack?
It felt good to sit behind the polished wood steering wheel in Dad’s… my MGB. Eddie’s face revealed surprise when he sat down in the car. I don’t think he expected the seat to be so low to the ground but he said nothing.
“Where to?”
Eddie looked at his pad and read me an address. “Tribune Office. Know it?”
Eddie grimaced. I hit the clutch and tried again with success. “OK. Let’s go.”
I pulled up in front of the Tribune and parked in a spot labeled “Press Only”.
We entered the lobby and Eddie showed the receptionist his badge. “Jim Farrell?”
A young girl behind the desk looked up in surprise. “Really? We have a reporter named Jim Farrell too. You his Dad?”
Eddie opened his mouth to speak, seemed at a loss for words and turned to me.
I said, “Yes, we’re visiting from out of town and want to surprise him.”
“How sweet. Here.” She handed us stickers labeled “Visitor” from a roll on her desk. “Jimmy’s in the southwest corner.”
I followed Eddie through a maze of furniture and cubicles until we came upon an empty desk bearing the nameplate “James Farrell”. Eddie asked the man at the next desk, “Where’s Farrell?”
Without turning from his computer screen, the man nodded to his right. “Editorial meeting… or maybe getting chewed out again.” The man looked at the window to the conference room at his right. “Kinda hard to tell the difference.”
Eddie opened the door to the conference room and walked to the end of the table. I hid behind him.
“Hey,” a man at the other end of the table yelled, “you can’t just come in here.”
Eddie looked around then said. “Hmmm, I just did.” Then he leaned on the table towards Farrell. “Where were you this morning?”
“Right here. Editorial meeting… all morning…” Eddie brought his face closer to Farrell’s. “..since 9:00.”
Eddie looked around at the other people in the room. “This true or are you all accessories to the crime?”
The man at the other end of the table said, “You can’t come in here and question him like that.”
“I just did. Please, try to keep up.”
A woman at the table said to me, “Aren’t you Isobel Flanagan’s daughter… from the Chronicle?”
The man at the end of the table rose and spread his arms across the blackboard behind him. “You can’t see this. Trade secrets. You steal our stories and I’ll sue.”
I said, “We’ve already seen it. You really do need to try to get ahead of the curve.”
“Get out,” the man said then punched a button on a conference phone.
A female voice answered, “Reception.”
“Stephie,” the man said. “Farrell’s got visitors here.”
“Yeah, isn’t that sweet? They wanted to surprise him.”
“What? Call the Police. I want them out.”
“Oh, Jimmy’s Dad’s a cop. Maybe he can help?”
Eddie reached out and pressed a button on the phone. “No need. We’re done here.”
As we left the building, Eddie said, “Checks out. He didn’t do the break-in. Someone else is after you.”
“That’s comforting… I guess.”
* * *
We arrived at the W.P.D. station and found Robby at his desk on the phone. Across from him, Detective Cavanaugh’s desk sat unoccupied. Eddie and I stood waiting for Robby to complete his call. He hung up and pointed to Cavanaugh’s chair.
“It’s tough when your partner’s burning his unpaid leave. I’m on my own here. You want to listen when I talk to Pops, I wouldn’t mind the extra input.”
Eddie said, “Sure, and you should know we spoke with Jim Farrell. He alibis for the Flanagan break-in.”
“You shoulda let me handle that. This isn’t Florida.”
“You have the time?”
Robby shook his head and said, “No. The he grimaced at me. “I’m sorry, Raquel.”
I said, “It’s OK. I’m only missing a memory card and I had already copied the contents.”
“This the card with that Carnival photo we sent to the Lab?”
“Yes.”
“Nobody recognizable on it.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky the killer will see that and leave me alone.”
“We can hope.”
An officer came over and said, “Detective? We’re ready.”
Robby stood. “Good, thanks.” Then to Eddie and me. “C’mon.”
We followed him into a viewing booth. Then Robby left us and entered a small adjoining room on the other side of the glass. Viktor Popslowski sat alone there alone with a metal table and two chairs.
Robby slammed the door shut, threw a folder down on the table and said, “Viktor Popslowski, AKA Erol Forte. How’s the Strongman business been lately?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“OK, when did you last see Bert Connelly, the clown?”
“What are you talking about?”
“… or Breaker Burke?”
“Who?”
“… or Morgan Finley?”
“What?”
“Harold Thomas?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You knew these men, didn’t you?”
“I knew Connelly… a long time ago. The other names sound familiar but I can’t place them.”
“Four men murdered. Four men associated with your sister in law and you know nothing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were married to Rosa Bellini.”
“Yes. So?”
“Rosa was Agnese Medici’s sister.”
“Do you think I didn’t know that?”
“Oh, you knew it.”
Pops sat there without responding.
“Why’d you kill those men?”
“You think I killed these men?” Pops spat on the floor. “Get me a lawyer. I’m not telling you anything.”
Behind the glass, Eddie murmured, “Gee. That was helpful.”
A uniformed cop entered the interrogation room and handed Robby a piece of paper. Robby looked at and then left Pops alone with the cop and came into the room with Eddie and me. Eddie opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it. He seemed to think it better to keep quiet. Robby said, “Got word that his story checks out. We spoke with the garage that towed him in. He’s telling the truth. Well, at least about that. We’ve got nothing else to hold him on. Now what?”
Eddie shrugged and I followed him out. When we got to the car, he said, “Well, we’ve still got the son, the floral customer and the sailor.”
Chapter Twenty-Six – A cop and a reporter walk into a bar…
From the precinct, I drove Eddie downtown to Wahl Flowers. Edna returned from her trip to the woods and greeted us at the door with wildflowers in her hand.
“Oh, Raquel, I heard you were back in town.”
“You spoke with Mom?”
“Er, no. Barbara… at the airport. She said she saw you…” Edna turned to face Eddie, “with a handsome man.”
Eddie smiled down at her. “Lovely flowers, Ms. Wahl.”
“Oh, call me Edna. Please.” She lifted the flowers. “Aren’t these beautiful? They grow wild this time of year up on the south side of the mountain.”
Eddie showed Edna his badge. Her eyes widened and she formed an “O” with her mouth. He said, “Edna, I wonder if you can help me. I need whatever information you can provide about this order, please.” He showed her a page in his pad.
“Oh, I’m so excited to be able to help the police. I’ve never been involved in a real case before… just the mysteries in Book Club. Come to the counter. Let me get my ledger.”
She pretty much threw down her flowers and ran behind the counter. We followed and watched her flip through the pages. “Aha. Here it is. Sympathy Selections, the Forever Thinking of You Bouquet. One of the pricier items, but oh so pretty and very tasteful. Delivered via Dolly’s Flowers.” Edna looked up at Eddie and beamed.
“Wonderful, Edna. Thank you. Can you tell me who made the order?”
“Hmm, it was a cash sale so there’s no customer name or address but I remember
the man.”
“How come?”
“He comes in every year about this time. Good-looking older gentleman. Paul Newman eyes…” Edna looked at me now and added, “and a nice tight little butt. If I see him again, I can call you.”
“Sure, thanks.” Eddie gave her his card. “Call my cell.”
“Can I call anytime?”
“Edna, anytime is fine.”
“What will you do now?”
“We’ve got another lead to follow, a sailor.”
“Oh, oh.” Edna got excited. “I remember that the man wore a jacket with an emblem on the front left. I noticed it because I thought it was a floral bouquet. Then when he came closer, I saw it was a steering wheel from a ship. Could he be your sailor?”
“Could be.”
Edna said, “If he’s a sailor, maybe he hangs out near the water.”
I said, “Maybe at Waalbroek Port? Commercial ships come down the Mohawk River to unload. There’s also a marina, and truck stop.”
Eddie asked “A truck stop?”
“Yeah, Cargo comes off the ships and goes into trucks.”
“Lemme get this straight. You want me to go a truck stop on the docks and ask longshoremen if they can help me find a guy with Paul Newman eyes and a cute little butt.”
Edna said, “Oh, and my customer also has a nautical tattoo.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “A sailor with a tattoo? That should narrow it down.”
Edna put her hand on his chest and looked up at him. “But it’s an anchor… on the back of his left hand.”
Eddie held her head in both hands and kissed her on the brow. “Now, that, I can work with.”
Edna seemed transfixed by the kiss. I don’t think she even noticed us leave.
* * *
The man wiped his huge hands on his apron and planted them on the counter in front of him so that the surface shook and the ketchup bottle rattled against the mustard. He leaned forward within an inch of Eddies face and said, “I’m always happy to help the Police.”
Eddie put his badge away and said, “Good. This man’s an older guy with an anchor tattoo on his left hand.”
“What’d he do?”
“Don’t know he did anything. Could just be the next victim.”