Driving in Leisure World is an adventure.
I was adventuring now, trying to make sense of street signs, seemingly random crosswalks, painted road markers with arrows pointing to nowhere. All designed to make driving easier, but only serving to make things messier.
There were no less than 22,000 “15 MPH” speed limit signs, all of which were distributed evenly along the side of the road every few feet or so. At a stop sign-a stop sign, mind you, that was actually posted between the lanes-I pulled up next to one of the many security guards sitting in what appeared to be a luxury golf cart. I rolled down my window.
“ Excuse me,” I said.
He looked at me. “Yeah?”
“ What’s the speed limit here?”
“ Fifteen miles per hour.”
“ Thank you, Officer.”
He nodded and seemed about to say something; no doubt something to the effect of not being an officer. But he must have liked the title because he nodded again, flipped down his shades, and pulled forward slowly.
At 15 MPH, no doubt.
I somehow found Poppie’s address, and parked in what I assumed was a designated visitor parking space, but it could have been another of the thousands of shuttle pick-up areas. Soon, I was rapping on her door.
“ Who is it?”
“ Not the flasher,” I said.
She opened the door, blinking into the afternoon sun, which was hanging somewhere above my shoulder. “Oh, heavens, I’m just a nervous wreck whenever someone comes to my door these days. Please come in, Mr. Knighthorse.”
Poppie was tough but sweet. No one should ever be a nervous wreck when answering their door. Especially not a Knighthorse client. I wondered if she knew just how good of hands she was in.
Poppie’s little apartment home, or whatever they call these bungalows here at Leisure World, was about as cute as cute can be. Dolls were everywhere. Antique dolls. Modern dolls. Creepy dolls. Dolls that I was certain were staring at me. They lined shelves and bookcases and even sat along the piano keys. Three glass display cases were lined along one wall. The dolls in these cases seemed particularly old…and particularly creepy.
“ I have a bit of a thing for dolls,” she said apologetically, although she looked lovingly at one particularly big Raggedy Ann doll that was slumped on top of a hardback copy of Michener’s Alaska. Hell, I could have slumped on top of Michener’s Alaska. A beast of a book, which is why it took me six months to read it.
“ Dolls?” I said. “What dolls?”
“ Oh, Mr. Knighthorse. You are so silly.”
She giggled again and picked up what appeared to be a German doll wearing a white frilly dress and braided pigtails. She stroked the hair lovingly and set the doll back down. She led me over to her couch and asked if I wanted some homemade lemonade. It was ninety-three out today and some homemade lemonade sounded just about perfect. I said as much, and she smiled happily and nearly jogged off. I wondered how many visitors old Poppie received.
Other than the perverted kind.
She returned with a tray of lemonade and Oreo cookies and I might have just died and gone to…doll heaven? I tried not to make a pig of myself, but after the ninth cookie, I quit caring.
She watched me with a bemused smile and asked if I wanted more. I said sure, and she came back with the rest of the bag. In the end, I left her one row of cookies, and even that took a lot of willpower.
When I was done eating and had polished off my second glass of lemonade, she took me out and showed me around the neighborhood. The showing me around part took a while, since she didn’t have much giddy-up in her get-along, but we made do.
Other than her own front door, she pointed out the various spots where she and the other women in the neighborhood had seen the flasher. She mentioned some other hotspots, too. The outdoor amphitheater, the gym, and the many community centers. Apparently, the perv had been targeting bigger groups of late.
I had with me a handy map of the grounds that included each apartment home. I jotted down each occurrence and even interviewed some of the other witnesses.
When she was done showing me around, I looked at my map and had some ideas on how to proceed, but since the flasher only revealed himself at night, I would implement my ideas later.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I had a hot date with Cindy.
Hubba hubba.