A Faint Cold Fear (11 page)

The image of a lumpy sack of potatoes came to mind.

Brock asked, 'Any word on Tessa?'

'I talked to Sara this morning,' Jeffrey told him.

'She's doing a little better, it sounds like.'

'Well, praise the Lord,' Brock said, putting his hand up in the air. 'I've been praying for her.' He dropped his hand, slapping it against his thigh. 'And that sweet little baby. Jesus has a special place for children.'

Jeffrey did not respond, but he hoped Jesus had an even better place for whoever stabbed them to death.

Brock asked, 'How's the family holding up?'

'They seem okay,' Jeffrey told him before changing the subject. 'You haven't worked for the county in a while, have you?'

'Oh, no,' Brock balked, even though he had been the county coroner for years. 'I have to say I was really glad when Sara took over. Not that the money wasn't nice, but Grant was just getting a little too big for me back then. Lots of people coming in from the city, bringing their city ways. I didn't want to miss something.

It's an awesome responsibility. My hat's off to hen-Jeffrey knew that by 'city' Brock meant Atlanta.

Like most small towns in the early nineties, Grant had seen an influx of urbanites seeking a slower way of life. They moved out of the larger cities, thinking they would find a peaceful Mayberry at the end of the interstate.

For the most part, they would have if they'd left their children at home. Part of the reason Jeffrey had been hired as chief of police was his experience with working on a gang task force in Birmingham, Alabama. By the time Jeffrey had signed his contract, the powers-that-be in Grant would have taken up goat sacrifices if they thought it would solve their youth-gang problem.

Brock said, 'This one's pretty straightforward, Sara said. You just need blood and urine, right?'

'Yeah,' Jeffrey told him.

'I hear Hare's helping out with her practice,' Brock said.

'Yeah.' Jeffrey said around a sip of coffee. Sara's cousin Hareton Earnshaw was also a doctor, though not a pediatrician. He was filling in at the clinic while Sara was in Atlanta.

'My daddy, rest his soul, used to play cards with Eddie and them,' Brock said. 'I remember sometimes he'd take me over to play with Sara and Tessie.' He guffawed loud enough for it to echo in the car. 'They were the only two girls in school who would talk to me!' He had real regret in his voice when he explained, 'The rest of them thought I had cootie hands.'

Jeffrey looked at him.

Brock held out a hand to illustrate. 'From touching dead people. Not that I did that when I was young.

That didn't come until later.'

'Uh-huh,' Jeffrey said, wondering how they'd gotten onto this subject.

'Now, my brother Roger, he was the one who touched them. Roger was a real scamp.'

Jeffrey braced himself, hoping this was leading to a sick joke.

'He'd charge a quarter a person to take some of the kids down to the embalming room at night after Daddy'd gone to bed. He'd get 'em all in there with the lights off and nothing but a flashlight to show the way, then he'd press right here on the departed's chest, like this.' Despite his better judgment, Jeffrey looked to see where. 'And the body'd let out this low moan.'

Brock opened his mouth and gave out a low, soulless moan. The sound was horrific terrifying something Jeffrey hoped to God he would forget when he tried to go to bed that night.

'Jesus, that's creepy,' Jeffrey said, feeling a shudder well up, like someone had walked over his grave. 'Don't do that again, Brock. Jesus.'

Brock seemed contrite, but he handled it well, drinking his coffee and remaining silent the rest of the way to the morgue.

When Jeffrey pulled up to the Rosen house, the first thing he noticed was a shiny red Ford Mustang parked in the driveway. Instead of going to the front door, Jeffrey went over to the car, admiring its sleek lines.

When he was Andy Rosen's age, Jeffrey had dreamed about driving a red Mustang, and seeing one here gave him an unreasonable pang of jealousy. He ran his fingers along the hood, tracing the black racing stripes, thinking that Andy had a hell of a lot more to live for than he had at that age.

Someone else loved this car, too. Despite the early hour, there was no dew on the paint. A bucket was upended near the back fender, a sponge on top. The garden hose was still reeled out to the car. Jeffrey looked at his watch, thinking it was an odd time to be out washing a car, especially considering that the owner had died the day before.

As he approached the front porch, Jeffrey could hear the Rosens having what sounded like a nasty argument. He had been a cop long enough to know that people were more likely to tell the truth when they were angry. He waited by the door, eavesdropping but trying not to look obvious in case any early-morning joggers wondered what he was up to.

'Why the hell do you care about this now, Brian?'

Jill Rosen demanded. 'You never cared about him before.'

'That's fucking bullshit, and you know it.'

'Don't use that language with me.'

Tuck you! I'll talk to you however I fucking please.'

A moment passed. Jill Rosen's voice was softer, and Jeffrey could not make out what the woman was saying. When the man responded, his voice was equally low.

Jeffrey gave them a full minute to rile up again before knocking on the door. He could hear them moving around inside and guessed that one or both of them were crying.

Jill Rosen answered the door, and he could tell from the well-used Kleenex grasped in her hand that she'd spent the morning in tears. Jeffrey had a flash of Cathy Linton on the deck at her house yesterday, and he felt a sympathy that he'd never imagined himself capable of.

'Chief Tolliver,' Rosen said. 'This is Dr. Brian Keller, my husband.'

'We talked on the phone,' Jeffrey reminded him.

Keller had an air of devastation about him. Judging by his thinning gray hair and soft jaw, he was probably in his late fifties, but grief made him look twenty years older. His trousers were pin-striped, and though they obviously belonged with a suit, Keller was wearing a yellowing undershirt with a deep V-neck that revealed a smattering of gray hair on his chest. He had a Star of David chain like his son, or maybe it was the one they had found in the woods. Incongruously, his feet were bare, and Jeffrey guessed that Keller had been the one to wash the car.

'I'm sorry about that,' Keller said. 'Yesterday on the phone. I was upset.'

Jeffrey said, 'I'm sorry for your loss, Dr. Keller,' taking the man's hand, wondering how to ask tactfully if Andy was his natural son or adopted. A lot of women kept their maiden names when they married, but usually the children took their father's name.

Jeffrey asked Keller, 'You're Andy's biological father?'

Rosen said, 'We let Andy choose which name he wanted to take when he was old enough to make an informed decision.'

Jeffrey nodded his understanding, though he was of the opinion that kids' being given too many choices was one of the reasons he saw so many of them at the station, shocked that their bad decisions had actually landed them in trouble.

'Come in,' Rosen offered, indicating Jeffrey should follow the short hallway to the living room.

Like most professors, they lived on Willow Drive, which was just off Main Street and a short distance from the university. The school had worked out something with the bank to guarantee low-interest home loans for new professors, and they all ended up taking the nicest houses in town. Jeffrey wondered if all of the professors let their houses fall into disrepair as Keller had. There were stains on the ceiling from a recent rainfall, and the walls were in serious need of a fresh coat of paint.

'I'm sorry about the mess,' Jill Rosen said in a practiced tone.

'It's fine,' Jeffrey said, though he wondered how anyone could live in such clutter. 'Dr. Rosen-'

'Jill.'

'Jill,' he said. 'Can you tell me, do you know Lena Adams?'

'The woman from yesterday?' she asked, her voice going up at the end.

'I was wondering if you knew her from before.'

'She came to my office earlier. She's the one who told me about Andy.'

He held her gaze for a moment, not knowing the woman well enough to tell if there was something more to her words, which could be taken any number of ways. Jeffrey's gut told him that something was going on between Lena and Jill Rosen, but he was not sure how it pertained to the case.

. 'We can sit in here,' Rosen said, indicating a cramped living room.

'Thanks,' Jeffrey said, glancing around the room.

Rosen had obviously taken great care decorating the house when she moved in, but that had been many years ago. The furniture was nice, but looked a little too lived in. The wallpaper was dated, and the carpet showed high-traffic areas as clearly as a path in the forest. Even without these cosmetic problems, the place was crowding in on itself. Stacks of books and magazines spilled over in piles. There were newspapers Jeffrey recognized from last week spread around one of the armchairs by the window. Unlike the Linton house, which arguably had the same amount of clutter and certainly more books, there was something stifling about the place, as if no one had been happy here for a very long time.

'We talked to the funeral home about the service,'

Keller told him. 'Jill and I were just trying to decide what we should do. My son had very definite feelings about cremation.' His bottom lip quivered. 'Will they be able to do that after the autopsy?'

'Yes,' Jeffrey told them. 'Of course.'

Rosen said, 'We want to support his wishes, but…'

Keller told her, 'It's what he wanted, Jill.'

Jeffrey could sense the tension between them and did not offer his opinion.

Rosen indicated a large chair. 'Please, have a seat.'

'Thank you,' Jeffrey said, tucking in his tie, sitting on the edge of the cushion so he would not sink back into the lumpy chair.

She asked, 'Would you like something to drink?'

Before Jeffrey could refuse, Keller said, 'Water would be nice.'

Keller stared at the floor until his wife left the room.

He seemed to be waiting for something, but Jeffrey was not sure what. When the faucet in the kitchen was turned on, he opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Jeffrey said, 'Nice car outside.'

'Yes,' he agreed, clasping his hands in his lap. His shoulders were stooped and Jeffrey realized Keller was a larger man than he had initially thought.

'You washed it this morning?'

'Andy took good care of that car,' he said, but Jeffrey noticed he did not answer the question.

'You're in the biology department?'

'Research,' Keller clarified.

Jeffrey began, 'If there's something you want to tell me…?'

Keller opened his mouth again, but just then Rosen came into the room, handing both Jeffrey and her husband a glass of water.

'Thank you,' Jeffrey said, taking a sip, even though the glass had a funny smell. He set it down on the coffee table, glancing at Keller to see if the man had anything to say, before getting down to business.

He said, 'I know y'all have other things to worry about. I just need to ask you some routine questions, and then I'll get out of your way.'

'Take all the time you need,' Keller offered.

Rosen said, 'Your people were up in Andy's apartment until late last night.'

'Yes,' Jeffrey answered. Contrary to what cops did on television, Jeffrey liked to stay as far away from a fresh crime scene as he could until the technicians were finished processing it. The riverbed where Andy had killed himself was too expansive and public to be of much use. Andy's apartment was a different matter.

Keller waited for his wife to sit down, then sat beside her on the couch. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. Obviously the fight they'd been having was still going on.

Rosen asked, 'Do you think he could have been pushed?'

Jeffrey wondered if anything had been said to Rosen or if she had come up with the scenario on her own.

He asked, 'Did anyone ever threaten to hurt your son?'

They looked at each other as if they had talked about this earlier. 'Not that we know of.'

Jeffrey asked, 'And Andy attempted to kill himself before?'

They nodded in unison.

'You saw the note?'

Rosen whispered, 'Yes.'

'It's not likely,' he told the parents. No matter what Jeffrey suspected at this point, it was just that: speculation.

He did not want to give Andy's parents something to hold on to, only to have to disappoint them later. 'We'll investigate every possibility, but I don't want to get your hopes up.' He paused, regretting his choice of words. What parents would hope that their child was murdered?

Keller told his wife, 'They'll find anything irregular in the autopsy. They can find out all kinds of things.

It's amazing what science can do these days.' He said this with the conviction of a man who worked in the field and relied on scientific method to prove any point.

Rosen held the tissue to her nose, not acknowledging what her husband had said. Jeffrey wondered if the tension between them was from the recent argument or if there had been problems in the marriage for a while. He would need to ask some discreet questions around campus to find out.

Keller interrupted Jeffrey's thoughts. 'We've been trying to think of something to tell you,' he said. 'Andy had some friends from before-'

'We never really knew them,' Rosen interrupted.

'His drug friends.'

'No,' Keller agreed. 'As far as we know, there was no one lately.'

Rosen conceded, 'At least no one Andy introduced us to.'

'I should have been here more,' Keller said, regret making his voice thick.

Rosen did not dispute this, and Keller's face turned red with the effort to keep from crying.

'You were in Washington?' Jeffrey asked the man, but it was his wife who answered.

She explained, 'Brian's working on a very complicated grant application right now.'

Keller shook his head, like it was nothing. 'What does it mean now?' he asked no one in particular. 'All that wasted time and for what?'