Fifteen Coffins

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘You don’t believe him capable.’

  ‘No. I don’t. And yet, it seems I must be a poor judge of character.’

  Sydney asked Wade if she had spoken with Kevin’s father since the day of the shooting. The teacher dipped her head for a moment, breathing forcefully through her nose. Following her initial anxiety she had begun to relax, but it was obvious that the fresh question bothered her. She admitted she had not, and appeared to be regretful.

  ‘Might I ask why?’ Sydney said.

  ‘Because they instructed us not to. I use that word carefully, Agent Merlot, because there was no asking us not to, we were not advised not to, we were instructed not to. The senior management team, together with the district superintendent, school board committee, and even our own union representatives, collaborated to issue a single directive to us that we were not, under any circumstances, to engage with Dexter Muller on this nor any other subject. Nor were we to provide any further interviews to journalists.’

  ‘You sound unhappy about that, Mrs Wade.’ Sydney leaned in, intrigued by the school’s approach and keen to learn more.

  With a furious nod, the teacher admitted that the decision disappointed her enormously at the time, and she was angered by it still. Prior to the shootings, she had met with Kevin’s father on several occasions, the pair of them discussing his son’s progress and the baby steps he was taking under Wade’s guidance. She spoke with gentle compassion about Kevin being developmentally challenged, academically lagging behind his peers, but insisted he was moving in the right direction. He was learning all the while. What’s more, he was coping and maturing as he did so. With immeasurable sadness, she told Sydney that reaching out to Mr Muller after what happened would have been the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘Instead, we shunned him,’ she confessed, with a shake of the head that spoke of bitterness and contempt for those who had ordered her silence. ‘Much as the entire area did, I am ashamed to say.’

  Based on photographs she had seen in various articles, Sydney conjured up a mental image of the boy. A young man like any other, a blush of acne on both cheeks, long-boned, gangly and awkward. Dexter Muller had provided the media with nothing, the images appearing courtesy of official school photos or captured by fellow students.

  Sydney understood the school’s reluctance to have their staff talking to the media, but insisting they no longer had any contact with Muller felt wrong. She thought of Dexter as she said, ‘There are many who believe the father of a mass murderer like Kevin to be every bit as culpable as the killer himself.’

  ‘And they are entitled to their view. Apparently, that doesn’t work the same for us teachers.’

  ‘You must find that immensely frustrating.’

  ‘In the beginning, sure. My individual first amendment rights appear to count for nothing in this regard. But time moves on. The wounds this school suffered have not yet even begun to heal, but we still have hundreds of children to educate and jobs to get on with. We live with the fallout every single day, but we also have to move forwards. It’s the only way we will ever recover.’

  Something had occurred to Sydney while Wade was talking, and she voiced her concerns. ‘Is it possible, in your view, for Kevin to have changed so radically over the summer break? After all, the fall semester had only recently begun when the tragedy took place. For a number of weeks, Kevin was without the kind of tuition and guidance you provide. Perhaps he slipped backwards in that time, fell in with the wrong crowd.’

  ‘Enough to become a mass murderer?’ Wade barked indignantly, folding her arms across her chest. ‘To turn into a young man capable of planning and carrying out such an atrocity?’ She gave a firm shake of the head. ‘Not a chance, Agent Merlot. Not a chance. Besides, his father takes… took great care of him when he was not in school.’

  Sydney paused her questioning long enough to reflect on the responses. Wade had stronger opinions than were initially apparent from the newspaper article. It was likely that other staff were out there nursing the same beliefs. If only they were allowed to express them.

  ‘I take it you’re not alone in terms of how you view the terrible events of that day?’ Sydney asked.

  ‘It’s not something faculty members are encouraged to discuss openly,’ Wade answered after a second or two. ‘Many of us are angry still, albeit for different reasons. It’s made things fractious at times, with division causing a lot of upset. Some believe Kevin got exactly what he deserved. But I knew him better than most, worked with him more often than most. In answer to your question, yes, there are several of us who found it impossible to accept the notion of Kevin being responsible.’

  ‘For the same reasons?’

  ‘Pretty much, yes. Even if you chose to ignore his innate sweet nature and thoroughly decent character, Kevin was incapable of either planning or executing such an attack, in my view.’

  Sydney leaned forward, her own hands clasped on the table. She waited for the woman’s eyes to meet her own before continuing. ‘Tell me something, Mrs Wade. Whenever it was or is discussed, does anyone suggest their own alternative theories? Alternative suspects, perhaps?’

  Wade frowned, her lips curling as she thought about that. ‘If you’re asking if we would have put other boys ahead of Kevin in terms of being capable of carrying out a mass shooting, then indeed we would. Many, many other boys who were and are plainly spiteful and immoral. Cold, unfeeling louts who seem to have hate rooted in their hearts. As for theories or speculation, what would be the purpose?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Agent Merlot, many of us may find it impossible to believe Kevin was that gunman, but clearly he was. He had to have been. Whether I am shocked by the revelation or not, it was Kevin beneath that mask.’

  Sydney nodded her understanding. And the teacher was right. There was no getting away from the fact that Kevin Muller approached the gathered ranks of law-enforcement that morning, was shot dead as a result of disobeying repeated demands for him to stop, and was then identified by the Principal. But it was what took place beforehand that interested her most.

  ‘And what if I were to tell you that Dexter Muller does have a credible theory of his own?’ she said ‘One that suggests his son was merely a patsy in all this, and that the real culprit is still out there.’

  Rebecca Wade sat back in her chair, hands falling by her side. She appeared stunned by the suggestion. Her gaze flicked across to the closed door, then zeroed in on Sydney’s eyes. ‘Then I would be extremely interested to learn all about it,’ she said softly, the words hissing through clenched teeth.

  Sydney smiled. She thought that perhaps she had found her first ally.

  Nine

  ‘Damn you, Sydney!’ Benton Lowe said to her as she climbed out of her father’s dusty Dodge truck, its shocks groaning as it righted itself.

  He was waiting for her in the parking lot behind a block of offices when she arrived. She wondered how long he had been sitting there, inwardly fuming. Ignoring him, she walked into the two-storey building and up to her office on the second floor with Benton at her heels. Sydney unlocked the door, stood to one side and held out her hand to allow him to pass on through. Setting her bag down on the floor beside the chair at the desk, she remained standing.

  ‘You heard then?’ she said finally.

  ‘Of course I heard. And thanks for the heads-up, by the way.’

  Sydney rested both hands on her hips. ‘You think I owed you a warning? Need I remind you that we could be working together on this, Ben? But last time we spoke you made it abundantly clear that wasn’t going to happen. If we’re on opposite sides of this, then why should I be warning you about anything?’

  He hitched his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. Maybe for old times’ sake.’

  ‘Did you offer that same benefit to me? Doc, we both know you could have given me pretty much everything I wanted in terms of case history. No one else would have known about it, nor needed to. But rather than c
ooperate, you chewed me out and tried to make me feel small and stupid.’

  ‘So, you went and spoke to the Sacramento FBI field office about it instead. What on earth do you think you are doing, Sydney?’

  ‘My job.’ She set her chin firmly.

  He scoffed at that. ‘Are you for real? I understand you coming back up here to close your father’s business down, see to it that his clients are taken care of. You doing that while you look for a buyer and sort out his estate makes perfect sense to me. But you didn’t have to take on a new case while you were here. Especially one like this. One that just about tore this town apart.’

  ‘You mean a case nobody wants to touch because it terrifies them to think that what Dexter Muller has to say may be true?’

  ‘Bullshit!’

  Sydney jabbed a finger in his direction. ‘Do not raise your voice to me, Sheriff Lowe. You and I were friends once, even more than that for a brief period of time, but clearly that’s not the case anymore. At least as far as you’re concerned. You seem to have decided that you and I need to pick sides, and you’ve evidently chosen yours. So you no longer have the right to interfere in my life or the way I choose to live it.’

  Benton opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it closed again almost as quickly. She saw in his eyes a realisation of how much he had hurt her. Regretted it, too. At this point, the old Benton Lowe would have joked his way out of the fight. But that was then, and this was now. Reputations were on the line. Possibly even more than that.

  Benton leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘You truly want to stir up the town again, Sydney? People around here ain’t over it yet, not by a long way, and you’re looking to pick at the scabs?’

  She took a breath. Thought about every word she was about to say before pointing out that, whilst she would much rather not be involved, somebody had to be. She reminded him that if he had taken the opportunity to do so when Muller had first come to him, she wouldn’t have needed to step up at all. His jaw clenched and shuffled from side to side as he ground his teeth together. It was a characteristic Sydney recognised, and what came next was entirely predictable.

  ‘Then I ain’t your Doc anymore, Sydney. I ain’t even Benton to you. As you rightly said a moment or two ago, I’m the sheriff around here. You want to ignore our many years of prior friendship and put this on a purely professional basis, then that’s exactly what you’re gonna get in return. You can’t have it both ways. No favours or short cuts here.’

  Sydney flashed a sad smile, but remained resolute in the face of his resolve. ‘I didn’t realise I had been getting any. Believe it or not, I’m sorry it’s come to this. More than you’ll ever know. I guess when you told me all those years ago that us breaking up as lovers would never lead to us breaking up as friends, your words had a shelf life. That expiry date today, Sheriff?’

  One hand clamped around his gunbelt, the other brushing the hair at the back of his neck, Benton studied the tips of his shiny leather shoes. He would already be kicking himself for pushing things in this direction. Having painted himself into a corner, he had no time to allow it to dry before acting. When he looked up again, Benton’s chin remained rigid.

  ‘I wish you had not said yes to Dexter Muller,’ he said softly, barely managing to get the words out there.

  ‘Well, I’m glad I did. Even if it means upsetting you, or the entire town for that matter. That poor grieving man needs somebody to listen to him. Somebody to at least look at what happened from a different perspective.’

  He shook his head, lips curling upward slightly. ‘You don’t take a single backward step, do you, Sydney Merlot?’

  ‘Not if I don’t have to. And I do have a follow-up question for you.’

  ‘Of course you do. Go ahead. I’ll answer it if I can.’

  Sydney asked him if he had created a report following Muller’s visit, one which included his statement, and if so whether he had then sent it to both Sonora PD and the FBI.

  Benton chewed on the inside of his lip for a few seconds. Then he sniffed once and said, ‘That would be the correct protocol, yes.’

  ‘I realise that. But did you follow it?’

  ‘I’m afraid I cannot discuss specifics with you at this time, given you lack any official capacity to ask those questions. Like I say, it’s protocol, so why not assume I did it?’

  ‘That’s how it’s going to be from now on, huh?’ Sydney challenged him with her eyes and the language emanating from her taut body.

  He nodded. ‘That’s how it’s going to be. Good day to you.’

  A brief nod and a swivel on the balls of his feet later, the sheriff was gone and his absence took root in the hollows of her stomach. She wondered if he had taken their friendship with him on the way out of the door, or if he had left at least a remnant of it with her inside the office. She sighed, shook her head to clear it, and absently started sorting through the files on her desk. Anything to switch her mind from the ache of that thought.

  The plan for the rest of the day was to move a step closer to closing down the business. In truth, her father had not left a great deal for her to do: compiling and documenting evidence related to a fraud case for a local insurer, producing a report and billing the client; completing the investigation into a claim of identity theft; there was a bail skip trace assignment which had barely begun, a woman seeking to locate her husband who had walked away from the family home several months earlier and owed court-ordered child maintenance; and an employment agency was awaiting the outcome of a reference check on a potential client.

  Sydney sifted through the individual files, adding her own thoughts on square blue Post-It notes to accompany each. She didn’t know how much information she was taking in at that point, but when she was done sifting, she put all four open investigations into a box file and snapped the lid closed. The accounts were next on her list, and they would be the larger job by far. Billing was not her area of expertise, so she made a call to the company accountant. After introducing herself and accepting the usual condolences, Sydney requested a meeting to discuss both the current state of the books, and the process of shutting it all down. The agenda would be to first of all bring her up to date in terms of the business finances, after which she wanted to arrange for a bookkeeper to complete all remaining accounting activities.

  The meeting set for the following day at 10.00am, Sydney thought she had bought herself some time in which to address her father’s road accident. Having requested the various police reports into the incident on the day after his death, she held every detail in her head, and there was nothing new to glean from going back over them. Despite that, she had a list of questions to follow up on.

  It was the Sonora PD who had attended the scene. They then summoned experienced investigators from Modesto – which lay fifty-six miles to the west of Moon Falls – due to the accident being declared a hit-and-run. Sydney didn’t recognise either name on the report, but she hoped her time spent in the city working as a cop would prise open another door in order for her to ask one specific question.

  The first attempt was a complete bust. Neither investigator was available to speak to her. One was on vacation, the other off duty. Using her previous credentials as leverage, Sydney attempted to gain access to the man’s human resources details. Although the person she spoke to was sympathetic, they insisted the best anyone could do for her was to get a message to him and ask that he contact her. Sydney thanked the woman at the other end of the line, but wasn’t going to hold her breath waiting for a call back.

  Next, she checked her father’s work diary to see if he had noted down any reason for being out driving that evening. The diary was online and attached to his company Gmail account. Fortunately, Sydney knew the password – her mother’s name followed by the digits of their wedding anniversary. The last entry for the day of the accident were the initials SK. Nodding to herself, she then searched for corresponding files stored on Google Drive. Sydney grinned at seeing the file marked SK, ending wit
h the matching date as a suffix.

  As soon as the file opened up, Sydney saw the initials referred to a Sonia Kasper, with an address in Twain Harte. That explained the reason why he was on the road that night. It was not listed among her father’s ongoing cases, because the meeting with the Kasper woman at 8.00pm that fateful evening was described as their opening discussion. He would not have had time to start a new case file in its entirety. This was a preliminary interview to see if he was able to help the woman with her problem. Sydney’s father had added contact information at the foot of the page, though only the most basic of details.

  Sydney blew out her cheeks, picked up her cell and punched in the number.

  Ten

  Sonia Kasper answered the call on the third ring. Sydney explained who she was, and after the woman had offered her sympathies, got right down to business.

  ‘Mrs Kasper, among other reasons for being up here in Moon Falls at the moment, I’m looking into whoever was responsible for my father’s death. I take it you realise he was killed travelling back from visiting with you that evening?’

  ‘Please, call me Sonia. I wasn’t certain about the precise circumstances, but I did think it was probably the case, yes. How awful. I feel so terrible about it.’

  Sydney sensed the woman’s misplaced feelings of guilt, and saw a door opening up for her. ‘There’s absolutely no reason why you should. It certainly wasn’t your fault. All the same, I was wondering if it would be okay to pay you a visit, Mrs… Sonia. I’d like to understand more fully what you two discussed that evening.’

  Kasper appeared to be surprised by the request, but she readily agreed nonetheless, and they made arrangements to meet at twelve-thirty up at Pinecrest, where the woman worked in Mike and Barb’s sporting goods store. The Steam Donkey restaurant was closed for lunch out of season, so they settled on the snack bar trailer by the beach.