(2012) Colder Than Death

by DB Gilles

  “I can't believe any of them are capable of it,” I said.

  “My father never trusted Alton Held.”

  “Alton's a pussycat. What was not to trust?”

  “His white trash southern accent bothered my father. He always had a hard on for people with any kind of accent. He did some checking up on Alton when he moved to town and found out he had a record back in Louisiana.”

  “What was the crime?”

  “Burglary, breaking and entering, passing bad checks, a bunch of drunk and disorderlies and assault and batteries.”

  I wondered if Vaughn knew about Alton's record. “Was he arrested for any serious crimes?”

  Perry smirked. “No. But coincidentally, Alton's been living here for twenty-five years.” I said nothing. “The guy comes out of nowhere with a record and hires on as a gravedigger, one of life's great career moves.” He rolled his eyes. “Gets to know his way around the cemetery pretty well. Could even be a cemetery buff... and even if he wasn't he probably sees some now and then. I'm thinking on my feet here, Del, so this might not be totally clear yet, but if your notion about one killer murdering three woman is right, the guy had to be around for all these years. Alton was and Lew, Alphonse, Mel Abernathy, Nolan Fowler and Wilt Ging.”

  He leaned back looking satisfied with himself. “They were all around and they're all suspects. All of 'em!”

  Chapter 18

  “But there's one guy who wasn't around?” I said. “Kyle Thistle. He was in the institution when Alyssa was killed.”

  “If she was killed,” said Perry.

  “If. But under my theory, Kyle is eliminated. And obviously most of the names on your list aren't serious suspects. Like Vaughn and the women. And I can't believe you put Lew Henderson as a serious suspect?”

  “Go back nine years. Lew would've been fifty-five. And old man DiGregerio would've been in his early Sixties. And interestingly enough, both men have always looked younger and stayed in good shape, especially Alphonse. And it was common knowledge that he was a pussy hound all his life. And based on what the girl just told us about her Aunt being turned off to young guys and maybe seeing an older man/father figure type, who would be more natural than Alphonse?”

  “You're reaching, Perry.”

  “It'd be convenient for everybody if he was the one. Not only would a nice deathbed confession have taken the heat off me to solve the damn murder, but it would save the County a fortune in court costs. I wish I could've talked to him before he died.”

  “The man isn't even in the ground yet. I think a little respect for the dead is called for.”

  “Screw the dead! I know what people are saying. I'm an asshole and I don't have a shot at finding the killer. I don't need a murder case in my life, Del. I'll take a lifetime of chicken-shit misdemeanors. I don't want to have to prove anything to anybody. And I don't want this to slip into the wind. And I most assuredly don't want to spend the rest of my life being haunted by a case like my old man.”

  “Which case was your father haunted by?”

  “Whattya think?” he snarled. “Not finding the body of Virginia Thistle.”

  “But you said as far as your Dad was concerned, it was closed.”

  “Only reason it got closed was because Kyle Thistle lost his mind. Sticking him in the nuthouse made things easy for everybody, especially my father. But he had his pride. No easy answer ever does anything for your pride. That case nearly drove him off the deep end. It's hard enough to find evidence for even the simplest of crimes, but when it's murder, not to have a friggin' body? My Dad worked his ass off trying to figure what happened to that woman.” Perry shook his head with heaviness. “Goddamn Pete Dinwiddy!”

  “Who?”

  “The so-called witness who claimed he saw Kyle Thistle dropping garbage in a couple of cans. Dinwiddy was a lush, but it was the only thing my father had to go on. There was pressure from the County DA so my Dad made an arrest. But he never believed him. As for the body being in the lake, it's standard procedure to make a search. You comb the area around the missing person's house. You scour the wooded areas. You drag Lake Dankworth. Ho-hum. But Thistle got put away and everybody was satisfied except my father. He wanted Kyle to be tried. Figured a jury wouldn't put much stock in the testimony of Dinwiddy because of his drinking. Dad was counting on a not guilty verdict. He figured people would've thought he tried to find justice.”

  “Did he have a theory of what really happened?”

  “He thought Virginia Thistle was kidnapped. Statistically, in kidnappings of adults, it's almost always a stranger. And the victim is almost always a woman. And the perpetrator is almost always a man. Or men. Seldom the husband. If the motive isn't a ransom, it's usually sex. Or sex and murder. They may not want to kill the woman, but they have to because she can connect them with the crime. And because it's usually a stranger, the officer investigating the case has to assume that some drifter did it, some psycho passing through, whether it's a big city or a small town. With all that in mind, you'd think that it would apply to the Virginia Thistle case, right?”

  “Right.”

  “That's what my father assumed when he began the investigation. But he kept having these gut reactions. Dad was always big on gut reactions, whether it was concerning somebody breaking into a feed store, me lying about a grade I got on a test in school and everything else. He operated the same way with the Thistle disappearance and his gut feeling told him a few things: that she was kidnapped and murdered and that whoever did it was someone in Dankworth... and that it was someone who knew her.”

  “A friend? Neighbor? Co-worker?”

  “No. Some guy who saw her and set his sights on her. Dad said that she was a nice-looking woman.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a dirty, stained manila folder held together by two thick, red rubber bands. “After I saw Kyle Thistle at the Funeral Home I pulled out his file, figured I'd refresh my memory. This is all we had. Most of it's illegible. Because of the flood we hadsome records of old cases got waterlogged. Nobody much cared. They were closed. I have the basic data in the computer, but all the paperwork was in this folder. Not that it matters.”

  “Why doesn't it matter?”

  “I'm not working on the Virginia Thistle disappearance. That case is closed.”

  “But if your Dad is right, the real killer could be walking the streets of Dankworth right now.”

  “Yep. Or maybe he moved away. Wouldn't you move if you killed somebody? I would. Or maybe the guy's dead. Hell, maybe he was buried by your Funeral Home. But it doesn't matter. I’ve read lots of books and manuals on police work. I study the stuff. Most cases never get solved. All society demands is that somebody pay a price. Hopefully, most of the time, the right person pays the price. The rest of the time the wrong guy has to cough up with prison time or his life. But society is satisfied. Only time society gets pissed off is when nobody pays. Kyle Thistle paid and everyone's satisfied.”

  “Not everybody.”

  “You mean you and that kid?”

  “I mean Kyle Thistle's daughter. If she found out everything you just told me, she could demand that the investigation into her mother's disappearance be re-opened.”

  “She ain't gonna find out.”

  “She will if I tell her.”

  “You can tell her anything you want, but I'll deny saying what I told you. And I'll destroy what's left of the file.”

  “Aren't you the least bit curious about what really happened to Virginia Thistle?”

  He thought for a few seconds, sucking on his lower lip, then said, “I could give a shit.”

  “What about your father?” Perry glared at me, his face expressionless. “Wouldn't it be nice if he could have the answer to the biggest case of his career solved by you?”

  “Don't pull that crap with me. This how you con people into buying more expensive coffins?” He shook his head. “The past doesn't interest me. You and the kid and Thistle's daughter are all stuck in it. What the hell
is with you people? Why can't you let go? Get the fuck outa here!”

  “If I walk out of here now I'm going straight to Thistle's daughter and telling her everything you said. She'll make trouble for you, man. You don't re-open her mother's case and she won't hesitate to go over your head.”

  “Let her try. I'll give her the County Sheriff's number. And the DA's and I'll even throw in the Governor's. She won't find a soul willing to muck around in old crimes. She'll get lost in the bureaucracy. Now get out!”

  I knew that if I let it end like this Perry would have another reason to half-ass his investigation and throw in the towel earlier than he might want to. I decided to make one last appeal to his vanity. “Over the years, Thistle's daughter hired detectives to find her mother.”

  Perry seemed surprised. “What did they come up with?”

  “Nothing. They were convinced she met with foul play. Only problem is, she didn't believe them and from what Quilla says, she doesn't believe them now. But once she hears your Dad's theory, maybe she will.”

  “Like I said, I'll deny saying anything.”

  “Who do you think she'll believe, you or me? Maybe she'll hire a detective not to look for someone alive who has been hiding out, but someone dead whose body has been hidden. Just like Brandy Parker. And maybe Alyssa. And if you don't find out what happened to them and who killed

  Brandy, some hotshot detective will. And that's not gonna be too good for your image in this town... such as it is.” I stood my ground, staring him down. I knew Perry wanted to beat the crap out of me. But I felt that I'd boxed him into a corner.

  “Here's what I'll do,” he said after staring me hatefully in the eyes. “I'm gonna look through all this stuff the kid brought over. Then I'm gonna have a talk with Thistle's daughter about her relationship with Brandy Parker. If she doesn't bring anything to the table and if Brandy Parker's mementos turn out to be a bust, I'm not saying I'll re-open the Virginia Thistle case, but I'll take a look at what we have on it.”

  “And if you find something?”

  “Let's just wait until I find something before I take the next step.”

  “And will you keep an open mind that there might also be a link to Alyssa?”

  He paused, then said, “Don't push your luck with me, Del. The Virginia Thistle business is flimsy enough. Don't say another word. Just leave.”

  I nodded and started for the door, but then Perry spoke.

  “When you have a father like mine, you're always trying to prove something--not so much to him, but to yourself. Only thing he ever failed at was not getting to the bottom of the Virginia Thistle case.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Perry?”

  “If he couldn't solve it when it was fresh how can I solve it now?” He picked up one of Brandy Parker's notebooks, then without saying another word began paging through it.

  “How is your father these days, Perry?”

  “Friggin' nursing home. He doesn't even know me. He gets worse and looks worse every time I see him. Only thing as bad as having your old man die when he's young like you is having him wind up in a nursing home. And the only good thing about having your father die when you're young is that you never have to compete with him.”

  For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely sorry for Perry.

  Without saying good-bye I stepped into the main office. Lucy was gone and Greg sat at her desk covering the phones. He and Quilla were engrossed in quiet, but deep conversation. When they saw me they both looked as if they'd been caught with their pants down.

  “Hi!” Quilla said, overly friendly.

  “You guys all finished?” said Greg, equally amicable, and that made me even more suspicious.

  I knew she had talked to him about the case. The question was how much had she told him. “Let's go,” I said to Quilla, completely ignoring Greg as I headed to the door.

  “Where?” she said.

  “I'll tell you in the car.”

  I opened the door and stepped outside. At least half a minute passed and she still hadn't come out. I looked in through the window and saw her moving away from Greg, but still talking. She shrugged her shoulders towards him, he gave her a thumbs up sign, then she waved goodbye with a big grin and strolled out the door.

  “Why were you so rude to Greg?” she snapped.

  “You told him, didn't you?”

  “Told him what?”

  “Everything we've been talking about. Gretchen's mother. Alyssa. The whole thing.”

  “Just some that we think whoever killed my Aunt probably killed Gretchen's Mom and Alyssa.”

  “That was stupid.”

  “Greg's a good guy.”

  “You're really naive if you think that.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  I almost told her that Greg was spying on her and her friends, but again I forced myself to keep what I knew to myself. “I just don't like him. And he doesn't like me.”

  “Why doesn't he like you?”

  I should have just ignored her question or given some innocuous answer, but I couldn't help myself, even though I knew it would complicate things even more.

  “Maybe instead of wondering why he doesn't like me, you should start asking yourself why he likes you.” She gave me an angry stare. “Isn't it kind of odd that a cop would spend time with your crowd? I mean, you guys aren't exactly candidates for the Pep Club. And it's not like you're bucking for election to the Student Council. The perception is that you're all wild, dope-crazed, slacker metalheads looking for trouble.”

  “What's your point?”

  “My guess is that a cop would have a motive--other than friendship--to spend time with kids like you.”

  She stared coolly at me, thinking. Finally, she shook her head and said, “Are you saying that Greg is some kind of spy for Cobb?”

  I didn't want to alienate her, so I said, “I'm not saying anything. I'm only asking you to question his motives. Let's drop the subject now. Get in the car. I'll take you home.” I started walking.

  “Wait a minute! What did you and Cobb talk about after he kicked me out of his office?”

  “All kinds of things. I got him to concede that there might be a connection between your Aunt and her Mom, but Alyssa he's not so convinced about. Can't say that I blame him. Compared to Brandy and Gretchen's mother, the facts are pretty slim.”

  “So now what? I talked to Cobb. What do we do next?”

  “He'll go through your Aunt's things. Let's hope he finds something to help the investigation or that he'll

  re-open the Virginia Thistle case.”

  “What if he doesn't find anything?”

  I hesitated, then said, “We go back to our lives and try to put this all behind us.”

  “I can't believe you said that!”

  “What else can we do?”

  “We can try to find the killer ourselves! It really pisses me off that you'd give up.”

  “I'm not giving up. I've done everything I can do to this point. Let's give Perry a shot now.”

  “It's like you suddenly don't care anymore! About Gretchen's mom or even Alyssa. I really thought you had it going on...that you were different...but you're no different than my mother or Cobb or...shit! I should've started my own investigation right from the start. I knew I shouldn't have wasted my time listening to you. I wanted to hire a detective from the get-go. Goddamnit! I should've known better than to trust a fucking undertaker who's afraid of his own shadow!”

  Without warning, she turned and ran across the street, narrowly missing being hit by a car.

  “Quilla!” She didn't stop. “Quilla, come back here!” She kept running. I thought about jumping in my car and going after her, but Greg Hoxey's voice stopped me.

  “What the hell's the story, man?” He was standing in the doorway leading into the police station. “Keep shouting like that and I'll have to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

  I ignored him. Instead of looking at Greg I continu
ed to watch Quilla as she ran to the corner and took a left. Greg turned to see what I was looking at.

  “What did you say to her?” he said harshly.

  “Mind your own business, Greg.” I walked to my car. He followed me. Before I could get inside he grabbed my arm.

  “I was watching you two talk from inside. She looked ticked off and hurt. I want to know what you said to her.”

  “She's angry because nothing's happening in her Aunt's murder case.” I pulled my arm out of his grasp and slid behind the steering wheel. “She wants instant answers and they aren't there.”

  “She told me about the connection with that case from twenty-four years ago and some girlfriend of yours. Weird.”

  “Right, Greg. Weird.”

  “Perry hasn't been giving up much info.”

  “There isn't much to give.”

  “It pains me to see Quilla hurting so much.”

  “Why would you care?”

  “She means a lot to me. So do the kids she hangs with.”

  “That's surprising, considering you're spying on them.”

  Shock was in his eyes. “How'd you know?”

  “Perry told me.”

  “That's how it was supposed to be, but... I ended up liking 'em too much to spy on 'em. And they like me. When I'm around them I get treated like I'm somebody. They all look like punks, but it's all a costume and a pose. The worst thing they do is drink beer on weekends and get drunk once in a while. Maybe they have a little weed sometimes. So what? I let Perry think I'm controlling them.”

  I knew Greg long enough to know he was being truthful.

  “Quilla said you've been helping her,” Greg said. “That’s good.”

  “If you really care about her, Greg, do what you can to motivate Perry. He's sinking fast.”

  “What can I do, Del?”

  “I'd say there's a connection with Virginia Thistle. Maybe not my girlfriend, but if this is ever gonna be solved I'd look backwards.” I started the engine, waved good-bye to Greg and headed back to the Home, hoping that Quilla wouldn't stay angry at me for long.