As Manny parked in front of the establishment and the two of them exited the cruiser, Manny said, “Hey, isn’t that Raul’s truck over there behind the hearse?”
Stella looked where he was pointing and saw that it was, indeed, Raul’s old red pickup, the one he used to haul feed for his livestock, parked in a rather snug place, between the hearse and the building. It was almost as though the vehicle had been stashed there, so as not to be visible to traffic going up and down the street.
“What’s Raul doin’ here?” she asked. “I’d think he’d be at the hospital with his girl or at home if they released her.”
“I’m wondering the same thing myself. I’m certainly going to find out.”
They hurried up the stairs to the double doors. Manny opened the one on the right and held it as Stella entered.
Once they were inside, Stella braced herself, expecting the rush of melancholy that usually accompanied a walk down that hallway with its dark, mahogany-wainscoted walls and thick, navy-blue carpet.
But today, her anxiety seemed less than usual, which she attributed to the mission at hand. Not only were they both interested in hearing anything Herb had to say about Billy Ray’s passing, but she was also curious to see what Raul was doing here.
The serious look on Manny’s face told her that he felt the same.
They didn’t have long to wonder. They passed Herb’s office and peeked inside but saw no one.
As they continued on toward the rear of the building, where Herb prepared bodies and, on rare occasions, conducted autopsies, they heard a door open and close, then footsteps, and male voices coming toward them.
Stella soon recognized them as Herb and Raul. Although she couldn’t distinguish their words, she thought their tones sounded cordial enough. Liking both men, she was relieved.
Stella knew the instant that Raul spotted her and, more importantly, the sheriff, coming toward him.
She didn’t like the guilty look that flashed across his face, along with the sort of apprehension she usually saw her grandchildren display when they had been caught doing wrong.
Very wrong. Not just nabbing the last brownie without asking permission or tracking a bit of mud onto her freshly mopped kitchen floor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Reid, Sheriff,” Raul said, far too loudly and much too brightly.
“A good morning to you, too, Mr. Ortez. Fancy meeting you here,” Manny said with equally fake-sounding cheerfulness, as he approached the two men and stood close to Raul.
In an instant, Raul seemed to melt in front of them. The false nonchalance disappeared from his face, and his entire body seemed to sag with fatigue and submission in the face of authority.
Stella looked at Herb and saw that he, too, looked sheepish, as though he’d been caught in the act of something he knew wasn’t going to go over well with the sheriff.
“I’m sorry, Manny,” Herb began. “I knew I shouldn’t, but—”
“But I asked him to,” Raul interjected. “I begged him to. It’s on me, Sheriff Gilford. I take full responsibility.”
Manny studied first one man, then the other, his own face inscrutable. Finally, he said in a soft, kind voice, “Before we decide who it is that I’m going to tar and feather, why don’t we figure out if anything’s amiss. Why are you here, Raul? Got a funeral you need to arrange?”
“No sir. Thanks to you and Mrs. Reid here taking care of my little girl, I’m not planning a funeral today, and I’ll be forever grateful to you for that.”
“We’re happy about that, too, Mr. Ortez,” Manny told him. “But again . . . why are you here?”
There was a long, tense silence, which Herb interrupted by saying, “He just wanted to look at the body, Sheriff, and that’s all he did. I made sure there was no form of contact. He was never closer than five feet from it, and he only stood there for a few seconds.”
Manny mulled it over for a while, then nodded to Herb and turned to Raul.
The farmer was staring down at his hands, which were clasped in front of him. As she watched him do so, Stella noticed for the first time how deeply callused they were, how scarred, as well as the numerous fresh cuts, gouges, and bruises. They were the hands of a hardworking man.
She couldn’t imagine they were the hands of a killer.
She also had to remind herself that most people in a terrible situation might take the life of another human being, either intentionally or accidentally. One could never know for sure what they might do in such a circumstance.
What would she do if someone had attacked her Savannah in the same way?
She shuddered to even think of it. Or how she would react.
Glancing over at Manny, she saw that he was still watching Raul, studying him, evaluating, no doubt, as she was.
Finally, Manny said, “Okay, tell me one thing, Mr. Ortez, and tell me the truth.”
Raul nodded. “I will. I swear. What do you want to know?”
“Why?”
For a long time, Raul stood, thinking. Stella wondered if he was trying to come up with a lie, but something told her he wasn’t. That he was simply choosing his words carefully, trying to be as forthcoming as possible.
At last he looked into Manny’s eyes and said simply, “I think it was because I had to make sure he was dead.”
Manny considered his words, nodded, and said, “I understand.”
Raul released a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sheriff. Thank you so much.”
Manny pointed to the front door. “Go back to your girl, Raul. Tell her what you saw with your own eyes.”
Raul wasted no time doing as he was bid. Within seconds he was out the door and gone.
Manny turned back to Herb and said, “Don’t think for one minute you’re going to get off that easy, Coroner Jameson.”
Herb held up both hands in surrender. “It never occurred to me I would, Sheriff. Bring out the tar and feathers.”
Chapter 19
As Herb led Stella and Manny to the rear of the funeral home, he tried to make his case to Manny. “I swear to you, Sheriff, I never would have let Raul touch that body. He didn’t try to either. He understood that he was asking a lot just to be in the same room with—”
“He certainly was,” Manny interjected. “Do you understand why, as coroner, you should never have allowed a suspect into the room with a homicide victim’s body on your table?”
As Herb paused, his hand on the doorknob of his preparation room, he looked confused. “I guess so he couldn’t tamper with anything. But he wouldn’t have. I was standing right next to him the whole time. Not that it was a long time, but . . .”
“I’m sure he didn’t touch anything, and I’m sure you were keeping a sharp eye on him,” Manny assured him. “That’s not the reason.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. What is it?”
Herb looked miserable, and Stella felt bad for him. Herb took being coroner very seriously. Since being given the job, he’d studied his craft night and day and become much better at it. She could tell he was deeply upset to think he had let Manny down.
Manny appeared to sense the man’s discomfort, too, because he softened his voice when he said, “Suppose we solve this case, Herb. We figure out who did it and gather enough evidence to take him to trial. Then his defense attorney gets wind of you bringing yet another suspect into your examination room.”
Herb nodded and swallowed hard.
Manny continued. “We could argue that Raul never touched the body, couldn’t have altered anything to his own advantage, but you broke protocol. A sharp defense attorney could make it look like you and Raul were in cahoots, trying to frame the defendant or whatever. The simple fact that you didn’t follow the rules is enough to muddy otherwise clear waters.”
“I understand, Sheriff. Really, I do. I just felt so sorry for Raul. I’ve got daughters myself. If someone hurt them, I’d want to see for myself that . . . You know.”
“Yes, I know. We’re just going to forget this ever happened and
carry on.” Manny nodded toward the preparation room’s door. “Let’s see what we’ve got in there. What you figured out so far.”
Herb brightened in an instant, swung the door open wide, and ushered them inside.
Stella had been in this room before. Several times, in fact. But she thought she would never grow accustomed to the abrupt change—stepping from the public area of the funeral home with its dark, calming colors and elegant furnishings into a sterile, clinical setting of stainless-steel, hard and shiny surfaces.
Instead of overstuffed chairs and dim lighting that was designed to be comfortable and soothing, she saw harsh, bright lights, cabinets filled with bottles, and boxes bearing chemical-sounding names. There was equipment everywhere with dials, buttons, hoses. She didn’t even want to think about what they might be used for.
But today, the simple body preparation room had been used for a far less everyday purpose.
While murder was hardly commonplace in the tiny town of McGill, this ordinary funeral parlor had doubled as a coroner’s autopsy suite a few times, including today. As Stella, Manny, and Herb entered, all eyes went directly to the guest of honor, who lay on a large stainless-steel table, covered with a white sheet.
“I am looking forward to hearing what you found,” Manny said.
Stella couldn’t help noticing the kindness in Manny’s tone. She could tell he was trying to make up to Herb for any former sternness. Not that Herb hadn’t deserved his scolding. But the gentle undertaker was a sensitive man, a good man, who genuinely tried to serve his community and had done so for many years.
Stella knew that Manny hadn’t wanted to wound him, but simply correct him for future situations.
She wondered if either man had considered that Manny was breaking the rules, too, by allowing her into the room. She assumed Manny saw the two situations differently because she wasn’t considered a suspect. But she was a civilian with no official duties. She figured that, for Manny to make such an exception for her, he must have valued either her opinion, her company, or both.
She found both possibilities flattering and unsettling. But when she thought of the new baby who might soon be in her arms, she knew these little forays into the world of law enforcement would be coming to an end.
She couldn’t imagine bringing a sweet infant into such a situation.
Putting thoughts and concerns of the future aside for the moment, she watched with keen interest as Herb hurried over to the body and pulled the sheet down from the head to its waist.
Stella had the impression that, had she not been present, he would’ve removed it entirely. It might be the mid-1980s in the rest of the world, but in little McGill, modesty was still considered a great virtue that needed to be practiced at all times. Especially in what was still called “mixed company.”
Manny walked up to the table and studied the body carefully. “Can we get a bit more light here, Herb?” he asked.
“Sure.” Herb flipped on a light that was hanging over the table, then turned it to its highest setting.
The result was jarring. The sight of the body on the table had been upsetting already, eerie in its stillness, a pale and empty shell, abandoned by the spirit that had occupied it. But the moment the searing light came on, more unsettling details were revealed with stark clarity.
“His eyes, they’re awful red,” Stella said.
“Looks like quite a bit of discharge or whatever from his mouth and nose, too,” Manny remarked. “I didn’t notice that back at the motel.”
“Even with those lights you brought in, it was pretty dark in there,” Herb said. “I didn’t see this myself till I had him in here.”
The undertaker put on a pair of surgical gloves, reached over, and opened the body’s mouth. “If you look in there, you’ll see it’s all red and irritated, like the eyes. Only even worse.”
Stella and Manny saw the inflammation in an instant. It reminded Stella of the worst sore throat the children had ever had and much more.
“That ain’t from no sickness I ever saw,” she said.
“Me either,” Manny said. “It almost looks like he drank some kind of poison or acid.”
“Funny you should say that,” Herb replied. “When I saw this, it reminded me of Carrie Strothers. Do you remember her?”
Manny nodded. “Used to be a waitress at the Igloo. Long time ago.”
“That’s right. I was in Doc Hynson’s office one day, getting some stitches in my thumb. A scalpel cut.” He grinned. “You think it’s dangerous being a sheriff, try being an undertaker. Anyway, while he was sewing me up, Carrie’s daughter brought her in. Her eye was a mess, and she wasn’t breathing right. She’d been kneeling on the floor next to the toilet, cleaning it. She set the bottle of cleaner down on the floor a bit too hard, ’cause she was in a hurry to get to work. This stuff inside kinda blurped up and outta the bottle. It got her right in the face. Quite a bit of it. She was really suffering. Her eye was all red like Billy Ray’s here, and where she’d got some in her mouth, it looked like this, too, only not as bad.”
“A caustic solution of some sort in the face. Hm-m,” Manny said, thinking it over.
“But we didn’t see no bottles of toilet bowl cleaner there in the bathroom or even in the bedroom,” Stella observed. “There wasn’t much of nothin’ there in that bathroom, except Billy Ray and a towel that was fixin’ to fall to pieces.”
“I doubt that he drank something poisonous, and then walked into the bathroom to take a shower,” Herb said. “From what I can see there in his mouth and that eye, he would’ve been in quite a bit of pain.”
Stella agreed. “I reckon bathroom sanitation would’ve been pretty low on his list of priorities at a time like that.”
“I’ll have to go back to the scene again,” Manny said, “and check the drains for anything like a cleaner. Anything that could do that much damage to human flesh on contact.”
Stella leaned closer, looking at the side of his head. “I’d forgot he had blood in his ear.”
Herb nodded. “He’s got some in the other one, too. I took a look inside and the inner ear looks as inflamed as his eyes, nose, and throat.”
“Did you find any signs of injury on the body,” Manny asked, “defensive wounds or whatever?”
“Not injuries,” Herb said, pulling the sheet a bit lower and exposing part of the abdomen. “But look at this. I never saw anything like that before.”
He pointed to some strange pink and green spots on the skin.
Stella looked at the discolorations. “I can’t say as I ever saw anything like that either.”
“Weird,” Manny said. Pointing to a spot where a small patch had been cut away, he added, “Is that where you incised a sample, Herb?”
“Yes. I took samples from his mouth, throat, lungs, even his heart, along with the usual blood and other bodily fluids like that foam that’s around his mouth.”
“Good. You get those packaged up, labeled, and ready to go. I’ll send them off to the lab in Atlanta, ASAP. We’re going to need help with this stuff. It’s obviously outside our realm.”
“I don’t mind saying I’m out of my depth, Sheriff. I’d appreciate all the help you can get us.”
Manny looked over the arms and hands. “Is that it when it comes to signs of injury, Herb? Nothing else?”
“No. Just the mess he made of his fingers trying to get out.”
“We can see why now,” Stella said. “That hurt eye and sore throat must’ve been pretty painful. He was probably trying to get out so’s he could find him some help.”
“Then we don’t have an actual cause of death,” Manny said with a tired sigh. “Somebody must have murdered him, but we don’t have a clue as to how or why.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Herb admitted, looking about as defeated as Stella had ever seen him.
“Okay.” Manny turned to Stella. “Want to go back with me to the motel and check the plumbing for some sort of drain cleaner?”
“Sure,” she said, eager to get out of the funeral home and away from the sight of the body on the table.
Turning to Herb, Manny said, “Get those samples all packed up nice and official. I’ll pick them up on my way back.”
“Will do.” Herb hesitated, then added, “Again, I’m sorry for that business with Raul. I should’ve known better. It’ll never happen again.”
“I know it won’t, Herb. Forget about it. I have.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A moment later, Manny and Stella were hurrying down the long, dark hallway toward the front door, and Stella was grateful.
She couldn’t recall when she’d been in such desperate need of a bit of fresh Georgia air and sunshine.
Chapter 20
“Sometimes I wonder how you can stand to do this kinda thing all day long,” Stella told Manny as she watched him pulling the plumber’s snake out of the toilet in the bathroom at Mabel’s.
He groaned as he straightened his back and tossed the snake onto the floor. “I don’t do that sort of thing very often. Usually, my duties don’t include toilet plunging in derelict motels. Mostly, I get to do glamorous stuff like pull cats out of trees and hose out the back of my cruiser after I’ve given some drunk a ride home.”
“Hey, that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”
He walked over to the sink and began to wash his hands as well as he could without soap.
“There’s nothing in that toilet drain but what you’d expect to find there,” he said. “The same with the sink and the shower drains. The showerhead’s got nothing on it or inside it but a ton of rust. So much for Herb’s idea of some sort of cleaning fluid or chemical drain opener causing Sonner’s death.”
Stella watched the water as it sputtered and spit into the dirty sink. “This place has been deserted for ages,” she said. “The electric’s turned off. How come the water’s on?”
Murder at Mabel's Motel Page 16