Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date (16 page)

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.

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, the 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.