An Unquiet Grave (Louis Kincaid Mysteries) (19 page)

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Authors: P.J. Parrish

BOOK: An Unquiet Grave (Louis Kincaid Mysteries)
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Dalum swallowed his whiskey and set the glass down. Then he motioned to the chair for Louis to sit, but again Louis shook his head.
“I have to get going. I have a long drive.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Dalum said, grabbing his parka.
They left the station, Dalum staying in step as they made their way down the block toward the Impala. Louis knew the chief’s car was parked back behind the station and that Dalum was taking this walk for some other reason. But he stayed silent, waiting for Dalum to say whatever it was he needed to say.
When they stopped at the Impala, Louis faced him. Dalum looked tired, his face showing the same tiny cracks that Alice’s had earlier today.
“I have a favor to ask you,” Dalum said.
Louis waited, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and stiffening his body against the wind.
“I don’t know you very well,” Dalum said. “I haven’t even run a check on you. But I have to confess, I am damn impressed. I’ve never seen a cop, or ex-cop, sit in a jail cell and read Shakespeare to a murder suspect.”
Louis looked down, a little embarrassed. “Just trying to get him to trust me.”
Dalum shook his head. “It was more than that. This is a special kind of case we have here. And I think you know that. I think the bones we found today are from a second murder victim, and I’m already wondering if there are more buried out there.”
“I was wondering the same thing.”
“Do you want to be a part of finding out?”
Louis looked down, the air cold on the back of his neck. He’d seen his share of dead bodies and handled numerous homicides, but no matter how many he worked, he was drawn to the next with the same fervor as his first. But there was something about this place that told him this was one he needed to walk away from.
“Look,” Dalum said, “I love this town, and that hospital has been a part of Ardmore for a long time. I just want to do what I can to help it die peacefully, and there’s a good chance that won’t happen with that detective from the state getting his hands in it.” He paused. “I could really use your help on this.”
“All right,” Louis said. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Good. I’d like to make it official, though,” Dalum said. “I’d like to deputize you.”
“Deputize me?”
“Yes,” Dalum said. “The town of Ardmore has given me the authority to deputize any number of people I need in the event of a natural disaster or any other time I feel there is a danger to the community.” Dalum gave a small smile. “And I think we have a danger to the community out there. Am I right again?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Okay then,” Dalum said. “I’ll get you an ID card and a badge ready. You’ll get more answers and more respect flashing some tin.”
Louis extended Dalum a hand. “Okay. We have a deal.”
“I should have the ring back by noon tomorrow,” Dalum said. “And we’ll go from there. How’s that, Mr. Kincaid?”
“Sounds good. But call me Louis, please.”
Dalum gave a short nod and Louis turned away and climbed in the Impala. As he started it, he watched Dalum walk back toward the police station. His hands were back in his pockets, his head ducked against the wind.
Louis turned on the heater and held a hand in front of the vent, waiting for it to get warm. His gaze moved to the quiet storefronts, and the glitter of Christmas lights that had appeared since last week, but his thoughts went back to what Dalum said about getting more respect flashing some tin.
He hadn’t had a badge in his pocket since . . . when? Winter, 1984, in a small Michigan town similar to this. Right after that, he had left for Florida and had never thought he’d be back here working a homicide.
Louis felt a stab of guilt. He wasn’t any closer to finding Claudia’s remains and now his time and energy would be spent on helping Dalum track down a murderer. But he couldn’t ignore that kick of adrenaline that was coursing through his veins like some weird cop narcotic. He pushed the car in gear and pulled away from the police station, heading out into the darkness of Highway 50.
CHAPTER 19
 
The voices woke him. They were loud and sharp, and coming from downstairs somewhere. Louis sat up in his bed, shaking off the sleep, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.
Phillip was shouting, and it was a sound so foreign Louis couldn’t immediately comprehend it. He didn’t think he had ever heard Phillip raise his voice. But what was even more surprising was that the person he was arguing with wasn’t female—it wasn’t Frances. It was another man.
Louis threw back the blanket. He was wearing only pajama bottoms and he grabbed a T-shirt, yanking it on as he hurried down the stairs. He came to a quick stop as he neared the landing at the front door.
Rodney DeFoe was a few steps inside the house, his face shoved into Phillip’s. He stopped in midsentence when he saw Louis.
“Ah,” he said. “The so-called investigator.”
“He’s my foster son,” Phillip said.
“He’s a liar, too,” Rodney said. “He said he worked for the hospital.”
“So what?” Phillip said. “You wouldn’t have even let him in the front door if he told you the truth.”
Rodney stared at Phillip, then gave him a disgusted shake of his head. “Why are you doing this, Lawrence?” he asked. “What are you looking for? She’s dead. She’s been dead for more than fifteen years.”
“I owe her this much.”
Rodney gave Phillip that same arrogant look he had thrown at Louis when he answered the door in Grosse Pointe. “You owe her? Yes, you do. But you can’t give anything to a dead woman. It’s too late.”
Phillip’s face deepened in color and Louis slowly came down the remaining three steps. He was tempted to throw Rodney out of the house, but he wasn’t sure Phillip didn’t need this confrontation. Maybe it was long past due.
“At least I’m trying,” Phillip said. “What about you? What did you ever do for her? She trusted you. I trusted you and you failed both of us.”
Rodney’s shoulders drew back, his gaze flicking between Louis and Phillip.
“Tell me what happened that night we were supposed to elope,” Phillip said. “Tell me why she didn’t come.”
“Let it go.”
“Tell me!”
“I already told you, back when you were calling all the time,” Rodney said. “I told you Mother found out and she and Claudia argued. A few hours later Claudia slashed her wrists.”
Phillip didn’t say a word. Louis was watching him closely, afraid he would throw a punch or lose control completely. But he was very still, his hands stiff at his sides.
“And you did nothing to save her,” Phillip said. “You were there inside that house. You could have helped her.”
“There was nothing I could do,” Rodney said. “The damage was already done. She was never the same after that. No one could help her after that. And now it’s too late for either of us, isn’t it?”
Phillip shook his head. “It’s not too late to bring her some sort of peace. That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“You’re trying to bring yourself some peace. And you won’t be able to do it.”
“Let me try,” Phillip said.
“No,” Rodney said. “She’s not your problem. Mother and I have decided to take care of it.”
Phillip took a small step toward Rodney. “You bastard. You let her die in that place. You didn’t even claim her body. Why are you doing this now?”
Rodney stared at Phillip for a moment before speaking, as if he knew his words would prompt a reaction and he needed to prepare himself for it.
“Because Mother would rather she stay lost than be buried out here and have her grave tended by you.”
Phillip’s fist came up and before Louis could stop him, he slugged Rodney. Rodney tumbled backward into the storm door, crashing it open. Phillip moved to go after him, but Louis grabbed his shoulders.
Phillip jerked away from him, and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Louis kept his hand on his shoulder for a moment to make sure he was going stay there, then looked at Rodney. He had tumbled down the front steps and was crawling to his feet, his fingers wiping a smear of blood off his lip.
Louis stepped to the porch. “Leave.”
Rodney touched his lip again, looking at Phillip inside the doorway. “He’s pathetic,” Rodney said.
“Leave, now.”
“You need to tell him if he keeps this up I’ll have some kind of restraining order filed against him.”
Rodney held Louis’s gaze for a long time. There was a stony coldness in Rodney’s eyes that matched the icy morning air, and Louis had a weird thought about how different the look was from Charlie Oberon’s soft sadness. And he had to wonder just who was the crazy one anymore.
“I’m going to keep looking for her,” Louis said.
“Legally, her remains belong to her mother,” Rodney said. “So even if you find her he will only lose her again. Do you really want to put him through that?”
Louis didn’t reply. Rodney turned and walked back to his car. Louis waited until he had driven away, then went back inside the house.
There was no one on the landing. Louis moved down the steps to the living room, stopping at the doorway.
Aw, man.
Frances was hunched in the chair near the television, her yellow robe pulled tight around her. Her head was down, Kleenex clutched in her trembling hand.
Phillip was standing at the window, arms folded, head bowed. And spread across the sofa and ottoman was a slew of papers and an empty manila folder. Resting on top was the admitting photo of Claudia.
Louis drew a hard breath and walked to the sofa. He started picking up the copies of Claudia’s patient file and stuffing them back into the folder. He had left the file up in the guest room, and Phillip had taken it. Louis tried not to let his anger show, but he could feel the slow burn starting across his shoulders.
“I wasn’t finished with them,” Phillip said.
Louis didn’t even look up. “I was going to show them to you when I understood them better.”
Phillip came to him. “Louis—”
“We’ll do this later, Phil.”
Damn it. He couldn’t get the papers back in the folder neatly and he finally just gathered them all up in both arms and started back upstairs.
Phillip followed him. “I read what they did to her. I saw how she looked.”
“Phil, stop.”
Phillip caught his arm. “You haven’t talked to me in days. I don’t know where you’ve been or who you’ve spoken to.”
Louis leaned against the wall, Claudia’s folder against his chest. Phillip’s eyes begged for something.
“There’s a chance she was cremated,” Louis said quietly. “I’ll be able to look at some things in a few days, and we might know something.”
Phillip nodded, trying to accept this new possibility. He slumped against the wall. “Where are you going today?” he asked quietly.
“Back to Ardmore,” Louis said.
“May I come this time?”
“No. I think you should stay here.”
Phillip looked back down the empty stairwell. “You’re right. I need to stay with Fran.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m afraid I’ve messed this up so badly it’s too late to make things right with her.”
“I don’t think so,” Louis said.
Phillip hesitated, then gave a wooden nod. He started back down the stairs. Louis continued on up. He closed the bedroom door with his foot and dumped Claudia’s records on his tangled bedding. He sat down next to it.
He just wanted this over. He needed it to be over and he knew Phillip and Frances did, too. And for an instant, Louis considered letting Phillip believe Claudia had been cremated no matter what he eventually found at John Spera’s.
But he knew it would be no different than what Eloise and Rodney DeFoe had done, sticking Claudia away somewhere and pretending she didn’t exist.
Louis looked over at her medical records and slowly started putting them inside the folder, making sure they were straight, and hooking each paper over the metal tabs that held them in place. When he got to her picture, he kept it in his fingers for a moment.
He stared at it, trying to see some glimmer of light, a hint of the beauty that Phillip had seen more than thirty years ago, but there was nothing. He set it aside and finished putting the folder back together. Then he carried it to the dresser, slipping it in the drawer, under his shirts.
It was time to let her rest for a few days.
CHAPTER 20
 
Dalum called later that day to tell him that the ring they had found in the grave was from a high school in a town called Napoleon up near Jackson.
“No name on it but the year is 1987 and there’s an engraving inside that might be the initials SS,” Dalum told him.

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