The Forgotten (22 page)
58
Officer Eric Hoyle hated dead body calls. This one was almost certainly a suicide. The woman, one Abby Abernathy, had swallowed a bottle of sedatives, downing them with booze. The corpse, in full rigor mortis, lay on the floor in front of the television, which was still on, though he had muted the sound. Abernathy had, at some point in dying, obviously been less than peaceful and had fallen or maybe convulsed out of her chair while her body desperately tried to save itself by expelling everything, from every orifice, that it could. It lay in bitter, sour-booze vomit streaked with metallic-smelling blood. Fecal matter stained the woman's jeans, its odor mixing with the vomit smell and the first hints of decomposition to make Hoyle feel like vomiting himself.
Although most cops claimed you got used to the smell, Eric could still smell it. He always could. Luckily, he rarely encountered such odors. If he had, he would have had to find another line of work.
He watched the police photographer finish up, then a couple of guys wheeled in a gurney and waited while the assistant county coroner and her crew finished their work. He wondered how they did it, day in, day out. How could they go home after a day of slaving over a stinking, mutilated body, and bounce their kids on their knees, eat dinner, make love.
As they began to bag the body, odor bloomed anew and Eric, as casually as he could, hightailed it for the door and stood a moment on the walkway running along outside the second-floor apartments. This place was probably the seediest apartment building in town, but it wasn't bad by other towns' standards. Not bad at all. It was clean, the paint unchipped, the walkway swept. It was an older building though, a simple block of apartments, U-shaped around a clean but dinky oval swimming pool. No frills.
“ 'Scuse me, Officer.”
He stepped back, allowing a short man in a tin foil hat to walk by. He stopped at the next door.
“Sir?” Eric followed him.
The guy's eyes bugged a little as he looked at the law. Eric was used to that. “Yeah, Officer?”
“You're the cable guy,” Eric said. “You installed a new box at my house.”
“Hi,” the man said, nodding. “Mickey Elfbones. Enjoying your new cable stations?”
“Sure. May I ask you a few questions?”
“What happened next door?”
“Your neighbor is dead. That's what I want to talk to you about.”
Alarm flickered over Elfbones's face, gone almost as soon as it came. Eric guessed this was a guy who'd been in petty legal trouble at one time or anotherâhe gave off old guilt.
Or maybe it was just the hat.
“I only got a half hour for lunch,” Elfbones said. “You can come in if you want.”
“Thanks. Be right back.” He went to the Abernathy apartment and checked on timing. They'd be ready to seal the apartment in twenty minutes. He told Dobie, the other cop, where he'd be, and went back to Elfbones, who stood waiting in his open doorway. Politely, he ushered Eric inside.
The little man was guilty of one thing, that was for sure. Illegal mixing of colors. The place was clean, though the paint was dull, the rug threadbare, both much older than those in Abernathy's place, as if Elfbones had lived there a long time and, if he was even offered new carpet or a fresh coat of paint, had turned it down. The furniture clashed in every way, from style to color.
“Want a sandwich?” Elfbones asked. He was already smearing peanut butter on white bread.
“No, thanks.”
“Something to drink? I got Coke and Mountain Dew and juice. Not sure what kind,” he added, poking around in the refrigerator. “Oh. Forget the juice. It's growing hair.”
“I could use a glass of water,” Eric said. Generally, he didn't even accept that from someone he spoke to while on the job, but his mouth tasted sour from holding back all the bile.
Mickey took a cold bottle of Arrowhead from the top shelf and handed it to him.
“Thanks.”
They sat down at a dinette table and Eric asked the usual questions, quickly coming to the conclusion that Elfbones knew nothing. Mickey freely admitted he didn't like the woman, who got drunk and occasionally came crying at his door. Frequently, she used the cable as an excuse to talk to him, claiming something was wrong. When he'd go over to check it out, it was always an unplugged or cross-wired wire. Abby Abernathy, Eric realized, was so hard up for company that she harassed a little loser like Elfbones. Pretty sad, really.
“Yo, Hoyle.” Officer Dobie stuck his head in the open door. “We're closing down next door.”
“I'll be right there.”
“I'm going down with the coroner,” Dobie said. “I'll be right back.”
He disappeared and Eric rose, thanking Elfbones for his cooperation.
“Any time.”
He saw him to the door then walked outside with him.
“Mr. Elfbones?”
“Yes, Officer?”
“What's the hat for?”
Elfbones looked embarrassed. “My nephew made it. I forgot I had it onâshit!” He pointed at Abernathy's place.
Eric turned in time to see a woman peering at him from the front window. It looked like the deceased. She disappeared almost instantly. He trotted to the door, goosebumps rising on his neck, his hand on his .38. He was vaguely aware of Mickey Elfbones beside him as he watched the dead woman, who was in a body bag getting put in the wagon and apparently simultaneously cruising her living room.
“I thought you said she was dead,” said Mickey.
“She is. They just took her downstairs.” He looked at Elfbones. “You see her?”
“Of course I see her. She sees us, too.”
Dobie appeared at the end of the upstairs walkway. “What are you looking at, Hoyle?”
“We're looking at a ghost,” he said.
“Ha. Real funny.” Dobie peered inside and promptly passed out.
Mickey Elfbones murmured something as Eric turned and bent over the other cop.
“What?”
“This hat is a rip,” he said. “It doesn't even keep ghosts from appearing. No wonder it doesn't stop the voices.”
59
Kevin sighed and looked at the clock. It was nearly six, which meant the last patient of the day would be gone in mere minutes. Despite the clamor for appointments, Kevin had taken it upon himself to cut off the flow a little earlier than usual. He was prepared to tell Will he'd done it because of his fainting spell, to help him recover, but Will hadn't asked any questions, just thanked him.
The trip back to the house for a water sample had been hairy at first. Well, maybe not the trip itself, but the morning had been hairy because Kevin had fixated on it, worrying and fretting. But at the house, Will accompanied him inside without being asked and showed absolutely no interest in looking in the living room. In fact, he seemed to share Kevin's interest in completely avoiding it. They were in and out in a moment, then they drove to CharPalace, grabbed sinfully delicious burgers, and took them back to the office. While they ate, they grilled one another about what each had seen the night before. Both he and Will were fascinated that they'd apparently seen exactly the same thing. Will seemed surprised, but Kevin wasn't in the least.
The final patient broke his reverie when she approached the desk to make her next appointment. They were done in two minutes and Kevin walked her to the front door, then started to lock up, pausing when a police cruiser pulled into the lot.
What now?
he thought, then relaxed, recognizing Eric behind the wheel.
What now?
he thought, then relaxed, recognizing Eric behind the wheel.
“What brings you here, fella?” Kevin held the door for him, then locked them in.
“I need to ask your boss a couple questions. Is he still here?”
“I'm still here,” Will called from the hall. “Come on back.”
They went into Will's office and Kevin put on his beggar's face. “May I stay for the inquisition?”
Eric looked at Will. “That's up to you.”
“Why not?” He looked at Eric. “You realize I can't answer any questions about patients.”
“How about a dead one?”
Will sat forward. “Who died?”
“We had two deaths last night. One was one of your patients. Abigail Abernathy.”
“Abby was killed?”
“Suicide, we're pretty sure.”
Will looked troubled. “She had responded very well to the meds we had her on. I have to admit I'm surprised, although a bi-polar can have sudden swings.” He took a notepad and wrote something down, gave it to Eric. “Here are a few questions for the coroner about drug levels I'd like answered. It's safe to say Dr. Rawlins will want the same information.”
“Yeah,” Kevin said. “He will.”
Eric glanced at the note, then folded it and put it in his breast pocket. “I have no idea what that said, but I'm assuming doctors take a class in reading each other's handwriting.”
Will faked a quarter-second smile. “Was she drinking?”
“She washed the pills down with a lot of liquor, judging by what I saw.”
Will nodded. “She was an abuser.” He looked troubled. “I'm usually pretty good at knowing when a patient is backsliding.”
“You haven't seen her for nearly a month,” Kevin said. “She was due back in next week. A lot could have happened.”
“True.”
Kevin could see the wheels turning. He was wondering if Abby's death was connected to all the other patient strangeness that was going on. “Eric?”
The young cop had been about to say something, but he put it on hold. “Yeah?”
“Can you tell us who else died?”
“An older woman over on Mockingbird Lane. Mrs. Minnie Lavia. A widow. They don't know the cause of death yet, probably a heart attack. The neighbors that found her said that her parrot had one of her eyeballs in its beak when they entered.” He paused. “Don't repeat that.”
“Of course not,” Will said. “A parrot?”
“It worked on her face. Jeff, the cop who took the call, said she'd been dead for a couple days. Maybe the parrot was hungry, huh?”
“Maybe,” Will agreed. “I don't know much about birds.”
Eric cleared his throat and looked at Kevin. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. ”
“Have you seen your ghost again?”
“Have we ever. Will's seen it too, haven't you Will? Tell him.”
“I saw something that could be described as ghostly,” Will said carefully. “Why?”
“Your patient? The one that died?”
“Abby?”
“Yes.”
“I was talking to her neighbor while they took the body down. Her apartment was empty. But I saw her. At first I thought I imagined a woman looking at me, but I walked over and looked inside. She was walking around in there. The neighbor saw her, too.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No. Just you two. I'll tell Barry, but none of the guys I work with would believe me. They'd laugh me off the force.”
“You're lucky Will saw our ghost,” Kevin said. “Otherwise, he'd tell you you'd imagined it.”
Will lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. “I might. Can you get a water sample from the apartment? And from your home, and from Abby's neighbor? I can supply containers.”
“You think there's something in the water?”
“Itwould explain a lot. These incidentsâsightings, people hearing thingsâare increasing.”
“Your other patient, Mia Hartz, has been calling regularly,” Kevin said. “She insists there are children in her yard. I suggested she consult her mental health care professional.” He half smiled. “But when I was leaving her place yesterday, I'd swear I heard kids laughing and yelling for about three seconds.” He paused. “I realize it must have been a sound that carried from elsewhere, but it made my hair stand on end.”
“Curious,” Will said slowly.
“And the animals,” Kevin said. “They could be affected by something in the water around here, too.”
“Animals?”
Kevin explained, adding, “That's why the parrot is so interesting.”
“Maggie told me her partner's cockatiels went nuts for a little while last night,” Will supplied, then told them about the birds that had thrown themselves against his window. He mentioned his cats, and told them about the radio interference theory. “I'm inclined to think,” he concluded, “that we're dealing with separate causes.”
“Coincidences?” Eric asked.
“Separate, but related,” Will said. “There's too much coincidence for it to be coincidence.”
“Spoken like a true headshrinker.” Kevin smiled at Eric. “That's how they talk, you know.”
“I know,” Eric said, and looked at from Kevin to Will. “And I agree. One of you guys, Jung, I think, said, âThere's no such thing as coincidence.' It's true.”
“I agree for the most part,” Will said. “Sometimes a coincidence is just a coincidence, but most of the time it's not. Especially if there are a whole lot of them.”
Kevin looked from Eric to Will. “What are you implying? That somebody's raising the dead, zapping animals with radio waves, and poisoning the water?”
“Something like that,” Will said. “Though I'd limit it to zapping animals and drugging people. The ghosts are the result of the drugs.”
Eric nodded. “That's logical.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “I should have known you'd be on his side, Eric. We have ghosts.”
“Someone wants us to think we do,” Eric said softly.
Will nodded. “I wonder if people can be affected by radio waves.”
“You just got in way over my head,” Kevin said.
“The neighbor of Ms. Abernathy was wearing a tin foil hat,” Eric said. “He said his nephew made it, but aren't those things used to keep voices out of your head?”
“Her neighbor is Mickey Elfbones?” Will asked, eyes bright.
“You know him?”
“He works for my brother.” He shot a warning glance to Kevin, who'd been about to reveal he was a patient. Sometimes, Will could read minds.
“What street was the other victim on?” Kevin asked.
“Mockingbird Lane.”
“That's what I thought. We have a patient on that street.”
“He's right,” Will said, “But we can't tell you who. Can you tell me who found her?”
Eric hesitated then said, “Why not? A mother and son name of Hatch. If you want to know first names, I'd have to check.”
Kevin and Will traded glances, then Will said, “No, that's okay.”
Eric stood up and dug in his pocket, drawing out his wallet. “My shift's over and Barry's waiting.” He took a business card from the wallet and wrote another number on it. “Here's my office and cell phone numbers.” He handed it to Will. “Can we keep one another informed?”
“How far is the information going?”
“Just to me. Like I said, nobody on the force would believe it, but I can work on it on my own.”
“Okay.” Will took his own card from a holder and added his beeper number, then gave it to Eric.
Kevin stood up. “I'll get the containers for the water samples. They're really for urine, but they haven't been used,” he added quickly. “I'll put labels on them for you.”
“Thanks.” He turned to Will. “I can probably drop them by tomorrow.”
“I'd appreciate it. Just give them to Kevin or take them directly to Gabe.”
“Will do. Good night, Doc.”
“Night.”
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