29

I WAS LOCKING UP THE KARMANN GHIA IN THE CORONER’S OFFICE PARKING lot when my attention was drawn to a long black car. One of the tinted back windows was rolled down a few inches. At first glance, I thought it was a hearse, but hearses don’t pull up to the front parking lot of a coroner’s office, and in general, the occupant of the back half of a hearse doesn’t need fresh air. As I looked closer, I saw that it was a limo. One big enough to spit in the eye of the energy crisis, sitting there with its engine running.

A big, well-dressed man I guessed to be in his late thirties or early forties came out of the coroner’s office and headed for the limo. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his muscular build stretched the fabric of his suit. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. He had dark hair except for a white streak near his forehead-not so prominent that he couldn’t have hidden it, but he had apparently parted his hair in such a way as to make sure that it showed.

The tinted window slid down, and a silver-haired man looked out, and they exchanged a few words I couldn’t hear. The tinted window rolled up, and the big man went around to the other side of the car and stepped in. As it drove off, I caught a glimpse of its blue and gold vanity plates: YEAGER.

It dawned on me that the old man must be Kyle’s adoptive father: Mitch Yeager.

I walked into the coroner’s office with a dozen new questions in mind.

The dragon at the front desk did not believe that the Express would hire a woman reporter, even after I produced my press credentials. If Lefebvre hadn’t walked into the building around that time, she might have sold me to a circus before I had a chance to talk to the coroner.

He took in the situation at once and said, “It’s all right. Ms. Kelly can come back with me.”

Something in his voice or demeanor subdued her. Still, she made him wait until she had pinned a visitor’s badge on me.

“Thanks, Phil,” I said to him when we were on the other side of a door leading into a wide hallway.

“She’s a pain in the ass. But she’s a favorite with the coroner, Dr. Woolsey. And I should warn you-unlike most people in his profession, he has absolutely no sense of humor.”

I noticed Lefebvre was carrying a big envelope. “The case file on the Ducanes?” I asked.

“No, just their dental X rays. We’ve had them since just after they disappeared.”

“You found that old file pretty fast.”

He smiled. “I knew where to look.”

I made an educated guess. “Norton had it at home.”

He gave a soft laugh. “And how would you know something like that?”

“In Bakersfield, I got to know a few of the guys on the PD. I heard stories of things like this happening-not just there, but in lots of departments. A detective gets haunted by a case, latches on to it in a personal way. He takes things home. Sometimes, the files end up in an attic or a storage locker.”

“Yes. If we’re lucky, we get the files back before his widow throws them out. You dated someone in that department?”

“No,” I said, surprised into answering. I started to say more, thought better of it, and kept my mouth shut. A simple “no” was the truth, after all.

Lefebvre didn’t comment. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he hadn’t read something in my body language or on my face.

“About the file,” I said, trying to steer the conversation to safer topics. “This case bothered Norton?”

“Oh yes. Just like it bothered O’Connor. Norton said O’Connor and Corrigan never let up on him about this one. Luckily for me, the stories about Max Ducane-the recent ones-had spurred Dan’s interest, and he had already pulled the old file out again.”

Matt Arden stepped into the hallway. He didn’t hide his surprise when he saw us together, but came forward. “You have the X rays?” he asked Lefebvre.

“Yes.”

Matt held a hand out, but Lefebvre didn’t give the envelope to him.

“Ms. Kelly would like to speak with Dr. Woolsey,” Lefebvre told him.

“I’m sure she would,” Arden said irritably. “But he’s busy checking up on the guy doing the X rays on the remains.”

“Really, Detective Arden?” I said. “I thought he was busy talking to Mr. Yeager.”

I had the satisfaction of seeing that I had now surprised Matt Arden twice in less than five minutes.

Lefebvre frowned. “Mitch Yeager is here?”

“No, just one of his nephews,” Arden said. “Was. He left a few minutes ago. The younger one.”

“Ian,” Lefebvre said.

“You two know his kids by name?” I asked.

Lefebvre hesitated, then said, “Neither of them has criminal records, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not what I’m asking-”

“Well, that’s all I’m telling.”

“Whatever,” Arden said impatiently. “But how Miss Kelly knows he was here-”

“Mitch Yeager was here, too,” I said. “I saw him out front. He waited in his limo while his nephew came in.”

“What were they doing here?” Lefebvre asked.

“You think Woolsey told me?” Arden snapped. “You know what he’s like.”

Lefebvre’s gaze became distant, as if he was puzzling out a problem.

“I don’t like it, either,” said Arden. “But I can’t keep the coroner from meeting with a citizen.”

“If the child’s remains you found in that blanket are those of Max Ducane,” I asked, “the supposedly kidnapped baby, I mean-does that change what happens to Kyle Yeager?”

“That will depend on the terms of the trust,” Lefebvre said.

A door opened and a gray-haired man wearing a dark blue suit stepped into the hallway.

Lefebvre turned toward him. “Dr. Woolsey, let me introduce you to-”

“Yes, Irene Kelly,” he said abruptly. “My receptionist tracked me down to say you were bringing a reporter back here.”

“I suspect she said he was bringing a woman reporter back here,” I said, extending a hand.

Despite Lefebvre’s warning about his sense of humor, he smiled and shook my hand. “Yes, but she didn’t mention that he’d be bringing such a pretty one. What can I do for you, Miss Kelly?”

I inwardly cringed, but I’m fairly sure I kept my reaction to the comment on my looks to myself. I smiled back at him and said, “I’m hoping to learn whatever I can about the remains that were found in the car today. I was there when they were found, so-”

“Ahh. What a relief. I’m pleased to know Detective Lefebvre hasn’t lost all sense of what we ought to be revealing to the press.”

“Without Ms. Kelly’s help, we wouldn’t have suspected that these might be the Ducanes,” Lefebvre said.

“Detective Lefebvre hasn’t discussed anything I didn’t see for myself,” I said quickly. “I’m hoping you can tell me more.”

Woolsey smiled at me again. “We’re in the early stages of our proceedings, I’m afraid. I really have nothing definite to say about the three individuals at this point.”

“You’re sure there are three?”

“Oh yes-well, that much I can say. An adult female, an adult male, and an infant. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to speak with the detectives-”

“Just one other question,” I said. “What is the interest of the Yeager family in this matter?”

He shot an angry look at Matt Arden, who said, “Don’t blame me. She saw Mitch Yeager outside.”

Woolsey glanced uneasily at Lefebvre, then studied me for a moment before saying, “I suppose I should simply ask you to talk to Mr. Yeager himself. His visit was out of concern for his adopted son, Kyle. But I was unable to give the Yeager family any more information than I’ve given you.”

I thought about the lack of rapport between Woolsey and O’Connor, whose nickname for the coroner was Old Sheep Dip, and decided this was not the time to play hardball. One of us needed to be able to talk to him. “When will more information be available?”

“I have the Ducanes’ dental records for you,” Lefebvre said.