Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (29 page)

“Not that I recall. Why?”

“Natasha mentioned Henderson had one, and I thought it might help in determining Henderson’s cause of death.”

“I’ll have to check the report again. I don’t think there’s any way Brian Farlow could have missed a detail like that.”

I bit my lip. “Couldn’t he have if he was using drugs?”

“Not likely, but he could have forgotten to write it in his report. I’ll check into the audio recording of the autopsy to see if he mentions it.” Lopez let out a tired sigh. “I wanted to let you know the tip on Susan and Peter is proving very helpful.”

“Did you find a link between Susan and Henderson’s murder?” Maybe he would find a connection on his own, then I wouldn’t have to mention Natasha’s run-in with Susan or the missing artifacts.

“I’m not at liberty to say right now, but I appreciate all your help. Hold on a second.”

Papers rustled on the other end.

“Sorry about that, Mari. Seems like we just caught a break in Henderson’s love letters. What do you know about Candace Sanders and Theron Henderson’s relationship?”

I swallowed hard. “Actually, I found out today that Candy Finch, a.k.a Candace Sanders, was C.S., but I thought that lead was moot since you arrested Peter.”

“We’ve had a little setback on the DNA evidence.”

“Will that hurt your case against Peter?”

“No, it’s strong, but it seems someone else was in the room with Henderson. Someone we didn’t count on being there.”

“Who?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. There’s too much at stake, and I’ve already shared more information about this case than I should have.”

“I know all about the stakes. Half the people I care about are either suspects in Henderson’s murder or accused of the artifact forgery.” My hand ached from the tight grip I had on the phone. “Don’t plead the Fifth now, Lopez. You owe me.”

Breathing seeped through the receiver. “Okay, without getting technical, let’s just say the DNA found on the wrapper in the green room is not Peter Kipling’s. It’s a partial match for Candace Sand—Finch.”

“That’s absurd. I told you Susan was involved, not Candy. She wouldn’t hurt a bug.”

“I said it was a partial match. The DNA sample wasn’t a perfect match, but it was close enough for us to believe the DNA belongs to a close relative of Ms. Finch.”

“How close?” I gnawed on my pinky nail, which still had yet to be repaired.

“A brother or sister. Maybe a son or daughter.”

No, not Danny! “Why would DNA on a protein bar wrapper be enough evidence to suspect murder? Anyone could have thrown that wrapper in the trash.”

“There’s other DNA evidence in the room that confirms this person was there for a while and could have committed the murder. The janitor confirmed he emptied the trash and wiped down the room the night before. So we know our mystery person was in that room prior to Henderson’s death that morning.”

His words mixed and cemented as I remembered Danny’s unexpected rage at the restaurant at the mention of his father. How
did
he know about Henderson’s pacemaker?

“Mari, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” I stared at the Columbarium. Right now my impending interlude with the creep from the crypt sounded more appealing than confessing Danny was Henderson and C.S.’s lovechild. “I’m in a bit of a hurry though.”

“One last question, then I’ll let you go. The letters you found make it clear Theron Henderson and C.S. had a child. Do you have any idea where that child is?”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

5:58 p.m.

IN THE FULL-MOON glow, the Columbarium seemed to breathe an ominous warning, but I ignored the threat. I stepped out of the Jeep toward the home of the dead, my chest tight and throbbing. I had deflected Detective Lopez’s question, but for how long?

How much do you really know about him?
Elizabeth’s words about Danny echoed in my frazzled brain.

Danny couldn’t be involved in Henderson’s murder. Could he? How much did I really know about him? Until an hour ago I had no idea he was Candy and Henderson’s son. He’d lived in my home for two years, yet I barely knew him.

My mind told me to leave it to Lopez, but my will propelled me up the walkway.
Testa dura.
Nonna always said I had a thick head. If the events over the last days didn’t prove her right, this one sure did.

Holding my breath, I ascended the steps. I needed to know what happened to Henderson’s pacemaker and quiet the absurdities filtering through my gut. Too many things didn’t add up. Like Susan being heir to Henderson’s fortune and the paramedic called to the scene of his death. The AME releasing Henderson before the case was closed and not referencing the pacemaker in his report. The creepy crypt guy not mentioning Henderson’s pacemaker or at least inviting me to watch him use it to blow up the oven. And the timing of Henderson’s missing collection coinciding with the forgery. It was like trying to put together a puzzle without knowing what the picture looked like.

An owl hooted in the distance and I scurried inside. The chill in the main room seeped through my sweater, prickling my skin, but it was the darkness that grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. A darkness so biting it iced the breath inside my lungs. So real it felt as if it had extinguished all life within me. A darkness I hadn’t experienced the first time I stepped into the room.

Candles from the chapel flickered in the distance. I followed the light, drawn to its luminance. Something enticed me closer and further down the aisle. My heart pounded as I sat in the first pew, transfixed by the glowing light from the red candles on the table in front of the chapel.

Flames from the candles danced, illuminating the bronze cross above on the wall. Warmth permeated the room and heated my insides. Overcome with emotion, I bent in my seat and sobbed. I’m not sure how much time went by before the tears stopped. But my spirit, now light and airy, no longer feared the darkness. Though I was no closer to understanding what had brought me to tears.

I slipped from the chapel and wandered through several hallways until I found the stairs that led to the basement. With one empowered step after another, I descended, following the hum of what sounded like a leaf blower. Perspiration formed on my brow as I entered the crematorium.

Kevin Kincaid looked up from the industrial, stainless steel oven. A smile lit his face. “You returned to me.”

“Um … hope I’m not interrupting … I wanted to ask you a question, and I was in the neighborhood on the way to Henderson’s memorial.”

“I’ve got someone in the oven right now, but it should take a couple of hours so I’m free until then. I got some beer in the cooler, would you like some?”

I didn’t dare ask which cooler. “No thanks, I’m driving. Do you mind if we go upstairs to talk?”

“No problem.” I let him lead. Though my apprehension had settled, I didn’t want psycho-ash boy behind me.

“What can I do you for, sweet cakes?” He licked his lips like I was dessert.

“Remember the man I picked up?”

“Sure, Henderson.” He interlocked his hands and batted his eyes. “My aunt’s dearly departed.”

Susan? His aunt? Why hadn’t I made the connection earlier?

Heat swept through me, and I started to perspire. “It sure is hot in here.”

“It was my idea to use the juice from the oven to help heat the upstairs. Saves them a ton of money.”

I shivered at the thought. “I’m sorry I can’t stay long, so forgive me for getting to the point.”

He took a step closer to me. “I wish all the ladies were as direct as you.”

I inched away. “I was wondering if you still have Henderson’s pacemaker? You mentioned you remove them before they go in the … um … furnace, and his daughter wants it to remember him by.” I bit my lip. Since I said that prayer with Elizabeth it was becoming more difficult to stretch the truth.

Kevin shifted from one foot to the other, his smile thinning. He said nothing, his gaze darting to his right.

“You didn’t blow up the furnace with it?” But my joke didn’t register. The lights were on, but the occupant was on vacation.

“No, I didn’t blow up the furnace with it. I … didn’t find it—” He scratched his head, then wiped the sweat from his brow. “I mean, I don’t know where it is.”

“What do you usually do with pacemakers when you remove them?”

“What do I do with pacemakers when I remove them? Well, uh, we give them to the family if they want it or throw them out.”

Or use them to blow up the oven. “So it must be in the trash.”

“Yeah, it must be in the trash.”

“Would you mind taking a look for me? I’m on my way to the memorial service, and it would mean so much if I could give it to his daughter.” I batted my eyes, way too old and out of practice at flirting.

His eyes darted to the door at the end of the hall. “Can’t. Trash picked up already.” He glanced at his wrist absent of a watch. “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to . ..well, you know. Thanks for coming.” He waved and Charlie-Chaplined away, peering over his shoulder several times. I knew Kevin Kincaid was odd, but this behavior was bizarre.

When he disappeared from view, I tiptoed down the hall and eased the back door open. Outside sat a small green dumpster. I reluctantly opened the lid. The stench watered my eyes. I turned away. Something rustled inside the dumpster. I jumped and let the lid slam. There was no way. No way I could do this.

Shivers crept up my spine. Kevin said the trash had been picked up, but there were two large bags inside. Why had he lied?

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

6:32 p.m.

WITH A BURNING IN my gut, I opened the lid to the dumpster again. There was no way I was digging through two bags of trash. But I had to. The stench roiled my stomach. I turned my head. No way. Unless … I held my breath and picked up a broken branch from the ground, using it as a hook to retrieve the first, then the second bag of trash.

I let out my breath and with another branch I ripped open the bags like Edward Scissorhands and rifled through the contents on the ground. Papers, food containers, and beer cans littered the asphalt. Nothing shiny or anything that resembled a pacemaker. But that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Kevin Kincaid could have hocked it for cash, though I hadn’t a clue who’d buy a used pacemaker.

A crisp gust smacked me in the face and lifted the trash papers, sending them swirling in the air. Caught in a whirlwind of paperwork, I scrambled to grab as many pages as I could. An eerie howl immobilized my frenzy.

It’s just the wind. It’s just the wind. It’s just the wind.

I resumed my fifty-two paper pick up, with ears to the air and one eye on the graveyard. Something trampled across my feet. I screamed and gave flight to the papers in my hand. Sprinting to the Jeep in my heels, I stumbled on a rock, hyperextending my knee. I pushed through the pain, my screams threatening to wake the dead.

Hoisting myself into the driver’s seat, I watched the papers flutter across the graveyard and plaster against several tombstones. What an irreverent mess! But I wasn’t about to clean it, and the residents weren’t complaining. I shifted into drive and sped down the road, gravel kicking up on Matt’s Jeep. Great! One more thing I’d have to beg forgiveness for.

I slammed my palms into the steering wheel. What a waste of time and energy. I was no closer to learning what happened to Henderson’s pacemaker or finding a reason why Danny knew about it. Unless … Danny hacked into Henderson’s medical records.

If Danny had tracked down his mother, he could’ve discovered his father’s identity. Shivers tickled my spine as I remembered his disinterest in finding out Henderson was his father. Then his anger at my suggestion of forgiveness. Could Danny have killed his father in revenge for wanting to abort him? Surely that wasn’t enough to turn a good kid into a murderer? He’d forgiven Cherilyn. But what if Danny discovered her baby was Henderson’s? They found his DNA in the green room. I didn’t like where my brain was going, but I couldn’t stop.

What would I say to Detective Lopez when he questioned me again? My thoughts dissolved, right from wrong gelling into one big sticky mess.

Tell him the truth … no matter what.

I drove into the church parking lot and called home, telling myself the kids were safe, and I shouldn’t worry. Danny would never hurt the kids. Besides, he was at dinner with Cherilyn.

Hattie’s phone went to voicemail. I dialed Elizabeth’s number.

“Elizabeth?”

“Mari, is everything okay? You sound winded.”

“Yes, I just had a little fright at the graveyard.”

“Graveyard? What are you not telling me?”

“It’ll have to wait. I need a favor. I can’t get through to my kids on the phone. I’d feel better if I knew they were okay. I feel like I haven’t been home in days.”

“I think Rachel is on the phone with Hattie now. Hold on a sec.”

A minute later Elizabeth returned. “They’re peachy, Mari.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Hattie says Matt’s been the model babysitter. Playing with Ben. He’s about to call in a pizza.”

I exhaled. “That’s good to know. Maybe Matt’s arrest was the best thing that could have happened. Can you tell Hattie I’ll be home soon?”

“Sure. See, I told you. All things work together for good.”

“I’m beginning to believe you.”

Stepping out of the Jeep, I drew in a cleansing breath, imagining myself on a deserted island. The crash of the ocean upon the shore calmed my anxiety, my shoulders relaxed. Until I realized I was alone in paradise.

Tension returned as I limped down the walkway toward the enormous church. Steeples and peaks adorned the imposing structure. My chest tightened. The last time I had been in a church was for my parents’ funeral. I wrapped my arms around my waist. No turning back now.

I opened the door and gasped, almost knocking over Henderson. The giant life-sized photo cutout of him in the alcove mesmerized me like I had just witnessed his resurrection. Leave it to Natasha to mix mourning with extravagance. No matter how tacky the cardboard cutout seemed, I admired Natasha for not caring about what others might think.