Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date (6 page)

It was a
little after
3:00
when I got home. I hadn't been
home long before the phone rang. I picked it up, hoped it wasn't Jennifer
calling to tell me I would contact that dating service over her dead body. From
the first sentence I knew it wasn't Jennifer.

"Cy,
where have you been? I've been trying to call you."

"So,
the shoe's on the other foot now. Huh, Lou?"

"I
just wanted you to know that I heard from the guys in
Tennessee
. Because I hadn't wandered too
far from that round house before some guy found me they were able to locate the
house within a few hours. It took them a while to figure out how to get in. They
even considered circling the house seven times, then blowing trumpets, but
eventually they were able to spot a way in. But when they did the two dead people
were still in there getting riper. Neither of them had any identification on
them."

I
interrupted Lou to let him know that the young woman had already been
identified. Then I let him continue with his story.

"Well,
the guy didn't have any identification on him, and they ran his prints but
weren't able to come up with anything. They don't think he's from around there.
They're guessing that because he was there with me that he might be from
Kentucky
. They don't think he was murdered
in that house, but they will know that as soon as the autopsy is completed. They
contacted different police departments in
Kentucky
and sent them his picture, but so far they haven't turned up
anything. And nobody around here recognized him. George showed his picture
around."

"I'm
sure they'll turn up something soon. By the way, what was that clue again, the
one you gave me when you called the other day?"

"Floyd
Kramer."

"He
isn't that football guy, is he?"

"No,
but the name sounds familiar. Why don't you Google it, see what you come up
with."

I had
already planned to do that. I told Lou to call me back if he found out anything
else, then hung up and headed to the computer. It didn't take me long to find
out something about Floyd Kramer. He had some hit songs back in the 60s. I
looked for a list of them, hoping some lyrics would give a clue as to why Lou
was given his name. I didn't need the lyrics. I needed only the name of one of
his songs.
Last Date.
Evidently this guy was from the dating service
too, and someone had done away with him. I hoped there wasn't going to be a series
of bodies turning up after bad dates.   

+++

I can
remember when one call a day was a little high for me. Things were definitely
changing. I wondered if Lou had written my number on a wall somewhere or told
someone there was a new bookie in town. I dismissed those thoughts when I
realized that all the calls had come from someone I knew. Heather was the next
to call. Her news was not good news. They had located the body of John Ed
Caudill, the guy she called me about, in the woods behind his home. They did an
autopsy and found out that he had been killed by having something injected into
his arm. Their guess was that he was killed in his house, then dragged into the
woods so he wouldn't be found so quickly. I wondered if the dead guy Lou found
had been injected, too. I called Lou to find out.

"Cy,
I was just getting ready to call you."

"More
information?"

"Of
a sort. I got another clue. This one is '
Winter Wonderland and Summer in the
City.'"

"Well,
at least I solved the first one quickly. Floyd Kramer is a piano player who had
a hit record back in the 60s called
Last Date.
And I just heard from
Heather. And the guy she asked me to check on is dead, injected with something
that killed him, then tossed into the woods behind his house. I don't guess you
know if the guy in
Tennessee
was murdered by injection, do
you?"

"I
have no idea, but I'll see what I can find out."

+++

Five
minutes later Lou called me back. His guy was killed by injection. So was the
girl. Lou informed the
Tennessee
authorities about the guy from
Morehead, who died the same way.

I hung up
and pondered what I knew so far. Two guys and a young woman had been murdered. All
by injection. But one of the guys was left near his home, while the other one
might have been driven far away and dumped. And I knew where the young woman
was from. And after I checked I found out that she had no connection to the
dating service. I assumed that she was merely a young woman in the wrong place
at the wrong time. But back to the men. Why did they murder the one guy, but
let Lou live? Was it because Lou hadn't used that dating service? It looked
like it was time for me to fill out that application. Once they identified the
guy in
Tennessee
, I would need to check to see if both
dead guys had dated the same woman, and if so, if she had dated anyone else.
There might be other bodies out there. And there might be other men to warn
about the danger they could face.

+++

I was
trying to figure out what to do next when Sam called again. He had more
information.

"So,
what do you have for me, Sam?"

"Some
of this you may already know, so forgive me if I repeat myself. Everyone fills
out an application and mails it in. The mailman delivers all the applications
to the house each day. Then the man, his wife, and his mother-in-law go over
each application and try to find the best match for each person. If they don't
agree completely, they try to arrive at a conclusion where two of them agree.
They try not to match anyone with someone from the same small town, but two
Lexington
residents would be okay. Then
they mail the information to both interested parties, but list only the first
name of the person they are to meet. Now, this next part is where I might have
spoken too hastily."

"Oh,
what do you mean?"

"The
dating service decides the location where they meet. Since I think the main area
we are looking at right now is
Kentucky
,
that's my main concern. Everyone who lives within an hour and a half of
Lexington
meets their date at The
Cheesecake Factory at Fayette Mall in
Lexington
."

"Can
I get one of these dates for every night?"

"I
think they limit you to three dates, Cy. Now, some of this stuff sounds kind of
cloak and dagger or something out of an old melodrama. The way they know each
other is that the man wears a white carnation and the woman wears a white rose.
Each pays for his or her own dinner, and they leave separately, and at least
five minutes apart. Now, they are not to let on as to what they think of each
other, but they are to contact the dating service within two days to let them
know if they want another date with this person or would prefer a date with
someone else. The company sends them three cards, a red one, a yellow one, and
a green one. The red one means they don't want any more contact with this
person. The yellow one means they aren't sure, but they want to keep their
options open after meeting another one of the dating service's possibilities. The
green one means they want to give this relationship a try. Whichever card they
select, they are to mail it back to the company. The company contacts them
within a week with the information about this person if both send back green
cards, or the name of another person, provided one of them sent back a yellow
or red card and the person hasn't used up all three dates."

"It
does sound weird. Was this something designed by a committee?"

"No,
you're thinking of a camel. As the saying goes, a camel is a horse designed by
a committee. And Just For You Dating Service seems to be working. The company
reports that some of their clients have married someone they met through the
dating service, and the dating service is definitely making money. Good money."

"At
least up to now. What if word gets out that one out of every ten gets murdered
after their date? Sam, how soon can you find out the names of the people who
have used this service, and for sure the names of the people who dated the two
murdered men? I'm particularly interested in whether or not any woman has dated
both murdered men. And is there any way you can get me a copy of the
application any of these women filled out, so I can get paired up with Miss
Most Likely to Commit Murder?"

"Cy,
you know you can take Jennifer to The Cheesecake Factory and there's no danger
in that."

"I
might do that, too."

"Remember,
The Cheesecake Factory is a big place. You might want to have someone there
watching your back."

"Sam,
so far no one has been murdered on the night of the date."

"We
don't know that, Cy. We don't know that for sure yet, because we don't know
when these men had their dates, or when they were murdered. We just think that
it was sometime after that night. All I'm saying is be careful. And you might
want some help on this."

"I
do. That's why I called you. I want you find out everything you can about
everyone involved. The owners and those who have used the service. And if you
can, find out if the two dead men sent back green cards, yellow cards, or red
cards, just in case both of them sent the same color card back. I want to have
all the cards I can have in my favor. Do you have any idea how long it will
take you to get copies of these applications? If I have a murder suspect, I
might want to copy her answers verbatim. Well, whenever it applies."

"Cy,
slow down. I mean go ahead, but just do something close to who you are the
first time. Just use a fake name, address, and profession. But remember to use
an address where you can have mail delivered. Otherwise it won't do you any
good to send it off."

"What
do you think about using the police station? Do you think anybody will bother
to check?"

"I
was thinking that you might use the address of one of our mortuaries, but alert
them that you might get mail there."

+++

I hung
up, not sure how to proceed. I went back to the two clues I was given. Floyd
Kramer made sense, but it didn't tell me who the murderer was. Just that there
was probably a connection. But I had no idea what the weather had to do with
someone's date. It was January. Almost February. Did it mean to look for
someone who cancelled a date because of the weather, or someone who didn't?

I ambled
over to the computer, found the application, and reached down and hit
"Print." It was time to fish or cut bait. I took it out of the printer,
studied it, then sat down to fill it out.

I sat
there, like I was ready to write a novel, and I needed the perfect name for my
main character. I thought of a few and wrote them down. Then one by one I
crossed them off until I had the right name for the first guy I was going to
be. Actually, I didn't know if the name went with the character or not. If not,
I doubted that I would have a best-selling novel.

Next, I
thought of an address I could use. It wasn't as if I had a Monopoly board full
of empty rental property. Coming up with the right address was tougher than
giving my character a name. Then, I came to the boxes under Sex. I smiled as I
thought of the guy who marked F rather than M, because Friday fit into his
schedule better than Monday. Quickly, I marked M and moved on.

I had come
to the fun part. Occupation and hobbies. At first I thought of making my guy
the night watchman at a laundromat, but then opted for an occupation more
ridiculous. I was beginning to think my date wouldn't be the CEO of some large
company. I gave the character I would be playing hobbies, too. I remembered
that one time someone mentioned Ed Wood, so one of the hobbies of the guy I was
to be was watching Ed Wood and other unappreciated movies. And hanging out in
locally-owned used bookstores to smell the books. I gave him a couple of other
hobbies, so that I could spread a larger net, then quit and figured out I would
capture a different type of woman with my next persona. If it turned out that I
excelled at characterizations, I might think of becoming an actor at a dinner
theater.

I moved
on to the next part, which was Dates That Will Not Work For You. I refrained
from writing "Women who chew tobacco and spit in public," "Women
with buck teeth," and "Women who are fifty pounds overweight who
don't cover up their middle," and instead put "None." I was
smart enough to realize they wanted to know any days of the week that I wouldn't
or couldn't date. I wanted to get this over with, so I left open all the days
of the week and finished the application. I stuck a one hundred dollar bill
inside, even though I knew that I shouldn't send money through the mail, but
figured they might be suspicious if the name and address on the check was
different from what was on the application. Once I had finished I folded the
application and put it in an envelope. I was curious as to what kind of woman
they would send to me. I was also nervous. I thought of Sam's idea of having
back-up, but figured I was safe at The Cheesecake Factory. Maybe I could get a
parking place close to the entrance.

I drove
to the post office to mail my application, then called Lou to tell him that I
had gone through with it. He promised me he would lie and say good things about
me at my funeral. I told him I was sending a second application with his name,
address, and phone number. He wasn't sure if I would or not, so he backed off.

Five days
later I received an envelope in the mail from Just For You Dating Service. I
tore open the envelope and saw that my first encounter would be with a woman
named Bambi and that we were to meet the following Friday at
7:30
. The name Bambi conjured up thoughts, none of them about
a deer. I wondered if they were pairing Fake Cy up with a young, exotic dancer.
They envelope contained the three color cards, but evidently I would have to
buy my own carnation.

A few
days later I called Sam to find out anything else he could tell me about the dating
service, and if he had any information about a woman named Bambi. He laughed
when he found out I was serious. He called back later to let me know that the
only thing he had so far was her last name, which wasn't Deere, and that she
had recently had chicken pox and had to miss a week of school. I was sure he
was lying about that part.  He embellished too much when he threw in that her
dad was itching to try out his new shotgun, and that Bambi was excited about
getting her first pair of shoes to wear on the date.

I looked
at the calendar. It was Groundhog Day, and the sun was peeking through the
clouds. I wondered if that meant if the murderer saw his or her shadow that we
would have six more weeks of murder. I shook my head enough that I hoped it
woke up my brain. It was time to concentrate on the matter at hand.

I focused
in on my Friday night encounter. Just in case Bambi and I arrived at the same
time, I wanted to be in character. I called George Michaelson to see if he knew
anyone who had an old truck that I could borrow, one that would make it to
Lexington
and back. He told me he would get
back to me. I should have been suspicious when George didn't ask any questions.
And he came through for me. Friday came. I called Jennifer late that afternoon
to get her to pray for me, but she didn't answer her phone. George told me
where I could pick up the truck, and I found the place, way out in the country,
outside of Hilldale. Way outside of Hilldale. I was told to leave my van there
in case the guy needed to go somewhere. He thought he would be home all night
because he wasn't wrestling anywhere that night, but one never knows when an
emergency might arise. I couldn't drive two vehicles, and I wasn't about to
take anyone with me, so I left my van there and hoped a tree didn't fall on it.

I headed
for
Lexington
. It wasn't until I arrived and
parked near a light in the parking lot on the edge of Fayette Mall that I
noticed how pretty the rust color of the guy's truck looked in the light. Well,
at least the truck had started on the first try, but I wish I had told George
that I wanted a truck with shock absorbers. I promised myself that I would take
the hills at a slower pace on the way home. Unless Bambi was chasing me.

I got out
of the truck, cringed at the sound the door made when it opened and closed. I
looked around, but saw no one looking my way. I looked down at the boots I had
bought for the occasion. I didn't plan to have a second chance to wear them. If
I go to
Texas
, they will just have to know I'm
from somewhere else. I wrapped my heavy coat around me as tight as I could. I
didn't want the wind to get any closer to me than the woman I was about to
meet.

I tried
to be inconspicuous as I walked the four miles to the front door of The
Cheesecake Factory, but I refrained from crouching and darting from car to car.
I knew the mall had a security force that might check out suspicious-looking
characters.   

I stepped
up onto the sidewalk in front of my destination and took the shortest distance
between two points. I walked in the door and looked around. There she was. She
looked at me and grinned. Bambi. Bambi Fontaine, only I wasn't supposed to know
that her last name was Fontaine. She was my first "date" and Sam was
still gathering information about her. I knew only her last name, and had no
idea if she had dated either of the dead men.

She sat
there, still grinning. The buttons on her pale yellow dress with a gray, black,
and white geometrical design were working overtime. Either her dress didn't
grow when she had, or she liked her dresses two sizes too small. Also, about
two feet too short. It wasn't a miniskirt but she needed a dress that came down
to her ankles. Maybe she wanted me to know that she had shaved her legs for the
occasion. She wasn't the size of someone who should be afraid of a person
carrying a harpoon, the way I used to be, but she did need to meet Jenny Craig.
She wore hose of a dark brown color, and black shoes with thick heels. I looked
around. She seemed to be the only woman there wearing a dress on a cold January
night. From across the room I could tell that she, and not God, had chosen her
hair color. It was closer to Goldenrod than Platinum. I automatically wiped her
off my suspect list. She didn't look dumb, but she didn't look smart enough to
kill somebody. But then sometimes those are the ones who murder people. She
didn't look like a woman who had dated a lot, even at three for one hundred
dollars. I figured the only men who didn't have their red cards out when they
first saw her were ones missing most of their teeth. I hoped I wasn't her last
chance. She seemed nice enough. She continued to grin as I walked over. On the
way over to introduce myself I wondered why in the world I let Heather talk me
into doing something like this. I almost stumbled when, out of the corner of my
eye, I saw Lou, Thelma Lou, and Jennifer, waiting for a table. Jennifer looked
at me and breathed a sigh of relief. I could tell she wasn't worried about this
one as a murderer or someone who would take me away from her the way Calgon
Bath Oil Beads might. Not that I would ever use bath oil beads.  

I guess
you're Edgar," she said, in a voice that was very much what I expected.

I was so
nervous I almost corrected her, and then I remembered that the name I put on
the application was Edgar Norman.

I tried
my best to act the part of the guy I was pretending to be.

"Yep.
That's me. You come here often?"

"Nope.
This is only my second time."

I felt
relieved. She had at least one more shot at finding happiness.

"I've
been waiting a few minutes, so they ought to have our table ready soon."

I wasn't
thinking I was any better than she was, but I didn't want to run into anyone else
I knew. So, the less time I spent in that place with her the better. I would
try to think of a way to get even with Lou and Jennifer some other time.

Neither
of us knew what to say. Goodbye didn't seem appropriate, so I stayed quiet, and
tried not to look at those three smiling people sitting across the way. Five
minutes later God intervened and they called us to our table. I was hoping it
was a table way back in a dark corner, far away from any other tables, maybe
out near the dumpster, but with heat. A minute later, after she sat down and
made an effort to pull down her dress that was several inches too short, I too took
a seat, then looked up and realized that I must have done something to ruffle
God's feathers. There, in a booth, just across the way, sat George and his
wife, and Frank Harris, our medical examiner, and his wife. Frank almost had to
go to work, because they were working on their appetizer and George was chewing
when he looked up and saw me with my date. I looked around, figuring the whole
department was there somewhere, but I didn't recognize anyone else I knew. I
made a mental note to stay away from everyone I had worked with for at least
six months, but I doubted if any of them would forget that night so quickly. I
turned and tried to focus on Bambi, and her bright red lipstick that was
popular when I was a child.