D. Gilles - Colder Than Death

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.

After about ten minutes I left and went back to the Home only to find Perry sitting in his cruiser. As I parked he got out and approached me.

“Let’s have a little chat.” He was arrying the box of Brandy Parker memorabilia that Quilla had given him.

“I’ve spent the last few hours going over this crap. Nothing more than the silly ramblings of a teenage girl. I hoped her notebooks might reveal something, ya know, but the stuff Brandy Parker wrote was ordinary things like ‘Kenny didn’t call me. It’s been ten days. I wonder what’s wrong.’ Or ‘I decided to stop wearing underwear when I go out at night.’ And there were some sections where she went into explicit detail about her sexual adventures.”

“Did she mention any names?”

“Not really. A first name. Like, ‘Bob wanted to screw me in the parking lot at K-Mart.’ Corny stuff. Stupid stuff. There was a lot of pages devoted to her feelings. The notebooks cover about four years. She died at nineteen, so she started writing in them at, say, fifteen. And the early stuff is random. Unfocused. One page will have references to ten different things. Music. Clothes. TV shows. Boys. Loneliness. Insomnia. She’ll talk about a teacher who she hates on one page. Then five months later, she has a crush on the same guy. In the last few months she seemed to change.”

“How so?”

“This might be the only thing I have to go on.” He picked up one of the journals and turned to a page he had marked. “It’s almost like a different person, but it’s definitely the same handwriting. Instead of describing guys she went out with or things she wanted to do she becomes serious, talking about self-esteem and being a worthwhile person and not being a victim anymore. She uses words like “entitlement” and expressions like “making a contribution” in the world. It’s like she suddenly found religion.”

“It wasn’t religion. What she found was Kyle Thistle’s daughter. Anything else?”

“That’s it. It’s all gonna come down to Gretchen Yearwood.” Perry sat down roughly in the Queen Anne style chair in front of my desk.

“And if she can’t give you anything to go on?”

“Then I’m flying blind. But I did have a notion about your girlfriend. If she didn’t send you the note and the postcard, obviously the killer did, right?”

“Right.”

“So the killer had to know that you and the girl were involved and where you lived. Which leads me to believe that he was extremely thorough or that he knew one or both of you. And on a strictly gut feeling, he probably knew you .”

“Why me?”

“If he knew her there’s a good chance he knew she broke up with you so there wouldn’t have been a reason for her to drop you a line. But if he knew you and didn’t know that you’d been dumped…logic dictates he’d cover his tracks by sending the note.” He leaned back in the chair, looking proud of himself. “When it happened fifteen years ago were you working at Henderson’s yet?”

I nodded yes. “Part-time stuff. But by the time Alyssa left I was on my way to being an apprentice.”

“But you were there. Learning the ropes, right?”

“Yes.”

Perry reached into his shirt pocket and unfolded a sheet of paper which he held out to me. It was the list of the names of employees at Elm Grove cemetery and DiGregorio’s and Henderson’s Funeral Homes whom he considered possible cemetery buffs and suspects.

“How many of these people did you know back then?” Perry asked as he handed me the list.

I scanned it for a few seconds. “Over time I came to know them well. But I didn’t really get to know most of them until after college and I was Lew’s Assistant. Obviously, everyone at Henderson’s. At DiGregorio’s I knew Tyler, Alphonse and Wilt Ging. Vaughn was the only person I knew at the cemetery then.”

“Who knew you were dating with Alyssa Kirkland?”

I had to think for a few seconds. “Tyler, definitely.”

“Interesting. Tyler knows cemeteries. Tyler knew your girlfriend. Tyler’s the first one to show up at the Funeral Home where Brandy Parker is laid out.”

“He came to see me , not her.”

“He could’ve called. And why did he come when he did?”

“You’re way off base on this, Perry.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Who else knew about Alyssa?”

“It’s hard to remember. Lew might’ve known I had a girlfriend, but I don’t think I ever would’ve discussed it with him. Same with Nolan. They were grown men. If we talked it was about sports or the business.”

“But you might’ve let it drop that you had a girlfriend. Or you and Alyssa were seen together. It’s not inconceivable that Nolan or Lew knew you were dating someone.”

“You can’t possibly think either one of them could be the… ”

“Hell, if your theory about the same person killing all three women holds water, Lew and Nolan are old enough to be responsible for all deaths.”

“That’s just crazy, Perry. Why would either one… ?”

“Don’t waste your time asking ‘why?’ Del. My father used to say that there is no why for some crimes. Guy robs a bank for money. Guy steals food to eat. Woman kills her husband for insurance money. Guy murders his wife because she’s cheating on him. Those are solid, definite whys. Then there are the crimes of impulse. Guy doesn’t need money, but he robs a liquor store for laughs. Kid from a good family decides to sell drugs for kicks. Guy slaps his girlfriend around one punch too many. Then there’s the crimes where a cop or a District Attorney scratches his head from here to Timbuktu looking for a reason. A motive. And there isn’t one. Give me a motive why somebody killed Brandy Parker.”

“I can’t.”

“Give me a motive why someone killed or kidnapped and killed Virginia Thistle.”

“I can’t.”

“Give me a motive why Alphonse Digregorio or Lew Henderson or Nolan Fowler or Wilt Ging or Alton Held or Tyler DiGregorio would have killed Alyssa Kirkland.”

“I can’t.”

“Neither can I. Let’s narrow the odds. Tyler could’ve, understand me, could have killed Brandy Parker and Alyssa Kirkland, but he would’ve been too young to have done in Virginia Thistle. So we’ll leave him out of this scenario. But Nolan and Lew — and to make it interesting — Kyle Thistle could’ve killed his wife and Brandy Parker. But he was locked up in the nuthouse when Alyssa disappeared. But Nolan and Lew… and just for laughs, let’s say Alphonse… who knew you indirectly because you were friends with Tyler… and just to make it really interesting, let’s put Wilt Ging into the mix because as Chief Embalmer at DiGregorio’s, he might’ve known you only because of your friendship with Tyler.”