“Would Snoot kill old ladies?”
“Probably. If he could find them.”
Footsteps shuffled toward us, and Victor popped out from behind one of the floor-to-ceiling racks of organized junk.
“What can I do for you girls?” he asked, cigarette stuck to his lower lip.
“I need a flashlight,” I told him.
“Big or little?”
“Medium.”
“Is this a fashion accessory, or do you want to be able to see something with it? I got some pretty red and blue ones, but they aren’t worth snot.”
“I’m thinking Maglite.”
“That’s serious flashlighting.”
We followed him to the back of the store and waited while he sorted through bins and boxes.
“Did you know Lois Fratelli?” I asked him.
“Sure. Her whole family shops here. She was in just before she was murdered. She was looking for a shower curtain liner.”
“That’s pretty good that you’d remember that,” Lula said.
Victor dragged on his cigarette. “Girlie, I got a mind like a steel trap.”
“You shouldn’t be smoking,” Lula said. “It’s bad for you. What’s your doctor say about your smoking?”
Victor moved a box to get to another box. “My doctor’s dead.”
“How about the other women who were murdered?” I asked him. “Did they shop here too?”
“I expect so. We give a discount.” He opened a box and pulled out a Maglite. “How’s this?”
“It’s perfect,” I told him.
“What are you going to do with it? Hit someone over the head?”
“If I have to.”
Victor gave a bark of laughter that brought on a fit of coughing and wheezing.
“Twelve bucks,” he finally said. “Special price for you.”
I paid him in cash. “Do you sell a lot of Venetian blind cord?”
“Yep. A fair amount. There’s a lot of Venetian blinds out there.”
“All those women were strangled with Venetian blind cord,” I told him.
“I heard that.” He shook his head. “Terrible. Just terrible.”
“Do you think the cord could have been bought here?”
“I thought about it, but I couldn’t see it.”
“Good to know,” I said. “Thanks for finding me the right flashlight.”
“Anytime,” Victor said. “Always a pleasure to have a pretty young lady in the store.”
“He’s charming,” Lula said, buckling herself into the Buick. “It’s a shame he’s all yellow and wrinkled. Now where we going?”
“Gene’s Pharmacy,” I said. “It’s at the corner of Broad and Mayweather.”
SIXTEEN
I PARKED IN the small lot, and Lula and I walked through the drugstore to the counter where prescriptions were filled. There was a time when Gene himself was back there counting out pills, but that time was long gone. Now Gene was living the good life in a retirement community in Scottsdale, and his daughter Sue was running the pharmacy. I’d gone to school with Sue’s little sister, and I’d briefly dated her brother.
“Hey, look who’s here,” Sue said. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going? How’s Joe doing?”
“Joe’s managing,” I said. “He’s trying to stay away from the pain pills. He said he couldn’t feel his fingertips or his tongue.”
Sue nodded. “He was prescribed some heavy-duty stuff.” She put a label on a little plastic vial and looked back at me. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m doing some legwork for a friend, looking into the Dumpster murders. I’m guessing the women all shopped here.”
“You guess right.”
“Do you have any thoughts on this?”
“Obviously they came here because we were part of the discount program. Even if their meds were paid for by insurance they still used the discount for other stuff. Cosmetics, magazines, over-the-counter drugs.”
“Did you know any of them? Did they come in alone? Were they always here on a certain day?”
“I knew Lois Fratelli. She lived a short distance from my parents’ house. The others were faces in a crowd. When something as horrific as a murder happens you look back and realize the victim was a customer, but beyond that I don’t have anything.” She went to her computer. “Let me check something.”
Lula wandered off to look at magazines, and I waited for Sue.
“Here it is,” Sue said. “Saturday. With the exception of Lois Fratelli, they all came in on a Saturday. I guess they could have come in on other days too, but they always filled their prescriptions on a Saturday.”