about you passing along your little ‘reminders.’”
He turned to me. “We could give ’em some privacy, couldn’t we, Detective? Make arrangements to make sure no officers interfere with the little block party?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Since Griffin’s business was run out of a post office box, releasing his residential address really might cause a bit of a stir with the neighbors and victims’ family members.
When Griffin didn’t reply, Ralph reflectively patted the top of one of the overstuffed chairs. “I may show up too. Bring the mini-weenies. I always like a good party.”
“Okay,” Timothy grumbled. “Alright. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
“I appreciate that very much, Mr. Griffin.”
Ralph nodded toward Mallory. “Good day, ma’am.”
Once we were back in the car I said to Ralph, “Mini-weenies?”
“They’re good with mustard and ranch dressing. What did you see in the hall?”
“The Albert Fish letter, but it’s what I found in the bedroom that really caught my attention.”
“And that was?”
I started the car. “Griffin sold Hayes the handcuffs. Colleen Hayes.”
“Colleen?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. And how do we know that?”
I told him about the receipts. Ralph wasn’t familiar with the Oswald case. I filled him in on what I knew.
Then, since there wasn’t a car phone in this vehicle, I radioed the local dispatcher and asked her to put a call through to my adviser at Marquette and let him know I wouldn’t be at the lecture this afternoon and to see if he could request that Dr. Werjonic leave a photocopy of his lecture notes in the Criminology and Law Studies graduate office. I could pick them up later this evening and hopefully carve out some time to review them before tomorrow’s class. I gave her the number.
When I got off the radio I had an idea. “Ralph, the Waukesha County Sheriff Department is just a couple miles off the interstate. What do you say we swing by and see who the arresting officers were in the Oswald case?”
“Yeah, and maybe check the chain of custody for the evidence. Whoever had access to the Oswald evidence might have had access to the cuffs.”
I aimed the car for the highway. “I like the way you think, Agent Hawkins. For a fed, that is.”
“You’re doing alright yourself, for a detective. At least so far.”
“So far?”
“Yeah, but just don’t get in my way.”
It sounded like he was joking, I knew he was joking, but when I glanced at him, I realized I couldn’t quite tell. Not for sure.
25
Plainfield, Wisconsin
It wasn’t even a choice for Carl Kowalski. Not after finding that note in his kitchen. Not after seeing the horrible, horrible thing that Adele’s kidnapper had left for him in the refrigerator.
At first when he walked through the front door and saw the note on the table, he’d thought it might be some kind of sick joke from one of his poker buddies.
But then he’d done what the note told him to do and looked in the refrigerator’s meat/cheese drawer and found Adele’s ring finger with the engagement ring he’d given her four months earlier still encircling the base of it. No. This was not a joke. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
Now he carefully positioned his van on the cemetery’s access road to hide his activity from people who might happen to drive past on the nearby but infrequently used county highway. Then, shielded from view, he removed the shovel from the back of the vehicle.
It wasn’t a large graveyard and wasn’t visited often. He knew this since he was the one who mowed it on weekends. There was really very little chance that he would be interrupted, but if someone did happen to visit, he figured that since he worked the grounds, he’d at least be able to come up with an explanation for why he had the shovel.
But why he was digging up the grave of Miriam Flandry, that was another story entirely. No reasonable explanation for that came to mind.
Carl walked to the fresh grave.
The note had been clear: Dig up Miriam’s corpse. Skin it. Then leave it outside the hardware store where Gein had killed Bernice Worden back in 1957. Even though Carl hadn’t been born at the time, he knew the story, knew what had happened there. Everyone in Plainfield knew the story.
According to the note, if he didn’t do as requested, the person who’d taken Adele was going to skin
But he could try to figure that out later. Right now he had to get to work.
He drove the shovel into the loose soil, dumped it to the side.
If only it didn’t have to be Miriam. But that’s what the note said-it had to be her.
She’d been eighty-one years old when she passed away two days ago. Carl, of course, had been at the funeral. And yes, he knew that now he was desecrating her final resting place, but he told himself that the dead were dead, that you couldn’t really desecrate them, not really. Their souls had gone on to another place. Bones and hair and decaying meat were all that was left.
It sounded crass and unsympathetic, but skinning a corpse was essentially no different than skinning a squirrel, gutting a deer, or carving a turkey. Embalmers and medical examiners did that kind of work on human cadavers all the time.
That’s what Carl told himself.
But still, the thought of peeling the skin off a body that used to be a living, breathing human being with dreams and hopes and heartaches just like him was gut-wrenching. Especially considering who Miriam was, what she had meant to him over the years.
However, the thought of someone doing that to Adele while she was alive was even more horrifying and Carl vowed he was not going to let that happen.
The shoveling was going quickly, faster than he would’ve ever expected, which was good because according to the note, he had until five o’clock-exactly-to dig up the corpse, remove its skin, deliver it to the hardware store and call the kidnapper.
That didn’t give him a lot of time, but the dirt wasn’t packed down yet and, after working on a construction crew for the last ten years, he was used to hard physical labor. He would work as furiously as he had to in order to save Adele.
He threw another shovelful of dirt aside.
Then another.
It shouldn’t be too long before he had her, and after he did, it wasn’t far to the hardware store, so the only thing that might really slow him down was the skinning part. He needed to come up with a way to do that quickly.
So that’s what he thought about as he dug up his recently deceased grandmother’s body.
26
