Paradox (An FBI Thriller Book 22)

by Catherine Coulter

  “They were fine people,” a woman said from an open doorway down the hall. “I’m Susan Sparrow, do come on back.”

  55

  * * *

  Susan Sparrow was a looker, no doubt about that. Her hair was black as a raven’s wing, her eyes brown, her skin a lovely white, and a figure to stop a Mack truck. “Betty buzzed me,” she said. “Do come in, Agent Porto, Chief Christie. My husband and brother-in-law are here, as I’m sure Ms. Chugger told you.”

  Ms. Chugger’s boys, Ty supposed when two men slowly rose to face them. Susan Sparrow said, “Let me introduce you to my husband, Landry Sparrow, and Eric Sparrow, my brother-in-law. And as I already told you, I’m Susan.”

  They shook hands, passed their creds to the three Sparrows. Susan said, “Do sit down and tell us what we can do for you. First, though, how is Gunny?” Susan Sparrow waved them to a lovely gray sofa with a coffee table and three chairs facing it. On the coffee table Ty saw a pile of magazines—the top one Funeral Business Advisor, which sure sounded better, she thought, than, say, Crematorium Weekly.

  Ty sat down and sank into the soft gray leather. “She’s going to be fine. I must tell you, she announced she’s changed her name back to Leigh now, her birth name.”

  Landry Sparrow sat forward in his chair, and said in a clear tenor voice, “Why would she do that? That doesn’t sound like the Gunny we all know.” Ty looked closely at the good-looking man dressed in a gray pinstriped suit and black tie. He was fit, his hair a dark brown with touches of gray at his temples. On the Wowza scale, she put him at an eight.

  Susan said, “It sounds more adult, I guess.”

  Landry shrugged. “Whatever she wants to call herself now, we’re all pleased to hear she’s awake. It was a terrible thing, someone hitting her on the head. Do you know who it was?”

  “Not yet,” Sala said. “Ms. Chugger tells us you oversee your deceased clients in the crematorium oven, Mr. Sparrow? Could you describe the procedure?”

  Susan said quickly, “We have a variety of procedures, rituals, actually, and they vary depending on the client. More than one person is required to see the operations are carried out professionally and with respect. We all take part.”

  “A pity our clients don’t know how well we’re taking care of their corporeal selves.” Eric Sparrow grinned and poured himself a cup of coffee from the antique silver pot on the table. He held up the pot, but there were no takers.

  Landry said, “Our clients are actually the families of the deceased. Only they can truly appreciate how well we take care of their loved one’s corporeal remains.”

  Eric toasted his coffee cup at his brother, still grinning. Unlike Landry, Eric looked like the proverbial bad boy, tough and good-looking—well, tough and a little dangerous-looking, and Ty wondered how efficient he’d be in a bar fight. He wore a slouchy black Hugo Boss jacket over a tight black T-shirt that showed off his muscular chest. Ty knew Hugo Boss, her older brother was an acolyte. Eric had beard scruff on his face and wore his dark hair on the long side. He had a blade of a nose, obviously never broken. His eyes were as dark as his brother’s, his hair nearly the same dark brown. He was too young to have distinguishing gray at his temples. He lounged back in his chair, the coffee cup in his hand, and gave Ty the once-over. He was very thorough. Then he saluted her with his cup. “You’re really a police chief?”

  Ty was tempted to crack her knuckles, but didn’t. She cocked her head at him. “Why do you ask, Mr. Sparrow?”

  “Well, you’re very pretty, for one thing, not at all like Chief Masters, with big feet and hair on his knuckles. Now that’s a man I don’t like to mess with. He beat the crap out of me years ago, and I haven’t forgotten. I deserved it, of course, and he didn’t pull any of his punches. But you, Chief Christie? I’d like to mix it up with you.”

  “Whatever it is you mean by that, Mr. Sparrow, it’s a good bet I’d break your jaw,” Ty said, and gave him a smile, with teeth.

  Eric Sparrow’s dark eyes shined. Before she could belt him or maybe laugh, Landry said, “Now, you were asking about how we care for the remains of the deceased during their cremation? It’s very straightforward. A final, more economical coffin rolls on the conveyor belt into the oven. It is very clean, very efficient. I understand that was the reason Leigh Saks quit, she accidentally saw a cremation, something she was not meant to see.” He paused a moment, frowned. “I guess it hits too close to home for some people, if you know what I mean, particularly for someone like Gunny—Leigh. It is not one of my favorite activities here at the crematorium.”

  Sala said, “As in you can imagine yourself inside the coffin heading into the oven?”

  “That’s right. Some people can’t help it.”

  Eric said, “I usually try to think the deceased deserves it, but you can’t count on that always working.”

  “Eric, stop it.” Susan tried to wipe the smile off her face, but couldn’t. She cleared her throat. “Agent Porto, Chief Christie, we are very pleased Leigh is recovering. Since you’re not asking us about her time here, I imagine your being here has to do with your finding that Star of David belt buckle with the bones at the bottom of Lake Massey.” She paused and looked down at her hands, so tightly clasped in her lap her knuckles were white. “It’s all over town now that the buckle belonged to Mr. Henry LaRoque, and that brings up concerns.”

  Before she could say anything else, Landry said in a clipped, hard voice, “My parents put up with enough sneers and snide comments when the story about that unspeakable crematory in Georgia broke some years ago, but it’s outrageous if you seriously think something like that could happen again. Here. We’re the ones who cremated Mr. Henry, and then you find those bones and Mr. Henry’s belt buckle. So that must mean we don’t really cremate our clients’ deceased loved ones, but instead, we haul them off to Lake Massey and dump them?” He paused a beat, then his voice sharpened, became impassioned. “We respect our calling, as did our parents and our grandparents. We respect what it means to put your faith in someone who will take appropriate care of a person you loved who has died. We always fulfill our contractual and sacred duties, always. We are not insane, Agent, Chief, nor are we stupid, which I’ve always believed is exactly what those people in Georgia were.”

  “Well said, bro,” Eric said, still lounging in the chair like a lizard sunning himself. “Throw in evil, and I’d agree one hundred percent. Even if it was an enemy who died, I wouldn’t chuck his carcass into a lake, though I might sit back and enjoy burning his worthless ass. It should be obvious to you we run a reputable business here. What else do you want to know?”

  Ty said, “Mr. LaRoque’s wake was held here, is that right? The night before his memorial service and his cremation?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Susan said. “Everything was beautifully done. Lulie provided all the edibles for the large group who came to pay their respects and share stories of how he’d touched their lives.”

  Ty asked, “Did you see his body?”

  Eric shook his head. “His coffin was kept closed after he was delivered here by Chief Masters, at his son’s request. Calhoun even arranged for the medical examiner to wrap him tightly in a shroud, a service we normally provide ourselves. There was no reason for anyone, including us, to unwrap him, so for his memorial we simply moved him into a better coffin, a very fancy one that Calhoun insisted on renting—not buying—and closed the lid for the memorial service. Afterward we cremated him immediately because, as you know, there was no preservation.”

  Susan said, “All we can be sure about is that Mr. Henry was not cremated wearing that belt buckle, only the shroud. It wasn’t present in the ashes. We have no more idea than you how the belt buckle got into Lake Massey. I would have thought Leigh was mistaken about seeing it, but then someone attacked her, leaving no doubt at all.” She leaned forward, her eyes never leaving their faces. “There is no reason to believe we were involved in any of this.”

  Landry said, “How did Leigh see
the belt buckle?”

  Ty couldn’t think of a single reason not to tell them all of it, and she did.

  Susan was blinking rapidly when she finished. “Gun—Leigh remembered this so clearly? She actually said she saw him polishing the belt buckle? The Star of David belt buckle? But how is that possible? I mean, Gunny—Leigh—was always sweet and kind, and she tried so hard. But it took her time to even get her thoughts in order. For her to recount what happened five years ago? In such detail?”

  56

  * * *

  Ty said, “Unlike you, we didn’t know Leigh before she woke up from surgery. We know she was thought of as simple before she was struck down, but when she came out of anesthesia, she was able to tell her story quite clearly. You’ll be more than a little surprised at how well she’s recovering.”

  Landry raised a patrician eyebrow but said nothing.

  Susan Sparrow fiddled with the pearls around her neck, a single beautifully matched strand. “I’ve known Leigh for as long as I’ve lived in Haggersville, and she was always the same, sweet and very pretty, but you had to be patient.”

  Eric said, “What I want to know is exactly what she might have said about the belt buckle to freak out the person who killed Mr. Henry enough to try to stop her?”

  Ty said, “As I said, all she recounted was that Mr. Henry told her the belt buckle was unique, that when he polished it, it gave him wonderful memories of an earlier event in his life, one he cherished and loved to revisit. There’s probably a lot more to that story. He swore her to secrecy before she left. She wasn’t to tell anyone, even her mother.”

  Landry said, “But why would Mr. Henry want the belt buckle to be kept secret? Did he steal it from some museum?”

  “We don’t know,” Sala said. “Not yet.”

  There was a moment of silence, then Eric said, “Do you know what I remember most about Mr. Henry? Everyone loved him. I’ve got to say I don’t like many folk here in Haggersville, but I liked him, too. I still miss the old dude, actually. And the brutal way he died, that flipped everyone out, including me. Someone had a real hard-on for him. It seemed impossible to me anyone hated him that much.”

  “But someone did,” Landry said.

  Ty said, “We’re hoping she’ll remember more under hypnosis.” She found herself watching each of them carefully as she spoke, but saw nothing more than simple interest.

  Sala said, “Mrs. Sparrow, unlike your husband and brother-in-law, you’re not from Haggersville. When did you move here?”

  Susan said, “It’s been what? About six years, Landry?”

  He nodded, smiling at her. “I met you the first time right after you arrived. Remember, at Mario’s Pizza?”

  Eric said, “Bro, I heard you were at Mario’s with Corey Jameson that night.”

  “Shut up, Eric, that’s old news.” Landry turned to Ty and Sala. “It took me fifty-seven days to convince her to marry me. She was a hard sell, especially since every other single man in Haggersville was after her.”

  Eric laughed. “You were lucky I was out of the country or I would have convinced her you were all wrong for her.”

  “Boys, be quiet, both of you.” Susan’s voice was amused.

  Ty said, “Let’s get back on track here. You’ve already considered the possibility people will wonder where all the bones at the bottom of Lake Massey came from.”

  Landry said, “We’re expecting the usual gossip, but no one would seriously think those bones came from here. What makes the most sense to me is a serial killer has been operating in our area over many years, dumping his murdered victims into Lake Massey.”

  Sala said, “The only glitch in the serial killer theory is finding Mr. Henry’s Star of David belt with the bones. Our FBI forensic anthropologist has started DNA testing them. Unfortunately it’s impossible to determine which bones were found closest to the belt buckle, and not far from the dock of Gatewood. We’ll ask Calhoun LaRoque for a sample of his DNA, since he and his father would share the same Y chromosome. Perhaps we’ll get lucky.”

  Eric said, “Let me say it’s impossible his bones will be found. Calhoun LaRoque scattered his father’s ashes at sea.”

  Landry was frowning. “I suppose it’s possible the medical examiner sent us the wrong body. Again, none of us unwrapped him to verify.”

  Sala said, “We’ll question the medical examiner, find out what their procedures were five years ago. It’s a long shot, though.”

  Susan looked at them helplessly, splayed her hands. “What else can we tell you? I assure you we did nothing wrong.” She stood, and suddenly Susan Sparrow looked like a general. “Now, I want to speak to Leigh Saks. I have known her for a very long time—well, I’ve known Gunny for a very long time. She has no reason to distrust me. Perhaps she’ll tell me something she was hesitant to tell you or something she didn’t consider important or simply forgot. It was five years ago. Perhaps I can help us clean up this mess as quickly as possible.”

  All of them rose. Sala said, “Leigh is under guard now. If you wish to see her, Mrs. Sparrow, we’ll follow you. Will either of you gentlemen be coming?”

  Landry shared a look with his brother. “I have some business I must see to.” He walked to his wife, smoothed her eyebrows with his thumbs. “We’re in no way to blame, sweetheart, don’t ever forget that.”

  “I know. But I want this unpleasantness over and done with, Landry. I will not let this family be hurt.”

  “There’s my girl.” Landry said to Ty and Sala, “In case you haven’t noticed, Susan’s a tiger.”

  Eric said, “Since I already dealt with the Baddeckers about their deceased granddad, the service is set, and there’s nothing more to do, I’ll drive Susan to the hospital. Besides, I’d like to see Leigh myself. I’m thinking she sounds like a new, improved version, like someone I might ask out on a date. She’s your age, isn’t she, Susan? Maybe she’d appreciate a younger guy like me rather than a forty-plus old man like my bro here.”

  Landry smiled at his brother and gave him the finger.

  57

  * * *

  HAGGERSVILLE COUNTY HOSPITAL

  WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

  Lulie Saks sat with Andrew Mellon and Dr. Ellis in the family conference room. “Thank you for hearing us out, Dr. Ellis,” she said. “We know Leigh is doing very well and we’re grateful for it, but yesterday you didn’t seem to fully understand how much she’s changed for the better. It frankly seems miraculous. Now that I’ve told you more about her and you’ve spent more time with her, can you tell us whether this will continue? And how it’s possible?” She swallowed. “Will she go back to being like she was?”

  Dr. Ellis said, “No, don’t worry. Leigh will remain the way she is now. I’m sorry if I seemed to dismiss your question yesterday. Leigh was new to me, and so were you. I have to say, she seems quite bright, quite alert, not nearly as you describe her before her head trauma. I’ve discussed this apparent change with our neurologists and can think of only one plausible explanation. She might have been suffering from some form of partial seizure disorder until now. There are subclinical forms that can be hard to recognize, that even her local medical doctors justifiably could have missed.”

  Lulie looked like she’d been shot. She clutched Andrew’s hand, squeezed so tightly her knuckles turned white. “You mean Gunny—Leigh—was having seizures of some kind all these years, and I, her mother, didn’t realize it? Didn’t see it? I accepted she was simple—poor sweet child—and I did nothing when I clearly should have? And her doctors missed it?” Lulie’s voice climbed an octave. “I could have helped her? A simple medicine could have helped her?”

  Dr. Ellis lightly laid his hand over Lulie’s. “You are in no way to blame, Ms. Saks. There was no way you could even tell she was having a seizure. Neither could her doctor. You gave her a fine home, you loved her, helped her.”

  “But I don’t understand. How could this happen?”

  Dr. Ellis said, “We believe some comb
ination of her recent brain trauma, then the surgery and the anti-seizure medication phenytoin, surgeons routinely give after neurosurgery might have stopped them for now. The focus causing the seizures might no longer be active, or at least be isolated. I can’t be more definitive, there’s simply no way I can be certain, but again, this is our best explanation. Our neurologists have recommended the very best medication.

  “I know it seems like a miracle to you, Ms. Saks, and maybe it is. The brain is an extraordinary organ, and we aren’t close to knowing and understanding everything about it, it can behave in mysterious ways. It’s sort of like a supercomputer, very complex, its workings very intricate. As to Leigh’s leap from slow to extremely bright, part of that is most probably your simple shock at seeing the change in her—the focus, the understanding, the ability to speak fluently with no hesitation.”

  Andrew said thoughtfully, “It seems like a veil has been lifted, and we’re now seeing the true person.”

  “Exactly. Also, we believe it’s possible all these years she absorbed information, knowledge, if you will, from other people, from books, television, movies, who knows, but she couldn’t express it with the seizures holding her back. Eidetic memory? Probably not, but an excellent memory nonetheless, excellent retention. Again, there isn’t a scientific precedent for this kind of change, and these are our best explanations. Now you have a daughter who will excel in whatever she chooses to do with her life. She’s a very lucky young woman who has a great deal to look forward to, with your help.” He rose, nodded to Mellon. “Congressman, a pleasure to meet you.” He paused at the door, said to Lulie, “What’s important is what a fine new world is now open to your daughter. There’s no changing the past, but the future?” He smiled. “It’s going to be fabulous for her.”

  * * *

  Romero Diaz was sitting forward in his chair, assessing every tech, every doctor, every nurse who got within spitting distance of Leigh Saks’s room.