Dunk was back at the window. “They’re coming out!”
I ran back over and dropped down next to him.
The two paramedics were standing at either end of a stretcher. On that stretcher was a large plastic bag. It looked like an oversize Hefty trash bag.
“Whoa,” Dunk said softly. “There’s a body in there.”
“Andy Flack is in there.”
They lifted the stretcher over the curb and wheeled it to the awaiting ambulance. At the back, they collapsed the stretcher’s frame and lifted it inside. Five minutes later, one of the cop cars backed out of the way and the ambulance skirted past. We watched it disappear down Brownsville with red and blue lights flashing on top. No siren, though.
The police were there for three more hours.
Auntie Jo didn’t get home until nearly two in the morning.
Dunk crashed in a sleeping bag on my floor.
I didn’t sleep a wink.
We checked the newspaper in the morning, and there was no mention of a body found in the alley. Nothing appeared until the following day.
BODY FOUND IN BRENTWOOD ALLEY – POLICE BAFFLED
PITTSBURGH, PA – August 10, 1987: A horribly disfigured body was found in the late hours of Saturday in the alley located at 1825 Brownsville Road between True Value Hardware and Carmine’s Beer and Wine. The body, a male, has been identified as thirty-three-year-old Andrew Olin Flack of Bethel Park, an employed coal miner with Nowicki Mining and Excavation. He was last seen leaving work at 5:30 p.m. Friday, after retrieving his paycheck from the Nowicki offices located in West Mifflin. “He seemed in good spirits, ready for the weekend,” Gwenn Easler, Nowicki office manager said. “He told me he had nothing major planned and hoped to spend the next few days catching his breath and relaxing. He pulled two doubles this week and was beat. I can’t believe he’s gone. He was such a nice guy.” As of today, where he went next is unknown. Although he banks at First Bank of Mifflin, he did not cash his paycheck, nor did he return to his home located at 83 Monroe Road in Bethel Park. “At first glance, he appears horribly burned,” a representative from the Medical Examiner’s Office said. “But this is something else. The charred condition of the skin and exposed tissue is not congruent with the flash burn created by sudden exposure to flames or heat, nor does it match a slower incendiary situation such as a house fire or vehicle fire. I was unable to find a trace of any type of accelerant, although we have not ruled out use of an accelerant at this time. He was clearly redressed. His clothing has no burn marks whatsoever.” One of the officers on scene was overheard discussing the possibility of spontaneous combustion with a secondary officer. Neither was willing to go on the record. Local law enforcement, led by veteran homicide detective Faustino Brier, spent much of the day yesterday at the mine where Flack worked. Although Brier would not discuss the case, citing it as an open investigation, it appears PPD feels this may be a work-related accident. If Flack was, in fact, injured (or killed) in a mining accident in West Mifflin, why was his clothing changed? Who changed it? Why was his body moved to an alley nearly four miles away? If Flack was somehow burned in that alley, why were no signs of an accelerant found? All questions most likely on Detective Brier’s mind today.
The alley itself does not see much foot traffic and is used primarily for waste disposal by the surrounding businesses. Because of the relative isolation, it is a frequent resting place for the local homeless. Flack was discovered by forty-three year-old Orville Clemens, who planned to wait out the night in the quiet spot, unable to find a bed at a local shelter. “I thought he was just sleeping at first, then I got closer and realized something was wrong,” he said. He then used the payphone across the street to call 911, and authorities arrived shortly after.
UPDATE – We have since learned that an investigation of the Flack residence revealed a hidden stash of child pornography—magazines, images, and photographs as well as undergarments believed to belong to children, both male and female. Whether or not this paraphernalia is related to Flack’s death is unclear. Detective Brier was unavailable for comment.
“He was a piddler-diddler?” Dunk said, reading the newspaper from the seat across from me. We were at my booth at Krendal’s. The breakfast rush was dying down. Auntie Jo was still at home, sleeping. She didn’t start until lunch. I was supposed to help later.
“They didn’t say anything about the note.”
“That’s good, right? Maybe nobody found it. The wind might have picked it up and blown it halfway to Philly.”
“They’ll pull fingerprints from his wallet, that’s for sure.” I blew out a breath. “Why didn’t I put it back in his pocket? I’m an idiot.”
“You didn’t put his wallet back in his pocket because he was turning full-on zombie right in front of you, and you had to save yourself,” Dunk said. “When the cops come for you, you just tell them you found the body, thought he was dead, pulled his wallet to figure out who he was so you could tell police when you called like the good Sumerian you are.”
“GoodSamaritan. Sumeria is an ancient civilization in Mesopotamia.”
“Whatever, Einstein.”
“I didn’t call the police, either. I ran. And he was alive when I ran.”
“You don’t tell them that part, dummy, only what I said. If they try to get more out of you, just start crying, that’s what I’d do. You’re a kid. Nobody wants to deal with a crying kid, play it up. We can only play the kid angle for a few more years, might as well use it.” Dunk sucked the last bit of his strawberry shake up through the straw with a loud slurp.
I glanced at the alley, visible across the street—a dark maw between the two adjoining buildings. “They took the tape down.”
Dunk slid his empty milkshake glass forward. “Yesterday, around lunchtime.”
“I can’t believe you sat out there all day.”
“There were about a dozen of us. I blended, needed to do recon. You couldn’t do it, being an accessory to the crime and all. Gotta stay on the down low, live in the underground. Oh, I almost forget, we gotta get you a fake ID for when you run. What’s your cash situation like? Did you get another envelope?”
“Yeah, another five hundred. It was sitting on my bed, like all the others.”
“Geez, how much is that now?”
