by DB Gilles
Chapter 19
Burial services are draining on a Funeral Director, especially large scale affairs like Alphonse's. As I drove through town, I looked forward to the three hours in-between the afternoon and evening viewings. If there weren't any interruptions, I could catch a couple hours of sleep.
It was a few minutes before two when I got back to the Home. There were already three cars in the lot. Turnouts for afternoon viewings were always hard to predict. People who didn't know the deceased that well tended to come in the afternoon of the second day of viewing. I suspected that they felt it was easier to make an appearance, then leave quickly, the excuse being that they had to get back to work. And when an elderly person died it seemed that the afternoon viewing was far more popular than the evening.
I snuck in the rear entrance, ran upstairs to my apartment, washed up, put on a fresh shirt, slipped into a suit and tie, then went downstairs expecting to join Clint who would be at the front entrance greeting people. But as I reached the bottom step on the stairway that led to my quarters, I heard voices coming from behind the door under the stairs that was a private entrance to the lower level of the Home. It was the stairway that Nolan, Clint and I used as a shortcut to the Embalming Room
I walked to the door, opened it and heard Nolan talking.
“Like I told you,” he was saying. “It's not like being an accountant or a bank teller. It's not like any kind of job in the world except maybe a coroner or pathologist.”
“Or ambulance drivers,” said the person with Nolan. “They have to pick up bodies after accidents and whatnot.”
“It's not the same,” said Nolan. “Sure, they're handling dead people, but they aren't spending time with the bodies or, as I like to say, living with the bodies. That's what an embalmer does. And if you're also doing the restoration, you spend even more time with a corpse.”
Nolan and his companion were at the bottom of the stairs. I had no idea why Nolan was saying what he was saying until I saw who was with him. It was Quilla's friend Viper.
They both seemed surprised to see me.
“Yo, Mr. Coltrane,” said Viper with a big grin.
“Hi,” I said as I walked down the stairs, extending my hand to him. I realized that Viper had come to discuss career possibilities with Nolan.
“Looks like the boy's a keeper,” said Nolan, gently punching Viper on the right shoulder. “We might want to think about giving him some sort of part-time job. Let him hang around, doing odd jobs. Like you did when Lew first hired you way back when.”
“I don't see why not,” I said. If Viper was as serious as Nolan believed it would be a tremendous break for him to get a foot in the door.
“Meanwhile,” said Nolan. “I'll make up a package of reading material for you. Start to familiarize yourself with the profession. Call me in a day or so if I don't call you.”
“No problem,” said Viper. “Well, guess I'll get going. Thanks a lot for the tour, Nolan.”
“My pleasure, “ said Nolan, patting Viper's shoulder.
“And thank you, Mister Coltrane,” said Viper.
“I'm glad it worked out.”
Viper waved good-bye and walked up the stairs.
“Kid reminds me of myself when I was that age,” said Nolan. “Unsure. Awkward. A little uncomfortable about even thinking about going into a profession like this. Oh...” Nolan laughed. “He even has the same kind of fly paper memory as me. He remembers the first television show he ever watched. A re-run of The Brady Bunch. Remembers the date and time of day he ate his first chocolate donut with sprinkles on top.” He laughed again. “I impressed the hell out of him with the fact that I remember not only the day and date that my wife left me twenty-six-and-a-half years ago, but the actual minute she walked out the door.”
Had Nolan not been talking about his capacity for remembering things, I probably wouldn't have asked him the next question, but the information that his wife had left him twenty-six-and-a-half years ago triggered a question that had been lingering in my mind.
“Nolan, this might sound strange, but since you have such a good memory, can I bounce something off of you that happened almost twenty-six years ago?”
“Sure.”
“A woman disappeared from Dankworth twenty-four years ago.”
“Virginia Thistle,” Nolan blurted matter-of-factly. “May ninth. No... tenth.”
“Do you remember anything about the case?”
Without batting an eyelash, Nolan said, “Not only do I remember Virginia Thistle, but I knew her. Saw her right here in this building.”
“At our Home?”
“Hell yes. In fact, I embalmed her father. He was one of my first. Real tough job. Skin and bone.”
“Did you know her beyond your dealings with her father's funeral arrangements?”
“Not at all.” He looked at me with a curious expression, “Surprises me that you know the name. You weren't even living here.”
“This is out of left field, but in the investigation of the girl in the mausoleum, there might be a connection with Virginia Thistle's disappearance.”
“Sounds pretty remote. Way I remember things is that Virginia Thistle ran off with some guy.”
“You don't think she was murdered by her husband?”
“That's what most people thought. But I knew Kyle Thistle a little. He was an asshole and a drinker and what people nowadays call an abusive husband, but I never thought he killed Virginia. That kind of violence wasn't in him.”
“You never believed that he cut up her body and hid it?”
“Cutting up a body is hard. Doing it clean so you don't make a mess. I should know. I've worked on enough of them. You want my opinion, Virginia Thistle was tired of living with a drunk who slapped her around so she bolted.”
“How did you know he was abusive towards her?”
“This is getting complicated. Bringing back more memories. My ex-wife told me.”
“How'd she know?”
“They worked together.”
“They must've been very good friends to confide something like that.”
“Nah,” said Nolan, shaking his head in an aw shucks manner. “Know how some people are good at pulling information out of other people? How they have a knack for getting people to open up? Say personal things? My wife was like that. Virginia Thistle poured everything out to her.”
“Did you know that Kyle Thistle lives in the area?”
“I think I heard that.
“I'm going to tell you this in confidence because it's probably completely unfounded and I don't want it to get out, but Kyle Thistle is a suspect in Brandy Parker's murder.”
Nolan genuinely seemed taken aback. “Why?”
“Accused of wife murder twenty-four years ago. Released from the institution twelve years ago. Nine years ago Brandy Parker disappears. It's a slim pattern, but... ”
Nolan smiled sympathetically. “I don't know, Del. Doesn't feel right.”
If he had been more supportive I would've told him about Alyssa and how her disappearance would enhance the idea of a pattern, but his lack of enthusiasm diminished my own.
Nolan fingered his goatee. “How come you know so much about this?”
I explained to him how I'd gotten involved because I felt sorry for Quilla.
“I can understand that, Del. The grief in that kid is frightening. I don't know what I could contribute, but if there's anything I can do to help.”
“Meeting you was important to her. And being supportive to Viper is too. She's somebody who hasn't met very many adults she can trust.”
“Neither have I,” he said with a silly grin.
“She's hell-bent on finding her Aunt's killer.”
“How's Perry coming along with his investigation?”
“I'm not optimistic. But I'm staying on his ass. And Quilla will be relentless.” I laughed. “She's the person the killer should fear most.”
“Why's that?”
“There's no
thing worse than somebody who won't give up.”
Nolan nodded. “Oh, before I forget. Viper asked if he could watch me prepare a body. I said I'd check with you.”
“Hold off on that. Showing him the Embalming Room and the tools you use is one thing. This interest in the trade could all be a passing fancy. You said you're giving him some material to read. Let him get through it. And if we find some part-time work for him and he shows the right attitude, maybe then we'll let him watch.”
“You're the boss,” said Nolan with a wink.
“Nolan, one more thing: if that memory of yours dredges up anything about Virginia Thistle's disappearance or if something your wife might've said to you pops into your head, could you bounce it off me?”
“You bet.”
“Oh... ah, never mind.”
“What, Del?”
“Tell me if I'm pushing too hard, but... is it possible that I might contact your ex-wife and ask her if she remembers anything?”
Nolan stiffened up a bit. “Only way you could contact her is if you were in hell.”
“What?”
“She's dead.” His voice was without emotion. “Haven't see her since the day she walked out. Heard she kicked the bucket ten years ago or so ” He stretched, looked at his watch and made a move to return to the Embalming Room. “If I remember anything though, I'll tell you right away.”
“Thanks.”
I walked up to the main floor. Clint was standing at the front door, pointing two people in the direction of Alphonse's Viewing Room. I walked over to him.
“How's the crowd?” I asked.
“Slow.”
“Anybody here now that I should know about?”
“Vaughn and Alton just arrived. Can you handle things for a few minutes, Del? I have to give Cookie a quick call.”
“Take your time.”
A couple of people whom I did not know came out of the Viewing Room and left. A few seconds passed, then Vaughn and Alton made their way out of the Viewing Room. Considering that Vaughn was close to ninety he moved at a clipped pace. Alton, thirty years his junior, had a hard time keeping up.
Vaughn raised his right hand in a quick wave as he walked up to me. Alton nodded, the scent of a cheap cigar arrived before he did.
“I'm gonna hit the head, then bring the car around,” said Alton. “Which way's the can?”
“Down the hall and to the left,” I said.
“Meet you in front in five minutes, Vaughn,” said Alton as he ambled away from us.
“Perry making any headway on the murder?” said Vaughn.
“Dribs and drabs. Mainly from information he got from me. But things might be getting complicated. Remember the Kyle Thistle case twenty-four years ago?”
“Hell yes. Damn near drove Chester nuts.”
“Do you know anything about what might've happened?”
“Only from listening to Chester go on about it.”
“Perry said it was the one case that became an obsession with Chester.”
“True. He couldn’t shake it loose. Hell, even though the poor guy's wasting away in that nursing home, wouldn't surprise me if in those rare pockets of time where he thinks clearly, Kyle Thistle's wife's whereabouts still pops into his head and riles him up. You should have a chin session with him.”
“Perry says he's pretty much out of it.”
Vaughn nodded. “In and out. I try to stop by and see him once a month. Sometimes he knows me. Del, what's this chatter about Kyle Thistle's wife have to do with the murder of that gal?”
“There's a strong possibility that whoever killed the girl also killed Virginia Thistle and... remember Alyssa?”
Vaughn scrunched up his face again and thought hard for several seconds. “The one who sent you the Dear John note?”
“Right. It's very possible that she was a victim too.”
Vaughn stared at me expressionless. “What are you basing something like that on?”
I filled him in on everything Quilla and I had theorized along with what Perry said about Chester Cobb's fixation on the Thistle case.
“You telling me that Perry thinks Kyle Thistle killed all three of these women?” said Vaughn.
“He couldn't have killed Alyssa because when she disappeared he was in the mental institution. But Perry's not giving any credence to Alyssa being a victim. He's giving a little to the possibility that Kyle or someone who lived here twenty-four years ago might've killed Virginia Thistle and the girl in the mausoleum. What do you think, Vaughn? Is this stupid? Am I grasping at straws?”
“What do you feel in your bones?”
“That Alyssa and Virginia Thistle and maybe even more women met the same fate by the same hands.”
“Do you think all these other women are stashed away in mausoleums too?”
“Quilla brought that up. Maybe. Maybe not.”
“They'd be very low risk hiding places. When I discovered the body that morning there were six other mausoleums that had been broken into? Remember?” I nodded yes. “Only bodies inside those mausoleums were the ones who were supposed to be there.”
“What are you getting at, Vaughn?”
“If there's one of them serial killers loose around here who’s been bumping women off for twenty-four years, don't you think he would've hidden the rest of his victims in the same general area?”
“Maybe. But there's dozens of mausoleums at Elm Grove.”
“Ninety-four to be exact.”
“So he could've hidden bodies in any of them.”
“Not really. Most of them are impenetrable without the proper equipment. Unlike most products manufactured in this country, a mausoleum is built to last and that means once it's sealed, getting into it isn't an easy proposition. As for the mausoleum where the girl was found, it was one of the oldest. Built on land that's been gradually deteriorating. Lots of tree roots in that Section have been unsettling the ground in that whole general area. And there's the drainage problem we had about ten years back when they were tearing down trees for that housing project a mile-and-a-half away. The seepage helped to dislodge the foundation of a bunch of mausoleums. That's how the killer was able to get in. One or two loose bricks is all it takes. When I was Head Groundskeeper I always tried to keep on the lookout for deterioration. We'd fix any problem right away. And I know for a fact that since Alton's been running things, he's just as conscientious as me.”
“By the way, Perry thinks of Alton as a suspect.”
“What?”
“Evidently Chester took a dislike to Alton when he came to town. Perry did some checking and it seems Alton moved here a year or so before Virginia Thistle disappeared. And he would've been here in all the years since... but most of all, Perry claims Alton's got a criminal record. Did you know about that when you hired him?”
“Shit, Del, of course I knew about it. How the hell do you think Chester found out?”
“You told him?”
“Only to ease Chester's mind. Whenever I hired a new gravedigger Chester got suspicious. Like most everybody else in the world, anybody who digs graves for a living has to be a psycho of some kind or another. Damn! I'm disappointed in Perry for thinking like that. Alton is good people. And he wouldn't be dumb enough to hide a body where he works.” Vaughn looked at his watch, then glanced out the window to the left of the front entrance. “There's Alton. I better go.” He continued talking as we went out the front door and walked to Alton's car.
“One more thing Del: I don't believe you'll find another body in any mausoleum. In that Section alone there are twelve mausoleums. Seven of 'em got broken into before the punks stumbled onto the girl's body. Odds are the killer would've hidden at least one of his other victims in one of them. My guess is that he hid her there as a fluke. I can't tell you why. It's just something I feel in my old bones.”
“So the bodies are hidden somewhere else?”
“I don't know if 'hidden' is the right word. Anything could've happened to the other bodies
... if there are other bodies.” We stopped a few feet from the car. “As for Alyssa, I remember how you felt when she broke off with you. You pined for her so bad it was enough to make a person cry. But I don't ever remember you saying anything about her being murdered or kidnapped. So now, for you to dredge this all up and start to thinking she was killed by some mass murderer... it doesn't make sense to me. Are you sure?”
“Like you always say, Vaughn... I feel it in my bones.”
Chapter 20
The last person left the afternoon viewing at a little before four. I was able to grab a couple of hours sleep before the evening viewing, which ran smoothly despite the constant influx of visitors.
I manned the front door and Clint handled the side entrance. I disliked large turnouts because of the problems of moving people and providing enough parking. Big crowds cost us money. I had to hire someone to supervise the comings and goings in the parking lot. On the other hand, the more people who came to pay their respects meant a less depressing two hours for the deceased's family. One of the most heart-wrenching sights is three or four people sitting in a Viewing Room, alone with their thoughts and regrets.
Tyler stayed around for fifteen minutes to go over the logistics of the burial the next morning. It would be fairly standard, apart from the large crowd that was expected. Those who would be attending the funeral would arrive at the Home at 9:30 for the closing of the coffin. A procession would then drive the half-mile to Saint Richard's Catholic Church for a requiem Mass, then head out to Elm Cross cemetery for the interment. The only difference between this and most other funerals would be the length of the procession. If they're lucky, most people have four or five cars go to the cemetery. Tyler guessed that Alphonse would have three dozen.
As it turned out, there were thirty-eight cars and the most difficult part of the morning was keeping the procession together as it wound from the Home to the church to the cemetery. As always, I remained at gravesite until the burial was complete. From there I went to Nicola's, an Italian restaurant in Dankworth that Tyler rented to receive visitors after the burial. There were so many people it was easy to get lost in the crowd. I seldom attended these gatherings, even if I knew the deceased or the family well. I thought of myself as a reminder of death and I felt strongly that the last time the survivors should see me was at the cemetery. The healing had to start immediately.