Murder and Mayhem in Cedar Falls. Walter Wittmuss

left Dean Hawks’s office and went to the Admissions Office. They were able to provide me with a map of the town as well as a map of the campus.

      I left the cool interior of the building and stepped out into the early August hot sun. I put my briefcase on the front seat beside me after getting into the car. The seat was fairly hot, so I raised the top and turned on the air conditioner. The interior cooled down quickly while I studied the town map.

      My uncle’s house was only three blocks from the college campus. I left the campus to go to my new lodgings. I found the address and pulled into the driveway.

      I double-checked the address to make sure I was at the right house. It was a lot bigger than I had expected, but I never knew Uncle Jeremy very well either. It appeared he had done very well for himself. I was surprised when I was informed that he had left his property to me. Of course, part of the reason might have been because my mother and he had been very close from the time they were kids up until he died. He had never married. Thus, he had no kids of his own to leave it to.

      It was a large one-story red-brick structure with white trim, a ranch-style house. A three-stall attached garage was behind the house. There was also a small shed on the property.

      I let myself into the house with the key my uncle’s lawyer had given me. Just as the lawyer had said, the house was fully furnished. The furniture was all of excellent quality. A quick tour revealed a living room, a spacious kitchen, a master bedroom, two smaller bedrooms, and an office or den, whichever I wanted to use it as. The refrigerator and cupboards were empty, so I figured the first order of business would be to get some food in the house.

      I grabbed the phone book and looked up the listings of grocery stores in the town. When I found one I thought I would like, I located where it was on the town map. I locked up the house, jumped into my car, and started out in search of the grocery store.

      About four blocks from my house, I was checking a street sign while entering an intersection when out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flash of a white car also entering the intersection. I jammed on my brakes but not quite fast enough. With a resounding crash, my car jolted to a stop against the front fender of the white car.

      A woman with long black hair about my age was behind the wheel of the white car. She shook her head to clear it. Then she leaped from her car and rushed toward my car before I had much of a chance to get out of my car.

      “What is the matter with you?” she yelled, waving her arms. “You were looking up at the wild blue yonder instead of watching where you were driving this tank?” She slapped the hood of the Caddy.

      “Hold on. Hold on,” I implored, holding up my hands in a gesture of surrender as I walked to the front of my car. “I’m very, very sorry. I realize this is all my fault. I have insurance, and here is my driver’s license and registration,” I said, handing everything to her.

      “This is a Texas driver’s license and a Texas address. How am I going to get in touch with you, if need be, after you go on your merry way?” she asked me as she handed me her license, proof of insurance, and registration.

      “Gee, I don’t know. I guess you will just have to run me down.”

      She quickly looked up at me to see if I was serious. I didn’t think she could quite make up her mind if I was or not.

      “And I see your plates are Texas plates,” she said in despair.

      “Yes, they are, Miss.…or is it Mrs. Cole?”

      “I don’t know why I should tell you, but it’s Miss Cole. And this is my only transportation.”

      Just then a police car pulled up and parked at the curb. A young officer—he couldn’t have been any more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old—got out of the police car and came over to inspect the accident damage.

      “Hello, Denise. Had a fender bender, I see.”

      “I’m afraid I ran into her, Officer,” I said quickly.

      “And your name, sir?”

      “John Brennon. Miss Cole is holding my license, proof of insurance, and registration.”

      The deputy took my documents from Denise and started looking them over. “Is this your current address, Mr. Brennon?” he asked.

      “No,” I answered while smiling at Denise. “My current address as of today is 1021 Fifth Street, Cedar Falls, Nebraska. I just got into town this morning, so naturally, I haven’t had time to change anything.”

      “Okay. I will have to give you a ticket for not yielding the right of way. You also have thirty days in which to change your driver’s license and plates.”

      “That’s fine, Officer. I’ll be sure to take care of everything in a timely manner.”

      Denise kept her eyes on me as her friend—or I assumed he was a friend because of the way he had addressed her—wrote out my ticket. I signed the ticket, and the deputy left after asking Denise if she needed a tow truck. We looked her car over, and she decided she could drive it to her garage.

      “I’ll follow you to the garage that you take your car to and then run you to wherever you need to go,” I offered.

      “That’s okay. I’m sure you have other things to do. I’ll be fine.”

      “Please, let me make amends to you, Miss Cole. It’s the least I can do.”

      “Well, okay, I guess. And call me Denise. I noticed your car isn’t damaged except for a small scratch on the bumper.”

      “Like you said, this car is built like a tank. Shall we go?”

      We got into our respective vehicles, and I followed her to Miracle Auto Repair. She was in the garage for fifteen or twenty minutes. She came out and got in my car.

      “You really have this in pristine condition,” she said as she looked over the interior.

      “I have always had a great admiration for this year Cadillac. When I was lucky enough to find one in reasonable condition, I bought it and fixed it up to put it in prime condition. The gas mileage isn’t anything to brag about, but I don’t care. It’s a great car to drive. Would you like to go someplace and have a cup of coffee? Or did you have someplace else you had to go or someplace you had to be at?”

      “I haven’t any plans that can’t be changed. A cup of coffee would taste good. Jim’s Cafe has the best coffee in town. I’ll direct you to it since you probably don’t know your way around town yet.”

      Following her directions took us to a small building with “Jim’s Cafe” written on one of its windows. We got out of my car and went in. I slid in on one side, and Denise slid in on the other side of an empty booth.

      “Now, Mr. Brennon…” she started to say after the waitress brought our coffee.

      “John. Please call me John,” I pleaded, interrupting her.

      “Okay, John. Why did you let me rant and rave about Texas when you knew you would be living right here in town?”

      “I apologize, Denise. My philosophy on life is to not get too excited about the little things in life. Lord knows there is enough of the big things to get excited about. Besides, I was having a little fun at your expense. I’m sorry if you feel I was underhanded in my actions.”

      “Wellll…” she said with a straight face but then burst out laughing. “Forget it, John. I guess I flew off the handle a little bit, but I had just gotten that car a couple of months ago. I promise I’m no longer angry. I thought an older guy lived at that address you gave Ben.”

      “Ben? You mean the deputy?”

      “Yes, the deputy.”

      “My uncle Jeremy Cooper did live there. He passed on a month ago. He left the house and property to me.”

      “I don’t mean to be nosy, but do you have any employment