Falafel Jones - The Kewpie Killer Read Online Free

so I said, “What?”
    “Next to him, with the head snapped off and dressed like a riverboat gambler – a Kewpie Doll.”
    I gaped at him with my mouth open.
    He toasted me with his teacup, but before he walked away, he said, “Your Dad gave me a break when no one else would.”

Chapter Three – Carnival Queen
    Too strange to be coincidence. Two years, two dead carnival patrons. Each victim next to a Kewpie Doll with the head broken off… and now mine waited blindfolded and gagged in a desk drawer. I didn’t know who sent the doll but it was clear they wanted me to leave this story alone. They didn’t cover this in my Journalism classes. Maybe my editor would have some advice.
    Uncle Bill’s office door was open but he was on the phone so I waited by his window. He saw me and waved me in and over to one of the chairs facing his desk.
    He yelled into the phone, “Yeah? Same to you!” hung up and shook his head. “Damn layout folks. They’d have it so nothing happens anywhere after 10:00 am. The bastards. Can you imagine the banner on the New York Times reading, ‘All the news that’s fit to print by ten’? Sorry, Kid. What’s on your mind?”
    I told him about the New York carnival deaths and my theory these could be serial killings.
    “Walt Grimley told you about this other doll?”
    “Yes.”
    “…and you believe him? You know how he likes to mess with the new kids.”
    “I know, but this time, he seemed sincere.”
    “Walter?”
    “He told me about me it because Dad ‘gave him a break when no one else would’.”
    “Oh.”
    “You think that means anything?”
    “Yeah, I do, besides, it’s easy enough for you to catch him in a lie, but even if it’s true. So what?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Raquel, Raquel darling. What carnival doesn’t have Kewpie Dolls? Unfortunately, people die every day. Especially bookies with enemies. Drunks fall all of the time. They bang their heads. They choke on their vomit. They…” He lifted his shoulders and eyebrows for a moment. “It’s not pretty but it’s common. Maybe you’ve been reading too many novels. Some competitor or client may have offed the bookie but there’s no serial killer here.”
    “What about the Kewpie Dolls? Each man had a Kewpie Doll matching his profession.”
    “You think that there’s something odd about people with dolls matching their livelihood?” Uncle Bill looked at me over his glasses and pointed his pencil across his desk to a Hummel-like figurine. Next to his Rolodex sat a newspaper editor wearing an eyeshade, holding an oversized pencil and sitting hunched over a desk. “My sister-in-law, your mother, gave me that. You think maybe she’s a killer too?”
    “Of course not, but something’s not right… don’t know what it is yet, but there’s something here.” I told him about the doll in my desk drawer.
    He sat quietly for a moment. “Are you in danger?”
    “Probably not… no, I’m not. If someone wanted to hurt me, they could have done that instead of sending me a Kewpie. It may be just a prank… maybe from one of the Bulldogs. You know how those guys act.”
    Uncle Bill chewed on his lip then said, “OK, Kid. Look into this… see where it goes.”
    “Thanks. Uncle Bill, did you know the Police identified the dead farmer as Morgan Finley? He owned Finley Farms.”
    He smiled, “Oh yeah? I remember his farm. We used to go there for pumpkins and Christmas trees.”
    “Do you remember him?”
    “Not really, but I do remember that before Finley bought the place, Old Man Maupin owned it. Did you know that when Maupin had it, the carnival used to set up on that farm?”
    “No, you mean Kelly’s Carnival?”
    “No, before Kelly’s. Another outfit. Can’t remember the name. Wait, Medicini, no Medici’s. That’s it. Then Maupin died. The new owner, Finley, cancelled the contract with the carnival… at the last minute… wanted to get his pumpkin crop in. Big story back then. Folks wanted to