"That was the Thursday I was away on vacation."
"Where did you go on vacation?"
"I went on a cruise to the Virgin Islands."
"Alone?"
"No, a girlfriend went with me. We go somewhere every year about this time. Neither of us are married and we don't like to travel alone. Besides, it's more fun to have someone to share fun times with. Linda and I go in the winter, so we always choose a warm place. This was the first time either of us had taken a cruise."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Pretty much. I'd just met Ben, so I didn't flirt with any men the way Linda did. There were a couple of nights I was alone for a while after dinner, but I'm a big girl. I stayed out on the deck and watched the sun go down, then went to my room to read."
"Is there anything you might be able to tell us that might help us in our investigation? Like, was Ben Connaughton your first date through Just For You?"
"He was. He had been to The Cheesecake Factory before, so he walked me through the menu, asked me what kinds of food I like, and made a few suggestions. He was such a nice man. I was hoping to get to know him better."
"Miss Moran, I don't mean to alarm you unnecessarily, but whoever killed Ben Connaughton may still try to murder you. Most of the victims were killed at home. Don't open your door to anyone you don't know."
I stood up and looked down at the woman. The tissue she had in her hands was no longer useable. Her face didn't look much better.
"We're going to catch this person. In the meantime, if you need something, or think of someone who might be of interest to us, call the department. And you might consider asking this girlfriend if you can stay with her for a few weeks."
When I saw that she needed to be alone, I turned to leave, with my lemming close behind. I exited the cafeteria and wished I had dropped bread crumbs to find my way out. Lou caught up to me and pointed. Six days later we were back on top of the roof of the parking garage and no one had stolen my van.
+++
"What do you think, Lou?"
"I think she's either innocent, or should be up for an Academy Award."
"I'll have Sam check to make sure she was on that cruise. If she was, I doubt if she flew home to murder someone on that Thursday."
28
We left the hospital and drove to Phil Pendleton's house. We didn't expect to find him, but at least it would make finding his house in the dark much easier. We matched the address in my files to a nice house in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. It was one of those neighborhoods where the residents might hire someone to come in once a week to clean, but not one where they would have a live-in maid. I was pretty sure that Charles Hacker and Phil Pendleton weren't the same person. The doorbell worked, but no dog barked. No human was home either, and a scan of the neighboring houses didn't reveal anyone peering through the blinds, wondering who the former fat guy was.
I walked back to the van, followed by my lemming. We synchronized our door openings and hoisted ourselves up onto our seats. I turned to face the guy who wouldn't make it past the auditions for America's Got Talent.
"Well, Lou. Might as well get it over with."
"Are you talking about Bambi Fontaine, that gorgeous nurse you dated, or a duel to the end?"
"We are on our way to see a woman with a trailer."
"Well, Cy, you've always said you'd like to live in a house you could move if you decide to up and relocate."
"I never said that, Lou."
I wasn't sure which was worse, Lou's senseless jabber or his singing. And then I started the van and no talent started singing along with the radio, and I was sure. I thought about trying to find the opera station, but I didn't want to listen to people in pain hollering in some language I didn't understand. I wondered if Sirius XM Radio had a station of the greatest bagpipe hits or one that played only accordion music. Then a thought hit me. I remembered that some of the songs on 40s on 4 were instrumentals. I hit a button, switched the station, and watched Lou gyrate to In The Mood.
+++
The trailer park where Miss Fontaine was the manager was out in the country in Jessamine County. I headed out Nicholasville Road and made all the proper turns. Twenty minutes later we were about to turn into a trailer park that looked a little better than I expected. I drove in and followed the numbers until I got to a lot in the back that was much larger than the others. There were several trees scattered around the lot, which provided a canopy in case Miss Fontaine wanted to spend some time outdoors, but out of the sun, in the summer. I drove up the longest driveway I've ever seen in a trailer park and saw that Bambi's trailer backed up to a farm. I got out and looked at a double-wide that looked fairly new. The wind whistled through the trees, so I didn't waste any more time admiring the view. When I was three steps from the front door, that door burst open.
"Get out of here or I'll call the police!"
"At your service," I said, as I whipped out my credentials.
"Are these for real?"
"Sure are. Took me fifteen minutes in a car with some woman to get them."
"Huh? So, this means that you ain't no gravedigger?"
"Never dug the first shovelful."
"What else did you lie to me about?"
"Pretty much everything, but today I'm here to tell you the truth. We are investigating a series of murders, and I'm here to ask you some questions."
"I ain't killed nobody."
"You probably haven't, but I need to talk to you anyway. Mind if we come in?"
"What if I say yes?"
"Then I have some handcuffs, and I'll take you in and ask you there."
"Let me see that again."
I showed her the credentials, let her study them in case there was a test.
"So, your name ain't Edgar Norman?"
"No. It's Cy Dekker."
"So, who's he, really?"
"Lou was my partner in homicide for over thirty years. Now, I don't want you to get pneumonia, so do you mind if we come in?"
"Put your handcuffs away and come on in. Don't see how I can help you solving no murder. Nobody's been killed in this here trailer park. Some of our people are old, so one drops dead every now and then, but it's from old age, not road rage."
"The murders I'm here about happened in Lexington. And other places, too. But not here in your trailer park. I guess you have good security out here."
"Yep. Several of my residents have dogs."
"Miss Fontaine, I realize that I wasn't your only date through Just For You."
"I already told you that, that night you lied about who you was."
"I know, but you failed to tell me that one of the men you met at The Cheesecake Factory had been murdered."
"Really? I didn't know that. Well, it wasn't me that done it."
"So you have an alibi for the time he was murdered?"
"Probably. I'm here most of the time."
"You weren't here on those three occasions when you met someone at The Cheesecake Factory. And you weren't home on those other two occasions when I saw you there."
"I know you already knowed that, so I didn't mean then. He probably didn't get killed when I was there. Did he?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well I didn't kill them. I'm scared at the sight of blood. I wouldn't even hurt a fly."
"Neither would Norman Bates."
"Who?"
"Never mind. And none of the victims bled when they died."
"You mean you can kill someone without them bleeding?"
"Pretty much. In those movies you watch, have you ever seen anyone get hit over the head?"
"Yeah, but that stuff's fake. Everyone knows that. But I think they're wrong about rassling."
I continued to question Bambi Fontaine and wondered how smart someone has to be to manage a trailer park, until I found out her brother-in-law owns the place, and lives in Ohio somewhere. Again it was a case of whether or not the woman was a good actress, or if she wasn't smart enough to murder someone. Before I left, I figured
she was a lousy actress, but could murder someone in a pinch.
+++
Lou and I left and drove back toward Lexington. We stopped at Red Robin for lunch, chowed down on a couple of burgers and some all-you-can-eat steak fries. We skipped dessert. Sometimes it's hard turning over a new leaf. But we no longer eat dessert on all days ending in "y." Besides, we had a murderer to catch, and a good dessert takes time to enjoy. Broccoli, on the other hand, is something to be eaten quickly and forgotten, other than knowing you did your good deed for yourself for the day.
+++
I had several more people to question. I was fairly sure that I wouldn't be able to catch Phil Pendleton and Lucy Marlowe until sometime after 5:00. I wasn't sure about Sarah Jane Fulkerson. I forgot about all of them and tracked down some of the others. One woman told me that some woman showed up at The Cheesecake Factory before she did and tried to steal her date. I showed her a few pictures and she identified Marge Shockley. One man I caught home on his day off told me that some guy tried to steal his carnation. I went through another set of photos and the man identified Charles Hacker. Boy, had that guy been busy. I needed to send him and Marge Shockley to some remote place together. Other than those two revelations it was a wasted afternoon. No one told me that someone had tried to stick them with a needle.
29
I thought of the three people I had remaining on my list to talk to that night. I assumed that daytime hospital nurses get home from work before librarians and salesmen who sell medical supplies. And I assumed right. There was a car in the driveway at Sarah Jane Fulkerson's address. A mid-size, couple of years old, looked like something a nurse who was single would drive. In a way, I was disappointed to see the car there. I was hoping she had left on an extended vacation that wouldn't end until I found the murderer or the murderer died of natural causes.
I told Lou this was going to be awkward for me. I asked him if he was willing to stay in the van. He quoted me a figure, and I told him that should be sufficient for him to find a way home. He smiled and stayed in the van as I got out and trudged to the front door. Being the good guy that I am, I left the van running so Lou could sing and not get cold. I even switched the radio back to 60s on 6 for him.
It took several seconds for Sarah Jane to answer the door after I rang the bell. She opened the door, looked out and recognized me, and broke into a grin. My mission had suddenly gone from bad to worse. She opened the door and made way for me to step inside.
"Why, Al, what in the world brings you by? I was just thinking about you, hoping that you too had sent back a green card. You must have heard from the dating service before I did. Otherwise you wouldn't know where I live."
"Sarah Jane, we need to talk."
The smile unplastered itself from her face. A worried look took its place.
"Is something wrong?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Are you saying you changed your mind? You don't like me as much as I like you?"
"Yes, no, uh, I don't know. I'm sorry for what I've done to you. I never expected to meet a woman I could have a relationship with."
"I don't understand. You contacted the agency thinking you wouldn't like the woman you would meet?"
"Let's sit down, and I'll explain."
I waited until we were both seated, facing each other, about six feet apart. I let out a big sigh and began.
"First of all, my name isn't Al. I'm Cy Dekker, Special Investigator for the Lexington Police Department."
"You think I've done something wrong. I don't understand."
"Someone has been murdering people who have gone on dates through Just For You. They brought me in to investigate. Part of my investigation meant I had to fill out an application and let Just For You match me with someone. Actually I've been matched with three someones, and let me tell you that you were by far the best. Of course I lied about myself on the other two. The only lies I put down on this application was my name , where I lived, and what I did for a living. I wanted to see if the agency was on the up-and-up."
I stopped for a minute and looked at Sarah Jane Fulkerson. Her mouth was open. I assumed she was shocked by what I had told her. Finally, she realized that I was no longer talking and asked me a question.
"You mean to tell me that this place is sucking in people and then murdering them?"
"That's possible, but I don't think so. Our most likely suspects are the people going on the dates."
"Oh, so what you really think is that I could be a murderer."
"No, not you. I can't picture you murdering someone. But the murderer could very well be someone who went on a date."
"But you think the murderer is a woman?"
"Not necessarily. It could be a man or a woman."
"So, why are you here?"
"I wanted to make you aware of this. Have you dated anyone else through the agency other than me?"
"No, you were the first, and I was hoping you were the only. I like you. I really felt good about our date. I thought you liked me, too. I guess I was wrong."
"No, I like you. A lot. But there's a problem. I already have a girlfriend. They should have sent someone else to do this, but they chose me because of my record of solving murders. I'm sorry. I thought they would only send me losers, and women capable of murder. I didn't know that they would send me someone special like you."
She started to say something, but my last comment got to her. We sat there silent for a few seconds.
"Well, at least you don't think I'm capable of murder. But I feel like someone who entered a beauty contest and I was told that I was the first runner-up, or I missed winning the lottery by one number."
"I'm sorry. I think you'll find someone soon. Maybe someone at the hospital. Maybe someone to whom you'll give a shot."
When I mentioned the last statement Sarah Jane's face took on a different look.
"What's the matter? Your look changed when I said shot."
"It wasn't the word shot exactly. It's the fact that maybe you've forgotten that the only people I give shots to are babies."
I chuckled, and she even smiled for the first time since she first figured out I wasn't there to set a wedding date.
"So, what else do you need to ask or tell me?"
I went over a few things with her, and asked her a few questions, but my heart wasn't in it. I told her that most of the murders had happened at home, just after the victim opened the door to someone. I cautioned her about opening the door to strangers, or anyone she had met recently for the first time.
"So, you think the murderer is killing people he or she went on a date with?"
"That could be true. But if it's one person murdering all of these people, and we think that's true, then whoever it is is murdering people he or she hasn't dated. So, be careful."
"Cy. You did say your name is Cy?"
"That's right."
"When all of this is over, if things don't work out between you and your girlfriend, could you check back with me to see if I've found Mr. Right yet?"
"I'll do that. But I bet it won't be long before you find the right guy."
"I don't know. I thought I had already found him."
I wanted to hug her, but I knew that wasn't the right thing. So I dragged my carcass across the room and out the front door. I was afraid to turn around and face her. I figured if I did she would take it that I was still interested and wrap her arms around me. As I walked back to the van, I tried to think of Jennifer, but instead I thought of what a heel I was. Sometimes working homicide sucks.
+++
I tried to smile at Lou as I slinked back onto the driver's seat.
"Well, it looks like that went well. Let me guess. She might not be the murderer, but she's considering it now."
"No, she told me that after this is over if things don't work out between Jennifer and me to check back with her and see if she's met Mr. Right."
"Women! I didn't realize that at least one of them is so hard up she's interested in you, t
he guy who jilted her."
"You should have already known that. After all, Thelma Lou chose you. And I can't see where her lifestyle has changed all that much, so I doubt if anyone paid her to do that."
"Cy, I saw this woman when she opened the door and looked at you. She's definitely a looker."
"Do you want me to go back and see if she will settle for you?"
60s on 6 was doing a repeat of a show I had already heard, so I hit a button to change the station. Your Cheating Heart was playing. Quickly, I hit another button. Roger Miller was singing Dang Me. I cut the radio off and drove away.
30
I wondered if librarians get home from work before salesman do and decided to get all the women out of the way. I headed to Lucy Marlowe's house. I drove through traffic to her house, and even though the radio was still off Lou sang along with what song he figured was playing on the radio. I arrived to check out the librarian. I decided to leave Lou in the van again. I could overpower a mousy librarian if the need arose. This time I had a different greeting at the door.
"Oh, you're the guy I went out with the other night. What are you doing here? I haven't even sent my card back yet. I was still trying to decide. So, how did you get my address. I thought that stuff is supposed to be confidential."
"I need to talk to you. May I step inside? It's cold out here."
"Just say what you want to as quick as you can. I don't feel comfortable with a man in the house."
I started to tell her that I didn't think she had anything to worry about with any man, but instead pulled out my credentials and showed them to her.
"This is for some guy named Cy Dekker. Your name is something else. I can't remember it right now."
"It's Cy Dekker and as this says I'm working with the Lexington Police Department on a case right now."
"That's not a police car. Whoever heard of a policeman driving a minivan?"
"Well, I do. Now do you want to talk here, or do you want me to take you in?"
Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date Page 14
