“My mother?”
“And even more incredibly,” said Quilla. “There’s someone in Del’s past who might’ve met the same fate as aunt Brandy and your mom.”
“What?” Nervously, Gretchen looked back and forth at Quilla and myself.
“We think,” I said. “That the person who killed Brandy had something to do with your mother’s disappearance.”
Gretchen tightened up. Her voice cracked. “Brandy disappeared something like twelve or thirteen years after my mother.”
“Fifteen,” blurted Quilla.
“Quilla got me to thinking about a girlfriend of mine who went away fifteen years ago.”
“Went away?” barked Gretchen. “I hardly think that someone who went away is comparable to someone who vanished off the face of the earth like Brandy or my mother!”
I explained the nature of my relationship with Alyssa, how she broke up with me and the letter and postcard.
“She sounds like someone who was sensitive enough to your feelings to drop you a note saying good-bye. Trust me on this: when someone vanishes they don’t send you a postcard. What does your girlfriend have to do with my mother and Brandy?”
“We may be completely off base,” I said. “And I want to emphasize that this is a theory about what possibly could be a pattern of… murder.” The word hung in the air for about ten seconds before I continued. “We think it’s possible that twenty-four years ago someone murdered your mother, fifteen years ago the same person murdered my girlfriend and nine years ago the same guy murdered Brandy.”
“I don’t know how much you know about what happened between my mother and father twenty-four years ago,” she stated. “I was only two when my mother left, but I’ve devoted my life to finding her. I’m convinced of three things: my father did not kill her, she was not kidnapped and she is not dead. No. Let me rephrase that last part. She may have passed away in the twenty-four years since she left, but she did not die at the time of her disappearance. Based on the information I’ve obtained through my own research and the work of private investigators, there is good reason to believe that she was alive and well for the first fifteen years from the time she went away. There are several trails. All drying up for one reason or another.”
“Are you still looking for her with the hope that she’s still living?” I asked.
“Of course,” said Gretchen. “But I would also find comfort — and closure — if I were to find out that she is no longer alive. Quilla certainly is aware of the pain of not knowing the whereabouts of someone you love, and from what you say about your girlfriend, I assume you do too.” She sighed. “Looks like we three have quite a little bond.”
“If Quilla and I are right, that bond may be even stronger,” I said.
Quilla placed her hand on Gretchen’s forearm. Gretchen smiled at her, looked at me and firmly said, “You’ll never convince me my mother was murdered unless I see her body.”
“I know this will sound gruesome, Gretchen, but… considering where Brandy’s remains were found, Quilla and I came up with the possibility that… ” I stopped myself. What I was about to say would be jolting for her. “…that your mother and my girlfriend could be in random mausoleums at Elm Cross cemetery, just like Brandy Parker.”
Gretchen gasped. “Gruesome isn’t the word.” She paused for a moment. “What makes you think something this horrible happened?”
“It’s all part of a theory,” Quilla said.
“Sounds pretty farfetched. I can’t take it seriously.” There was a dismissive finality in her tone. She looked at her watch. “Are we about finished? I have to take my father to his ophthalmologist and I should leave now.”
“I’d say we’re done,” I said, standing up, feeling we needed another twenty minutes of discussion on the topic, but knowing that Gretchen was incapable of it. “I have to get moving too.”
The three of us walked awkwardly and silently out to the car until Gretchen spoke. “Holy shit, we almost forgot, Del!” Gretchen and I turned to Quilla. She looked at Gretchen. “Near the end Aunt Brandy got interested in cemeteries, remember?”
Gretchen paused for a moment, then smiled and nodded her head. “Vaguely. It was kind of touching. One of the nurses was involved with that… what’s it called?”
“Making tracings of headstones,” I said.
“Yes. In Brandy’s new frame of mind she became open to new things, however odd. The nurse’s enthusiasm for taking tracings turned Brandy on to it. I think they went out and did it together a few times. That’s about all I remember.”
Before Quilla got in the car she hugged Gretchen. As she ran around to the driver’s side, I smiled stupidly at Gretchen and she back at me. What was there to say? How do you make small talk after a discussion like we’d just had? As we pulled out of the driveway Gretchen waved. I wasn’t sure if the gesture was for Quilla or both of us. We’d gone less than twenty yards when Quilla said, “Isn’t she neat?”
“Yeah. She’s very nice.”
“She must like you.”
“Why do you say that?” I couldn’t wait for her answer.
“She told you about her father and the murder and him being in the institution. She must’ve felt safe with you.”
“Is that good?”
“Gretchen’s very particular about who she gets close to. The clincher was when she told you about how she tried to kill herself. Bizarre, huh? You don’t think people as together as Gretchen would ever try suicide.”
I didn’t respond. I thought of the numerous inexplicable suicides I’d buried. “So where should I drop you?”
“Nowhere. I’m coming with you.”
“No you’re not. I’m about to pick up a body.”
“It’d be interesting to see how a body gets picked up.”
“Haven’t you had a enough death in your life for awhile?”
“C’mon. I won’t get in the way or ask stupid questions.”
“Number one, it’s illegal for an unlicensed person to be in a vehicle that’s transporting a body.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“And number two, this is no ordinary funeral. It’s going to be a lot of work.”
“Why? Who died? Like, the Mayor of Dankworth?”
“The owner of Dankworth’s other Funeral Home.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s weird. Aren’t you, like, competitors?”
“His son asked me to do it. Look, I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but I have to get on this right away. Where would you like me to drop you off?”
“Nowhere. I’m staying with you.”
“I have to work.”
“Please.”
“This is going to be a very stressful twenty-four hours for me. Organizing some funerals is like planning a big wedding.”
Quilla slammed her left hand on the seat. “I don’t want to be alone. Okay?”
“I’ll take you to Spider’s house.”
“His name is Viper. He’ll still be in therapy.”
“What about some of your other friends?”
“They’re all in school.”
“Then I’ll take you home. Wait ’til they get out.”
She again slammed her right hand on the dashboard and burst into tears. “I don’t want to be by myself!”
“Why don’t you just go to school?”
“On the day my aunt is buried?”
I was suddenly glad I didn’t have children.
“Can I just hang with you until Viper gets out of his therapy session?”
“No. That’s it. Now, tell me where you want to go.”
“Nowhere!” she said. “Let me out here. Stop the car.”
“Quilla…”
“Stop the car!”
“Alright. Fine.” I stopped the car. Without saying a word, she opened the door, got out and slammed it. She walked a few yards and leaned against an oak tree, staring downward.