Flowering Judas(47)

“Not even when they’ve married?”

“Well, Suzanne’s married. That’s the eldest, I think. The girl. She’s married, and she and her husband have a house in the next block, and the husband works in the business. I guess there are advantages to that kind of thing if you can stand putting up with it. Guaranteed job. Don’t have to worry about unemployment. Don’t have to worry about the down payment, either. As long as you’re willing to stay tied to the umbilical cord, the money will be sitting there waiting. It would drive me nuts, let me tell you about that.”

Gregor thought about it. “The trailer—didn’t you say something about the trailer in the notes you gave me? Isn’t the trailer empty, or something?”

“It’s empty,” Howard said. “It’s been empty ever since Chester disappeared. Charlene pays the rent on it. Keep the home fires burning. Leave a light in the window. Whatever. Just in case he ever came home, she says.”

“Do you know if he went to the trailer on the day he died?”

“Nope,” Howard said, “and in case you’re going to ask, yes, we did go over there. There was no sign of anybody having been around.”

“Would he have been able to get in?”

“You mean, did he have a key he didn’t have to ask Charlene for?” Howard shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s got a key, though. I half think she goes over there and just sits in the place, communing with spirits. Or what she thought was spirits. She was that convinced somebody had killed him. But then, I can’t really see Charlene spending any time in that trailer park. It’s not the kind of thing she’d put up with.”

Gregor was thinking about it some more. “Can we go over and see the place?” he asked. “Would we have to get a warrant? Would Mrs. Morton let us in?”

“Charlene would let us in with bells on,” Howard said, “but maybe she’ll be busy. Then we can get her to just give us the key. When do you want to go?”

“What about right now?”

“You mean drive over there right this minute?”

“Something like that. We should stop and call Mrs. Morton, if she’s the one we need permission from, and the key—”

“Give me a second,” Howard said.

He punched something on his dashboard, and Gregor suddenly realized that the car was set up to make it possible to dial, talk, and drive all at the same time when Howard Androcoehlo said, “Charlene Morton,” very loudly, and the car was suddenly filled with touch-tone beeps.

“Neat, isn’t it,” Howard said.

“More of that stimulus money?”

“Absolutely,” Howard said. “I loved that stimulus money, I really did. It had to go to law enforcement, we used it for law enforcement, but it’s not like we needed more cops on the street or more clerks in the office. We even got ourselves a SWAT team, and I don’t know what we’re ever going to use it for. For terrorists, it’s supposed to be. Any terrorist who finds himself in Mattatuck is lost.”

What had been the vague background buzz of a ringing phone suddenly became a voice, a harsh and low voice. “Morton Rubbish Removal,” the voice said.

“Hello, Kay,” Howard said, “this is Howard Androcoelho. Is Charlene around somewhere I can talk to her?”

Gregor took another look at the road. It had moderate traffic. Howard seemed to be able to concentrate on it. Gregor told himself it would be all right—he needed to use Tony for these things; he didn’t like the way Howard Androcoelho drove—and took his own cell phone out. He punched Bennis’s speed dial number in and waited. He got the answering machine.

“Hey,” he said. Then he wondered why he’d said it. He never said things like “hey.” “Bennis, listen. I suppose you’re out doing something with tiles or wallpaper. I’ve got a problem. Do you think you could find out for me if the New York State Police have some kind of service to provide autopsy help for small towns without their own full-time medical examiners? I don’t know what to call this, but I remember Connecticut does it. It’s just—we could use some serious forensics up here and I’m not going to get that kind of thing from the town of Mattatuck. Call me back and tell me what you find. And give me an update on old George.”

Gregor slid his phone closed. He saw that Howard Andocoelho was staring at him.

“You want to bring the state police in on this?” he said, incredulous.

“Not really,” Gregor said. “There are some states, Connecticut is one of them, where the state police provide help with things like forensics for towns too small to have their own permanent, full-time systems. I was hoping we could get a qualified pathologist to look at that body and explain a few things to me.”