Bone Box Read online

  “This is a homicide. It’s better if I handle it.” The phone rang and then disconnected. “Hmm . . .” Decker said. “That’s not good. Does he list a number for his parents?”

  “You know, he does.” After putting in the numbers, Riggins gave the handset to Decker.

  “Thank you.”

  “If this guy is missing or dead, I’m definitely not talking to his parents.”

  “Good thinking.”

  The phone machine kicked in.

  Hello, you’ve reached the Pettigrews. Please leave a name and number and we’ll call you back as soon as we can.

  Beep.

  Again Decker left his name, rank, and serial number without specifying the reason for a phone call from the police. If Lawrence Pettigrew was alive, there was no sense in alarming anyone. And if he had been missing, the parents would know exactly why he had made contact.

  As they left the colleges, Decker heard a small voice calling out, “Detectives!” They both turned around to find a winded Arianna Root trying to catch up with them. She waved. They waved back. When she finally reached the two of them, she held out her hand asking silently for a minute to catch her breath.

  “Take your time,” Decker said.

  “Is there . . .” Pant, pant, pant. “Is there a place where we could talk privately?”

  McAdams said, “We have a few private rooms at the police station.”

  She waved the suggestion off. “I was thinking like a café.”

  Decker looked at his watch. It was almost twelve. “How about Bagelmania? It’s just a block or two from where we are.”

  “That’s fine.” She held her side as she walked. “Do you know for sure that you found Lawrence Pettigrew?”

  “No idea,” Decker said, looking at the girl. “You knew him.”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jason and Quentin.”

  “Fair enough,” Decker said. They reached the café and everyone sat down. McAdams took their order while Decker pulled out a notepad.

  “When was the last time you saw Lawrence?”

  “Around five years ago.”

  “Was Pettigrew a he or a she?”

  “He was dressing like a woman and he was taking hormones. Whether he actually went through with the surgery?” She shrugged. “I just ran into him. He recognized me before I recognized him. He told me he was glad that I decided to come here. He said he hoped that I was happy. I told him I was.”

  “How was his affect?”

  “He’s always friendly. He did seem preoccupied, though. I asked him if he wanted to get coffee and chat, but he said he was in a rush. We left it at that.”

  “Can you back it up a little? How did you meet him?”

  “At the Christopher Street Gay Pride Fete seven years ago when I was doing my college tour. I wanted to experience the different LGBTQ centers. I wasn’t out yet, but I knew what I was.”

  McAdams came back with the bagels and coffee. He passed the food and cutlery around and then sat down.

  Decker said, “She originally met Pettigrew at the gay pride fete seven years ago, but she also saw him about five years ago. She ran into him. He was taking hormones and dressing like a woman, but he hadn’t undergone sex reassignment.” He turned to Arianna. “Did I get that right?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Was Lawrence still calling himself Lawrence?” McAdams asked.

  “He introduced himself as the former Lawrence Pettigrew. He was now calling himself Lorraine Pettigrew.”

  Decker said, “Is the name Lorraine Pettigrew on the list?”

  “Let me check.”

  “I’ll send something out over the wire using both names.” Decker turned to Arianna. “Tell me about this Christopher Street fete where you met him. Obviously Lawrence made an impression on you.”

  “He was dressed in drag, but that was no big deal. A lot of the guys were in drag. The costumes are outrageous: chaps with no underwear, feather headdresses, angel’s wings, leather thongs with leather masks and whips.”

  “Sounds like Halloween in the Village,” McAdams said.

  “Kinda, yeah. The party isn’t sanctioned by the administration, but as long as we mind our manners, they turn a blind eye. Lawrence came up to me and introduced himself. He was very nice—really funny and warm. I told him I was interested in Morse McKinley and he talked to me for about twenty minutes. He was articulate and smart. Actually it was because of him that I made the decision to go here.”

  Decker said, “And when you ran into him about five years ago, you talked for about five minutes and that was that?”

  “About. You see, by the time I came here, he wasn’t in school anymore. So when I ran into him, I wanted to find out why he dropped out. I wanted to know if people were giving him a hard time about his change from male to female.”

  “Ah,” Decker sipped coffee. “What did he say?”

  “He said his dropping out had nothing to do with the attitude of the colleges. They were very accepting. He dropped out for personal reasons—his sex reassignment. And that’s when he said that he was glad I decided to come to Morse McKinley. And that was the end of it because he was in a hurry.”

  McAdams said, “And he didn’t give any hint as to why he had come back to Morse McKinley?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “Do you know if he was close to any particular faculty member?” Decker said. “Was there someone he might have wanted to visit?”

  “What about Jason Kramer?” McAdams asked.

  “Jason has been there awhile but by the way he was talking about Lawrence, they didn’t seem close. Lawrence was more than just a gay man. He was brilliant.”

  “But you don’t who he was close to.”

  “No idea. But Morse McKinley is a small school. Besides, you don’t even know if it’s him.”

  “You’re right.”

  McAdams said, “Not to seem lurid, but a description of him as a woman might be helpful.”

  Arianna sighed. “A tall girl with makeup and big boobs. He still had long hair, but it was brown. He wore tight jeans, a sweater, and boots.”

  “Good memory,” Decker said.

  “Lawrence made a big impression on me, obviously.”

  “And you haven’t seen him since that time.”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t keep in phone contact or anything like that?”

  “No. You know how it is. I was more interested in my own life than his.”

  “Of course.”

  She stood up. “I have to go catch a class. It’s an important one.”

  “Where can I contact you if I need to talk to you again?”

  “Why would you need to talk to me again?”

  Decker said, “You never know. What’s your cell?” After Arianna recited the numbers, he gave her his card. McAdams followed suit.

  She turned the cards over in her hand then stashed them in her satchel. Then she picked it up and left without saying good-bye.

  McAdams said, “What do you make of her?”

  “Seems like a good kid. She volunteered the information.”

  “Maybe to lead us off-track.”

  Decker stood up and smiled. “You have a very suspicious mind.”

  “That’s a good thing for a detective.” McAdams raised his eyebrows. “It’s even a better thing for a lawyer. In my meager dealings with both professions, I’ve found that clients lie a hell of a lot more than the suspects I’ve encountered.”

  “It’s a close call.” Decker’s cell rang. He fished it from his pocket. “Not our area code.” He depressed the button. “Decker.”

  The woman on the other end didn’t bother to introduce herself. “He’s dead.”

  It took a moment to register who it could possibly be. “Mrs. Pettigrew?”

  Silence. Then she said, “Yes, I’m returning your call.”

  “Thank you very much for calling back. Where are you calling from?”

  “New York
City. Staten Island. I assume you’re calling about my son, Lawrence. You found his body?”

  “Since you’re being direct, I will be direct as well. I’m from Greenbury Police. We found a body in the woods near a popular hiking trail. We’re trying to identify it.”

  “So you’re not sure it’s Lawrence.”

  “No, we’re not. Did you report your son missing, Mrs. Pettigrew?”

  “Five years ago.”

  “Do you remember the exact date?”

  “December ninth.”

  “Okay.” So the timing certainly fit. “Where did you report him missing? What police department?”

  “We live on Staten Island. But Lawrence wasn’t living with us at the time. But I didn’t know who else to call, so I called the local police.”

  “Okay, I’ll certainly contact them if I need to.” Decker paused.

  “Do you think it’s him? You must have some idea. Otherwise you wouldn’t call me.”

  Decker sidestepped. “I hate to ask you this, but do you have dental records?”

  “So he’s been in the ground for a long time, right?”

  “You’re a very astute woman.”

  “How much do you know about my son?”

  “Mrs. Pettigrew, I think any further conversation would be best in person. I’m about three hours away from you. I could be down at around . . .” Decker checked his watch. “Around six or seven in the evening depending on traffic.”

  “That would work. My husband should be home by then.” She gave Decker her address. “I suppose you’ll want me to pick up his dental records?”

  “That would be very helpful to my case.”

  “It’s a murder case, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was Lawrence, Detective. Wherever he went, trouble followed.”

  Chapter 6

  Over the phone line, Rina said, “But I want to come with you.”

  “I’m not staying overnight. I’m talking to the poor woman, then turning around and heading back up to Greenbury with the X-rays.”

  “Just drop me off and I’ll get to Brooklyn. Why waste an opportunity to see the kids?”

  “Lily will probably be asleep by the time you get there.”

  “Maybe they’ll keep her up long enough for me to read her a bedtime story. And don’t you want to hear what I found out about Yvette Jones and Delilah Occum?”

  “They’re not my remains, Rina.”

  “This guy disappeared between the times the two women disappeared. You’re not the least bit curious?”

  “I’m always curious about a missing person, but I can’t see how Delilah Occum or Yvette Jones would have anything to do with my guy.”

  “Who was in the process of becoming a woman when he disappeared, no?”

  Decker paused. “Are you suggesting a serial killer?”

  “I’m just saying until you know who you’re dealing with, doesn’t it pay to consider all possibilities?”

  “Fair enough. I’m leaving the station house in ten minutes. Be ready and I’ll pick you.”

  “I’m ready right now. But while I’m waiting for you, I’ll pack us dinner. That way you won’t have to stop for food.”

  Ten minutes later, Rina slid shotgun into the car with a big brown bag. She turned around. “You okay back there, Tyler? I took your kisay hakoved.”

  “Which means?”

  “Your place of honor.”

  “I’m fine in the back. This way you can deal with his crankiness.”

  “Ah, c’mon,” Decker said. “I’m not even out of the driveway.”

  Rina placed the bag in the unoccupied backseat and turned down the AC. “How about if I tell you my conversation with Tilly Goldstein.”

  McAdams took out his iPad. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  It didn’t take too long. Afterward Decker said, “Two things come to mind. Who is Hank Carter? And more important, why didn’t the colleges institute the walking-home policy after Yvette disappeared?”

  “Can’t help you with the second question,” McAdams said. “I can look up Hank Carter when I get some Wi-Fi. Unless you want me to use my phone, but it’s always pretty slow when we leave Greenbury. It gets very rural.”

  “Indeed.” Rina gazed out the window at the open road. It was all green and leafy but within a month or two, it would catch fire with the brilliance of autumn. City folk poured into the area to leaf watch.

  From the backseat, McAdams said, “Interesting theory about a serial killer, Rina. All of them in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Decker said, “What did you do with the original list of missing women in the area?”

  “It’s on my iPad.”

  “Can you pull it up?”

  “I think it’s in my e-mail, so no. As soon as I get connected, I’ll give it to you.”

  Rina said, “Are you looking for other remains near where you found Pettigrew?”

  “Not actively, no.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Not a bad idea,” McAdams said. “We should at least look around before the ground gets frozen over.”

  It was a good point. Decker said, “Maybe I’ll ask Radar about bringing in a cadaver dog, but first let’s identify the body. If it’s Pettigrew, I’d be interested in knowing who he was meeting up with in Greenbury.”

  “And you think the parents would know?”

  “Perhaps his mother might. Usually, kids talk more to their mothers than their fathers.”

  McAdams said, “It’s kind of a toss-up with me. My mother is nice, but she really isn’t listening to what I’m saying. My dad is listening. That’s the problem.”

  Rina smiled. “If this Pettigrew was undergoing hormonal therapy, how could you keep that from your parents?”

  “You could if you were estranged from them,” McAdams said.

  “I suppose, although if he was that in your face when he went off to college, the parents would suspect something, right?”

  Decker said, “They probably knew something but maybe they didn’t know everything. And I’d just like to point out that we’re getting a little fixated on Pettigrew’s sex change. The murder could have nothing to do with Pettigrew, the woman. It’s better if we first find out about Pettigrew, the person.”

  After dropping off Rina at their son and daughter-in-law’s apartment, Decker wended his way through the neighborhoods of lower Brooklyn, relying on navigation because he sure as hell wasn’t familiar with the area. Within ten minutes, he hit the on-ramp to the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, better known to natives as the VZ, crossing over the bay until he exited into Staten Island. The Pettigrews lived five minutes from the VZ in a compact, one-story brick house on a block of one-story brick houses. Daylight was almost gone, but there was enough to see the sidewalks lined with old oaks and yellow-tinged leaves although the weather was still hot and muggy. Eastern summers were one of those things that Decker had forgotten about after living in L.A. all those years. Southern California was hot but for the most part dry, and even when people complained it was muggy, it usually wasn’t all that bad.

  After parking curbside, he and McAdams got out, their faces hit by a wave of wet heat as they walked to the front entrance. Someone must have been watching because the door opened before either of them knocked.

  They came face-to-face with a woman in her midfifties: five nine, average build, short brown hair, dark eyes, thin lips, roman nose set into a long face. She wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and baggy jeans a tad too short for her height. There were slippers on her feet.

  “Joanne Pettigrew,” she said. “Please come in.”

  Decker and McAdams followed her into a tidy living room—couch, chairs, tables, and a baby grand piano that couldn’t be played because the lid was weighted down with framed pictures of family adventures. Plenty of photos of a long-haired teenager, but as he grew older, the pictures disappeared. Before Decker sat down, he introduced himself and McAdams. Both of them gave the woman the
ir cards. She pointed to the couch. The men sat, but she didn’t. Instead she walked out of the room and came back holding a manila envelope.

  “I had plenty of time to pick up the dental records.” She handed the envelope to Decker. “If they don’t match, could you please get them back to me?”

  “Of course,” Decker said. “Thank you so much. I know this must be hard for you.”

  She let out an exhale. “The local police have a copy so if they come across unknown bones or whatever you call them—remains, I guess—they automatically plug them into their system.” She dropped down into a chair and dry-washed her face. “What makes you think it’s Lawrence?”

  Decker said, “The description we got of your son roughly matches the dimensions of the body that we found.”

  “There are a lot of men who could match my son’s dimensions, Detective.”

  “Of course.”

  “So . . .” She held up her hands in a shrug. “You must be going on something else.”

  Decker said, “The body had long, dark hair. The coroner also described him as having piano fingers. There were remnants of nail polish on his fingers and toes. We also found an earring. We asked around the colleges and found someone who told us the description might match Lawrence. We don’t have a whole lot to go on and we may be completely wrong. And if we are, I’m sorry to put you through all this. But I’m following the meager leads we have.”

  Joanne nodded. “So you know that Lawrence went to Morse McKinley.”

  “Yes,” Decker said. “He dropped out after his junior year.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “I heard he dropped out to get hormonal treatments.”

  “So you know.” She rolled her eyes. “He went around calling himself Lorraine. The boy always had a flare for the dramatic.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “I have three children. The first two were just . . .” She threw up her hands. “Like normal people. Lawrence was the youngest and he was always different. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my son. I won’t exactly say I was supportive of his choices, but I accepted who he was. There are men who are gay. And then there are gay men. Lawrence fit the gay men category. Everything he did revolved around showing the world his sexual identity. And if you didn’t like it, he was right there in your face. I stopped counting how many times I got a call from high school: ‘Don’t worry. No one was hurt, but Lawrence got into an altercation.’”