“I didn’t know the exact details, no.”
“So what do you think?”
“Earl had one of those lift chairs put in his house.”
“Right, I was there once when he used it.”
“And he couldn’t do the stairs anymore, so he slept in what used to be the dining room on the first floor. And he had those special gadgets put in his car. So, no, Agent Devine, I don’t see him doing that at all.” Her eyes widened appreciably. “You don’t think... you think someone might have killed him?”
“I just need to rule it out, or not. And four unnatural deaths in the same family? That’s a little much, don’t you think?”
James nodded. “Yes, now that you put it that way, it is. I’ll get the files for you.”
She settled him in the same room as before and then left him to it.
Devine went methodically through the postmortem report. Smoke inhalation was the cause of death, the report concluded. There were no other indications of violence on the bodies, though they had both been badly burned. Even the hardened Devine was repulsed by the graphic photos of the couple’s remains. The official conclusion had been accidental death.
Then he came to the official signature of the medical examiner at the end of the report and his suspicions spiked to a whole new level.
Françoise Bing.
Chapter 58
Devine walked into the funeral home, spoke to a woman at the front desk, and was directed back to Guillaume’s office.
She was just rising from her desk. “I have an embalming to perform.”
“This can’t wait.”
Guillaume studied him for a moment, oscillating back and forth on her feet as she did so. “Then follow me.” She led him down a hall and through a door that she used a passkey to open.
Inside was a long metal table with equipment on a rolling rack next to it. Under a sheet on the table was the body — to be embalmed, Devine assumed.
“I hope that’s not another suicide or homicide,” he said.
“No. A ninety-year-old who died peacefully in his sleep. We should all be so lucky.” She readied the equipment and some instruments. “I hope you don’t have much to ask unless you really want to see this procedure take place. I’ve never met a layperson who did.”
In answer Devine pulled out a copy of the postmortem report on the Palmers. He held up the signature page. “You told me you were still in medical residency out of state fifteen years ago. So why is your signature on Steve and Valerie Palmer’s autopsy report? This was obviously before you were married, since you used your maiden name on the form.”
She stared at the page for a few moments. He could almost see the inner machinery of her brain in high gear as it processed all this.
“Oh, now I remember. I was home on vacation. The state had no one available to do the job. They asked me and I said yes. I wasn’t certified yet, and hadn’t taken the oath of office, but I was a licensed MD in the state of Maine. The chief medical examiner can make temporary appointments when the need arises, and it did in the Palmer case. Besides, it was a fairly straightforward matter, no evidence of foul play, but under the circumstances a postmortem of sorts was legally required.”
“A ‘postmortem of sorts’? What does that mean?”
“A full autopsy wasn’t required. I determined the cause of death. Smoke inhalation, if I remember correctly. They were dead before the flames reached them. Lucky for the Palmers.”
“I wouldn’t call that lucky,” replied Devine. “Who suggested you for the job?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Maybe your uncle, Benjamin Bing? He was police chief back then, right?”
“Okay, yes, I guess that makes sense. Uncle Ben would have done that. In fact, I recall now that he did contact me and told me the situation. He knew I was home, so that worked out all right.” She smiled tightly. “Forgive me for not remembering right off. It was a long time ago.”
“Only you didn’t do a tox report or any blood work.”
“Like I said, a full autopsy was not conducted. There was no need, Agent Devine. They weren’t poisoned.”
“Since you didn’t do the necessary workup, we don’t really know that for sure, do we?”
Her neutral expression devolved to a scowl. “I really don’t like what you’re implying.”
“Just stating facts. I’ll leave the implications for another time.”
“I need to get to work, so if you’ll excuse me?” She pulled back the sheet, revealing the body of an aged man.
However, Devine wasn’t finished. “So if you were in town then, were you also in Putnam when Alex was attacked? Probably, since that event and the Palmers’ deaths were only three days apart.”
“What, are you going to accuse me of sexually assaulting Alex now? Do I need an alibi? But I guess the statute of limitations has long passed.”
“Oh, so you looked that up?”
“Okay, get out. Now.”
Devine turned and left but before he shut the door he looked back at Guillaume, who was looking down at the body she had to embalm. To Devine, at the moment, it didn’t look like the woman even realized it was in front of her.
He saw Fred Bing at the front desk talking with the person there. He was dressed all in black except for his white shirt. His black tie was neatly done and his hair was slicked back.
“Funeral?” said Devine.
Bing looked over and smiled sadly. “Yes. She was in hospice. But she lived a good long life. She doesn’t have much family left in the area, so it will be a small affair, but we will do her proud.”
“I heard about your handling of Wilbur Kingman’s funeral.”
“That was so sad. Wilbur was a fine man. He and my father used to go deep-sea fishing together before my dad retired to Florida. Pat really had no money at the time for an elaborate funeral, but we made the decision to cover the costs. It was the right thing to do.”
“‘We’?”
“My sister and I. And my father called from Florida and voiced the same opinion. He actually came up for the service.” Bing looked chagrined. “Only time he’s ever been back. I guess visiting his own children isn’t a high priority.” He glanced in embarrassment at the woman at the front desk and motioned Devine over to a corner of the hall for privacy.
“What brings you here?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“I had some questions for your sister.”
“Was she helpful?” asked Bing.
“More than she probably knows. I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“Benjamin Bing? What can you tell me about him?”
“Ah, the lawman of the family,” he said with a grin. “Uncle Ben liked guns, liked to tell people what to do, and liked to wield power over others. He rose quickly to chief and stayed there until his retirement.”
“Which I understand he’s doing in Florida?”
“Yes.”
“Is he still alive?” asked Devine.
Bing blinked. “Um, yes. Well, as far as I know. I mean no one has told me otherwise.”
“Would they necessarily?”
“The fact is our family is not particularly close.”
“Could you make a call to your father and confirm one way or another?”
“Well, certainly, if it will help. I can’t guarantee when I might hear back. The last time I called my dad it was around a month before he texted back.”
“Whatever you can do, I would appreciate it.”
“Of course,” said Bing.
“Now, I understand that your uncle Ben has quite a nice house in Naples. And he only had the policeman’s salary I’m assuming. Your grandfather’s trust didn’t extend to him?”
Bing looked uncertain. “I suppose not. I guess I’ve never really thought about that.”