“Do you remember Wilbur Kingman’s funeral?”
“Sure. The whole town came out for it.”
“I watched a video of the service. Earl had a DVD.”
“Yes, we film the service if the family requests it and then make copies available to whoever wants one.”
“Doesn’t it make people uncomfortable having a camera at a funeral? And I’m surprised a church would allow it.”
“No, the service was at our chapel, not a church. I believe Pat was raised Catholic, but the Kingmans weren’t churchgoers. And folks never see the camera equipment, it’s built into the wall of the chapel. It was my father’s idea. He actually charged for it. But we give them out for free now. Not a video or DVD, of course. Now it’s just a downloadable copy.”
“Anyway, in the video I saw your uncle Ben talking to Earl.”
“What about?”
“I couldn’t hear. But whatever your uncle was saying to him, Earl looked like he wanted no part of it. After the service they left together. Do you know where they went?”
Bing shook his head. “No. My duties would have involved organizing the coffin into the hearse, arranging the procession, and getting the family and attendees to the cemetery. That was my focus. You take your eye off the ball and things can get out of hand quickly.”
“I’m sure. Look, when I asked you about your uncle and Alex you seemed... flustered.”
“No, I mean, I just didn’t have anything to say. I don’t know anything... about... that, not that there was anything.”
“Stop talking, Fred, you’re making a fool of yourself.”
Devine turned to see Guillaume standing in the doorway of the dining room holding a tray with coffee and cups.
Bing glanced at his sister and then looked down at his lap.
Guillaume sat down across from Devine and handed out the coffees. “Mr. Devine, I leave you for a few minutes and I find you in here making allegations against our family.”
“I don’t remember making any allegations,” replied Devine as he took the offered cup.
“Latent, not patent, to use a forensic term.”
“Alex was attacked and raped. And I believe Jenny knew who had done it. And that’s why she was killed.”
“How could Jenny have known?” said Guillaume. “A stranger attacked Alex.”
“No, I think it was someone she knew. Maybe knew very well.”
Guillaume seemed taken aback. “What proof do you have of that?”
“I didn’t say I had proof. Yet. And don’t go cremating Hal Brockman’s remains without checking with me first.”
Guillaume’s face twisted for a moment in anger. She shot her brother a glance and then put her palms on the table, as though to steady herself. “I’ll ignore that remark, because it was spoken in ignorance.”
“No, I really mean it, Dr. Guillaume,” said Devine.
“What exactly are you suggesting? That I would do something improperly?”
“Everyone in this town is close to what happened, both years ago and today. I just think we need more objectivity inserted into the process.”
“That’s not unreasonable, sis,” interjected Bing.
“Particularly in light of your admission that in the past you might not have carried out your professional duties to the fullest,” noted Devine.
“I’ll take your request under advisement,” she said coldly while her brother stared at her in bewilderment.
“It’s actually not a request. I’ll make the formal ask to the OCME.”
Guillaume barked, “And what would Jenny know about anything? She wasn’t there when Alex was attacked. And it’s been fifteen years. I don’t see how it’s possible.”
“Jenny could figure complex things out on behalf of her country. So why not this?”
Guillaume shook her head. “I think you’re sniffing up the wrong tree.”
“Don’t you want that?” said Devine. “The truth to come out?”
“I provided you with what I believe to be the truth. A very detailed account,” she added.
Bing again glanced sharply at his sister.
“And I listened,” said Devine. “And I’ll follow the evidence where it takes me.”
Guillaume simply glowered at him.
“Anything for dessert?” asked Bing with a hopeful expression.
“No!” said his sister.
Bing rose and said, “Well, I’ve got some work to do.”
He eyed Guillaume and Devine glaring at one another and fled the room.
Chapter 76
After finishing up at the Bing mansion, and after once more instructing Guillaume to do nothing with Brockman’s remains, Devine drove to Jocelyn Point. Or tried to. Halfway there the truck sputtered once, twice, and then died. He tried to restart it, but it wouldn’t catch. He looked at the fuel level. It was below empty.
“Shit.”
He had checked the fuel earlier. It was half full. He leaped out and ran to the rear of the truck.
The smell of gas was intense and the underside of the truck was coated in fuel. He used his flashlight to check. A hole had been punched in the tank. He looked back toward the Bing mansion.
Benjamin Bing?
He grabbed his bag and set out at a steady jog to Jocelyn Point.
He phoned Alex on the way over but she didn’t answer. He looked at his watch. She might be asleep.
He finally reached Jocelyn Point and knocked on the front door. Alex didn’t answer. Slightly worried now, he phoned her again. Again she did not pick up. He pounded on the front door, to no avail. He tried to open it, but it was locked.
He stepped back and looked up at her bedroom window. He tossed some loose gravel up there, where it clattered against the panes of glass. He waited, but the light didn’t come on and Alex did not appear at the window.
He hustled back to the front door and used his pick gun to get inside. He dropped his bag and, Glock out, ran up the stairs calling her name. He reached her bedroom and opened the door, dreading what he might find. The room was empty. Her bed was unmade, and it appeared as though it hadn’t been slept in recently. He searched every room in the house and the widow’s walk and came up empty.
He raced outside to the studio. The door was not locked. Devine stepped in, turned on the lights, and looked around. Just like the house, it was empty. Just like the house, there were no signs of a struggle. No blood, thank God. But still nothing.
He was about to leave when he noticed something.
He walked over to the canvas set on an easel. This was apparently a new work in progress done in charcoal.
The outline was of a man’s face. The interior was mostly blank, but there were some elements that had been drawn in. An eyebrow, the beginnings of a top lip. The lower curve of the left eye. But that was all and not enough for Devine to recognize the person. It was like the hazy remains of a dream after you woke up.
He ran his gaze over the canvas. He bent forward to read the word that had been written near the bottom in pencil.
Him.
Devine called Harper. The man answered on the third ring.
“Please, Devine, do not tell me that—”
He cut in. “Alex is missing.”
“What?”
“I arranged to stay with her at the house while Dak was recovering in the hospital. She’s not here. I’ve looked everywhere. And she’s not answering her phone. And someone sabotaged my ride.”
“Any signs of a struggle? Forced entry?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“When did you see her last?”
“About four hours ago. Can you get out an APB on her?”
“Yes. And I’ll phone the state police. Any idea what might have happened to her?”
Devine was about to accuse the entire Bing family including Guillaume, but didn’t think that would elicit extra effort from Harper to find Alex. “No. Call me if you hear or see anything.”