Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date

by Steve Demaree

  "Well, I just finished watching Dead of Winter. I can recommend it. And I might watch No Way Out with Gene Hackman and Kevin Costner after lunch. I'll pick you up in the morning for church, and we can talk about our next book then."

  It wasn't until I had hung up that I realized I had forgotten to tell Lou about the missing young man. Oh, well! That would give us something to talk about on the way to church.

  +++

  I'm a wimp. The weather forecast said it was supposed to start snowing sometime late that afternoon, and we were supposed to get several inches before it quit. I wondered if it was too late to catch a flight to New Zealand. It was summer there. While I go out in bad weather to attend church and go to the bookstore, now that I'm retired I try to stay in when it's cold or snowy. So, I picked up the phone and had lunch delivered. I couldn't go out on a date like Lou could. Jennifer was out of town for a few days.

  +++

  Who says that a man can't have fun by himself? I smacked and licked my lips while eating each bite of my Stromboli sandwich and French fries with gravy from Antonio's, while I watched Kevin Costner go from one dilemma to another in No Way Out. I was home by myself, so I planned ahead and protected my shirt with an adult bib from the linen closet. I untied the bib when I finished and refrained from drawing lines connecting the gravy stains and sauce stains from the Stromboli.

  I tossed the bib in the clothes hamper as I headed to my bedroom to take a much-needed winter's nap. When I awoke, I looked out the window to see if it had started snowing. Not only had it started, the entire backyard was covered and the snow was still coming down. I stood there watching it fall until it got too dark to see. Feeling well rested from my nap, I was in the mood for a few laughs, so I headed back to my DVD player and slid in Weekend at Bernie's. It had been a while since I'd seen that silly movie. After I watched and rated my third movie of the day, I headed to my Wii board where I did a few stretching exercises, and a few other maneuvers that totaled thirty minutes. I wasn't sure if I had worked off all of my lunch, but I had at least worked off some of the French fries and gravy. I plopped down in my recliner and contemplated my next move, which wouldn't occur for a few minutes. Wiiing can be exhausting. Once my heavy breathing subsided, I propelled myself from my recliner and headed to the kitchen for a light, late dinner and then off to bed. Before putting on my pajamas I shook out my undershirt and picked up a few kernels of popcorn from the floor and pitched them into the trash.

  4

  I awoke Sunday morning, showered, ate breakfast, and read the devotional books I read each morning, plus I read and studied a chapter in the Bible. I have some of my priorities right. After I finished I called Lou to let him know I was on my way to pick him up for church. He didn't answer. That was unusual, but I figured he was either talking to Thelma Lou on his cell phone, was still doing his Bible study, or was still getting ready, even though he usually did all of those much earlier on Sunday morning. He has a habit of getting up earlier than I do. That's probably the reason I look better than he does. I get more beauty sleep.

  I opened the door a crack and let some of the cold air in. I didn't have to look too hard to see that the snow was still coming down. I found a note on my door that told me that Mark, my yard boy, would be back to shovel the sidewalk and driveway as soon as it quit snowing. Normally I don't leave the house until after Mark comes to shovel my driveway and all the streets have been plowed, but church hadn't been cancelled so I figured that meant I could go dashing through the snow. Carefully, I walked from the house to my to my salsa red pearl Siena. Unlike Lightning, my yellow VW bug that preceded the van I now drove, I hadn't yet named my new ride, even though I'd had it a few months. That morning, walking was hard. The snow was higher than the top of my shoes. I should have worn boots. The temperature was lower than anything I wanted to be outside in, but I didn't want to miss church, so I trudged on. Because of the low temperature the snow was more fluffy than crunchy as I walked through it, and the blowing wind helped fill in my tracks so that I didn't leave any footprints. As I passed the side of my house I plucked the broom that was leaning against it, there for the purpose of brushing snow from my van. It wasn't a good snow for having a snowball fight, but because I got there before it turned to ice, I would have no problem brushing the snow from the windshield and windows. But before I did so, I got in and started the van, and put the front defrost on high and pushed the button so the rear one would work too, just in case I needed some assistance in clearing the snow.

  I was still getting used to having a minivan instead of a VW bug. One difference was that the roof of the van was higher than the one on the bug, so I had to reach up to brush the snow away. After I started the van and let it warm up, I got out again and cleaned the snow off the windshield and windows. Then I got back in and listened to 60s on 6 blaring from my radio. Those old songs always put me in a good mood. Herman’s Hermits were singing about Henry VIII. I sang along, tried to imitate Peter Noone's voice. Slowly I backed out of my driveway. There was already enough snow that it was hard to tell the driveway from the yard. I hoped that I remained in the driveway rather than making tracks through my yard. To better do so I looked at the camera that showed me what was behind me, a feature I didn't have on my VW. Afraid of getting stuck, I kept a steady foot on the gas pedal, and a few seconds later I touched down in the street, not too much worse for wear.

  My street and the cross street were still covered with snow, but the main streets had been plowed, and four songs later I pulled up in front of Lou's apartment building and waited for him to come out. Most of the time, in cold weather, he looks out the window until he sees me pull up. On pleasant days, which wouldn't happen for at least another two months, he waits on his front porch. But regardless of the weather, he always came rushing out, sometimes before the van comes to a stop.

  I looked up at Lou's door. No Lou. I waited a few seconds. Still no Lou. I didn't know how late the old ladies in his building slept, so I refrained from blowing the horn. After another minute, I got out and walked up and knocked on Lou's door. Still, no one came to the door. It didn't look like the snow in the yard was that much higher than the unshoveled snow on Lou's walk, so I cut through the yard and headed around back. There were no tracks in the snow other than mine, but I wasn't sure how long it took the new-fallen snow to cover any tracks. I didn't think about that for a long time, because it was hard to tell where I had walked. I headed to Lou's garage and looked in. Lou's 1957 Chevy convertible was where I expected it to be. I was getting more concerned by the minute. I headed back to Lou's front door, pulled out the spare key he had given me in case he lost his or forgot and locked his key inside the apartment. I slid the key into the lock and turned the key. The door unlocked like normal. I opened it a little and hollered.

  "Hey, Lou! Are you here somewhere?"

  There was no answer. My demeanor changed to detective mode. I searched Lou's small apartment. It took only a few seconds to realize he wasn't there. I went to his bathroom and checked the bath towel. It wasn't damp. Lou hadn't taken a shower that morning. So, where was he?

  I hurried to Lou's house phone, dialed Thelma Lou's number. She didn't answer. I looked at my watch. Thelma Lou always went to Sunday school at her church. She would have left already, and she always turned her phone off when she got to church. Had Lou gone to church with her and forgotten to tell me? I didn't think so. I had told him the afternoon before that I would pick him up the next morning. He didn't say anything about having any other plans.

  I walked out of Lou's apartment. I didn't care if I woke up someone else. I was going to knock on each of the other three doors in Lou's building to see if any of his neighbors could tell me where Lou was. No one answered at any of the other apartments. Was the owner repainting the apartments? Not on a Sunday. Where was Lou? I couldn't picture him having a slumber party somewhere with the old ladies in his building.

  There was nothing else I could do, so I headed to church. Got there a couple of m
inutes late. The weather had kept some of the older people at home. Maybe a lot of other people too, because I managed to find my normal seat on the back row. Lou wasn't sitting there grinning at me. I continued to worry about my friend. This kept me from getting anything out of the service. Well, I did pray and ask God to keep Lou safe.

  I left as soon as the service was over and drove to Thelma Lou's. I doubted if she would be eating out, since Jennifer was out of town. On occasion the two of them ate out together after church. Thelma Lou wasn't home yet. I pulled up in front of her house and waited. She pulled into her driveway ten minutes after I docked out front. I took the direct path from my van to her car. Again I wished I had worn boots. I was at her car door by the time she opened it. She had a concerned look on her face.

  "Is something wrong with Lou, Cy?"

  "That's what I came to ask you. You haven't seen him or talked to him this morning?"

  "Actually, I haven't talked to him since he left here early yesterday afternoon. I thought about calling him last night, but then I got another call and forgot all about it."

  I had an idea. I debated whether to share it with Thelma Lou, but I decided she was a strong woman and could handle it.

  "Maybe we should call the hospital, see if he might have had an accident."

  "I don't think he would have driven in this snow. He's too particular about that car of his."

  "No. I mean maybe he fell at home and the paramedics came and took him to the hospital."

  It was worth a try. I called, but Lou wasn't listed as a patient, not even in the emergency room. I told Thelma Lou not to worry, that Lou would turn up, but I knew that both of us would continue to worry until we found him, safe and sound. As I left, I told her to call me if she heard anything and I promised her that I would do the same.

  My good friend George Michaelson, who should have retired from the police department when Lou and I did, lived closer to Thelma Lou than I did, so I drove by his house on my way home. He saw me headed up the walk and met me at the door.

  "Cy. Come on in. What brings you by, especially in this weather? I thought you would be hibernating until after Easter."

  "It's Lou, George."

  "You might be able to try that on the phone, but I can tell that you're Cy."

  "I mean Lou is the reason I'm here."

  "He's okay, isn't he?"

  "I don't know. He's missing."

  "Missing?"

  "Yeah, missing, like the title of that Bill Noel mystery."

  "What?"

  "Never mind."

  I proceeded to tell George everything that Thelma Lou and I had done and asked him if he had any other ideas. Since Lou was a fixture at the police department for over thirty years and was known to everyone who worked there, I figured we would have heard if Lou had turned up beaten in some alley somewhere.

  The only idea we came up with was to return to Lou's building, see if he had returned, and if not knock again on the doors of his neighbors, hoping that one of them had returned and knew where Lou was. George and I decided that if we didn't find anyone at home this time that we would call the owner of the building and have him open all of the apartments. Lou wasn't lying on the floor of his apartment when I went by earlier, but we weren't sure about his neighbors, all of whom were elderly women.

  I got back in my van, and George, after telling his wife what was going on, followed me to Lou's place. We jumped out of our vehicles and rushed to the first of the apartments. Maybe it was a good thing that George drove a cruiser, because we were about to holler, "Police! Open up!"

  We did that at the first apartment. No one answered the door right away, but we waited. Sometimes it takes older people longer to get to the door. Would it make any difference that we hollered, "Police! Open up!?" Was that about like shining a bright light on shepherds, and hollering, "Fear not!?"

  In the length of time it might take one old lady to shuffle to a front window, look out and see if she saw a police car, stand there a minute wondering why there was a police car out front, then shuffle to the front door, and slowly open the apartment door, but with the chain still engaged, that scenario happened.

  A small, frail woman squinted at us through her glasses.

  "How do I know you're policemen? You don't look like policemen. Show me your badges."

  Luckily George had identification. He showed it to the woman, who squinted to look at it. Evidently she was satisfied.

  "Some little girl came by last night, wanted me to try a sample of a new drink, and give my opinion of it. Not long after she left, I felt faint, and the next thing I knew I woke up lying on the floor."

  After we got what little information we could from her, we knocked on the other doors and received similar statements. But Lou wasn't lying on the floor when I visited his apartment. We left the last apartment, ready to report what we found and check with the other neighbors, but first we searched the immediate neighborhood. Maybe Lou, weighing more than any of the three women, had stumbled outside of his apartment, and had fallen somewhere, unconscious. We didn't think so, but our leads had dwindled to none. We found no one. Our next move was to check with other neighbors, to see if they had seen anyone, see if they had been visited by a little girl with a new drink. No one had seen anything or anyone. I wondered if the little girl was involved in some way. I didn't think she was the leader of the gang.

  5

  I went home, despondent. I was about to call Thelma Lou to let her know what we had found, when the phone rang as I approached it. I expected it to be anyone except Lou. I expected wrong.

  "Cy, I've got a problem."

  I shook as I heard my friend's voice.

  "Lou! Is that you my long lost buddy? If so, I already knew you have lots of problems."

  "I'm serious, and it's a big problem."

  "It had better be a big problem. Thelma Lou and I have been worried sick about you. George, too. Where have you been?"

  "Wherever I've been, I'm still there. Cy, I think I've been kidnapped."

  "If it were me, I would know if I had been kidnapped or not."

  "Well, I'm pretty sure I have been."

  "You mean that someone has you trussed up in their cellar, with rats running over your feet, and snakes crawling all over you?"

  "Cy, I'm really serious here. Imagine how terrified you would be if someone kidnapped you."

  "Not so terrified if it was Jennifer, a lot more so if it was my next-door neighbor, even though she's no longer there. Lou, have you noticed that something here doesn't sound just right?"

  "It doesn't sound right that I've been kidnapped?"

  "I was thinking more that it doesn't sound right that you've been kidnapped and the kidnapper has let you use your phone. Is he standing over you, telling you that he is demanding a certain amount of money for your safe return, and pointing a gun at you to make sure you don't tell me where you are?"

  "Cy, so far this isn't your best day. None of that is correct."

  "Okay, let me try again. Who kidnapped you? Or did someone show up at your apartment, wearing a hood, and asking to use your phone, and you didn't find that strange?"

  "I have no idea who my kidnapper is."

  "So, you're tied up somewhere?"

  "No, I'm free to walk around."

  "But your kidnapper is in the next room?"

  "Cy, I've been all over this place. As far as I know it has three floors and I haven't seen another living person."

  "Have you looked out a window to see if anyone is watching the place?"

  "This place has no windows."

  "Okay, let's try this. Open the front door slightly, and if no bullets come flying in, you go flying out."

  "That too presents a problem."

  "Let me guess. You have no idea which door is the front door, or you're not sure whether to escape out the front or the back?"

  "Well, part of that is true. I have no idea where the front door is."

  "Lou, just pick a door and see what hap
pens. If you get too close to a bullet, I'll contact your Aunt Agatha."

  "Cy, you know I don't have an Aunt Agatha, but what you don't know is that I haven't found an outside door."

  "Do you think your kidnapper might have been Santa and he dropped you down the chimney?"

  "Well, there is a fireplace, and for what it's worth, the house seems to be a circular house."

  "And you haven't located any secret passageways yet?"

  "That's right."

  "Let's back up. Tell me how you came to be there."

  "I don't know. I woke up and this is where I found myself."

  "Lou, I know of plenty of people who have experienced just that. When I worked for the department we called it drunk."

  "Well, I'm not drunk. I feel like I've been drugged. It's taken me a while to get coherent enough to call you."

  "It sounds like you called me a little before you should have called. So, you don't know where you are, how you got there, and who arranged for this to happen?"

  "I think you're the one who's becoming more coherent."

  "Can you hear any outside noises?"

  "Nothing."

  "Well, I can help you with one thing. It's 3:48 Sunday afternoon. I talked to you yesterday afternoon, so whoever kidnapped you did so at some point yesterday, or this morning. I vote for yesterday. Probably after dark. Can you remember anyone knocking on your apartment door yesterday?"

  "That's the worst part."

  "Why, because you can't remember anything?"

  "No. A young woman, probably college age, knocked on my door, and right now she's lying dead at my feet. And there's a guy lying dead right next to her."

  "Lou, do you remember losing your temper and shooting anyone?"

  "I didn't lose my temper."

  "It sure sounds like you have."

  "Only because of the way you're acting."

  "Maybe I should hang up."

  "No, Cy. I'm scared. I can't figure out why someone would kill two people and let me live."