Part 17 (2/2)

Near the end of the report, a small statement caught Avery's attention and made her stand up from the desk.

When he locked himself in the attic, Roosevelt carried two things with him: a lighter and a small can of gasoline from beneath the patio where the lawnmower was kept.

Bingo, Avery thought.

She gathered up the files and thumbed in the number for Everett Brothers Crematorium. She was out her door and headed down the hallways toward the parking garage before the phone had even started ringing.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

Avery could see right away that Charles Everett was uneasy with a detective stepping into his place of business. Avery didn't quite understand this, as it was a beautiful building that didn't have that morbid sort of feel that had saturated Wallace Funeral Home. She tried to remind herself that it was only 8:40 in the morning when she stepped into his office and that this was probably not the way he wanted to start his day.

”Thanks for meeting with me on short notice,” Avery said.

”It's not a problem,” he said. ”But I have to admit...I was hoping I'd go the rest of my life without hearing the name of Roosevelt Toms. Everyone around here always called him Rosie for short...something he hated and I found sort of off-putting. Because there was nothing rosy about him.”

”Can you tell me a little bit about him?”

”Well, my brother hired him and he's been deceased for five years now, G.o.d rest his soul. But I originally saw some of the same things in Rosie that he did. He was a hard worker and seemed to genuinely care about the bodies that came through here. Also, if we were in a pinch and needed someone to work the floor during memorial services, he was great at consoling people. But if I'm being honest...there was always something about him that never sat right with me. He was one of those people that just sort of started to creep you out after you spent a lot of time with him.”

”How so?” Avery asked.

”I don't know, exactly. He'd sometimes have this blank stare, like he was thinking really hard about something that he didn't want you to know about. And there were times when I'd catch him just staring at the deceased...not in a sad way but...I don't know. It was almost the same way a curious middle school kid would look at a toad just before they put it on the dissection tray. You know what I mean?”

Or like a cat in Phillip Bailey's bas.e.m.e.nt, Avery thought. It was a little alarming how these sorts of people were starting to link themselves together in her head.

”And why was he fired?” Avery asked. ”The only explanation I have is professional difference of opinion from that of the owners.”

”It was the strangest thing...whenever he got the chance, he'd actively try to talk our clients out of cremation. He told them burial was a more natural way to respect the bodies. He was very pa.s.sionate about it.”

That's a new avenue to consider, she thought. Someone using fire as more than a weapon, but almost like a spiteful punishment-someone who doesn't necessarily like fire.

”Any idea why he started doing this?” Avery asked.

”No idea. But it got annoying. He'd even start lecturing us about it. And one day it was just too much. We let him go.”

”And did he get hostile about your decision to fire him?”

”Not at all,” Charles said. ”In fact, it was all rather civil. He even called and apologized several months later.”

”But you said there was nothing rosy about him,” Avery said.

”I did. Even in that phone call where he tried apologizing, he had this way of just getting under your skin. His voice was flat and monotone. And it seemed like an act-like he was hiding something from us and was taking a great deal of pleasure from it.”

Maybe he wanted back in, Avery thought. Maybe something about fire drew him back...maybe he realized this sort of workplace could greatly benefit whatever skewed plans he was forming.

”Mr. Everett, do you know where I might be able to find Roosevelt Toms? We have no current residence on file.”

”The last address I have for him is the apartment he used to live in. But I know for a fact he moved out of that shortly before he was fired from here.”

Avery thought about the information in the file. She thought about the man Charles Everett had just described to her, climbing into the attic with a lighter and gasoline. That scene, coupled with what she had just learned about him, made her think that she might finally be on the right trail.

”What about next of kin or emergency contacts?” Avery asked.

”Yes, I can get those for you but keep in mind, they're going to be at least four years old.”

”That will be fine for a start. Thanks, Mr. Everett.”

”Of course,” he said as he started tapping at keys on his laptop. He worked quickly, giving Avery casual glances as he worked. It took him less than thirty seconds to get the information he needed. When it was on his screen, he printed a copy out on an old printer that hummed on a shelf behind the desk. He grabbed the single sheet of paper and handed it to Avery.

”Here you go,” he said. ”I hope it helps.” He paused for a moment with a thoughtful look on his face and asked:”Can I ask you something, Detective?”

”Of course.”

”I saw something on the news last night...a story about a killer that seemed to be burning his victims, some to the point of near cremation. Is Rosie being eyed in this?”

”I'm afraid I can't discuss case details with you,” Avery said.

”Ah, I understand,” Charles said. But there was an understanding in his eyes, letting her know that the template answer she had given had, in fact, answered his question. ”Best of luck to you on the case.”

”Thanks.”

She excused herself from the office, holding the paper tightly. As she exited Everett Brothers Crematorium, she didn't realize how suffocated she had felt until she was back out in the fresh air. Even though the place had been airy, clean, and mostly cheerful, Avery hoped she would never have to step foot into another funeral home or crematorium until it was her own body lying on the slab.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

The address Avery had been given was for a woman named Debbie Toms, listed as mother on the emergency contacts form Charles Everett had given her. The house was in a middle-cla.s.s part of town. The front was surrounded with modest flower beds, and a small birdbath sat in the side yard.

Avery knocked on the door for five minutes and got no answer. She had no solid ages to do math with but figured there was a good chance that Debbie had not yet retired and was working a job. She made the call to A1 for a.s.sistance and was asked to hold while the receptionist transferred the call.

She was beyond surprised when Ramirez answered the page. When she heard his voice, she froze for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

”Hey,” she finally said.

”Hey yourself,” he said. ”What do you need?”

<script>