Free Steve Demaree - Dekker 09 - Murder on a Blind Date by Steve Demaree Page B

The woman across from me had aged during the hours I sat across from
her. And I wanted to get out of there before she ordered another entree, even
though I saw no problem with her appetite. I  had been there, done that.
    Finally
the earth and the stars aligned and I realized that she had eaten all she was
going to eat. For the last twenty minutes I sat there and thought of an excuse
where I could leave first. My reason didn't have anything to do with her. It
had to do with the people I knew in that place.
    "I
know we're not supposed to leave together. Would you mind if I left first? I
don't live near here and I'm afraid to leave so late, afraid I might fall asleep
on the way home."
    I could
tell she was trying to decide if I was telling the truth, and she wasn't quite
sure. But she had no choice but to release me. I was thankful I didn't have to
kiss those bright red lips goodbye, but I was more hoping that I could get away
first and without George and Frank seeing me leave. I wasn't sure where Lou,
Thelma Lou, and Jennifer were. They must have been seated in a different part
of the restaurant. I wasn't able to leave undetected, but at least neither
George nor Frank followed me as I left the restaurant.
    I walked
back out into the cold and tried to remember where I had parked. I remembered
that I had walked a long way. I headed off in the general direction where I
thought I had parked, looking for my van. And then my uncomfortable boots
reminded me that I had some wrestler's truck. I tried to remember what color it
was other than rust, then I remembered it was a faded gray. Finally, I found
it, reached for my keys, and realized that I needed his key instead. A key that
I needed to insert in the lock and turn. I didn't look forward to driving out
of my way, out in the country, late at night, to this guy's house, but I wanted
my van back. I was afraid that if I kept the truck overnight the wrestler might
think I wanted to swap and would sell my van. I wondered what this guy would
have thought of Bambi. Maybe she has a rust-color truck, too.
    I drove
out of the parking lot and tried to forget all that had happened that night.
That meant I wouldn't think of Bambi, but of some nutcase out there who was
running around killing men. Bambi was merely one gumball in the machine, and
the chances of her being the murderer were just one in several hundred. I
questioned how much it was going to help me to "date" three of these
women. Chances were that none of the three the dating service would pair me up with
was the murderer. I was hoping that Sam would soon find out more information to
help me identify the killer. Should I just give up and let someone else take
over? And what if the killer was someone in Las Vegas who came here long enough to murder a few people and then
went back to the strip? And what could the motive be? Rejection? Could it be as
simple as finding a woman who dated three men who gave her green cards? Or
jealousy? Finding a man whose former girlfriend had met someone a lot better?
     
    +++
     
    I took
the country roads back to Hilldale, thankful that there was no ice or snow on
those roads. Actually my route took me on past Hilldale, to a remote location
on the other side of town. It was after 10:30 when I pulled down a driveway that was long overdue to be blacktopped
again. I put the lights on bright, because the driveway was narrow, and there
were trees and animals nearby. I knew that none of the trees would move. I
couldn't say the same about the animals. I slapped the steering wheel as I hit
the brakes and came to a stop. My van was nowhere to be seen. I focused, tried
to remember if I was at the right house. I thought I was, but the first time I
was at this guy's house was just a few hours before, and I didn't pay a lot of
attention to where he lived. I thought about walking up to the door and
knocking, but there didn't seem to be any other vehicles there and it was dark
inside the house. I sat there for five