The three men stared at one another.
Prescott broke the silence. "The victim is his son Harold."
Bo rubbed at his face while scanning their faces.
"Are you acquainted with Haverly?" Milton asked.
"We're not friends if that's what you're getting at. I believe he's somewhere around a hundred, hundred and ten million." Bo squinted at the boy. "It's hard not to know of him."
"A woman recommended you and now he's insistent you be part of the investigation," Milton said.
"Woman?"
"He wouldn't say, but obviously someone whose opinion he trusts," said Prescott.
"Haverly said if we don't bring you on he will hire you directly," Patrick said.
"It's your call Milton," said Prescott.
"My focus is on finding whoever did this, for the boy not the father. If you're half as good as everyone says you'll be an asset. Haverly's offering to reimburse the department for your expenses and at your standard rate I'll be happy to accept," said Milton.
He and Bo shook hands.
"Okay," Prescott clapped. "I'll get you my copy of the ransom note."
"Ransom note? I don't see Haverly not cooperating."
"No, he was quite willing to pay and was getting the money together when the body was discovered."
"You think the boy caused his own death?"
"That's part of what we're hoping you can help determine."
Prescott and Patrick walked away. Milton walked with Bo.
Men often hide behind ungiving eyes.
Detective Jameson tracked Bo as he and Commander Long approached her Captain. She paid more attention to them than the murdered child. Every time Bo checked, he found her stare.
"Any idea who the brick wall is with the brass?" Patty asked Dave with a nod.
Dave turned and considered the man. "No clue. FBI maybe, plenty of them around."
"Not with those threads, at least not on a field agent's salary."
"Could be in from D.C."
"True, still he doesn't carry himself like a G."
"I'm sure if we need to know, someone will tell us."
"Yeah I guess. He is one well-dressed slab of bacon."
Patty walked to her car while continuing to watch the men. When Bo approached the victim alone, Patty's interest became too much. He stood examining the scene. Bo pulled something from his pants pocket and rolled it between pinched fingers. It glinted like polished metal. He stooped to examine the dead boy.
"Someone drag you off the back nine?" Patty asked walking up behind Bo.
"Nope."
"You got credentials?"
"Nope."
"Well this is a crime scene so if you aren't State Police or FBI I will have to escort you beyond the barricades." She thumbed the direction.
Patty stepped alongside Bo.
He studied her shoes and cuffed slacks and returned to Harold's dull, fixed eyes.
"Hey," Patty said.
"Jameson, Jameson," her Captain shouted behind.
Patty twisted to see the Captain scurrying over, his right hand raised as if hailing a cab. Her focus returned to Bo. He stood, towering over her 5'5" frame. He was close. She breathed in his cologne.The metal object disappeared into Bo's pocket. Paying her no attention, he stepped across the boy and stooped once more.
"Jameson," the Captain said again. "This is Bo Boson. He has been brought on at the request of the boy's father, and the Governors, to assist with the investigation."
Patty's face scrunched and her head fell as she processed the words. She waited for the Captain to break into laughter. He didn't.
"Captain!" she started. Her arms fell numb.
"I told you, this comes straight from the top. I can assign another detective if you'd prefer."
Patty stewed in silence.
"You are lead here, so think of Mr. Boson the same as the FBI or Illinois State Police. A team effort Jameson."
"We don't need outsiders slowing us down."
"You know who the boy's father is. You’re not our best but you’re available – unless you’d prefer to remain on the missing person's case."
Patty mumbled.
“What was that detective?”
“No sir, I-I appreciate your confidence in me.”
"Bo, as you probably heard this is Patty Jameson, our lead detective."
Bo's gaze never left the boy. He cast an absent wave acknowledging the introduction. Fingers then stroked his bottom lip.
"The Hispanic man talking to the Coroner is Detective Dave Lowman. He'll be assisting," the Captain said
Bo glanced at Dave for an image and returned to his examination.
"Well I guess I'll leave you to it then." Captain Watson turned and left.
Prescott approached and handed Bo the ransom note mailed to Horatio Haverly. Bo studied the note. Something seemed familiar. He stood and walked closer to the water's edge, considering.
"What lake did you say this is?" he asked over his shoulder.
"It's Wolf Lake," Prescott answered.
Bo thought aloud. "The teenage son of a wealthy Chicago family." His fingers took to counting. "Blunt force trauma to the back of the skull, a fake ransom note, the body dumped naked, and burned with acid at Wolf Lake Indiana." That totaled six. "It's.” Bo’s counting fingers rubbed together as if scratching an itch. The hand snapped and pointed into the air. “Leopold and Loeb, it’s Leopold and Loeb." Bo turned.
Prescott and Patty scrutinized one another for understanding.
"What?" Prescott said.
Bo walked toward Prescott. "The Leopold and Loeb murder from the '20s I think. Two rich teenagers murdered a younger boy, a schoolmate or neighbor I believe."
Patty interjected. "And you think they killed this boy? That's ridiculous; they'd be what, in their 80s now?"
Bo looked at Prescott.
"I think he means it's a copycat Detective, not that Leopold and Loeb themselves committed the murder," Prescott explained.
Bo studied the ransom note again. Without looking up, he said, "George Johnson, I think that was the name on the other ransom note."
"Impressive as ever. I'll have the office pull together the information on the Leopold and Loeb case," said Prescott.
Bo spoke briefly to the crime scene photographer and returned to the body. He pressed Harold's right hand flat while the cameraman snapped pictures. Bo pulled a Montblanc pen from his suit jacket and pointed to a couple of strands of hair between Harold's fingers. The cameraman leaned close.
"Tweezers and evidence bag," Bo said with a hand outstretched to Patty.
She stood undeterred, leering at Bo.
"Here you are," Dave said handing the items from the other side.
"Thank you," Bo said then looked, "Detective Lowman."
"What'd you find?"
"A couple of strands of hair. Doesn't seem to match his coloring."
"Ah, nice find," Dave said leaning in. "What you make of the mark on the inside of the wrist?"
"I saw that," Bo said twisting the forearm. "Can you grab a few shots?" The pen pointed to the spot
The photographer stepped close again and snapped.
"The acid?" asked Dave.
"It's different from the acid burns but appears an irritation of some sort. Make a note to have the M.E. examine it."
"Consider it done."
"Can you get a close up of the edge here? It presents as if something flaking, like a kind of theatrical makeup," Bo said.
"Looks like a birthmark to me," Patty said from her stance.
Bo noticed her tapping foot. He stood and saw the Coroner walking toward the body. “You can have him," he said.
Bo's complete disregard for her authority outraged Patty.
The Coroner’s crew bagged Harold and hauled him away like trash.
Bo moved on to examining the area. Dave and the photographer followed Bo. Patty walked to the car, smoked and watched from the distance. Bo spent time examining the ar
ea between the body and where they concluded a vehicle had stopped. In an area not far from the body, several white specks within the coffee brown mud attracted Bo's attention.
He pointed to the area. Dave handed Bo a numbered flag mounted on a piece of rigid wire. He pushed it into the mud. The cameraman worked away from then back to the flag. Bo pulled his Montblanc. Dave stood at the ready with an evidence bag, permanent marker and tweezers.
Bo stooped and dug at the mud with the expensive tool unearthing a collection of small white disks. To the right he found a group of them together, like a roll of shiny dimes. They had a string through the heart of them.
"What you make of it?" Bo asked.
Dave crept close. "A necklace? One like those hippies used to wear. What do they call it? Has a weird name, some kind of shell I think."
"Puka, Puka Shell from Hawaii. Popular with the surfer types." Bo's eyes scanned the rough lake. "This doesn't seem like the place to catch any bodacious waves now does it?"
Dave followed suit, considering the surroundings, "No, it sure doesn't."
"And it's not exactly rich kid fashion so I wouldn't expect it to be Harold's."
"You think it belongs to the killer?"
"It could be everything. It could be nothing. You want to bag this?"
"Sure."
Dave placed the necklace pieces in a bag, sealed it, and provided it to the FBI for analysis.
"You should have the crime lab folks sift this whole area to see if they find the rest of it."
"I'll speak to them personally," said Dave.
Value, as with beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.
The FBI, who valued methodical examination and research, determined the puka pieces quite ordinary. A cheap replica sold at beach shops across America. In typical diligence, they provided photographs of their best reconstruction and a complete duplicate to all parties. Patty thought it a distraction.
While the idea of investigating a murder appeased her sense of self-importance, a young boy splayed open on a steel operating table appealed less. As such, she sent Dave and his new best friend to attend the autopsy. She did request immediate notification if the attending Medical Examiner determined the boy still alive.
She went west. Illinois State Police Detective John Lancaster met her at the Haverly Estate. Lancaster introduced her to the family.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said.
"Tell me you're going to find the person who did this Detective," Mr. Haverly said, a grave but determined tone to his voice.
Patty studied Mrs. Haverly crying into a handkerchief and Harold's red-eyed sister, Heather. "We'll leave no stone unturned as they say."
"And this Boson is he up to speed?"
"Yes, he's at." Patty coughed. "He's, he’s up to speed on everything."
"Excellent, I hear good things about him."
Her brows fell and head twisted confused. "Yes, yes," she said.
"Detective Lancaster said you had a photograph you wanted to show us."
"I do." She handed the photo of the duplicate necklace to Mr. Haverly. "Did Harold have a necklace like this?"
Mr. Haverly viewed the photo and passed it to his wife. Heather leaned to see. Mother and sister both signalled no. "Harold's a refined young man, he would not have something so - Bohemian," said his mother.
"I know it's a difficult time. Have you, the family, made any trips to the beach recently where Harold could have purchased a necklace like this?"
"Detective, Jameson is it, we have a summer place on Mackinac Island and spent a month there this past summer." He waited on his wife for agreement. "I guess it possible Harold could have bought such a necklace. If he did, I've never seen him wearing it."
"Nor you Mrs. Haverly."
She shook her head, "No."
"And you?" she asked Heather.
"No, I haven't seen him wearing a necklace like that or any necklace for that fact. Harold is." She sniffled. "Was, allergic to all kinds of things so unless it had to do with magic I don't see him having one."
"Magic?"
"Harold had developed the foolish notion of being a professional magician - a boyish whim. He and the Walker boy were always interrupting with their latest parlor trick," Mr. Haverly said.
"Walker boy?"
"Harold's friend from school Cory Walker," Heather provided.
Patty eyed Detective Lancaster. He pulled a small notepad and jotted a note.
"Do you have an address for Cory?"
"It's in my rolodex," Mrs. Haverly said and stood to retrieve it. Detective Lancaster and Heather followed her from the room.
"You think the necklace belongs to the bastard who killed Harold." Mr. Haverly accused.
"We're not sure where it fits yet, or if it fits at all. A necklace like this was found at the scene but there's no specific connection at this point."
"It doesn't fit, now does it?"
"I'm sorry, I'm not following."
"This talk of Leopold and Loeb - a copycat."
"I didn't think so at first either Mr. Haverly but there are many similarities."
"If that's the case, my boy was killed for what? Sport? Fun?" Angry tears ran from Mr. Haverly's red eyes. "I would have paid ten times what they asked - a hundred." His fist pounded the arm of the sofa. His eyes widened and he leaned toward Patty. "When you find this person, you have Boson." Mrs. Haverly walked in with Detective Lancaster and the girl in tow. Mr. Haverly eased back, clearing his face and smoothing his clothes.
Patty looked Mr. Haverly up and down. Heather sat next to her father. He wrapped an arm around her, pulled her head close and kissed it. Detective Lancaster said something behind Patty but her eyes and thoughts remained on Mr. Haverly.
"Hey," Lancaster said touching her shoulder, "I phoned the Walkers. They said we could come over."
Patty nodded but continued staring at Mr. Haverly, in thought. Another ten seconds passed. "Okay," she said. "Thank you and again I am sorry for your loss."
"Thank you for all you are doing Detective," Mrs. Haverly said.
Mr. Haverly and Patty shared a meeting of the eyes but nothing more was said between the pair.
As the two stepped from the porch, Lancaster could not hold the words in any longer. "What'd I miss?"
"Do you know anything about this Boson guy?"
"No. Not a thing. Why?"
"Just find it odd. He's not a cop or a fed but he carries two pieces, a blaster in a shoulder holster and a backup on his ankle. He seems more brawn than brain."
"Maybe he moved from law enforcement to private investigation or security."
They walked toward the car.
"Is that what the deathray stare was about in there, Boson?"
"In a way. The Captain said Haverly requested him but Haverly made it seem like someone recommended him."
"Recommended him for what?"
"Exactly. Haverly was talking when you and the wife walked in. He shut down. Whatever he was going to say next, he wouldn't say in front of her."
"Hmm."
"How far to the Walkers?" Patty pulled the pack of Marlboros from her pocket and pushed the car lighter. Lancaster bummed one from her.
"Five minutes, tops."
When the lighter popped, Lancaster held it for Patty then lit his own. She cracked her window as he pulled away. Seven minutes later, they arrived at the Walker's residence. Lancaster took the lead for introductions. Cory Walker fit every expectation Patty had for Harold's best friend and fellow magic aficionado. Like Heather, his eyes were red and puffy. His mother sat guarded beside.
"Cory I understand you were friends with Harold Haverly," Patty opened.
"He was my best friend." Cory wiped his cheek with a handkerchief.
She handed him the photo. "Do you know if Harold had a necklace like this?"
"No, not this one."
"Not this one? He had other necklaces?" Patty asked and made eye contact with Lancaster.
"Two that I know of, a gol
d chain handed down from his Grandfather and a raw diamond mounted in platinum."
"Raw diamond?"
"The way it comes out of the ground, before being cut and polished."
"Why would he have that?"
"Everyone has shaped diamonds so it's rare. Many believe raw diamonds possess magical powers. Harold was big into magic."
"Yeah I understand you shared in his interest."
"Some, not as heavy as him though."
"So you've never seen a necklace like this then?"
"I've seen one but not on Harold."
"You know someone with a necklace like this?"
Patty watched Lancaster pull his notepad.
"A guy at school, he’s a senior."
"What's this guy's name?"
"Jay, Jay Fitzgerald, some people call him Fitz."
"And he has a necklace like this?" Patty shot Lancaster another look.
"Yes. I'd say exactly like that but I don't see him being involved."
Lancaster nodded.
"We'll still need to talk with him. We appreciate you taking the time to talk with us Cory."
"Anything for Harold."
"Right." Patty stood to leave. "Mrs. Walker," she said.
"Detectives."
Patty almost ran for the door. Lancaster followed.
"Kind of weird isn't it?" Cory said following behind.
"Sorry," Lancaster said turning back.
"The similarities."
Lancaster snapped several times at Patty to catch her attention. Patty stopped and started walking back.
"What similarities?" Lancaster asked Cory.
"Between Harold and Bobby Franks."
"Go on." Patty stepped alongside.
"I just think it's weird that's all."
"What similarities do you know of between the two?" Lancaster asked.
"The fake kidnapping, the lake where they found him, the wound to the back of the head, and that he was naked. Harold hated having to undress in front of other people. Just being naked could have been enough to kill him."
"All things they've mentioned on the news. Any other similarities you know of?" Lancaster stayed on point.
"Not really, though I have to wonder about the acid and glasses. The news didn't say anything about them. I wouldn't imagine you found prescription glasses that will lead you to the killer."
The Wolf Lake Murders (A Bo Boson Adventure Book 1) Page 6
