An Unquiet Grave

CHAPTER 47

It was late when Phillip returned home from Brighton. Frances had come with him. There had been no chance to talk to him alone until Frances had gone to bed. Louis waited until Phillip went outside for a smoke and followed him.

The moment seemed right. He told him about Claudia.

Phillip listened quietly, then asked one question. When can I see her?

We’ll go first thing tomorrow, Phil.

It had been an emotional morning. Phil had waited until breakfast to tell Frances. Louis slipped off to the living room, wanting to listen, knowing he shouldn’t. But he had watched.

They were seated at the kitchen table, Phil’s hand over Frances’s. Louis saw Frances’s shoulders stiffen, then slump forward as Phil spoke. A few seconds later, she rose quickly from her chair and left the room, walking by Louis, jaw set, tears in her eyes.

But she had been at the front door when they left. Phillip was too lost in what lay ahead to see the look on his wife’s face as they pulled out of the drive, but Louis could see it. She was scared.

They needed to make a side trip on the way to Saugatuck, Louis told Phillip. Just before leaving the house, Alice had called, asking Louis to come out to say good-bye. She told him she and Charlie would be at the hospital where she was packing up her office. Louis had tried to brush it off, saying it was a long drive, knowing Phillip was anxious to get to Saugatuck, but then Charlie came on the phone.

I have a Christmas present for you, Mr. Kincaid.

Louis told Charlie he would be there about ten. On the way, they had passed a mall and Louis had the thought he should take Charlie a present, too, and he had just the right one in mind.

Louis found a music store and was halfway to the checkout with Iron Butterfly’s In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida tape when it occurred to him Charlie didn’t need, or probably want, the real version.

Louis put the Iron Butterfly back and wandered to the classical section. It was right in front: Felix Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the complete score from the ballet. Louis added a Walkman and three sets of batteries and paid five dollars to have it wrapped.

There was one car in the Hidden Lake parking lot. It belonged to Alice. There were no police cars. No security. Just a monstrosity of a crane, the wrecking ball hanging motionless against the blue sky. A few bulldozers sat nearby, waiting to be put into action.

Louis put the car in Park and glanced over to the passenger seat. Phillip was bent forward, looking up at the administration building.

“I’ve been to the cemetery many times,” Phil said. “But I haven’t been inside the gates for fifteen years. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait here.”

Louis left the Impala running and hurried up to the door, Charlie’s present in his hand. The building seemed even emptier than before, no security officers roaming the halls, no voices. Up on the second floor, Charlie was sitting on the nurse’s desk, head bent over a comic book. He wore a cherry-red sweatshirt and what looked to be brand-new jeans.

“Hi, Charlie,” Louis said.

Charlie’s head came up and he slipped off the desk quickly, his eyes moving to the silver box in Louis’s hand. He shifted his weight, trying to hold back a smile.

Louis was about to hand it to him when Chief Dalum came down the hall from Alice’s office. She was right behind him. Both were in sweatshirts and jeans. Alice wore red Christmas ornament earrings.

“I didn’t see your car outside,” Louis said, extending a hand to Dalum.

Dalum took his hand, holding it a second longer than he needed to, tighter than he needed to. “Alice called me and said you’d be stopping by. I wanted to say good-bye,” Dalum said.

“Thanks for coming.”

“So, when you heading home?”

“Tomorrow.”

Dalum tilted his head toward the parking lot. “Who’s that with you?”

“My foster father. We’re on our way to see Claudia DeFoe.”

Dalum raised an eyebrow. “So you found her? Alive?”

“Yes,” Louis said. “Last thing I expected.”

“Was it?”

Louis held his look for a second. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“Best way to be,” Dalum said. “For a cop.”

Louis was quiet, trying to think of a quick way to thank Dalum for everything he had done. Thank him for sitting by his side the other night in the Ardmore Hospital. And for not saying a word for three hours. And for the warm fire in his house later. And the bowl of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup on his nightstand at one in the morning.

“I’ll stay in touch,” Louis said.

“Send me a postcard,” Dalum said. “One of those ones with the sexy babes in bikinis.”

“Will do.”

Charlie was waiting, eyes still on the silver package in Louis’s hand. Louis held it out. “Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

Charlie took it slowly, his long fingers picking at the bow as if it were the petals of a delicate flower.

“Just rip it open,” Louis said.

Charlie did, letting the paper and box lid drop to the floor. He stared at the tissue paper, then looked up at Louis, confused.

Louis reached in and pulled out the Walkman and headphones, and set them on Charlie’s head. Charlie still didn’t seem to understand. Louis slapped the Walkman in Charlie’s hand and hit the Play button.

Charlie’s eyes widened and his right hand moved to the side of his head, cupping the earphones. Louis held the cassette cover in front of his face. Charlie smiled, somehow knowing what it was.

Alice stepped up, reaching for Louis’s hand, not in a handshake, but in an embrace, both hands over his. “Thank you,” she said. “For his gift, and for what you did.”

Louis was quiet, watching Charlie. Charlie was swaying to a tune no one else could hear, and at that moment he looked like some kid on the beach in Florida oblivious to everything and everyone else.

Louis looked back at Alice. “Do you have a job lined up?”

“Not right away,” Alice said. “I have some savings. Maybe I’ll look after the first of the year. There’s a shortage of us, you know. Nurses.”

Louis glanced at Charlie again. “I need to say good-bye now.”

Alice waved her hand to get Charlie’s attention, and he looked up, pulled the headphones down to his neck, and grabbed a box wrapped in red paper from behind the desk. He came to Louis and held it out.

“Merry Christmas.”

Louis took the box, peeled off the paper, and lifted the top. It was a hat. Knitted wool, with a red and yellow zigzag pattern and two long chin ties with red tassels on each end.

“I tried to tell him,” Alice said softly, “that you live in Florida and you don’t need a hat.”

“It’s a helluva hat,” Charlie said.

Louis laughed. “Yes, it is.”

“It’ll keep your head warm.”

“Yes, it will.”

Louis took a deep breath, trying to decide how he wanted to say good-bye to Charlie, but Charlie made the decision for him.

He stuck out his hand, fingers spread. “Good-bye, Mr. Kincaid.”

Louis shook his hand, held it for a moment, then grabbed Charlie around the neck for a quick hug. Charlie drew back, cheeks red.

“Men shake hands,” Charlie said.

“Friends hug.”

“Okay.”

Louis said good-bye again to Alice and Chief Dalum, and he tucked the wool hat under his arm and started down the steps. He paused at the first landing, stopped by something he couldn’t see, slowed by an image he tried to bring into focus.

It was of a woman sitting on steps similar to these, her three children at her feet, an uneasy husband standing in the shadows, watching. Louis glanced up at the second floor, then moved on, pushing open the doors and walking back into the early morning sun. He stopped short on the walk, drawing a quick breath.

Parked next to Alice’s car was a state police cruiser. Detective Bloom stood leaning against it, arms crossed, eyes in a squint, his badge glinting the same yellow gold as his hair.

Louis walked to him. Bloom stayed against the fender, watching him, waiting.

“We identified the victim from the tunnel,” he said as Louis came near. “A sixteen-year-old girl. Her family has a farm nearby.”

Louis was quiet.

“Nothing’s come out of the lake yet,” Bloom went on. “My divers are exhausted. We’re calling it off for a few weeks, see if something floats up.”

Bloom was staring at him, and Louis had the sense that he was testing him for some kind of reaction.

“And we identified that tool in Seraphin’s house,” Bloom said. “It was an old obstetrical instrument called a quadruple dilator. Made in the 1800s. It disappeared from one of the hospital showcases about a year ago.”

Louis remembered the prongs on the end, and he could see how it must have worked. He knew it wasn’t a random choice of weapons for Ives. He had taken a tool specifically designed to destroy a woman’s sexuality.

Seraphin’s words came back to him: Your man is impotent. He’s grown angrier over the years, an anger magnified by his inability to perform.

An image came to him of Ives standing in the corner of the boathouse, rubbing Seraphin’s blood on his pants, desperately trying to arouse himself.

“Jesus,” Louis whispered.

“What?” Bloom asked.

“You asked me before why Ives hated his doctor. Why did he hate someone who let him live out his rape fantasies?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Seraphin may have been cruel, but she was a doctor. She would not have released Ives back into the world without somehow making sure he was no longer dangerous. She castrated him.”

Bloom’s eyes narrowed as he tried to picture it. “More bullshit,” he said. “And who gives a damn anyway?”

“You should,” Louis said.

“All I care about is finding those two bodies, putting them in the ground, and stamping this one closed,” Bloom said. He nodded toward the administration building. “And I’ll be glad when they knock this damn place down and we can forget it was even here.”

A gust blew up behind them, sweeping the dry snow up in a sudden eddy. Louis blinked against the wind as he looked at the red brick buildings.

“I need to get on the road,” Louis said.

“I’d like you to stay in Michigan a few weeks.”

“No,” Louis said. “I’m going home.”

“I still got questions,” Bloom said.

“I gave you a five-page statement.”

“One that reads like a horror novel. One with no ending.”

Louis didn’t answer.

Bloom shook his head, lips tight; then he turned and yanked open the passenger door to the cruiser, bending inside. When he came up, he had Louis’s Glock in his hand.

Bloom thrust it out. Louis accepted it and started away.

“Hey.”

Louis turned back to Bloom.

“I’m going to be calling you in Florida.”

“You do that.”

Louis got in the Impala and shifted into Reverse. He hit the brake, his gaze going back to the administration building, then to the bulldozer sitting nearby.

“I’d like to make one more stop,” Louis said, looking at Phillip. “Do you mind?”

Phillip gave him a slow nod. “Whatever you need to do, Louis.”