An Unquiet Grave

CHAPTER 33

Louis heard the bell over the door at the Sand Lake Inn tinkle again and turned. But it wasn’t Doug Delp, so he went back to his beer. He had called Delp about thirty minutes ago, after he left Dr. Seraphin, and damn near ordered him to meet him at the Sand Lake Inn as soon as possible. He was grateful to find the restaurant was still open, but he had gotten lucky. They were holding a Christmas party for a group of local workers. The place was noisy, filled with holiday sounds and laughter.

Louis pushed aside the plate with its half-eaten burger and signaled the waitress for another beer. He had a passing thought that it would be his third beer, but he was staying with Dalum tonight and the drive was short. He’d be okay.

The door again.

Delp came through it this time, lugging his scarred briefcase. He was dusted with snow, the tip of his nose red. Louis picked up his beer bottle and walked quickly to him, taking him right back out the door to the Impala. Delp looked at the car.

“We’re talking out here?” he asked.

Louis opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

Delp slipped inside. Louis got in the driver’s side and started the engine to warm up the car. Then he reached in the backseat and grabbed the four hospital files of Seraphin’s suspects.

He tossed them in Delp’s lap. “I need some help finding these guys.”

Delp looked down; then his fingers went slowly to the file tabs, and he read each name slowly. His eyes jumped back to Louis. “These are suspects in the murders?”

Louis was silent, staring at him. The outside lights of the inn were bright and the shadow of the falling snow was like a ghostly leopard crawling across Delp’s face.

“Answer me, Kincaid. These are suspects?”

“Yes.”

Delp’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me to do this? Why not just get the cops to track these guys down?”

“They can’t know where I got the names from.”

Delp flipped open the top folder. He read a few lines, then looked back up, a slow smile on his lips. “These are medical files. You stole these from E Building, didn’t you?”

Louis didn’t answer.

Delp had a full grin now. “Dude, I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m impressed.”

“Can you do this or not?” Louis asked.

Delp slapped the folder closed. “Hell yeah, I can do it. However, there are a few things I haven’t heard yet.”

“Like what’s in for you?”

“Exactly.”

“I can’t pay you. Do it as a public service.”

Delp laughed. “Not in my nature, Kincaid. Nothing is free in our world, you know that.”

Louis was quiet. Delp’s smile faded, the boyish sparkle in his eyes dying with it. He suddenly looked older, his face clouded with those moving shadows.

“You know better than anyone that everything has a price,” Delp said softly.

“Don’t start that shit, Delp.”

Laughter rose up around the car and they both turned to watch a young couple stagger by the Impala. When they were gone, Delp spoke.

“There’s a few other reporters hanging around here now. Guys that have heard about Rebecca, the bones, and now this security guard.”

“So?”

“But they don’t know this former patient angle,” he went on. “They don’t know you were so desperate for answers you dug up Donald Lee Becker. And they don’t know Claudia DeFoe’s coffin was empty.”

“You can have it all. Except Claudia. You leave out Claudia, I’ll tell you about Millie.”

“Who’s Millie?”

Louis gave him a shake of his head. “When I have your word.”

“Okay,” Delp said. “Unless Claudia turns out to be a victim of this killer, then no deal on her. I told you that already.”

“All right. Get your pad out and write down those names and whatever else you need from the files to get started. I can’t let you have the folders.”

Delp reached inside his jacket, grabbed a pencil and a notebook. He stuck a penlight in his teeth, opened the folder, and started writing.

Louis remembered the beer in his hand and he took a drink, watching the people go in and out of the restaurant.

“One more thing, Kincaid,” Delp said.

“What?”

“I want to interview you.”

“No way.”

“I can make you famous.”

“I don’t want to be famous. Finish your notes.”

Delp turned in his seat, the penlight in his hand pointed at Louis.

“I’m using your name with or without talking to you.

It would make a much better story if I had your insights.”

Louis shook his head.

Delp shifted the folders and reached to his feet to open his briefcase. After a few seconds, he came up with a tattered old magazine, already flagged to a certain page. Louis could see the cover. Criminal Pursuits Magazine. And he knew what story Delp was about to read.

“‘Kincaid, a twenty-seven-year-old unlicensed private investigator,’” Delp started, “‘refused to comment on his role in the capture of the Paint it Black serial killer, even after Lee County Sheriff Lance Mobley publically blasted him for his interference in the investigation. It is reported that Kincaid, an ex-police officer who left Michigan law enforcement a few years earlier under a black of cloud of suspicion-’”

“Shut up.”

Delp waved the magazine. “Is this the image you want?”

“I don’t want any image.”

“Well, you got one. You chase killers. Ordinary people love reading that shit. You can let crap like this sit out there or you can let me tell them what kind of man you really are.”

Louis turned to the driver’s window, trying to keep his breathing even. He was furious and he tried to figure out why, but things weren’t making sense right now.

“I’m going to write it anyway,” Delp said. “Not just when I do this story, but later in a full-fledged profile. With or without an interview.”

When Louis still said nothing, Delp added, “I’ll do you right, Kincaid. I swear.”

“Goddammit, Delp,” Louis said. “I’ll do your interview, but you’re going to do this my way or everything’s off.”

Delp hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.” He went back to taking notes from the medical folders.

Louis turned to the window. The car was hot now, the vent still blowing strong. The snow had stopped and the floodlight was bright white against a solid black sky. He tried to turn his thoughts back to Joe, and her smile and the feel of her body against his, but he couldn’t.

The magazine article had taken him somewhere else. Somewhere back, deep into the northern Michigan pines. He was hearing the crack of a sniper’s bullet, seeing blood spreading across the collar of a baby-blue uniform as he held his partner, Ollie, in his arms. And he was feeling the cold on the back of his neck as he stood over the body of the first man he had ever killed.

“Done here, man,” Delp said.

Louis looked at Delp. “When will you know something?”

“Day after tomorrow maybe,” Delp said, stacking the folders and tossing them in the backseat. He slipped his notebook back inside his coat, then reached for the door.

Louis caught his arm. “When you get back to me, you’re going to tell me everything you find out, you got that?”

“I got it.”

“And you breathe even a hint of this to anyone, I swear, Delp, they won’t find you till spring.”

Delp laughed as he pushed open the door. “Funny, Kincaid. Real funny.”

Delp got out and Louis watched him walk to his Civic. Man, this was probably as low as he had ever gone, asking a reporter like Delp for help while experienced police officers fumbled around in the dark. And he tried to figure out why he had done it. He could have walked away from all of this as late as this morning and left Dr. Seraphin and Detective Bloom to figure it all out. If he’d done that, he’d be home by now, sitting on his porch, listening to the pounding of the waves, and drinking a beer, waiting for Joe’s car to pull into his drive.

Florida and everything he had there had never seemed so far away.