Q is for Quarry (Kinsey Millhone 17)

At 2:00, Detective Lassiter crossed the wide unpaved parking area and again headed in our direction. I got out of the car and went to meet him midway. “They’re getting ready to transport the body. You might have Felicia call the mortuary in Quorum. Once the autopsy’s done, we’ll release the body to them unless she’s made other arrangements. You might ask if she has a pastor she wants us to notify.”

“Sure. I’ll see what she says.”

“You’re down here with Stacey Oliphant?”

“Right. He and Lieutenant Dolan are on their way back to Santa Teresa. I was scheduled to follow, but under the circumstances, I’ll stay.”

“We’ll operate on the assumption the two murders are related unless we find out otherwise. I imagine Santa Teresa will want to send down a couple of their guys.”

“Most certainly,” I said. I gave him my summary of what had brought us to Quorum and what we’d learned. Since Stacey had relayed much of the same information, I skimmed across events, only filling in details when I came to something he hadn’t heard, Frankie Miracle being prime. I said, “LieutenantDolan and I dropped in on his ex-wife in Peaches as we were heading down to the desert. Her name’s Iona Mathis.”

“We’re familiar with her,” he said. “She and my niece belong to the same church, or at least they did.”

“Yeah, well her mom says she drove to Santa Teresa to see Frankie as soon as we left. I thought he drove back with her, but I’m not sure. She claims he was at work Friday night in Santa Teresa.”

“Easy enough to check. You know the company?”

“I don’t, but I’m sure Stacey or Dolan will know. You might want to talk to Iona as well. She called Pudgie Thursday night and was really pissed off, from what Felicia said.” I made a verbal detour, telling him about Iona’s belief that Pudgie’d made a deal for himself at Frankie’s expense. “Felicia doesn’t know if Pudgie went out late Friday night or first thing Saturday morning. She told me a call came in before Iona’s, but she has no idea who it was. He answered that one himself.”

“I’ll talk to Iona soon . . . maybe later today. Where will you be?”

I told him where I was staying. “I’ll call the guys as soon as I get back to the motel. This business with Pudgie will be a blow. I’m sure Stacey told you they found his prints on the Mustang. We all assumed he either killed her himself or else knew who did. Now it looks like someone killed him to shut him up.”

“The downside of being an accessory,” Lassiter said. “Meanwhile, if anything comes up, let us know.”

I drove Felicia back to the motel. She was quiet, leaning her head against the seat with her eyes half-closed. She had a tissue in one hand, and I could see her dab at her eyes occasionally. Her lids were swollen and her face was splotchy, her red hair lusterless as though dulled by grief. Whatever weeping she did was silent. Now that she knew the worst, there was something passive in her response, a resignation she must have harbored for years, waiting for the blow.

Finally, I said, “If it’s any consolation, people did care about him.”

She turned and smiled wanly. “You think? I hope you’re right about that. He had a sorry life; in jail more times than he was out. Makes you wonder what it means.”

“I’ve given up trying to figure that out. Just don’t blame yourself.”

“I do in some ways. I’ll always think I could have done a better job with him. Trouble is, I don’t know if I was too tough on him or not tough enough.”

“Pudgie made his choices. It’s not your responsibility.”

“You know something? I don’t care what he did. He was decent to me. He might have sponged, but he never ripped me off, you know? He’s my baby brother and I loved him.”

“I know. You belong to a church? I’d be happy to make some calls.”

“In a town this size, the word’s already out. The minister will probably already be there by the time I get home. I just hope I don’t fall apart. This is hard enough.”

At the motel, I parked near her car and the two of us got out. I gave her a hug. She clung to me briefly. Then she pulled back, eyes brimming, and wiped her nose on a tissue. “Don’t be too nice. It only makes it worse,” she said.

“You’re okay to drive?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”