“I was watching you two talk from inside. She looked ticked off and hurt. I want to know what you said to her.”
“She’s angry because nothing’s happening in her Aunt’s murder case.” I pulled my arm out of his grasp and slid behind the steering wheel. “She wants instant answers and they aren’t there.”
“She told me about the connection with that case from twenty-four years ago and some girlfriend of yours. Weird.”
“Right, Greg. Weird.”
“Perry hasn’t been giving up much info.”
“There isn’t much to give.”
“It pains me to see Quilla hurting so much.”
“Why would you care?”
“She means a lot to me. So do the kids she hangs with.”
“That’s surprising, considering you’re spying on them.”
Shock was in his eyes. “How’d you know?”
“Perry told me.”
“That’s how it was supposed to be, but… I ended up liking ’em too much to spy on ’em. And they like me. When I’m around them I get treated like I’m somebody. They all look like punks, but it’s all a costume and a pose. The worst thing they do is drink beer on weekends and get drunk once in a while. Maybe they have a little weed sometimes. So what? I let Perry think I’m controlling them.”
I knew Greg long enough to know he was being truthful.
“Quilla said you’ve been helping her,” Greg said. “That’s good.”
“If you really care about her, Greg, do what you can to motivate Perry. He’s sinking fast.”
“What can I do, Del?”
“I’d say there’s a connection with Virginia Thistle. Maybe not my girlfriend, but if this is ever gonna be solved I’d look backwards.” I started the engine, waved good-bye to Greg and headed back to the Home, hoping that Quilla wouldn’t stay angry at me for long.
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?”