The Debt Collector

by Chris Taylor

  “Yes. Lowrey fell into the path of a truck about six weeks ago. Sutton was found dead in a stairwell three weeks later.”

  “Who did the PMs?”

  Lane scrolled the cursor back through the report. “Doctor Charles Venutti.”

  “I see.”

  Samantha’s measured response piqued Lane’s interest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. What do you need to know?”

  “Sutton’s autopsy listed the official cause of death as being from a brain hemorrhage. His blood alcohol reading was well off the charts. He apparently fell down the stairs and hit his head. Lowrey had similar pathology. I’m wondering if the pathologist ever considered the affect the alcohol would have had on the ability of these men to walk, let alone anything else.”

  “Give me a minute and I’ll pull up the report. Do you have full names and dates of birth?”

  Lane gave her the information. He heard the clicking sound of keys on a keyboard. A few moments later, Samantha sighed.

  “You’re right. These guys should have been passed out on a sidewalk, not crossing streets and climbing stairs. That should have been noted in the report as an abnormality.”

  Lane frowned. “Why do you think it wasn’t?”

  Samantha sighed again. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the thing is, Charles has been struggling through some personal issues the last couple of months. I’m not sure that his head or his heart is focused on the job. The boss has suggested he take some personal leave, but Charles has insisted his family troubles aren’t having an impact on his work.” She paused and then added, “It looks like that’s not the case. I wonder how many more there are. We’re going to have to review all his cases…”

  Her voice drifted off. Lane could only imagine the additional workload such a thing would cause her and the other forensic pathologists who worked at the Glebe Morgue. Still, she’d managed to give credence to his theory that Edward Sutton might not have climbed the steps alone. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to consider he might have also received assistance on the way down.

  Such a possibility wouldn’t have seemed worthy of so much consideration if there wasn’t a life insurance policy floating around. Five-hundred-thousand dollars was a lot of money. A lot of reasons to do away with someone. Especially if you were confident you could get away with it. What better victim to target than a man who was homeless and presumably without a supportive family network?

  A sudden thought occurred to him. “Who took delivery of the body?” he asked.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll check.”

  Lane heard more keys clacking and then Samantha spoke again. “He’s still here.”

  Lane frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s still in the fridge.”

  Lane started in surprise. “Really? Isn’t that unusual?”

  “A little,” Samantha admitted, “but if the deceased has no next of kin or other family to claim the body, it remains here much longer. Sutton only came in three weeks ago. If he has no one around to retrieve his body from the morgue, we’ll keep him here until someone comes forward.”

  “For how long?” Lane asked, intrigued.

  “It can be as long as six months. The police look at his personal records, for example, bank accounts, tax records and the like, to establish if there is any next of kin.”

  “What happens then, if no one comes forward?”

  “He becomes what we call a destitute case. The state pays for a burial or a cremation. It’s organized by the police. The body’s removed by the contracted funeral director.”

  “I hate to ask this of you, Samantha, but is it possible you could redo the autopsy? I’m curious about Sutton’s wounds. Along with the fractured skull, Venutti’s report referenced several other broken bones and contusions. I’m curious about what you might make of them.”

  “Are you suspecting foul play, Detective?”

  Lane considered her question and then answered honestly. “At this stage, I’m not sure, but someone took out a life insurance policy on at least one of our guys. If nothing else, it provides that someone with motive.”

  “But wouldn’t that someone come forward and claim the body?” Samantha asked. “To claim on the life insurance policy they’ll need a death certificate and in order to get one of those, they’ll have to provide evidence that they’re related to the deceased, or somehow otherwise entitled to it, if they’re not. Not everybody has the right to apply. Having proof that they claimed the body for burial would aid their application if the person processing it was less than diligent and took the information at face value. Do you know if a claim’s been made on the policy?”

  “Not yet. I haven’t gone that far with my enquires. I wanted to talk to you first about the autopsy report and whether my suspicions might be justified. If the death continues to be ruled accidental, then the investigation comes to an end.”

  Samantha sighed. “Okay, okay. I hear you. I’ll reschedule the PM as soon as I can.”

  Lane was filled with gratitude and relief. “Thank you, Samantha. I really appreciate it. If your conclusion concurs with Venutti’s, I’ll have wasted your time and for that, I’ll be sorry.”

  “You’re just being thorough, Detective and I respect that. If there’s a chance this poor guy could have been murdered, homeless or not, he deserves for us to know the truth.”

  Once again, Lane was filled with gratitude. “Thank you for your understanding, Samantha. It makes things a little easier knowing we’re both on the same side.”

  “You’re just doing your job, Lane. Too bad everyone isn’t as devoted to the cause.”

  She said it lightly, but Lane was certain she was referring to her colleague and the additional work he’d now generated. While Lane sympathized, he was relieved she’d agreed to do the post mortem again.

  A sudden thought occurred to him. “Can a funeral director apply for a death certificate on behalf of the family?”

  “Yes, of course. It often happens that way. The funeral director does it as part of his service to the family. It’s done for compassionate reasons, so that the family doesn’t have to fill in the blanks on the form. Naturally, there’s an additional fee involved.”

  “What happens to the certificate once it’s been received by the funeral home?”

  “It’s handed over to the family or, in the case where a lawyer has been engaged to administer the estate, it would be delivered to the legal counsel.”

  Lane absorbed her information and nodded to himself. After thanking her again and asking her to pass on his best wishes to Rohan, he ended the call. Leaning back, he blew out his breath. A moment later, he pushed back his chair and strode down the short corridor to his boss’ office. Detective Superintendent Bruce Mitchell looked up as Lane entered.

  “Lane, you’re looking a little disheveled. Another bad night with the twins?”

  The question was asked matter-of-factly and Lane knew Mitchell wasn’t looking for a response. The superintendent was a damned good cop, but he had little time or interest in chit chat.

  “What can I do for you?” he added.

  “I had a call from my brother. He’s a doctor at the Sydney Harbour Hospital.”

  Mitchell shot him a look and Lane got to the point. “My brother has some concerns about the deaths of two employees of a funeral home in Balmain. In particular, the most recent death of Edward Sutton, which occurred about three weeks ago.”

  Mitchell frowned. “People die all the time. What’s so special about these two?”

  Lane held his gaze. “For a start, the deaths occurred only three weeks apart and both of them were ruled accidental.”

  “How did they die?”

  “One stepped off a road into the path of a semi. The other one fell down the stairs. I’ve pulled up the files and looked at the autopsy reports. I’ve found enough discrepancies to raise a few questions, including the existence of a life insurance policy on one of the men
. The policy was owned by the nephew of the owner of the funeral home where the men worked.”

  Lane drew in a breath and continued. “I’ve spoken to Samantha Coleridge at the morgue. She concurred the initial findings for both men might not be accurate.” Lane grimaced. “They’re having a few staffing problems of their own, if you get my drift. Fortunately for us, Edward Sutton is still at the morgue. She’s agreed to redo the post mortem.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “He was buried six weeks ago. It will take a court order to have his body exhumed.”

  “And a lot more evidence of foul play,” Mitchell said dryly.

  “Yes, sir. If Samantha’s findings contradict Edward Sutton’s earlier autopsy report and she indicates the death wasn’t accidental, together with the life insurance policy, it should be enough to commence a formal investigation into both of the deaths. Christopher Lowery was the first employee to die. I haven’t yet made any enquires about the existence of an insurance policy connected to him, but if Samantha finds Sutton was murdered, it will be the first thing on my list.”

  Mitchell nodded thoughtfully. “Where did these deaths occur?” Mitchell asked.

  “Darlinghurst,” Lane replied, mentioning the inner-city suburb.

  Mitchell shook his head. “Not our jurisdiction. Get the boys in the city on it. I’m sure they have nothing better to do,” he added with a wry smile.

  “Boss, I’d rather look into this myself, if I could. My younger brother works for the funeral home. He’s a little naïve as far as people go and trusts way too easily. He told a colleague that during a standard medical arranged by his boss, the examining doctor mentioned the reason for the visit was for insurance purposes. On top of what we know, it seems a little strange. I want to make sure nothing untoward is going on.”

  Mitchell frowned. “I thought you said your brother was a doctor?”

  “That’s another one. I have three of them.”

  Mitchell smiled briefly. The action took years off his face. “Three brothers,” he murmured a little wistfully. “That must have been boisterous.”

  Unused to his boss making personal comments, Lane didn’t reply. A moment later, Mitchell heaved a sigh. “What is it you want from me, Lane?”

  Lane drew in a deep breath and plunged in. “I understand this isn’t the kind of case we usually devote our time to, but we’re pretty quiet in the office at the moment. I promise, if something comes in, I’ll put this aside right away. I just want to dig a little deeper, ask a few more questions. Something about this whole thing doesn’t sit right. Two deaths in less than a month, both of them strangely similar and both ruled accidental. Both men were drifters, with no family or fixed abode. Then there’s the question of life insurance. Besides, the city boys are always run off their feet. They might not get to this for weeks.”

  Mitchell stared at him a moment longer and then gave a brisk nod. “All right, Lane. Why you care whether a couple of homeless drunks fell or were pushed is beyond me, but have it your way. It sounds like these deaths might need further investigation. Just don’t let it interfere with your real work.”

  Lane grinned. “Thanks, boss. I appreciate your support. I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mitchell grumbled. “Don’t go out of your way. I have plenty more serious issues to concern myself with.”

  Lane headed back to his desk, filled with anticipation. Until he received Samantha’s autopsy report, there was no proof anything illegal had occurred, but his cop senses were humming. He was sure the report would indicate foul play. Added to his innate desire to see justice served and remove a possible murderer off the street, there was the added urgency to this: His brother now worked at the funeral home. Lane needed to find out what was going on.

  He hadn’t been lying to his boss when he told him Toby trusted way too easily. He had the mental capacity of a ten-year-old. He relied on other people—and his family, in particular, to look out for him and Lane intended to put every effort into discovering what had gone down the night Edward Sutton died at the bottom of the stairs. If the evidence went the way his gut was telling him it would, Christopher Lowrey’s death would receive his full attention.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hannah removed the trocar and tubing from the man who lay pale and still on the table and carried it, along with the suction pump, back to the sink.

  “Are you ready for this?” Toby asked, holding up a jar of embalming fluid from the other side of the room.

  “Yes, thanks. Can you bring it over to the table and make a start? I really need to use the bathroom.”

  Toby nodded, smiling brightly. It had been nearly a month since he’d started and his enthusiasm for the job hadn’t waned. As he’d become more and more confident, Hannah gave him additional responsibilities. Soon, he’d be competent enough to attend to the embalming from start to finish on his own. Her job as mentor would be done.

  She let herself out of the embalming room and headed down the short corridor to the staff restroom, her thoughts still on Toby. He was an easy student. Quick to learn and eager to please. He asked questions when he didn’t understand something and never presumed he knew more than he did. It was a refreshing change from most of the assistants she’d had in the past.

  Even Christopher and Edward had suffered from misplaced confidence. She remembered the time Edward had injected the wrong chemical into a body, mistaking it for formaldehyde. Though there was no harm done and Hannah was able to overcome the error, it was fortunate their clients weren’t relying on her assistants to save their lives.

  But Toby wasn’t like that. He listened and observed and only attempted tasks once he was sure he knew what he was doing. He showed genuine care and respect for the people they labored over and for Hannah that was the most important thing.

  With a flush of the toilet and a wash of her hands, she returned to the embalming room and stood by and watched while Toby injected liquid into the body cavities. Quietly and competently, he went about the task until it was finished. Setting the jar of liquid aside, he stared with fondness down at the man laid out before them.

  “He sure had a decent head of hair,” he commented with a rueful smile.

  Hannah smiled back at him. Kevin Lamb was a man in his eighties who still sported a mass of tangled, white curls. The formaldehyde had begun to work its magic and had brought a little fullness to his cheeks. Tastefully applied makeup would have him looking as good as if he were asleep.

  It would be a balm to the spirit of his loved ones, to see him looking so at peace. It was the kind of outcome she strove for every time she pulled on her gloves and it warmed her through and through to know that she’d found a kindred spirit in Jacob’s twin.

  At the thought of Jacob, her thoughts sobered. It had been two weeks since the evening at his apartment when he’d filled her in about prison and Bobby, and she hadn’t heard from him. Not that she expected to. After making it clear she could never forgive and forget, she didn’t presume to hear from him again. Though she’d given Toby a prepaid cell phone for his birthday and assumed he continued to speak with his twin, the communication between her and his brother had come to an abrupt halt.

  It annoyed her to realize she accepted the reality of the situation with mixed emotions. On one level, she was relieved not to have to face Jacob again and deal with the hurt and anger and disappointment his presence seemed to bring. Then again, there had been something so lovely about being with him and knowing that he cared. It had been more than a decade since she’d felt cared for by a man.

  “Why are you frowning, Hannah? Have I done something wrong?”

  Toby’s question snapped her back to the present. She blinked and noticed his concerned expression and hurried to reassure him.

  “No, of course not. You’re doing great. Kevin is lucky to have you attend to him today. You’re doing him and his family proud.”

  Toby looked relieved. “Thank you, Hannah. You say the ni
cest things, but why are you frowning if I’m doing everything right?”

  Hannah’s shoulders slumped on a sigh. What could she say to him? Her dark thoughts were about his twin. The two brothers might have been estranged for a long time, but it had been obvious to Hannah each time she saw them together how much they cared about each other.

  “N-nothing,” she stammered, choosing to remain silent.

  “Jake told me you paid him a visit a couple of weeks ago and you had an argument,” Toby said, surprising her. “Why don’t you like him?”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. She couldn’t believe Jacob had discussed her with his twin. Then again, they were twins. Now that they’d found each other again, they probably told each other everything.

  “Who… Who says I don’t like him?” she replied, buying time.

  “No one, but when I asked Jake if he’d come around for dinner again, he told me about the argument. He said you found it hard to be his friend.”

  Toby glanced up at her and then quickly averted his gaze. “It’s because of what happened in high school, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

  Hannah was stricken with panic. What was she going to say? She couldn’t very well explain her anger with Jacob to his twin. It wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t Toby’s fault that his twin had made a stupid, fatal decision that ended another man’s life. She wouldn’t burden him with such guilt or even assume he’d understand.

  “N-no, of course not,” she stammered and then flushed with shame. He was an innocent, a friend. He deserved better. He looked at her again, his expression uncertain and confused, adding to her guilt.

  “Are you sure? Because Jake said—”

  “Let’s hurry up and get finished,” she interrupted, all of a sudden feeling panicked at the thought of hearing what else Jacob might have said. “We have another two clients waiting in the fridge.”

  Toby immediately lowered his gaze and crimson flooded his cheeks. Hannah felt awful at her rudeness, but she wasn’t prepared to talk about it a minute longer. She didn’t want to soften her attitude toward Toby’s brother. At the same time, her heart ached at what Jacob had endured during his incarceration. She was sure there were many more occasions when he’d been attacked or subjected to other forms of violence. Everything she’d seen and heard and read about prison pointed to the institution being a violent and dangerous place. Nobody came out of that kind of environment without enduring scars—physical and emotional.