Murder Mystery Dinner Minneapolis
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A week after her birthday, the phone rang at seven-fifteen in the morning. She had just woken up from a nap that seemed far too short and was trying to remember what she had dreamed about. A strange man with a camera, who had told her he loved her. No, a beautiful woman who was also a ghost. But why? The doorbell rang and she answered it, still in her pajamas.
She was surprised at how early it was when she looked into the living room window. The sun hadn’t even made an appearance yet; only the moon cast its pale glow against the white snowscape of Lake Harriet, where it reflected off the water in shimmering waves. It reminded her of something—a poem or maybe even a song.
Her eyes wandered through the trees towards the water’s edge and her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there looking down at her. His tall figure, his dark hair, and beard, the way they framed his face as if by accident… The last time she had seen him, two years earlier, he was dressed differently – more formally.
Now he wore faded jeans and a T-shirt advertising the Minnesota Vikings football team.
He held out his hand. “Good morning.” He smiled.
“Hi,” she said softly and took his hand. When she pulled herself onto her feet, he embraced her and she buried her face in his chest, feeling so happy, for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It almost felt like a reunion with a long-lost love. Or perhaps even with her father…
His hand stroked her hair. “What were you dreaming about?”
“It was a strange man with a camera, I think. And then this other guy showed up. Someone I knew from my past but we’d never met before. This woman started singing—” She turned and kissed him. “I’m sorry. Can we take this upstairs later? I really need to get ready for work.”
“Of course. Let me help.”
They moved through the kitchen towards the bedroom, talking lightly about her day ahead while he helped her get dressed. At one point, when he leaned over her shoulder to button up her shirt, he brushed his lips across her earlobe and whispered:
“…and I’ll be waiting there with you…”
The first thing she thought of was an old episode of Law and Order. That line always came right at the end, after someone had been found guilty and it was finally over and done with. And then she remembered the night before. She didn’t understand how it could have happened. Why would he do that? Was it some kind of game?
Or maybe, she wondered, there was more behind it than she had imagined. Perhaps he was telling her that they weren’t finished between them. There had been times before when they had both wanted to make it happen and then something had stopped them.
But now? She felt confused. Maybe she should have told him she loved him… She bit her lip. It wasn’t until she had left to catch the bus that she realized her blouse was untucked.
When she walked in the front door again, at ten o’clock, the house was silent as usual. She switched on the TV in the living room and settled down to read the news headlines. In a moment, she heard the rumble of a truck’s engine start up and drive away. Then another and another until the street was empty.
She went through to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea before sitting at the dining table by the bay window, watching the traffic pass below on East Fourth Street, wondering if she had lost her mind completely. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it?
That the man who had been murdered in her home just three weeks earlier was the same man who stood by her every evening at the window, watching her from across the river. Could it?
It was all so bizarre. And yet, she had to admit she liked the idea. For the first time in ages, she felt happy and alive, as if she had woken up from some terrible nightmare.
***
Murder Mystery Dinner Minneapolis
The next afternoon, the telephone rang as soon as she walked through the door at work. The message on her cell phone was the same as her landline and was followed by another phone call.
“This is Detective O’Leary of the Minneapolis Police Department. Have you been approached by anyone who might have tried to blackmail you?”
“Why would anyone try to blackmail me?”
“No reason. You can tell me if they’ve asked you anything unusual.”
“Not really.” She hesitated for a second. “Well, he was asking questions about the case in my building but that’s nothing unusual, right? Anyone could ask those kinds of questions. No one knows I know any more than I’ve told you.”
“Do you know his name?”
She thought back to the day before when she had been talking to the police officer. The name sounded familiar. “Yes,” she said slowly, “but I’m not going to mention anyone unless I’m sure it’s appropriate, okay?”
“That’s fine. Listen, you should be aware that the killer may come looking for you again.”
“Really? Did the detective say why?”
He sighed on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know. Just watch your step until we can find this guy and nail his ass. Do you want to go into protective custody or something? Or would you rather stay here with a security guard watching over you?”
“Detective, I’m fine, okay? Really. I can take care of myself.”
Her words made him smile. “Okay, you’re probably right. But please keep us updated and let me know if there are any problems.”
***
In early March, the weather warmed up and spring finally arrived in New York. On Friday morning, the air was still crisp but not too cold and she went for her walk around the reservoir without wearing a jacket. When she returned home, she opened the window in her room and looked out at the park across the street.
It was quiet – apart from a pair of squirrels running around the trees and then scampering away. She turned back to look at the view in her room, turning on the lamp and closing the curtains against the light coming through.
Her bed was unmade, her clothes piled on the floor beside her suitcase, and she sat down to tidy her possessions, making them neat again and stacking them in a corner. A quick survey of the room showed no sign of disturbance so far as she could see.
As she was leaving her bedroom, she spotted the envelope lying on its side by the desk, pushed to the edge of one of the shelves and hidden from sight. She picked it up and opened it up, reading the letter again.
To Jennifer,
I hope you like what I sent you today. I hope you’ll remember our walks at night together and the fun we had. Maybe we can do it all again sometime.
– John
Jennifer didn’t know how she felt about all this. It hadn’t happened overnight, after all. John had been sending her cards for years now and she’d always pretended not to notice. They were so innocuous, just two lines telling her how beautiful she looked or wishing her a good morning or a good afternoon.
Sometimes he even left small gifts in her mailbox – a book once and an antique paperweight a few months earlier. But these things had never caused her any concern because they had never bothered to talk to her or make contact at all. She hadn’t thought much about him at all until he started showing up at work in the evenings.
And even then, she had assumed it was just a coincidence.
A man she met in her building.
But now he was in her flat for half an hour every night. He watched her sleep. And now she couldn’t think clearly enough about what to do next. Should she turn him in? Would doing so make it worse for herself? What did he want to do? Was he trying to get rid of her? If he had murdered the other girl, was that his plan?
Jennifer took a deep breath. She had to stop thinking so many crazy thoughts. She had to be logical. This wasn’t real. She closed the notebook and stood up, pulling her coat from the hook on the back of the door, slipping off her shoes, and heading outside for a walk.
It was nearly noon when she got back to the office and walked into the conference room where David was waiting for her. “How was the walk?” he asked, his voice sounding cheerful.
“Cold. Windy. Wet.” Jennifer smiled. “Did you know that the park across the street is named after Teddy Roosevelt?”
David’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but he quickly composed himself and replied with a chuckle, “Yes, I knew that. How interesting. Well, we were going to discuss what we’re doing for tonight’s meeting and I wanted you to be there.”
“Of course. Is that all?”
“No, it’s just that we were supposed to have some important people coming in later today to discuss this whole situation.”
Jennifer frowned. “Who? Who are we expecting?”
“The mayor of New York. Mayor Dinkins. That’s his first name, right?”
Jennifer nodded slowly. She didn’t feel much like smiling anymore than she had in the past fifteen minutes. “Yeah, I know who he is. Why are we expecting him, though? Don’t tell me it has something to do with this case.”
Dinkens looked at her. “Not quite.” He turned to the rest of the room. “What else can we expect from the city council today?”
A young man sitting at the back of the room spoke up. “We’re also expecting a representative from Governor Cuomo, who’s been very supportive in helping the police department find out what happened in Queens last week. And then we’ve got an FBI agent coming in to see if maybe the Feds can help us out.
We’re hoping they’ll bring some new angles to the investigation, especially since the FBI already has some resources working on the murder of the teenage girl in Long Island City.”
He paused to take a drink from his water bottle, then added, “And the local news is planning on covering the mayor’s arrival this afternoon. They might want to come in and film something at the end of your meeting as well.”
She turned to Dinkens. “Can we go back to this business about who’s coming in?”
“There is someone coming, yes,” David said. “Just not here yet. The FBI has asked us to keep everything confidential until he shows up. They don’t want everyone getting suspicious before he gets here.”
Jennifer looked at the older man who was standing behind her chair. “You mean this could just be another way for the police to cover up their incompetence instead of solving a murder?”
“That depends on whether or not the guy is legit,” Dinkens replied. “And I’m sure he is – they wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious.”
“Then why doesn’t he call ahead of time and let us know?”
“His instructions are to come alone,” David replied. “Maybe he’s nervous too.”
Jennifer sighed. A man came in carrying an envelope. He glanced around the room, then handed the envelope to Jennifer, saying, “I brought you this.”
Jennifer opened the flap. It was heavy and smelled strongly of flowers. Inside was a card. She looked at it. Then read it aloud:
‘Dear Ms. Jones,
I am sorry that we haven’t made more contact with you over the past few weeks. Our organization has been busy with various projects. But now you have called us to account, and we must respond to you.
If you will meet me in person at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Friday afternoon, we will discuss what’s been happening. Yours sincerely, ‘B’. PS – Bring your friends.’
The handwriting was neat. Clean and precise.
Jennifer nodded. She handed the note to David, who took it from her without reading it.
“This guy is a real creep,” she told Dinkens. “But how did he find me? I thought he didn’t know me.”
“We don’t know anything about this guy except that he’s very smart.” David looked thoughtful. “I wonder what kind of power he has that would make him think that threatening people works.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Jennifer replied, shaking her head. “Do we need to call anybody and tell them I’m going to be away tomorrow?”
David reached for the phone and dialed the number. When his call went through, he waited for someone to answer. After a brief wait, he hung up and motioned toward the door. He pointed to the nameplate by the exit. “It says Chief Inspector Frank DeLuca. Call him up.
Tell him he needs to come in early because there’s some kind of big meeting today and he needs to be here.”
As Dinkens walked toward the phone, Jennifer followed him.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Jennifer looked down at herself, confused. Her black suit was rumpled – she’d been wearing it when the bomb went off and hadn’t gotten dressed afterward. She had no other clothes to wear. She shrugged.
Dinkens shook his head, clearly annoyed. He turned to DeLuca. “Chief? We’ve got a situation that’s probably going to affect the whole department. Can I count on your support?”
The End