“The idea being that even though it’s a low traffic area populated with graves of people whose relatives and friends are long since dead, perhaps the killer happened to be paying his respects nine years ago and… ”
Perry shrugged and tossed the list of names onto his desk dismissively. “I’m way ahead of you. I had Greg and Wendell check out all the names on those tombstones plus the dates that the people died and not a one was after Nineteen-twenty. I don’t know exactly how many years make up a generation, but let’s say it’s twenty, twenty-five. That means nearly five generations of people have lived and died since the last person was buried in that Section. And your theory is that the average person won’t visit a grave beyond his parents and grandparents.” He leaned forward and picked up the names again. “So these are all bullshit.”
What Perry said made sense, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I agreed with him.
“Then what’s your theory, Perry?”
“Try this on for size. Two perfect strangers, cemetery buffs, encounter each other over a grave. They fall into conversation. Maybe they actually hit it off because they’ve found this weird common bond. They spend time together, checking out old graves and maybe this is the first girl the guy’s ever met who had the same fascination with cemeteries as him. The guy hits on her, but she doesn’t want to. She screams. The guy panics. He didn’t want any trouble. He just thought he was gonna get lucky with this sexy fellow cemetery buff. She won’t stop screaming so the guy grabs her a little too hard and he doesn’t mean to hurt her. He just wants her to stop screaming. He puts his hand on her mouth and she’s struggling because she’s still scared and before you know it they’re on the ground and she hits her head on an old headstone and she’s dead. It’s not like the guy planned on it. It was an accident. If only she had stopped screaming. You think that could’ve happened, Del?”
“It’s possible,” I said.
“Now, the killer has a problem. Does he call the cops and tell them what happened? Hell no. He’s a decent guy. Just has a strange hobby. It’s not like he came there to kill anyone. But he knows that if he calls the police and tells them the truth they might not believe him. He might be arrested. Have to go to jail. Get a lawyer. Go to trial. Maybe he’s poor. Can’t hire a good attorney. Maybe he has a nice career going for himself. He’s watched enough TV and movies to know there might be some ambitious District Attorney who wants to nail him because it’s an election year or something. Our boy knows his ass is grass if he does the right thing and reports what happened. So he thinks, ‘If I hide the body, nobody will know what happened.’ And since he’s a cemetery buff he figures he’ll stash the body in a place that wouldn’t have a lot of people paying respects, so he looks for an old, out of the way mausoleum, breaks in, hides the body, seals it back up and he’s gone. And he figures the odds are in his favor that the body’ll never be found. And for nine years he guessed right. Bastard never figured that some teenagers would spoil his perfect crime.”
He looked to me as if he wanted my approval.
“You’re assuming she was murdered there. If she was killed somewhere else and brought to the cemetery it changes your theory completely.”
“That’s another scenario. All I can work with is something that sounds logical. What I just said sounds possible. But just to show you I can be open minded, let’s call mine Theory One. Now let’s talk about Theory Two. Del’s theory — that she was killed somewhere else. I’ll make this quick, because it’s real simple. For argument’s sake, let’s forget about the fact that Brandy Parker was a cemetery buff. Let’s say that on the day she was killed she picked up a guy in a bar. They went somewhere to do the dirty deed. For whatever reason, things get out of hand, and for whatever reason, he kills her. It’s late at night. Again, let’s assume the killer didn’t plan on killing her. It just happened. Just like our guy in Theory One, he has to decide whether or not to call the police. He says no way. He has to hide the body. Now this guy’s a cemetery buff. He figures he’ll take his chances and hide the body in the mausoleum. Bingo! That’s how she could’ve been strangled somewhere else and then brought to the cemetery.”
“You’re pretty much basing everything on the idea that the killer’s a cemetery buff.”
“Has to be. Or like I said to you the day we found the body it’s somebody who knows that cemetery inside and out.” Perry turned back to the computer, punched a couple of keys and watched as something came onto the screen. He pressed the Print button and in seconds out came a sheet of paper.
“I made of list of the employees of Elm Grove, your Funeral Home and DiGregorio’s. There’s a grand total of nineteen people, including you. Take a look.” He handed the sheet of paper to me. I read the list of names.
Inside
Mel Abernathy (Manager)
George Granger (salesman)
Joanne Linley (bookkeeper)
Patricia Aimes (secretary)
Outside
Alton Held (Head Groundskeeper)
Vaughn Larkin (Night Watchman)
Will Polk (Gravedigger)
Nat Jaspers (Gravedigger)
Tim Wallach (Gravedigger)
Del Coltrane (FD)
Lew Henderson (FD)
Clint Tristler
Nolan Fowler (Embalmer)
Elaine Whorley (Hair)
Tyler DiGregorio (FD)
Alphonse DiGregorio (FD)
Wilton Ging (Embalmer)
Elaine Whorley (Hair)
“Why do you have Vaughn’s name on the list?” I asked.
“Don’t get your balls in an uproar. I just put his name there when I listed all the cemetery employees. Far as I’m concerned, Vaughn’s the only person in this town who’s above suspicion. What about the other names? You know them all. Does any strike you as having a dark side?”
I looked at the names. Precisely because I did know them all I didn’t put much stock in the idea that one was a killer, but as I stared at the names one thing began to alarm me. If the killer was someone on the list, it meant that I knew him. And despite Perry’s refusal to consider the possibility that Brandy Parker had been murdered by the same person who killed Virginia Thistle and Alyssa, if the killer was on that list, it meant that someone I knew had killed the only woman I’d ever love.
“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.”