All the Hidden Sins

by Marian Lanouette

  I better fill the rest of the forms out at home in case that bastard decides to stick his nose in my business again. And what should he tell Phil? God, he’d kill him for sure if he was the one who had set Carrington on him. The time isn’t right, but when it is, I’ll inform him of the problem.

  * * * *

  Where to begin, Kyra mused. She sipped her coffee and ignored the burning sensation in her gut. Her head spun with a dozen answers. “Joe Dillon’s my host at the casino—I’m in debt way over my head—he made me an offer to pay off my debt. It’s a chance for a fresh start,” she said, as she looked deep into Phil’s shadowy eyes. Phil was impossible to read and that bothered her.

  She inhaled, and finished her story. Bile choked her.

  “Is this out of the norm for you?”

  Of course it is. “Yes. He gave me two options. Neither appealed to me, both were out of the question, but I don’t have a choice.” She dropped her head in defeat.

  “Then why are you here?”

  Her head jerked up. “Excuse me?”

  “I asked, why are you here? It’s a simple question.” His voice hardened.

  “I told you I have no choice.”

  “Who said?”

  “I understood I had no choice when Joe presented it to me.”

  “We all have choices, Kyra. You can choose one of the options Joe presented to you or walk away and never look back.”

  “Without any trouble?”

  “I don’t cause trouble for anyone.”

  A lie I’m sure. “Okay.”

  “I understand you have a son. It must be hard to work full-time and be a parent.” He smiled. Though he tried for benevolent, it missed its mark.

  “I don’t want to speak about my son.”

  Now she was scared from her head to her toes. It was evident Phil liked fear. Was that how he controlled people?

  “Most times I can’t shut a mother up about her children.”

  “Trevor doesn’t come into this, understand?”

  “Are you threatening me, Kyra?” He smiled without mirth.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Good. If I decide to use you, you’ll have no say in anything. Anything. You got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I don’t hurt children. I’m insulted that after spending less than half an hour with me you believe I do.” Anger peppered his words.

  “Trevor’s everything to me. I needed…I had to make sure.” Her voice quavered.

  “I understand. But you understand, if we move forward, I own you. Own you, Kyra.”

  She lowered her head, sat in silence. Her hands trembled. She paused to gather strength before she replied. “What you mean by ‘own me?’”

  “Exactly that. Do you need a dictionary?” He raised his left brow, the corner of his mouth twisted.

  “No. I’m under the impression I’m here for a certain function. What other things do you have in mind?” She raised her head, making eye contact again.

  “You’re here for a certain thing which might have to occur on more than one occasion. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are your reasons for accepting Joe’s deal?”

  She contemplated before answering. “I want my son back, Phil. I’ll do anything to get him back.”

  “How did you lose him?”

  “Gambling.” The flash of anger burned up her neck as her emotions, as always, showed on her face. It was times like this she wished she was a brunette.

  “I’m sure it was a tough lesson. How did it get out of control?”

  “I—” She stopped. I don’t know isn’t acceptable here.

  “Well?”

  “I let it take control of me. At the time I cared about nothing else.” She’d never said it aloud. For the first time, she realized the simple truth in her statement. Her heart—awash in shame—had to deal with the fact she hadn’t put Trevor first.

  “You didn’t care about your son?” A cruel man. He pushed her buttons.

  “From the moment I became pregnant, I loved and cared for my son. I can’t explain it to myself. How can I explain it to you?”

  “The answer should be simple. You control your actions. I control mine.”

  Cruel, yes. “I’m aware I made the wrong decisions, harmful decisions, decisions I have to live with, Phil, not you.”

  “You’re annoyed. Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes, good. Your answers are honest. Your anger is pointed at you, not at anyone else. I like that, because that’s where it belongs.”

  His words crushed her. Kyra waited for him to continue his attack against her character. It baffled her when Phil got up and walked to his desk. He pulled out his chair then sat. Next, he opened a drawer. “Join me over here, Kyra.”

  The man’s devious. He must be through testing me. She pushed off her chair, went to his desk. For some reason it hit her—that was the longest yard of her life.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  Startled. “Nothing.”

  He tilted his head at her. His scary eyes stared her down.

  She exhaled. “I didn’t realize I was smiling, because I don’t want to.” Studying him, she continued. “I have a habit of playing jokes in my head when I’m under stress. It relaxes me. The walk from the chair to the desk hit me as the longest yard.” She shrugged.

  “Do you understand why you’re here tonight?”

  “Yes. You’re assessing me, trying to figure out two things. One.” She held up her right hand, extended her index finger, tapping it on her left hand. “If I’m up for the task. And two, if I’m intelligent enough to understand what I’m committing to.”

  “Correct.” He continued to stare.

  “What’s your decision?”

  He laughed, taking her off guard.

  “Why are you laughing?” Hating herself for asking.

  “You.”

  Pain shot up her arm as she dug her nails into her palm. Fighting for control, she bit back the sarcastic quip on the tip of her tongue. Kyra lifted her head and stared at him. Enough of playing the frail and helpless female—I hate being played. She needed his answer now.

  “Your decision?”

  “Kyra, let’s make it clear up front. I’m in charge. I’m always in charge. I don’t put up with insolence. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “I give people my answer when I’m ready to give my answer. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  He tapped his pen on the desk. Kyra waited, watching it bounce up and down. The man’s a control freak. It’s obvious from the way he’s conducted this interview. She wondered if he realized how much of himself he gave away with his motions. He reminded her of her trustees at the cemetery on one level, the only difference, Phil was a dangerous man.

  “I’ve come to a decision. I can’t use you.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “No.”

  She squared her shoulders, stood, held out her hand. He took it. Held it.

  “Thank you for your time, Phil.”

  “Aren’t you the polite one? I like polite employees.”

  Her head snapped up. “Excuse me?” He still held her hand.

  “I am going to use you, Kyra, because it gives us both what we need. I needed to see how you’d react when things didn’t go your way.”

  “I’m not sure they did.”

  He laughed. “Yep, honest.”

  Getting down to business, he outlined how the undertaker would show up with a legitimate cremation, and inside that coffin there’d be two bodies, not one. The legal cremation’s paperwork covered both their asses if someone asked any questions. She wasn’t allowed to take notes. She’d memorize the information until she got
home. Once there she’d open a file on her computer and passcode for her eyes only. It took Phil an hour to detail everything. She’d be paid the one hundred thousand in large bills. The first burn had to happen within days or the deal was off. Oh my God, I agreed to dispose of a body for the freaking mob. I’m going to hell for sure.

  He seemed surprised that she hadn’t blink when he mentioned that the same fee applied for each body.

  “Kyra, you understand this isn’t a one-time deal?”

  “I figured it out over dinner with Joe. Once in, there’s no getting out,” she stated.

  “This concludes our business for tonight.” He stood.

  “Thanks, Phil.” She extended her hand again.

  He took it, then seemed to make a personal decision. “Kyra, are you free tomorrow night? I’d like to take you to dinner. It has nothing to do with the deal.”

  “I have a dinner date tomorrow night, but I can cancel it. It’s a first date.”

  “No, don’t cancel. We’ll make it some other time.”

  “I don’t have plans for Saturday night if you want to go then instead of Friday?”

  “Yes, Saturday’s fine. I’ll call with the time. I prefer eating around nine. It’s not too late for you, is it?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll send a car.”

  “Where are we going?”

  The corner of his lip twitched up at her question. “There are some great restaurants around here.”

  “I live in Wilkesbury. Why don’t I drive up here? That way you don’t have to worry about getting me home.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Don’t plan on staying the night?”

  “No.”

  Laughing, he said, “Fair enough.”

  Chapter 7

  Jake studied the Church file again. According to Detective Stack’s personnel records he was a thorough cop. The Saul Church case didn’t prove that to Jake. After his interview with Mrs. Church, he decided it was time to have it out with Stack.

  He scribbled notes in the margin as he read the single-page report, then penciled a note on his calendar to speak to Stack about it. At this point he didn’t want to outright criticize any of the new detectives assigned to him until it was necessary. Missing Persons and Homicide had to work through the bumps and personalities before the two departments melded together and became a unit. It was temporary, or he hoped it was. But who knew, with Mayor Velky in charge.

  The file bothered him. Instead of moving forward, he read it for a second time. Even a rookie knew how to gather more information than this. He’d find a motive for why Stack hadn’t handled it properly.

  With that out of the way, he grabbed the next personnel file. Harold Walsh, a crony of the Miller brothers, now there was one who spelled trouble for him. A friend of the Millers was an enemy of his and an informant for the mayor. Why did turning in a bad cop—Captain Miller—have to play havoc with a good cop’s—Jake’s—career?

  After reading about Harry’s lackluster job performance, Jake moved on to Homicide’s case load. All the files seemed in order and, if not brilliant, they did show a logical order of investigation. But there was no logic to the Church file. Was Stack burned out or crooked?

  * * * *

  Christ, now why did I go and make a date with him? Kyra replayed the entire interview in her head. She hated to admit she found Phil attractive, in a dangerous kind of way. What was wrong with her? Never before had she pursued the bad-boy type. And in two days, she’d accepted dates with two. Oh yes. Make no mistake. Jake Carrington was a bad boy, even if he was working on the side of good. Versus Phil, who was on the side of evil. The picture in her mind had Jake on her right shoulder, angelic. Her left shoulder showed Phil as Beelzebub. The absurd imagery sent her into a fit of laughter. She steered the car onto the shoulder of the highway to get back in control. Wrestling with right and wrong even at this age —boy, Sister Mary Catherine would be proud of her.

  * * * *

  Friday flew by. With one burial and one cremation, it gave her time to catch up on her paperwork. Phil called, setting the time for dinner on Saturday. He informed her the first body would arrive by the end of the day.

  The undertaker along with one of Phil’s henchmen would stay with the body throughout the entire process. Phil wanted to make sure she didn’t call the police. Understanding his motive, she wasn’t insulted. Their expected arrival time was three, three thirty. Around two thirty she walked out of her office and perched herself on Dina’s desk.

  “Do you have big plans for the weekend?” Kyra asked.

  “Oh yes. You remember the guy with the blond hair from the party?” Dina smiled.

  “There were a lot of guys with blond hair at the party. Which one?”

  “The tall one.”

  “They’re all tall to me.” Kyra laughed.

  “Oh, right, Shorty.” Dina laughed. “Well, never mind. Ray’s six feet and built. I’m hoping to see how built tonight.” Dina wiggled her brow.

  Shaking her head, Kyra kept her mouth shut.

  “Tonight’s your date with Jake, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “We’ll have to compare notes on Monday.”

  “Sounds good. Why don’t you take off for the weekend? Everything’s all set here for today.”

  Not out of the ordinary for her to let Dina go early on Fridays if they weren’t busy. This gave her some quiet time to prepare for Phil’s body.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, enjoy.”

  “Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. Thanks. Enjoy your weekend.”

  Kyra watched Dina grab her purse and head out before she changed her mind. After Dina left, she walked into the back room where the cremations were performed. The room housed two chambers—ovens—but the public didn’t like that term. Inside this room there were three smaller rooms off to the right side. A processing room, because at twenty-five hundred degrees the larger parts of the bones, such as the femur and humerus, didn’t burn to ash in two and a half hours. They had to be pulverized. What the family received was the pulverized bones with minimum ash. Windows in the chamber doors allowed the attendant to view the process while the burn took place. She never looked. Ghoulish.

  The outside of the building didn’t advertise that it was a crematory. The chambers were designed to do a double burn. It incinerated the body and all gases and odors as well. Outside the building, clean, white, odorless smoke filled the sky.

  The other two rooms were for storage—one refrigerated, in case the cremation didn’t take place until the next day, and one for supplies. Kyra checked her watch: 2:55. Another check of the chamber area satisfied her she was ready for their arrival. She headed out front to wait.

  Kyra had to give it to Phil—his people were on time. They arrived at three o’clock on the dot. The funeral director stopped in the office. She directed him to the side of the building where she’d receive the body. Meeting the funeral director made her nervous. The more people who knew what she did for Phil, the greater chance she had of getting caught. The hearse pulled into the garage area at the side of the building. She walked out to open the first bay, instructing the driver to back in. Both doors of the hearse opened. The undertaker stepped out of the driver’s side. After a few moments, the guard from Phil’s house stepped out of the front passenger side. He nodded, but didn’t say a word to her.

  She pushed the church table with the hydraulic lift to the hearse and locked the wheels in place. The funeral director, along with Phil’s man, loaded the coffin onto the lift. She assumed a family had sprung for the expensive coffin and not Phil. What a waste of money. A few thousand dollars down the drain, or in this case, up in smoke. The cremation caskets were made of a heavy-duty cardboard, cost a few hundred bucks, though it might not support two bodies. Better not go there, Kyra. She unlocked the wheels and started to
push the casket along the corridor to the chamber room.

  “Do you have your paperwork?”

  “Yes.” The funeral director looked petrified.

  “Great. Are you staying through the entire process?” She looked at both for their answers.

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  “Okay. There’s coffee in the little kitchen by the front door and a vending machine in the workers’ locker room if you want anything.”

  “Why don’t you get yourself a cup of coffee, Tony?” The guard spoke for the first time.

  The funeral director looked from one to the other, then scurried from the room.

  “Kyra, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not leaving this room until the process is completed.”

  “Phil explained.”

  “Do you need to view the body?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not my job to verify the body or the identity of the deceased. The undertaker is responsible for the paperwork and identification. It’s the funeral director’s job not to make a mistake.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Yes.”

  Her pat answer should she be questioned. She didn’t look in the coffins. As long as the person was dead and the undertaker had the proper paperwork she didn’t care.

  Chapter 8

  Phil’s henchman made Kyra nervous. He didn’t flex a single muscle as he stood watch at the oven door. He observed each of her movements from his post. It took all her strength to push the coffin into the chamber. Two bodies weighed much more than one. To protect her ass, she’d claim she had assumed it was a severely obese man. She wondered who they were. The two and a half hours while she waited for the cremation to finish dragged on. Pacing between the offices, she tried to settle down and process paperwork, though her mind refused to focus. She wanted to call Trevor, but not in front of Phil’s guy. She’d wait until she got home.

  At last, it’s done.

  “The burning part of the cremation is now over, Mr.—” He didn’t introduce himself either at Phil’s house or here.

  “What’s next?”

  “What’s your name?”