P. Parrish - An Unquiet Grave

Louis pushed open the car door and went inside the station. An officer near the front desk gave him a nod. “Chief’s down the way, getting a sandwich,” he said.

Louis hung his jacket on a hall tree and started for the coffeepot in the corner. He poured himself a cup and glanced at the clock. It was 3:20. Alice was probably having a hard time finding Becker’s folder in the crowded records room in E Building. He had made her promise to take a security guy with her. He hoped she had. Maybe he should have gone himself.

“Charlie’s been asking for you,” the officer said.

Louis glanced at the closed door to the cell block. “Mind if I go back?”

The officer shrugged and grabbed a set of keys from a drawer and took him back. Charlie was seated on the lower bunk, A Midsummer Night’s Dream open on his lap. He looked up when he heard footsteps and broke into a grin when he saw Louis.

“Hello, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Hello, Charlie.”

The officer opened the cell door and let Louis inside, then walked away without locking the door. On the top bunk, Louis saw a McDonald’s bag, and next to that, an unopened package of Hostess cupcakes. He guessed the cops were starting to consider Charlie more of a guest than a possible killer.

“Can we talk, Charlie?”

Charlie closed the book and stood up, setting it on the top bunk, beneath the McDonald’s bag. Then he faced Louis.

“Miss Alice is coming,” Charlie said.

“Yes, I know,” Louis said. “But can I ask you about something else?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know the name Donald Lee Becker?” Charlie’s face tightened and his eyes started to flick around the cell, finally dropping to the floor where they stayed. “I heard about him.”

“Did you ever see him up close? Ever talk to him?”

Charlie shook his head. “We were scared of him.”

“Who was?”

“All of us.”

Louis leaned against the bars. “I don’t blame you. Did you ever hear stories about him?”

“Stories?”

“Yes,” Louis asked. “Stories, like you read in books.

Heard about things he was doing. Stuff like that?”

“Donald Becker lives in E.”

“Yes, he did. Were you ever in E Building?”

Charlie sat down slowly, silent. Again, his head was down and he seemed to be drawing back into himself. Louis moved to sit next to him.

“Were you ever in E Building?” Louis asked again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Louis said.

“I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“You and a lot of other people, Charlie. It’s okay.”

Charlie rubbed his hands together, then stood up and walked a circle around the cell, his hands moving to his hair. He raked it, then seemed at a loss as to what to do with his hands and raked his hair again.

“I’ll be in trouble if Miss Alice knows. Please don’t tell her.”

“I’m sure she already knows, Charlie.”

Charlie stopped walking. “No,” he said. “She told me not to go in there. And I promised. I promised.”

Louis lifted a hand to calm him down. “Were you in E Building recently?”

“I promised. I promised.”

“Charlie, listen to me. When were you in E Building? Like just before you found Rebecca? After there were no more patients there?”

“I went in the window.”

Louis thought about the noise he had heard that day he was getting Claudia’s file, but Charlie was already in jail by then. But maybe Charlie had seen something or someone before that.

“Charlie, what do you do when you go inside E Building?” Louis asked.

“I talk to the people there,” Charlie said.

“What people?”

“The people in the walls,” Charlie said.

Louis stifled a sigh. “Do they talk back?” he asked.

Charlie was staring at him, like he had the other night, when he sensed Louis wasn’t believing him. Louis leaned forward on his knees.

“Do they talk back?” Louis repeated.

“No. Just noises.”

“What kind of noises?”

Charlie looked around the cell, then walked to the corner and tapped a water pipe with his knuckles.

Louis kept his expression even. “Have you ever seen the people?”

“No one sees them.”

“How do you know it’s people?”

“I smell them.”

Louis stared at Charlie, something starting to gnaw at his brain, and again it sounded crazy, but he had to ask.

“What do they smell like, Charlie?”

Charlie shifted his weight and looked around, as if he was trying to figure out how to answer Louis.

“Like cigarettes?” Louis asked.

Charlie pulled his lips into a thin line and gave Louis a quick nod. “No smoking in E. No smoking allowed.”

Louis heard the clang of a door and a few seconds later, Alice appeared at the bars. She carried a thick folder, held closed by a rubber band, and a basket covered with a white napkin. He could smell hot food-chicken maybe-and he knew she had brought Charlie dinner.

Louis pushed open the door and Alice came in. Charlie was smiling, his eyes on the basket.

“You brought the apple babies,” Charlie said.

“I brought chicken, Charlie,” Alice said.

Alice set the basket on the lower bunk and looked at Louis as she dug into the folder and withdrew a single, folded paper. She held it out.

“Becker’s death certificate,” she said.

Louis took it and opened it. It had Becker’s name on it, and was dated March 22, 1980. Cause of death was emphysema.

“Charlie,” Alice said suddenly, “what are you doing?”

Charlie was bent over the food basket, and he had strewn the chicken, silverware, and napkins across the bunk.

“Charlie,” Alice said sharply.

“Where are the apple babies?” he said, looking at Alice.

“What are you talking about, Charlie?” Louis asked.

“The apple babies!”

“Charlie, calm down,” Alice said.

“The changeling child needs the apple babies to go home,” Charlie said. He was staring at the empty basket, tears welling in his eyes. Alice moved to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You are going home,” she said softly. “Pretty soon. I promise you.”

Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and walked to the corner, leaning his head against the wall. Louis could hear him mumbling something about the apple babies.

“I need to talk with Chief Dalum,” Louis said.

Alice nodded, and Louis thought she’d stay with Charlie, but she walked with Louis halfway down the corridor.

“I could lose my license for giving you Becker’s death certificate,” Alice said. “Please be discreet.”

“I will,” Louis said. He glanced at the fat folder still in her hand. “Is that his complete hospital file?”

She nodded, clutching it to her chest.

“Why did you bring all his records?”

Alice sighed. “If you do go ahead and exhume Becker and his casket is empty, then it’s not going to be hard for Chief Dalum to get a subpoena for these,” she said. “I thought I’d save myself a trip back to E Building.”

“Strange vibrations inside that building,” Louis said.

“It’s just the old pipes and things like loose gratings and falling glass.”

Louis didn’t argue with her. He knew she felt the same weird presence inside E Building that he and Charlie had. She just wasn’t ready to admit it.

Dalum was staring at him, but Louis couldn’t read his look. He had just spent the last ten minutes telling Dalum about Millie Reuben and her stories of rape and burns, and how that all connected to Rebecca Gruber. And maybe to Sharon Stottlemyer.

“And this Millie Reuben said a patient raped her? Back in 1964? Hell, Louis, the man would have to be, what, sixty something now?”