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“Agent Devine, it’s Fred Bing. I wanted to let you know that I heard back from my father. A lot quicker than I had imagined.” “What did he say?”
“That he hasn’t seen or spoken to my uncle in over two weeks.”
“Is it unusual for your father not to have heard from him?”
“They’re not close, but they do live near each other. And they were scheduled to play golf together the other day, but my uncle sent a text saying he couldn’t make it.”
“Does your father know how long his brother has been away?”
“I don’t think he has a firm date, other than the two weeks not having heard from him until he sent the text about golf.”
“How old a man is Benjamin Bing?”
“He’s the youngest brother. By a lot. So, sixty maybe? My father is seventy-two but he’s the oldest, and there was a wide gap between kids.”
“Describe your uncle physically.”
“Big man. As tall as me but a lot broader. Strong as a horse. They used to joke in my family that he could be all six pallbearers in one.”
“You got a recent picture of him?”
“It was taken a few years ago. I can text it to you.”
“Thanks.”
“I understand there was some misunderstanding about Earl Palmer’s cremation?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Well, I was surprised, too, if you want the truth,” said Bing.
“What do you mean?”
“I usually call the family and arrange things. And then I do the cremation.”
“But not with Earl?”
“No.”
“Why?” asked Devine.
“My sister wanted to handle it.”
“Do you know why?”
“No, I mean, I didn’t ask her. I was just happy to get it off my plate. We have four funerals coming up. I’m barely keeping my head above water.”
Devine wasn’t really listening. “Remember to send me the pic of your uncle. Thanks.”
He clicked off and kept driving, his mind littered with possibilities.
He called Alex. She answered on the second ring.
“You hungry?” he said.
“Actually, very. And I don’t feel like cooking.”
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes if that works.”
