(2012) Colder Than Death (22 page)

He thought for a few seconds, sucking on his lower lip, then said, “I could give a shit.”

“What about your father?” Perry glared at me, his face expressionless. “Wouldn't it be nice if he could have the answer to the biggest case of his career solved by you?”

“Don't pull that crap with me. This how you con people into buying more expensive coffins?” He shook his head. “The past doesn't interest me. You and the kid and Thistle's daughter are all stuck in it. What the hell is with you people? Why can't you let go? Get the fuck outa here!”

“If I walk out of here now I'm going straight to Thistle's daughter and telling her everything you said. She'll make trouble for you, man. You don't re-open her mother's case and she won't hesitate to go over your head.”

“Let her try. I'll give her the County Sheriff's number. And the DA's and I'll even throw in the Governor's. She won't find a soul willing to muck around in old crimes. She'll get lost in the bureaucracy. Now get out!”

I knew that if I let it end like this Perry would have another reason to half-ass his investigation and throw in the towel earlier than he might want to. I decided to make one last appeal to his vanity. “Over the years, Thistle's daughter hired detectives to find her mother.”

Perry seemed surprised. “What did they come up with?”

“Nothing. They were convinced she met with foul play. Only problem is, she didn't believe them and from what Quilla says, she doesn't believe them now. But once she hears your Dad's theory, maybe she will.”

“Like I said, I'll deny saying anything.”

“Who do you think she'll believe, you or me? Maybe she'll hire a detective not to look for someone alive who has been hiding out, but someone dead whose body has been hidden. Just like Brandy Parker. And maybe Alyssa. And if you don't find out what happened to them and who killed

Brandy, some hotshot detective will. And that's not gonna be too good for your image in this town... such as it is.” I stood my ground, staring him down. I knew Perry wanted to beat the crap out of me. But I felt that I'd boxed him into a corner.

“Here's what I'll do,” he said after staring me hatefully in the eyes. “I'm gonna look through all this stuff the kid brought over. Then I'm gonna have a talk with Thistle's daughter about her relationship with Brandy Parker. If she doesn't bring anything to the table and if Brandy Parker's mementos turn out to be a bust, I'm not saying I'll re-open the Virginia Thistle case, but I'll take a look at what we have on it.”

“And if you find something?”

“Let's just wait until I find something before I take the next step.”

“And will you keep an open mind that there might also be a link to Alyssa?”

He paused, then said, “Don't push your luck with me, Del. The Virginia Thistle business is flimsy enough. Don't say another word. Just leave.”

I nodded and started for the door, but then Perry spoke.

“When you have a father like mine, you're always trying to prove something--not so much to him, but to yourself. Only thing he ever failed at was not getting to the bottom of the Virginia Thistle case.”

“Why are you telling me this, Perry?”

“If he couldn't solve it when it was fresh how can I solve it now?” He picked up one of Brandy Parker's notebooks, then without saying another word began paging through it.

“How is your father these days, Perry?”

“Friggin' nursing home. He doesn't even know me. He gets worse and looks worse every time I see him. Only thing as bad as having your old man die when he's young like you is having him wind up in a nursing home. And the only good thing about having your father die when you're young is that you never have to compete with him.”

For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely sorry for Perry.

Without saying good-bye I stepped into the main office. Lucy was gone and Greg sat at her desk covering the phones. He and Quilla were engrossed in quiet, but deep conversation. When they saw me they both looked as if they'd been caught with their pants down.

“Hi!” Quilla said, overly friendly.

“You guys all finished?” said Greg, equally amicable, and that made me even more suspicious.

I knew she had talked to him about the case. The question was how much had she told him. “Let's go,” I said to Quilla, completely ignoring Greg as I headed to the door.

“Where?” she said.

“I'll tell you in the car.”

I opened the door and stepped outside. At least half a minute passed and she still hadn't come out. I looked in through the window and saw her moving away from Greg, but still talking. She shrugged her shoulders towards him, he gave her a thumbs up sign, then she waved goodbye with a big grin and strolled out the door.

“Why were you so rude to Greg?” she snapped.

“You told him, didn't you?”

“Told him what?”

“Everything we've been talking about. Gretchen's mother. Alyssa. The whole thing.”

“Just some that we think whoever killed my Aunt probably killed Gretchen's Mom and Alyssa.”

“That was stupid.”

“Greg's a good guy.”

“You're really naive if you think that.”

“What's
that
supposed to mean?”

I almost told her that Greg was spying on her and her friends, but again I forced myself to keep what I knew to myself. “I just don't like him. And he doesn't like me.”

“Why doesn't he like you?”

I should have just ignored her question or given some innocuous answer, but I couldn't help myself, even though I knew it would complicate things even more.

“Maybe instead of wondering why he doesn't like me, you should start asking yourself
why
he likes you.” She gave me an angry stare. “Isn't it kind of odd that a cop would spend time with your crowd? I mean, you guys aren't exactly candidates for the Pep Club. And it's not like you're bucking for election to the Student Council. The perception is that you're all wild, dope-crazed, slacker metalheads looking for trouble.”

“What's your point?”

“My guess is that a cop would have a motive--other than friendship--to spend time with kids like you.”

She stared coolly at me, thinking. Finally, she shook her head and said, “Are you saying that Greg is some kind of spy for Cobb?”

I didn't want to alienate her, so I said, “I'm not saying anything. I'm only asking you to question his motives. Let's drop the subject now. Get in the car. I'll take you home.” I started walking.

“Wait a minute! What did you and Cobb talk about after he kicked me out of his office?”

“All kinds of things. I got him to concede that there might be a connection between your Aunt and her Mom, but Alyssa he's not so convinced about. Can't say that I blame him. Compared to Brandy and Gretchen's mother, the facts are pretty slim.”

“So now what? I talked to Cobb. What do we do next?”

“He'll go through your Aunt's things. Let's hope he finds something to help the investigation or that he'll

re-open the Virginia Thistle case.”

“What if he doesn't find anything?”

I hesitated, then said, “We go back to our lives and try to put this all behind us.”

“I can't believe you said that!”

“What else can we do?”

“We can try to find the killer ourselves! It really pisses me off that you'd give up.”

“I'm not giving up. I've done everything I can do to this point. Let's give Perry a shot now.”

“It's like you suddenly don't care anymore! About Gretchen's mom or even Alyssa. I really thought you had it going on...that you were different...but you're no different than my mother or Cobb or...shit! I should've started my own investigation right from the start. I
knew
I shouldn't have wasted my time listening to you. I wanted to hire a detective from the get-go. Goddamnit! I should've known better than to trust a fucking undertaker who's afraid of his own shadow!”

Without warning, she turned and ran across the street, narrowly missing being hit by a car.

“Quilla!” She didn't stop. “Quilla, come back here!” She kept running. I thought about jumping in my car and going after her, but Greg Hoxey's voice stopped me.

“What the hell's the story, man?” He was standing in the doorway leading into the police station. “Keep shouting like that and I'll have to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

I ignored him. Instead of looking at Greg I continued to watch Quilla as she ran to the corner and took a left. Greg turned to see what I was looking at.

“What did you say to her?” he said harshly.

“Mind your own business, Greg.” I walked to my car. He followed me. Before I could get inside he grabbed my arm.

“I was watching you two talk from inside. She looked ticked off and hurt. I want to know what you said to her.”

“She's angry because nothing's happening in her Aunt's murder case.” I pulled my arm out of his grasp and slid behind the steering wheel. “She wants instant answers and they aren't there.”

“She told me about the connection with that case from twenty-four years ago and some girlfriend of yours. Weird.”

“Right, Greg.
Weird
.”

“Perry hasn't been giving up much info.”

“There isn't much to give.”

“It pains me to see Quilla hurting so much.”

“Why would you care?”

“She means a lot to me. So do the kids she hangs with.”

“That's surprising, considering you're spying on them.”

Shock was in his eyes. “How'd you know?”

“Perry told me.”

“That's how it was supposed to be, but... I ended up liking 'em too much to spy on 'em. And they like me. When I'm around them I get treated like I'm somebody. They all look like punks, but it's all a costume and a pose. The worst thing they do is drink beer on weekends and get drunk once in a while. Maybe they have a little weed sometimes. So what? I let Perry think I'm controlling them.”

I knew Greg long enough to know he was being truthful.

“Quilla said you've been helping her,” Greg said. “That’s good.”

“If you really care about her, Greg, do what you can to motivate Perry. He's sinking fast.”

“What can I do, Del?”

“I'd say there's a connection with Virginia Thistle. Maybe not my girlfriend, but if this is ever gonna be solved I'd look backwards.” I started the engine, waved good-bye to Greg and headed back to the Home, hoping that Quilla wouldn't stay angry at me for long.

Chapter 19

Burial services are draining on a Funeral Director, especially large scale affairs like Alphonse's. As I drove through town, I looked forward to the three hours in-between the afternoon and evening viewings. If there weren't any interruptions, I could catch a couple hours of sleep.

It was a few minutes before two when I got back to the Home. There were already three cars in the lot. Turnouts for afternoon viewings were always hard to predict. People who didn't know the deceased that well tended to come in the afternoon of the second day of viewing. I suspected that they felt it was easier to make an appearance, then leave quickly, the excuse being that they had to get back to work. And when an elderly person died it seemed that the afternoon viewing was far more popular than the evening.

I snuck in the rear entrance, ran upstairs to my apartment, washed up, put on a fresh shirt, slipped into a suit and tie, then went downstairs expecting to join Clint who would be at the front entrance greeting people. But as I reached the bottom step on the stairway that led to my quarters, I heard voices coming from behind the door under the stairs that was a private entrance to the lower level of the Home. It was the stairway that Nolan, Clint and I used as a shortcut to the Embalming Room

I walked to the door, opened it and heard Nolan talking.

“Like I told you,” he was saying. “It's not like being an accountant or a bank teller. It's not like any kind of job in the world except maybe a coroner or pathologist.”

“Or ambulance drivers,” said the person with Nolan. “They have to pick up bodies after accidents and whatnot.”

“It's not the same,” said Nolan. “Sure, they're handling dead people, but they aren't spending time with the bodies or, as I like to say, living with the bodies. That's what an embalmer does. And if you're also doing the restoration, you spend even more time with a corpse.”

Nolan and his companion were at the bottom of the stairs. I had no idea why Nolan was saying what he was saying until I saw who was with him. It was Quilla's friend Viper.

They both seemed surprised to see me.

“Yo, Mr. Coltrane,” said Viper with a big grin.

“Hi,” I said as I walked down the stairs, extending my hand to him. I realized that Viper had come to discuss career possibilities with Nolan.

“Looks like the boy's a keeper,” said Nolan, gently punching Viper on the right shoulder. “We might want to think about giving him some sort of part-time job. Let him hang around, doing odd jobs. Like you did when Lew first hired you way back when.”

“I don't see why not,” I said. If Viper was as serious as Nolan believed it would be a tremendous break for him to get a foot in the door.

“Meanwhile,” said Nolan. “I'll make up a package of reading material for you. Start to familiarize yourself with the profession. Call me in a day or so if I don't call you.”

“No problem,” said Viper. “Well, guess I'll get going. Thanks a lot for the tour, Nolan.”

“My pleasure, “ said Nolan, patting Viper's shoulder.

“And thank
you
, Mister Coltrane,” said Viper.

“I'm glad it worked out.”

Viper waved good-bye and walked up the stairs.

“Kid reminds me of myself when I was that age,” said Nolan. “Unsure. Awkward. A little uncomfortable about even
thinking
about going into a profession like this. Oh...” Nolan laughed. “He even has the same kind of fly paper memory as me. He remembers the first television show he ever watched. A re-run of
The Brady Bunch
. Remembers the date and time of day he ate his first chocolate donut with sprinkles on top.” He laughed again. “I impressed the hell out of him with the fact that I remember not only the day and date that my wife left me twenty-six-and-a-half years ago, but the actual minute she walked out the door.”