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I woke in the emergency room of the County hospital. Thankfully, it wasn’t the hospital I’d worked for, and where Michael Preston Ness had done his walk of shame.
Myra sat in a chair next to my bed. “You had quite a morning. How do you feel?”
“I ache all over.” With a moan, I rubbed my head. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“The last thing I remember is an explosion. I was running,” I said, and felt my forehead.
“Yes, you were,” Myra confirmed.
“Jackson Randal was trying to run you over, like he did Jimmy Woo,” Sheriff Don said, standing by the door.
“Yee gads; now I remember.” I felt my neck. “How did I get here?”
“His car blew up when he hit the power pole,” the sheriff said.
“You were knocked out from the force of the explosion,” Myra added.
“Jackson Randal was Jimmy’s drug dealer?” I asked, massaging a dull throb at my temple. “I thought Randal was in jail?”
“He made bail, and came straight for you,” Sheriff Don said, adding, “with a vengeance.”
“Terrific,” I said, groaning.
Sheriff Don paused; his face somber. “Remember, I said there could be something more behind Jackson Randal leaving bodies at foreclosed houses?”
“What?”
“Randal was a body broker.”
“A what?” Myra asked.
“A body broker. He ran a company out of the funeral home that advertised it could find bodies, store, and process body parts. He advertised online.”
“But selling body parts is illegal, isn’t it?” I asked.
“He didn’t exactly sell the parts,” the sheriff paused. “It’s an industry that is paid to find the bodies, store, and process. He harvested bones, joints, and tissues from bodies. He was paid for the services, not the actual part.
“Yikes, isn’t that skirting the law?” Myra asked.
“It’s legal, just not well regulated,” Sheriff Don said.
“If it’s legal, and he made money, why did he leave the bodies in foreclosed houses?” I asked. I rubbed my forehead, trying to concentrate.
“That’s where it got sticky. Randal’s refrigeration unit was broken, along with the crematorium. His plan was to store the body temporarily in an unoccupied house, crank up the air conditioning, then retrieve it later. He was banking on the recession, and that foreclosed houses wouldn’t sell as fast as they did,” he said. “He always meant to come back for the bodies.”
“He got the bodies from Michael Preston Ness, and double payment for services from the county because of their convoluted accounting system,” I surmised, running the scheme through my mind. “But, don’t people have to be donors?” I asked, with a frown.
“It’s called whole body donation, different deal. Ness forged the paperwork for charity cases for whole body donations at the hospital. That got the ball rolling for the body to go to Randal for storage and processing.”
“Donating an organ is different from donating a body?” Myra asked.
“Yep. Like I said, not a whole lot of regulation. Once the body is processed for bones, joints, and tissues––anything salable––the remains are cremated.”
“OMG. His crematorium was broken, so he buried the remainder on the land?” I ventured a guess, groaning. Recalling my visit to the funeral home and the woods that bordered the business.
“Yep. He was trying to disguise the fact by clearing the land––burning what he could in the dead of night, using wood piles as camouflage.”
“How could he get away with that?” I sat up and faced the sheriff.
“He didn’t. Used baking soda and vinegar to hide the smell. But people got suspicious. A couple of residents complained about fires and unusual activity in the wee hours of the morning.”
“Terrible,” Myra said. “Those poor people. Randal made money from their deaths. What did he do with all the money?”
“He gambled it away. Owed money all over town, even to the Russian mob,” the sheriff said.
“Not Popov’s? Not Ivan and Maggie!” Myra and I viewed the sheriff, alarmed. I remembered rumors about the restaurant being a hub for illegal activities.
“Different Russians,” the sheriff said, and gave a small smile.
“Thank goodness!” Myra and I said together.
“Randal’s actions were horrific,” I said. I gingerly touched a bruise on my temple.
“Yep. We couldn’t keep him in jail because we hadn’t found anything. Investigators sent in a cadaver dog and the animal hit on human remains. They’re searching the lot as we speak. But we do have Jackie Randal in custody.”
“Who?” I asked, flexing my hands.
“Jackie is Jackson Randal’s daughter.”
“Oh?” I shrugged.
“She scouted vacant houses for Jackson and Paul Seever to leave the bodies.”
“Okay.” I massaged my shoulder, shaking my head.
“You would know her if you saw her. Got blue hair, styled kind of spiky. Has an eyebrow piercing?” the sheriff added.
“That woman!” I sat up again, groaned, and laid back. “She’s Jackson Randal’s daughter?”
“The very one,” Sheriff Don said.
“The young woman from the first open house?” Myra asked. “Who accused you of leaving Jimmy’s body there?”
“Yep. It’s an old tactic––a good defense is a good offense,” Sheriff Don said, with a wry smile.
“I’ll be darned,” Myra said. “She accused you, when she was part of the scheme.”
“Yep, she sure did,” I said, weary.
“We picked her up when the owner of Grape Vines complained about vandalism. Got her place of employment, Randal’s Reswell Funeral Home. Put two and two together, and she cracked under questioning,” the sheriff said, satisfied.
“Yep, that’s her all right.” I remembered the mess of the wine display. “Doug must have been calling the police when I left.”
“What?” Myra asked.
“Long story.” I moaned, feeling another stab of pain from my shoulder.
“Awful, making his own daughter part of his trickery,” Myra said, shaking her head.
“Yikes,” I said, feeling my noggin, and flexing my arms and legs. I hurt all over.
“You’ll want to go slowly,” Myra admonished. “You have a small lump on your head and you are going to be sore. But nothing is broken. They’ll keep you overnight for observation.”
“What happened to my car?” I asked, wincing.
“The engine blew. The car had a good life, a long life,” Myra said, smiling.
“Terrific.”
“I’ll loan you mine,” she said. “I’m in the market.”
“I can’t do that, Myra. You know my rule.”
“No arguments. Rules are meant to be broken. You need to get some rest now.”
A nurse appeared to usher Myra and the sheriff out. Myra left first.
“We’ll talk more at the station, Kate,” Sheriff Williams said, as he left, his voice low and reassuring. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
He still has that air of masculinity and warmth going on. I closed my eyes, and passed out.