In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 5

  Her lean mouth pursed at Emma’s question. “I do,” she said with serious thoughtfulness. “Wayne thinks himself far more attractive than he actually is. Whenever I see him at the diner, he’s always bragging about himself. It irks me.”

  “Right.” What had Wayne done to annoy Hazel? Maybe, in his typical casual manner, he had said something flirtatious to her, which had not gone down well with the prim and proper secretary. “He might just be trying to make friends. It’s hard sometimes to start afresh in a small town like Greenville.”

  Hazel lifted her shoulders. “That may be true, but when I first arrived here, I didn’t know anyone either, and I didn’t feel the need to brag about myself in order to fit in.”

  It was difficult to imagine Hazel bragging at all, Emma thought. “Well, I’ll call Wayne and arrange to see his demonstration tomorrow morning and report back.”

  As they walked out of the mayor’s office, Hazel said, “By the way, is there any further news about the man who died last night?”

  Emma shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything more, but I’m about to stop off at the police station and ask Martinez. Maybe they’ve identified the poor man by now.”

  “Or maybe it’s harder than we think.” Hazel’s face was somber. “Trains weigh thousands of tons. He could have been injured beyond recognition.”

  ***

  Later on, at the police station, Martinez all but confirmed Hazel’s prediction. “There wasn’t much of his face left,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact. “And we couldn’t get his fingerprints, either. The train dragged him for more than fifty yards.”

  “I see.” Emma swallowed down the sudden heave of nausea. If she showed any signs of revulsion, Martinez might not be willing to share any further details. “So do we know anything at all?”

  “We’ve got a brief description. The man was six-feet-one, medium build, Caucasian, about sixty or seventy years old.”

  That seemed depressingly little. “What about that bottle of whiskey left by the tracks? That might have fingerprints.”

  Martinez shook his head. “None.”

  “None at all? Isn’t that suspicious?”

  “Not necessarily. It’s winter. He was wearing gloves; hence, no fingerprints.”

  “That makes sense. And you didn’t find any wallet or ticket or any personal items?”

  “Nothing. We combed both sides of the track this morning and didn’t find anything.”

  Emma sagged in her seat next to Martinez’s desk. “So that’s it? He’s just going to be a John Doe forever?” She was surprised at how this prospect disturbed her.

  “No, of course not. We’ll ID him eventually,” Martinez answered patiently.

  There were faint lines under his eyes and several paper coffee cups in his trashcan. He’d probably worked late last night, and come in early this morning, and now he was kind enough to talk to her, even though he didn’t have to. When it came to the Greenville police department, it was usually Sherilee she bumped into. She’d only spoken with Eric Martinez a few times, but now for the first time she had a proper look at him. He had a solid, muscular build. Tanned skin, dark eyes, and a short buzz cut. Attractive, though he might have to watch his weight when he grew older.

  “It could take a while,” he continued. “The ME will do the autopsy, but there’s a backlog so he’ll probably only get around to it next week. That might give us some clues.”

  “What about his clothes?” She leaned forward with interest. “Did you have a look at them?”

  “Just briefly. The clothes are only removed and examined during the autopsy, you understand. From what I saw of his coat and boots, they were just everyday stuff you can get down at the mall, nothing fancy. And they looked like they’d been worn for years. This guy wasn’t well off, I can tell you that.”

  “Did you check his pockets? He might have carried a postcard or a box of matches from a bar.”

  “Of course I checked his pockets. None of the stuff was of any use.”

  “So you did find some things? Mind if I take a look at them?” She was already rising from her chair in anticipation.

  Martinez held up his hands. “Whoa, what do you think you’re doing? I’m not letting you poke through the deceased’s things.”

  “But I might be able to help you—”

  “I think you’ve helped enough already.”

  “But you look like you could do with some assistance.” She gestured at the empty desks surrounding them. “It seems like half the force is off on vacation.”

  “Yeah, they are, and I’m snowed under.” Martinez sighed before he wagged a finger. “But you know I can’t let you interfere with a police investigation. The chief would have my hide.”

  “Only if he found out.”

  “Why is this so important to you? Isn’t it better to put it behind you?”

  Emma bit her lip before answering in a low voice, “That’s the thing. I can’t put it behind me until I find out who he was. When I found him on the tracks, he was a living person. He groaned; he was alive. And now he’s dead, and I feel…responsible, in a way. Oh, not responsible for his death. I realize now I did everything I could. But I feel that while he’s a John Doe he needs someone to look out for him, and that person is me.”

  “I understand, but Emma, what if he was just a drunk, a hobo, or a petty criminal?”

  Which was quite likely, given the evidence. “Well, I guess he’s still a person, isn’t he?”

  Martinez gave her a long look and then nodded. “Fair enough, but I can’t let you poke through evidence. All I can tell you is that the man was carrying a bunch of tissues and some pistachios, none of which had any usable prints we could lift.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. So you see, not very useful in terms of identifying him.”

  “I see. Okay. Thank you for telling me anyway.” Feeling disappointed, she stood and hitched her tote bag over her shoulder.

  “I’ll try to keep you up to date as much as I can.” Martinez rose to his feet as well. “In the meantime, you should focus on other things.”

  “I’m trying, but it’s hard sometimes. The fundraiser is keeping me busy, but I still can’t stop thinking about the dead man.” She paused to make a concerted effort to keep her thoughts away from the gloomy subject. “Are you coming to it?”

  “The fundraiser? On New Year’s Eve?” Martinez blinked, seemingly taken aback. “Um, I don’t know…”

  “We still have tickets to spare. They’re eighty dollars each, but you get a three course dinner and dancing until midnight, and of course all the proceeds go to charity. Are you on duty that night?”

  “No, but I really hadn’t thought about it.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I just assumed it was for rich people.”

  “We wouldn’t raise much money if we only relied on rich people turning up.” Emma smiled encouragingly. “Lots of ‘ordinary’ people are going, like my friend Stacey and her boyfriend.”

  “Yeah? What about Becky? Is she going?” Martinez blurted out before clamping his lips. The thing about a buzz cut was that it gave no protection to ears, and Martinez’s were on full display as they suddenly turned bright pink.

  Trying to ignore them, Emma answered, “I’m still persuading her to come. I’m sure she will in the end.”

  “Okay. I’ll, uh, think about it.” He gestured toward the door that led out of the bullpen and walked her out to the lobby, stiff and awkward.

  Making no further mention of Becky, Emma took her leave. It wasn’t unusual that Martinez had a crush on Becky. In fact, it was so usual that, if he’d asked, she could have told him to take a number and stand in line. She only hoped that his infatuation wouldn’t interfere with his work. Even though Martinez had assured her they wouldn’t stop until they had identified this man, she had a sinking feeling that no one was invested in him as much as she was.

  Chapter Five

  Shortly after lunch Caitlyn, Emma’s part-time assist
ant, breezed into Emma’s office. “Well? Are you ready to go?”

  This seemingly innocent question had the effect of making Emma hunker lower in her chair as she evaded the young woman’s eyes. “Uh, I think I should just cancel—”

  “Oh no you won’t.” Caitlyn jangled her car keys in front of Emma. “You’ve canceled twice already. No more excuses. I’m driving you myself to Doctor Lipperman, so you can’t wriggle out of it this time.”

  “But my teeth feel perfectly fine. I don’t need a checkup.”

  “And if you have regular checkups, your teeth will continue to be fine.” Reaching over, Caitlyn hooked a hand around Emma’s elbow and hauled her to her feet, the young woman’s strength belying her slight build.

  “Okay,” Emma sighed, resigning herself to her fate. “I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t be such a baby about seeing the dentist.”

  She had been trying hard to forget her appointment. After a traumatic experience with an unsympathetic dentist in New York, she had vowed never to see another one unless in dire need. But she hadn’t counted on her dad. He’d been pestering her to see the dentist for months, and had even made her several appointments, all of which she had canceled at the last moment. Now, apparently he had roped in Caitlyn to make sure she couldn’t escape. Feeling like a doomed prisoner, she followed Caitlyn out of the office.

  Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in the waiting room at the dentist, and Emma could feel her legs starting to twitch.

  “What’s this Frank Lipperman like?” she murmured to Caitlyn, who was leafing through one of the dog-eared magazines taken from the coffee table in front of them. “Has he been here in Greenville long?”

  “Um, about five years, I think.” Caitlyn scrunched up her nose. “He looks like one of those mythical creatures with horns and hooves. What do you call them? A satyr? But don’t let that put you off.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Emma’s legs twitched again, and she wondered if there was still time to make a run for it. The stony-faced receptionist looked up, as if she knew what Emma was thinking, and announced in an impassive voice, “Doctor Lipperman will see you now.”

  “Off you go.” Caitlyn nudged her in the right direction. “And relax.”

  Easier said than done, Emma thought when she entered the surgery and saw the man waiting for her.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Frank Lipperman. Pleased to meet you, Emma.” The dentist thrust out a hand and bared his startlingly white teeth for a brief second in what she supposed was a smile.

  “Uh, hi,” she responded weakly, shaking his cold, firm hand.

  Caitlyn was right. Frank Lipperman did look like a satyr, with his short, black, neatly groomed beard, his pointy features, and his receding hairline giving him that devil’s horns look. His dental jacket was snowy white and sharply pressed, and his surgery looked modern and fitted out with the latest equipment. A young dental assistant was busy laying out a fresh set of instruments on the tray table.

  Frank Lipperman gestured to the reclining dentist’s chair. “Make yourself comfortable while I go over your information.”

  Very gingerly Emma slid onto the plastic seat, feeling like she’d never be comfortable again. The dental assistant fixed a paper bib around her neck and slipped a pair of safety spectacles over her eyes. Frank pursed his lips as he perused the medical questionnaire Emma had filled in while waiting, giving her plenty of time to study him. His features were sharp, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes which were as coal-black as his hair. He looked rather forbidding, not at all the jolly, reassuring dentist she had hoped for. Was there another dentist in Greenville? She remembered someone mentioning a dental appointment not so long ago. Who had that been—

  “You’re nervous,” Frank spoke, his black eyes seeming to bore into hers as he snapped on a fresh pair of latex gloves.

  “Uh, yes, I am,” she confessed. “I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it.”

  “It’s not silly. My patients say I have a very calming effect on them.” He pressed a hand against her shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re in safe hands.” He flicked a switch, causing the overhead light to beam down on her, and leaned in. “Now, let’s have a look…”

  Twenty minutes later, she was sitting upright again. She wasn’t sure how, but she’d survived the examination and the clean and polish. Maybe Frank Lipperman had hypnotized her with those intense black eyes of his. Whatever it was, it had worked, and she was only a little fazed when he told her she needed a small filling.

  “You can make an appointment with the receptionist,” he told her as he saw her out of his surgery.

  The cold-faced receptionist gave her an appointment for next week, and Emma gratefully escaped with Caitlyn.

  “See? I told you it wouldn’t be so bad,” Caitlyn said as she drove them back to the office.

  “Thanks for taking me. It’s very sweet of you.”

  Caitlyn laughed. “My pleasure,” she said, and then started singing a Katie Perry song.

  Emma ran her tongue over her teeth, which felt smooth and clean. That hadn’t been too bad. If she could just manage to survive next week’s filling, then she might be cured of her dentist phobia. As she checked her teeth in the mirror, she couldn’t help thinking of the John Doe lying in the morgue. How damaged was his jaw? Had any teeth survived? Teeth, she knew, were often used to identify bodies. But first you had to have a name before you could check dental records. Without a name, he was still John Doe.

  ***

  Having survived the dentist with Caitlyn’s help, Emma thought it only right they should stop at the diner so she could buy coffee and pie for them as a reward. Mid-afternoon, the diner was filled with people. Becky and her waitress buzzed around the tables like efficient bees, while through the pass-through window, Oscar could be seen working hard, a light sheen on his forehead.

  Emma and Caitlyn headed for the counter, where Wayne Goddard was already seated, munching on a burger and fries.

  “Hey, there, ladies!” he greeted them loudly as they took the two stools near him. “This town is amazing. I’ve never seen so many good-looking women in one place. Is it something in the water?”

  Caitlyn rolled her eyes, which was only to be expected, since Wayne Goddard must have been fifteen years her senior. Emma, sitting between the young woman and Wayne, gave her a small smile as if to reassure her that Emma would act as a buffer.

  “It’s the delicious pies we get here,” Emma quipped.

  “Ah, yes, Becky’s pies.” Wayne’s head swiveled to where Becky was chatting with a pair of customers on the other side of the diner. A sentimental look came over him. “I hope I don’t offend anyone by saying Becky is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  A dry snort sounded from behind them.

  “And how many women have you met?” the sixty-something-year-old woman said. Short, rotund, and irrepressible, Faye Seymour was the town’s reigning queen of gossip and a regular at the diner where she hoovered up every little tidbit of information she could sniff out. Anyone who had lived long enough in Greenville learned how to handle the busybody, but Wayne, a recent arrival, hadn’t got the hang of it yet, and he seemed startled by her abrupt question.

  “Um, a few, I guess,” he replied, his confused expression showing that he wasn’t sure what the correct answer should be.

  “Just a few?” Faye drilled him with her sharp eyes. “Well, that’s not a very impressive comparison, is it?”

  Wayne toyed with a French fry. “I just meant that Becky is a stunner.”

  The battle-ax looked him up and down, frankly appraising him. What she saw did not seem to impress her. She sniffed. “Our Becky’s had plenty of admirers, many of them fine gentlemen, and none of them have ever won her over. No offence, Wayne, but if I were you, I wouldn’t hold out much hope.” After delivering that harsh assessment, she toddled off to speak with another acquaintance.

&nb
sp; An uncomfortable silence ensued at the counter. Fortunately, Emma was saved from having to speak by Abigail, who came up to take their orders. Emma asked for the apple cobbler and coffee, while Caitlyn was in the mood for a hot fudge sundae.

  “We’re celebrating,” Caitlyn said to the waitress. “Emma finally made it to her dentist appointment.”

  “Dentist appointment?” Abigail shuddered in mock horror. “Rather you than me, Emma.”

  Emma smiled. “Now that it’s over, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. You should get Caitlyn to take you. She’ll make sure you go.”

  “No thanks.” Abigail sailed off to see to their orders.

  When Emma was tucking into her apple cobbler, Wayne Goddard, who’d been quiet for a few minutes, suddenly leaned toward her and muttered, “I hope you didn’t go to Frank Lipperman.”

  Swallowing her mouthful, Emma raised her eyebrows in puzzlement. “I did go to him. Do you have something against him?”

  “I had an emergency last month. One of my crowns broke. The guy overcharged me, and when I complained he refused to discuss it. Said I’d already agreed to the cost. I don’t remember that. I was in pain!”

  “I’m so sorry,” Emma murmured, reluctant to take sides. The bill she’d received had been high, but not excessive, in her opinion. But perhaps dental crowns were a different matter.

  Wayne’s voice took on an aggrieved note. “The guy’s a swindler. You’d be better off finding another dentist.”

  “Oh.” After a moment’s thought, Emma continued, “I really can’t face the thought of seeing someone else. I’m a coward when it comes to dentists, so it’s better the devil you know.”

  “Huh.” Wayne moodily chomped on his fries. “He sure looks like a devil, that Frank Lipperman, don’t you think?”

  “Um, maybe.” Emma decided it was time to change the subject. “I spoke to the mayor about your laser show.”