The East Avenue Murders (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 1) (18 page)

Maude spoke to Dora Appleton,
asking for any information about the salesman that was available. No mention was made by Maude about the girl in the front reception; she saw no reason to cause difficulty for her. She assured the woman that time was of the essence, and that it was imperative that she and her partner find Robert Elridge Dawson who was wanted for questioning about a crime that had occurred in Texas. Dora was more than willing to do what she was allowed to do without a search warrant, but was unwilling to break any confidences protected by the law.

“Get me a list of all his clients, when
he last sold anything to anyone and where he seems to hang his hat the most, also any phone numbers he may have given you. There has to be some way you get in touch with this man when there is an order screw up,” Maude told the woman.

Dora Appleton nodded okay and replied that if they were willing to wait, Mr. Dawson was expected in that same day for new product introduction.

Both detectives were astounded!

“Here, he’s coming here today?” they both asked the HR specialist at the same time.

“Yes, we were notified that he would be here by five-thirty this afternoon for an after-hours meeting.” The woman seemed overwhelmed that an employee was wanted by the police and tried to make excuses for him. She said that the man was probably innocent and had done nothing; she also hoped they would not involve the corporation in their police work.

After getting all that they could out of the woman they insisted on speaking with Dawson’s sales manager. The man’s name was given
, and Maude wrote it down in her book, nodded her thanks to Dora Appleton, and motioned to Joe that she was going out front to smoke. While outside in the shelter of one of the signs, Maude lit and smoked her cigarette, thinking of the strange situation; they arrived on the same day the suspected murderer was on his way in.  That put a new spin on things.

The sales manager
was a short, twitchy, man who introduced himself and shook hands with both detectives. He said his name was Claude Dwindle, an employee of the porcelain business for about twenty years, starting out in the business office. He had just been moved to the sales and supply department.

“
No,” he said, “I haven’t met Robert Dawson, just talked to him on the phone once in a while. Orders come by fax so there’s no need for seeing his face, but it’s supposed to happen today. No, I don’t know where Dawson lives. Human Resources can give you that information. Now if you have no more questions, I must get back to work.”

The detectives were
becoming frustrated with the blasé attitude the corporation had about who sold their goods.

The employee entrance to the building was at the back parking lot, a much smaller opening than the ostentatious front doors. Near the back entry was a closet
-sized room often used for quick lunch breaks. Inside the tiny room was: a small table, two chairs, a coffee pot and a small built-in refrigerator. The detectives chose to wait there for Dawson. Too much time had passed already for Maude’s taste; the flight they were scheduled for was early in the evening and would need changing to a later departure.

S
he said to no one in particular, “I hope we catch this guy before the day is over. That personnel woman said that Dawson will report to her office when he comes in. He’s supposed to be here for yearly insurance and contract renewal.” She continued after yawning. “Wish I had slept more last night. I’m bushed. I’d be surprised if he shows up. Just a feeling,” she added as an afterthought.

Two
hours, several cups of coffee made from the little tubs, and a quarter pack of unfiltereds later, Maude and Joe were simultaneously buzzed from the numerous infusions of high-grade caffeine and ticked off that Dawson wasn’t going to show up. She tried calling the number that the HR lady had given them, but an automated voice said that the number was either changed or disconnected.

“He may have a contact in the building.
It wouldn’t be the first time that guys like him worked with someone else, someone who would always cover for him.” Joe said. “Maybe one of the women he keeps on a long leash.”

“Let
’s go.” Maude said. “I’m going to call downtown and get a man out here to watch for Dawson. Probably cost the department back home an arm and a leg, but I’m beat. Don’t think we’re leaving today.”

“I hope we have the right guy,” Joe said. “How are we going to catch him Maude? Any ideas?”

“Tomorrow morning we take that list of all his clients and start calling. Somebody knows something about where Dawson lives. You can bet the Mehan address is bogus by now if it ever was any good. Dawson would be a fool to give any information that can be traced back to him but even the most devious criminal always screws up somewhere. It’s usually when he believes he’s smarter than the cops that his ego gets in the way and he starts looking for someone to admire him. Once his secrets are out of the bag, he starts slipping up even more. That’s how we catch him, when he starts believing he’s untouchable, that he can do anything he wants, and he’s safe from detection.”

Maude wearily finished her thoughts, “Let’s find a place to stay tonight, preferably one that has a decent bed. My
rear end is sore from sleeping on lumps last night.”

“If it’s okay with you Maude, when we get settled in I might go out for a while,” Joe said.

“No problem. Just be alert for tomorrow in case we find him.”

The nearest motel was part of a chain of stores with a reputation for cleanliness and good prices, and had affiliate businesses
in several states including Texas. The weary detectives checked in and were given rooms across the hall from one another. Maude immediately ran the bathtub full of hot water and proceeded to soak for a long time, easing the pain of arthritis that had begun plaguing her since late in the afternoon.

She called Lieutenant Patterson to report their findings and he gave her the go
-ahead to continue the investigation if there was a good possibility of catching the perp. She asked him to get with Alice and run some checks on Dawson. Patterson told her that the two women who were murdered had been identified through Interpol, and he would see that she got a copy of the info. The women were illegals from Mexico, and had been working the streets of Madison for a while before they were killed.

Also the thumbprint from the rooftop crawlspace belonged to a petty drug dealer who had frequented the building on
East Avenue. Patterson had given the info to Detective Eberhart, who would locate the dealer, Danny ‘Boy’ Parker, and question him about his business on the roof. Maude reminded the boss that the guy had hit her with a sap, and tried to get rid of Joe by chunking him off the roof.

“Don’t let him go, boss. Keep him on ice till we get back.
That is, if Eberhart finds him. ‘Boy’ is not usually a bad dude, mostly he’s a petty dealer who was probably running scared, but he knows something about what went down on the fifth floor of that building. Get his knife too. By the way, any news on that kid in the murder building, the one that said he saw the dude with the brown hat?”

“Nah, kid
’s name hasn’t come up. Must have gone to his grandma’s. Don’t worry about things here, detective. You and Allen get your jobs done and get back to the office. Work is piling up. Yeah, and save all your receipts.”

James Patterson was a pragmatic man. When life handed him lemons, he never wasted sugar making lemonade. When the department handed him Maude Rogers a few years back,
he thought he had a real lemon. Giving her grunt work had only lasted a while, before long she began taking on bigger responsibilities and always did a good job.

T
he woman was old when she went to work there! Who thought she could last? But she did and just kept on showing up his other detectives. Came to him through real work experience, passed all the tests, better than any had for a long time. Maude had spunk, didn’t take anything off anyone. He liked that about her, and she was good at the job. Had a nose for finding the real stuff under the horse manure. He liked that too
.
Sometimes though, he got pressure from the boys upstairs, especially the Captain
.

“
Make her life a little harder; she’s getting too much attention. Give her something to hold her back. Like this new guy. Joe Allen, a desk man”
. They figured that would take Maude down a notch, carrying the desk man. But what the heck, he was holding his own. Fact was, Rogers and Allen were his best team. The boys upstairs screwed up trying to twist things their way. He had to laugh!

His job was to get results and to keep the Captain and the Commissioner happy and that’s what he strove to do even when it caused his detectives a load of grief. The
recent string of murders was unheard of in Madison. Usually there was maybe one or two in a six month period, but five! Jeez. The people in the city were having fits, and wanted the Chief to do something to stop the outbreak of violence.

Patterson felt a tremendous amount of pressure to get clearance on the murders of the three women. Case clearance, that was his job, let the D.A get convictions
. Homicide found the perps and connected the evidence to them. That was their job. Right now all the money was on Rogers and Allen. Ha! What a lark. Go get’em Maude!

The phone number was to a cell, probably an issue from the police department to the men on the street. The detective from the morning meet had given Maude the number to call if there was a change in plans, or if something had gone wrong with the look-see at the
Porcelain
Worx
factory. Dialing the number, Maude thought she would get voicemail and could leave a priority message for the Philly cops.

Her first surprise was that the phone was answered
, the second was that Bill Page himself said, “Hello”.  Maude was a little tongue-tied at first, but warmed up after a minute, explaining the situation to the detective.

“
The fact is, the person of interest we came to see hasn’t shown up, but he had originally intended to make the trip to the factory.” Maude didn’t believe in coincidences. Something had given them away and spooked the man. She asked for an officer to stand by for a couple of hours and mentioned that if there was a charge for the favor, to bill the department.

After the business end of the conversation was over,
Bill Page said he would be out and about, the birthday party had been for one of his grandkids, and it was over, so if it was alright with Maude, he would be coming that way, so how about a cold beer?

“Sure, a cold one would be nice. I’ve had enough coffee to float a boat so I’m glad you didn’t offer a cup.” She said nervously, trying to get out of the bathtub without slipping and falling.

“See you in a few minutes,” Bill said, and hung up the phone before Maude had a chance to change her mind.

“Now ain’t that somethin
g. I got a man buying me a beer,” she reflected, drying off from the bath, looking over the wreck of her hair and face in the bathroom mirror. “Been a while.”

The knock on her door came
too quickly, barely giving her time to dress in some casual clothes before the noise got her attention.

“Come in
,” she yelled. “I gotta get some shoes on.”

The door opened slowly, a man accustomed to the crowded conditions of hotel rooms taking his time getting through the entry
, hoping to avoid tripping over a chair or table.

“I hope you knew it was me,” Bill said, popping a top on a lite beer. “Hate to think you holler come in
, to every knock on your door.”

“Just the ones I can see through the peephole.” she said from across the room, pulling on a pair of slippers. “A
h. That feels good. My feet have been killing me for the last two hours. When we catch that so and so, I’m going to hold him personally responsible for my aches and pains since I’ve been chasing him so long.”

“Good to see you made it through the day without losing your sweet disposition.” Bill said, handing her a cold one. “Why don’t you tell me about this fella that brought you all the way to Phill
y? Don’t give me the story you made up to keep us off your tail. What really happened?”

“How much you want to know?” she asked him warily.

“As much as you want to tell, Maudie,” he said with a slight smile.

“The last man who called me Maudie
is lying six feet under, and unless you’re feeling reckless, you’ll not repeat it. On second thought, we could be Billy and Maudie, if that would make you happy.”

“No, no, I can take a hint, Maude. Just sounds so formal,” he said

“Then call me sweetheart; that informal enough for you?” Maude said, slinging back the beer can, draining it in two swallows.

“You
have to keep this to yourself,” she said, getting serious again. “One wrong word and the Feds will be all over mine and Joe’s case and you know what’ll happen .They’ll cut us out of the loop and we’ll end up doing their work for them while they run around in suits driving black SUV’s with all five fingers on one hand stuck up their butt, hollering “which way did he go”.

Bill almost dropped his beer he was laughing so hard, agreeing with Maude by nodding his head vigorously. He had been there before and knew just what she meant. “Not a word Maude,
not a word.”

“Well it all started
over eight years ago in Chicago when I worked for the PD there. We had a killer that the press stuck a moniker on, calling him the
‘Heartless Killer’
because he killed four women and cut out their hearts, sewed them up and froze them. But all the killings were done in different places.

“
He took out my partner with a rifle. Used a laser, blew his head apart. I got emotional about the killings. Shouldn’t have, but I did. They took me off the case, gave it to the Feds who were more than happy to take it, but some things went wrong. The killer decided he liked me, started sending me letters at the PD. The Feds used me, my boss made me cooperate. They never caught him. I moved to Texas, got a job in Madison and put all that other aside.

“
Just recently we had some really vicious murders happen and I came up on them. No accident, anyway, he’s back and he’s been busy. Killed two women and sexually assaulted and killed a man. He kidnapped my renter, a sweet girl of twenty, tortured and killed her, left her in a cold cave down in Buena Vista, Texas. We found her too late. This madman has gotten more erratic. No more hearts, now he takes random body parts: eyes, tongues, breasts. Horrible.

“
He’s fixed on me for some sick reason. Hurting a girl I really cared a lot for. He knew it.” Maude was out of breath, telling the story.

“Anyway, we found out by just dumb luck
, who he works for, and now we know his name, or at least one of them. Robert Elridge Dawson, from Oklahoma, worked for this company a long time. He was supposed to show up at the factory today-it’s the main office. Kind of a meet and greet with the bosses, renewing contracts. He never showed and I think something gave us away because he never called to say he wouldn’t be there. Just didn’t show.

“So what do you think
Bill Page? Do we have a runner? Am I a crazy old woman for trying to catch this madman? Think I should shoot a note to the Feds and let them find him?”

“Da
ng, Maude, if life was that easy, we’d all drink more beer and feel like champions. Fact is no matter what happens, he’s playing to you and until he’s caught, you’re caught. Getting the Feds involved won’t take that away. You’ve seen that already. Know why he’s focused on you?”

“Not a clue. I wonder where he was for th
e last eight years. What kept him from his butchering?
Or did we miss something? Maybe he’s been busy in other places. Maybe he got his focus off me during those years and on someone else. That could be important.”

“You know, Maude, I’d like to help you with this case if I can. But right now, can we talk about something else?”
Bill asked, his beer can empty, popping another top before the first one hit the trash can.

“Sure,” Maude answered, a little out
side her comfort zone. “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” her visitor replied, getting comfortable on the small sofa in the corner of the room, “Is t
here a Mister Maude back home?”

Grinning a little she answered back, “No mister, just me, a worn out old detective who lives alone with a pack of unfiltered cigarettes, a gin bottle, and mornings of regret for the nights before. Gin d
oesn’t treat me fairly anymore; hurts me the day after. And you Bill, anyone waiting at home for you tonight?”