Posted by rache on December 17, 2008 at 19:32:56:
Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (Part 6)
The McKinnen Funeral Home was a longish building resembling a church as
much as anything else. It was constructed of wood and brick, all
painted white. The surrounding grounds were green and well-tended with
grass and neatly trimmed hedges and it seemed out of place, like an
oasis planted in the desert scrub of western Texas. There were several
cars in the parking lot and the one that caught Tina's eye was a white
station wagon with the words 'County Coroner' lettered on the sides.
"Hmph," Tina didn't wonder at that.
Someone was running the show, that was obvious, and if it wasn't Fiddler or Riles, that left Moore and Peterson. The college president had been instrumental in getting the state police involved, with his good advice to Helen. A guilty conscience perhaps? Whatever the reason, it didn't fit the profile of someone orchestrating the cover-up. That left Floyd Peterson and after meeting with Moore and Riles at the college, the coroner was paying a visit to the funeral home.
Yeah, Tina thought, Peterson would be trying to make sure all the strings were tied up nice and tight.
The inside of the funeral home was much as Tina might have expected. Clean and somber, with plush carpeting and deeply stained wood paneling on the walls. The place was tastefully decorated with flowers and classic antique furniture, paintings that avoided being overtly religious, but offered a sense of tranquility nonetheless. It was soothing and calm and like any of the dozens of funeral homes Tina had visited previously. The foyer was large and there were several viewing rooms. One of them was being used as Tina glanced inside to see several older people sitting quietly near an open casket surrounded by flowers.
"May I help you?" a young man asked Tina gently, his voice equal to the surroundings. "Are you here to visit Mr. Rodriquez?" He was dressed in a dark suit and handsome, like a salesman, Tina thought.
"No," Tina said quietly, stepping away from the open door. "I'm Detective Vasquez…" she held up her badge. "What's your name?"
"Texas Rangers?" the man narrowed his eyes and then blinked at the woman. "Oh, uh JB…Justin. Justin McKinnen. I mean, everyone calls me JB…What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for Doctor Peterson, actually," Tina smiled. "I was told I could find him here."
"Floyd? Oh, he's talking to my dad right now," JB said, smoothing his short black hair somewhat nervously in Tina's opinion. "Uh, is this about a…big case or…something?"
"Or something," Tina nodded. "I'd like to meet your dad too. Are they in his office or…" The Ranger looked around expectantly, waiting for the young man.
"Yeah," JB glanced over his shoulder towards a door marked 'Private' and then he offered Tina an apologetic smile. "I'm not sure we can go in there right now, but…"
"It's okay," Tina looked to her left as the front doors of the funeral home opened and a Hispanic family entered the funeral home dressed in their Sunday best. A fortyish husband and his wife, three teenage children, all of them looking sad and serious and the youngest, a girl of ten or 11 years, smiled at Tina. But it was a small one.
"I suppose I could wait here and question them when they're finished…" Tina started saying and JB shook his head quickly at that idea.
"No, I don't…yeah, um…this way…" he gestured. Decorum was everything in the mortuary business and having a policewoman waiting to ask who-knows-what in the funeral home's foyer wasn't what anyone would want.
The private door led to several others and stairs leading to the basement. JB knocked on the door that said 'Tyler McKinnen – Funeral Director' engraved on a brass plate, and then opened it slowly to reveal a rather more spacious office than Tina would have expected. She saw a comfortable living room set and realized this was probably where the funeral home's customers made their sad choices when it came time to say goodbye. There were several binders, like oversized photo albums, on the coffee table.
"What is it JB…oh…" a man stopped speaking as he saw Tina and he looked like his son, tall and handsome with black hair going silver. He stood up slowly from behind his desk.
Floyd Peterson, who was tall and rather gaunt and dressed somewhat more casually than the Funeral Director, frowned and drew his gray eyes deep beneath his furrowed brow. He hadn't been expecting the Ranger to come here, not this quickly.
"Mr. McKinnen?" Tina was retrieving her identification and she held it up as she walked into the room and introduced herself to the two men. "…I'm investigating the disappearance of Lisa Thomas."
"Who?" McKinnen blinked rapidly and he wasn't much of a poker player, Tina decided.
"You don't have to say anything, Tyler," Peterson said from his chair. "Just sit down and…"
"I'm also investigating the murder of Barbara Welch," Tina continued talking, putting her ID back inside her purse. "Floyd Peterson?"
"Yes?" the man turned a little more in his chair and the word murder had brought some color to his cheeks, but it was the gun the woman pulled out of her purse that made him jerk to his feet.
"I'm arresting you for obstruction of justice and conspiracy to commit murder," Tina told the man. "Move, over there, hands against the wall. JB…" Tina gave the young man a glance, "…sit down on the sofa there."
"You can't be serious," Floyd blinked at the Ranger.
"Hands against the wall," Tina repeated and she wasn't overly worried about JB or his father, the boy had sat down quickly and Tyler McKinnen had gone white as a sheet. Desperate people did desperate things, true, but those two were just frightened and confused.
"You've got nothing," Peterson spat. "Who do you think you are?"
"You have the right to remain silent, anything you tell me can be used in court against you," Tina said, turning Peterson around and pressing the old man into place as she frisked him quickly with her left hand. "You have the right to have a lawyer present during questioning. Do you understand me?"
Tina hadn't really planned on arresting Peterson immediately, although the original files that Helen had provided gave the Ranger enough evidence to charge him. She'd have rather waited until she knew exactly who had raped and murdered Barbara before grabbing anyone, but this was a good opportunity to put some real fear into McKinnen. The man looked twenty years older than he had just a few minutes previously.
"Give me your hands," Tina handcuffed the coroner and he wasn't saying anything, just glowering at her as Tina walked him to a chair and sat him down. "Stay there, Doctor."
"I don't know anything about…about a murder," Tyler McKinnen was shaking and he hadn't moved at all.
"I believe you," Tina told him. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what you do know."
"Tyler…" Peterson breathed a warning and the funeral director swallowed hard.
"M-Maybe I, uh…I need a lawyer or…" McKinnen looked at Tina as she sat in a chair near the man's desk.
"You're not under arrest," Vaquez reminded him. "Tell me about the girl."
"But…" the old man licked his lips and glanced at his son who was still sitting on the sofa. "I need to know my…my boy, he didn't…it was my fault."
"If you cooperate with me," Tina said slowly, "I can make that clear to the attorney general."
"Uh…"
"I can't make any deals, Mr. McKinnen," Tina stared at him. "No promises, but if you hold back on me, it'll go a lot worse for everyone. It always does."
"Don't you say anything, Tyler," Peterson growled.
"Shut-up!" McKinnen frowned across the room at the coroner. "This is all your fault anyway. Just shut-up!"
"I know you didn't want to get involved, but it's time to make it right," Tina told the man. "Lisa Thomas came here, didn't she?"
"Yeah," Tyler McKinnen closed his eyes, nodding slowly. "She was here."
"What happened to her?" Tina asked gently. "Her family has to know. Her sister…"
Like most people involved in a crime, Tyler McKinnen was a victim of circumstance more than a willing participant. He wasn't a bad man, Tina knew, he'd lived his whole life caring for others, bringing comfort to those who suffered the loss of a loved one. Business or not, a man didn't do a job like that for mere money and the guilt on his face was replaced by shame as he began to speak over Peterson's angry objections.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Lisa Thomas had been in that Monday morning early and then again that
afternoon, returning in a new dress and freshly made-up to be truly
beautiful in her grief. She remained sitting in the viewing room with
Barbara Welch until near sunset. The girl had left once more then, but
only briefly, and people did that. It wasn't easy to mourn and most
folks forget that, until it happens to them. Lisa had sat there for
four hours, maybe five and then she'd gone for a walk. She came back as
night fell over the west Texas town and Barbara was still there. Still
waiting.
Ethan Moore was there as well. The college was taking care of the arrangements, paying for everything. Ms. Welch didn't have any family, leastwise none that Ethan's secretary, Laura, had been able to find. So Ethan was taking care of it and he'd gotten some help from Lisa because he understood the two women were close, but mostly the college president had tried to give the girl her privacy.
That Monday evening he was back and Moore had sat for awhile and spoken with Lisa, but McKinnen didn't know or care what was said. He could easily imagine the words. When Ethan left he found Tyler in the Funeral Director's office and offered the man three hundred dollars to give Lisa as much time with Barbara as the girl needed. "McKinnen had refused, but Moore insisted and left the money on McKinnen's desk with the understanding that Lisa would be able to stay all night if she desired.
There was little else anyone could do for her.
There was the soft rattle of a key in the door and the Funeral Director, an austere gentleman, peered inside. His eyes were soft and brown and he smiled at Lisa apologetically. She was sitting in the front row, wearing a pretty dress, blue and gold like her hair. She'd been crying, and she was again after speaking with Ethan Moore, and Lisa turned her head at the sound.
"Dr. Moore told me you'd be in here, Miss Thomas. I usually close up about this time…" Tyler said quietly.
"Okay," Lisa frowned and wiped her eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath. She stood up slowly and looked at Barbara, preparing to say goodbye again, for the third time that day.
"Oh, no ma'am. What I mean to say is, you can…" McKinnen cleared his throat. "You can stay if you'd like. Dr. Moore explained that the two of you were close and, well…we don't have anyone else here so if you'd like to stay longer…"
"I can stay?" Lisa asked. "It's alright?"
"Yes ma'am," Tyler agreed. "Just close the doors behind you, they'll lock okay. I'll just be in my office if, uh…if you need anything. Goodnight Miss Thomas."
"Thank you," Lisa nodded quickly and the older man pulled the door closed behind him as he left the girl alone.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"So Moore paid you to let her spend the night here," Tina nodded as she took her notes.
"Yeah, but…" McKinnen shrugged. "I would have done it anyway. I still have the money. Never spent it for anything."
"Was that the last time you saw her?" Tina asked him and the Funeral Director looked away from the woman's green eyes.
"It was the last time I saw her alive," he said softly. "I keep thinking maybe if I'd just sat with her…"
"What happened?" Tina prompted him after a minute of silence.
"Huh? Oh…I slept on the sofa there," McKinnen gestured to where JB was sitting, listening to his father talk. "About five, quarter after maybe, I went to check on Barbara…"
"On Lisa…" Tina said.
"On Miss Thomas too, yeah," he took a deep breath.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
His bedside phone awakened Ethan at 5:30 am. It took him 6 minutes to
dress, putting on the wrinkled suit that he'd been wearing the day
before. Another 14 minutes to reach the McKinnen Fueral Home and then…
Ethan Moore sat in his car, shutting off the engine and staring east, at the pleasant glow of the imminent sunrise. He closed his eyes, praying softly although he was not a religious man by nature. He prayed this was all a dream. That he'd imagined the phone call. That he'd wake up. Shaking and sweating with fear, the way he sometimes did when he dreamt of his year in Vietnam. He'd been 18 and patriotic, like all good Texas boys. And for 365 days he'd been a walking dead man. Now, sitting in his car, Ethan felt the same way again. He was dead. Inside his heart there was the great black abyss and it was staring back at him.
The Sheriff was already there, of course, along with the County Coroner's station wagon. But no ambulance. Ethan took a deep breath and got out, walking slowly across the parking lot and into the building. He found Floyd Peterson, Owen Fiddler, and the Tyler McKinnen in the foyer.
"Ethan." Floyd took a deep breath. It was almost impossible to know where to start and none of the men wanted to say anything.
Ethan walked past them, into the viewing room where Barbara Welch's body was lying in repose. He walked to the casket and looked inside, seeing Lisa and Barbara together. The younger woman was naked, her clothing neatly folded on one of the chairs, and now seemingly cradled in the arms of her lover. Barbara had been undressed as well and that wouldn't have been difficult to manage as her clothing had been cut along the back by Tyler to make dressing the woman easier. It was common practice and one that few people outside of the business would ever need to know about.
There were large and still wet bloodstains all along the white satin bed of the casket. The pillow too was stained with it, and of course Barbara herself was colored with Lisa's blood. The girl looked pale and still as a statue, beautiful and placid without any of the sadness she'd worn the previous evening. Lisa had felt no pain, Ethan realized, no fear or doubt. She'd done it, opened the veins in her wrists, and been content with it.
The other three men walked in silently.
"Suicide," Sheriff Fiddler said needlessly.
"Did you know about that, Ethan?" Floyd looked at the disheveled man. "That they were lovers?"
Ethan nodded. "I had…suspicions."
"Well, this is pretty straight forward. The little dyke just couldn't get enough muff!" Fiddler was grinning. "She come sneaking in round midnight, got her clothes off so she could do a little of that Necro-feel-my-maniac business and played doctor with a razor blade. Hell, Ethan, this gonna make that little old college of yours famous!"
And Ethan hit him solidly in the jaw, knocking the big sheriff down. Fiddler rubbed his shocked and then scowling face and started getting up.
"I'd stay down, Owen," Floyd said softly. But Fiddler ignored him and Ethan hit him again, even harder this time, and the Sheriff's head bounced off the soft thick carpet.
Ethan massaged his hand, feeling a little pain from his arthritis flair up beneath his bruised knuckles.
"You think Riles is satisfied yet?" Moore's voice was edged with accusation. "This girl didn't do anything to anyone." He pointed at Lisa's body without looking at her. "And you know what, Floyd? I'm going to get a call from the Board, because they already know, don't they? Don't they?" he shouted at Peterson and the coroner nodded.
"Son of a bitch…" Fiddler muttered, but he wasn't getting up quite yet and the other three men ignored him.
"And they're going to tell me to bury it," Moore predicted. "They're going to say that we don't need the problems. That we have a good school. A good community. And 1400 good students to protect."
"We take care of our own first," Peterson said slowly.
Ethan backed away. "What have we done?" he whispered to himself.
"We're in it, Ethan. Every one of us now," the coroner said softly as he looked at the girl. Then he spoke a little louder. "Did she have family?"
"I don't know," Ethan sighed, expressing the exhaustion he was feeling.
"Find out." The county coroner walked past the Sheriff, still sitting on the floor amidst some scattered chairs, Floyd ignored him and started talking to the funeral director.
"Anybody else know about this?" Floyd asked McKinnen sharply. They were the same age, or close enough that they'd grow up together, and while they didn't share a friendship, they shared a long past and that counted for a lot in a small town like West Abilene.
"No. I found her myself," Tyler said. "My boy won't be coming in until eight. I didn't call anyone except you and Ethan."
"Good. You keep this one quiet, you understand me Tyler? Nobody knows anything. Ever. Except what I decide," Peterson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You got any business coming in today?"
The funeral director shook his head no. "Not unless something turns up."
"Okay, you go call your son, tell him to take the day off. Tell him to go fishing or something, just keep JB away from here." He stared at the man hard. "And you don't say anything about this."
"I heard you Floyd. I got it." The man frowned and looked at his watch. "I'll give him a ring about seven, much earlier than that and it won't be good."
Ethan had been on his cellular phone, waking up his secretary and they were still talking when Floyd walked back over. The Sheriff had gotten up, looking warily at the college president, and now sat sulking and nursing his sore jaw.
"…I need to know if Lisa Thomas had any family…That's right…Get her student records…I need next of kin, yeah…and call the Board…I know what time it is, Laura. I know…Call the Board and set up a meeting…as soon as possible…No, I don't know what's going on…Lisa? She's…" he glanced at Floyd, "…Lisa is missing…yeah, just disappeared… probably… yeah, I'm sure you're right…she needs some time…okay…Call me when you find her records…Right. Bye Laura."
"Owen, come here," Floyd called over his shoulder and then looked at Moore. "You did good Ethan." He patted the college president's shoulder, but the older man drew back. "We have to do what's best now. For all of us."
"You hit me again Ethan and I'm liable to get angry," Sheriff Fiddler said, fingering the revolver on his hip.
"Shut-up, Owen." Floyd stared at Fiddler and the Sheriff looked down. "You got a missing person, reported by the college president. One Lisa Thomas, missing for 12 hours, no reason to assume she's in danger. Just another college kid who left for Hollywood or New York maybe."
"Runaway," Fiddler nodded and Ethan frowned.
"You talk to her friends, teachers, neighbors. Ethan's concerned because she was close to her coach." Floyd looked at Moore, making sure he was listening. "So you're doing the neighborly thing and checking, even though she technically ain't missing for 72 hours. You got all that? You do it the right way, don't put too many people on it. Don't talk about it, no bullshit. Put one deputy on it, send the Hansen kid, he's dumb as dirt anyway."
Tyler McKinnen was standing nearby and trying not to listen. He knew enough that he didn't want to hear any of what Floyd was saying and the man had a feeling he knew too much already. The girl had killed herself and he didn't understand a lot of the fuss that was being made. The necrophilia thing? It happened. This wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last case of it that he'd hear about, or even see right there in his own parlor. People did a lot of funny things under the stress of losing someone they loved.
Ordinary people just didn't understand, he thought with a private sigh. He gazed at the two women, wondering how Lisa had managed to get her lover's dead arms around her. It seemed impossible, especially since the fingers of Barbara's right hand were tight around the back of Lisa's neck, as if the dead woman had pulled the girl as close as possible while Lisa lay dying. The mortician shrugged and turned away, he'd seen a lot of strange things in his line of work.
"Tyler, come here," Floyd jerked his head and the funeral director walked over reluctantly. "You get this body cremated, right away."
"You mean both…" McKinnen started to ask, but Peterson held up a hand to silence him.
"There's only one body in that coffin, Tyler. Barbara Welch's body. Nobody here saw anything different." He looked at the other men meaningfully. "You cremate her body, just like you're supposed to. Give Ethan the remains and get on with business." He walked over and closed the lid of the casket over Barbara and Lisa forever. "Lisa Thomas is a missing person and we haven't seen her."
Ethan took phone calls from both his secretary and from the Chairman of the Board of Trustees. He'd learned that Lisa had only a surviving sister, who lived in Dallas. He took the woman's name and phone number, scribbling it on a bit of paper from his wallet. He promised his secretary he'd be in the office shortly and hung up. Then came the call from the Board.
It was as Ethan had predicted. Nobody wanted their school to be known as a haven for necrophiliac lesbians, suicidal or not. That the girl was dead made it even worse. Ethan would do everything he could to keep it quiet and the Board had already forgotten the matter. They'd be referring any and all enquiries to the college president. Somehow all of that had been expressed without mentioning the name of the girl in question, not even once. It was as though the chairman was speaking hypothetically, but then again he was a lawyer and they were known for being able to talk around…things.
The chairman asked Ethan if he had any ideas, now that he knew the Board's position
"Lisa Thomas is…" he swallowed hard. "She's a missing person."
"Hmmmm…Lisa Thomas? I don't recall a Lisa Thomas," the lawyer's voice said. And that was when Ethan made his decision that sometimes the greater good of the majority was not worth the sacrifice of the individual. He just didn't know what to do about it yet.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Doctor Moore told you that?" Tina looked up from her notepad and McKinnen shrugged.
"We spoke when I gave him the ashes," the funeral director said. "I just wanted to forget about it."
"But Moore…"
"I don't know," McKinnen looked into the woman's face. "He's a better man than me, I guess."
"I'm going to need a written statement of everything you just told me," Tina said.
"Don't you do it, Tyler." Peterson said. "All she's got is hearsay. You can take it all back…"
"No I cant," Tyler McKinnen straightened himself up, turning his eyes on the coroner handcuffed across the room. "I can't take none of it back, can I?"