"Between Harold's death and Jay's lack of concern we never searched." The Principal shrugged.
"Do you remember the exact day he first noticed it missing?"
"I don't. That whole day is a blur. I can ask him."
"That'd be great. With Jay being a senior I don't imagine either Harold or Cory were in his gym class?"
"It's possible. We utilize an open style of class integration. Same as they will experience at the college level."
"Is there a way to check?"
Principal Williams excused himself and left the room.
Patty flipped the cassette in the recorder.
He returned with a collection of folders.
She pressed the record and play buttons.
The Principal rummaged through the stack and pulled one folder to the top. He flipped it open and his finger traced the length of the page. "Two-thirty, Mr. Tierney," he said aloud then closed the file and searched for another.
He opened the second folder. "This is the class roster for Mr. Tierney's two-thirty gym class." His attention returned to the paper. "Yes, yes," he said tapping at the paper, "Jay, Harold and Cory attend the same gym class."
"What about the other boy, Kenny I believe you said?" asked Patty.
Principal Williams searched for the name. "No," he glanced up, his head shaking, "Kenny Lowe is not in Mr. Tierney's two-thirty gym class."
"Who on that list would you most suspect of stealing?" Patty asked.
"I wouldn't." Principal Williams closed the folder and folded his hands on top.
Patty reached and clicked the recorder off. "Just between us."
"I'm sorry Detective, on tape or not, without basis I would not accuse any student of committing a crime. Many of the students who attend West Haven have family members who are prominent attorneys. And they all have firms on retainer."
"If I narrowed it down to Harold and Cory, would you venture a guess?"
"I believe we're done here."
"We would like to speak with Mr. Tierney and Harold's American History teacher.
"Miss York. Genevieve, she's the only one."
Mr. Williams excused himself to collect and provide the teachers. Patty and Lancaster interviewed both. They learned nothing beyond what Principal Williams had already provided. Patty was desperate to speak with Jay Fitzgerald about the necklace.
“Absolutely not, not without a parent or lawyer present,” Lancaster said.
“We don’t have to single him out. He can be part of a group."
"No," Lancaster insisted.
At Patty’s request, the Principal provided photos of Harold, Cory, Jay, Walter and Kenny. On their way from the building, they ran across Jay in the hallway. Seeing him stopped Patty in her tracks. Unable to comprehend what, she found something familiar about him. Lancaster took her arm and walked her from the building.
The truth can be a devil's detail.
Few understood devils and demons better than Gunner. After Bo phoned to cancel their afternoon because of the Harold Haverly investigation, Gunner developed an interest. Hell bent on repaying Bo, he felt determined and empowered to help. Maybe three times so.
Uncertain if he had enough gas to get there and back, Jake drove to the lake. After Bo left and the crime scene folks carted their gray plastic tubs of tools, supplies and clear evidence bags to the lab, Gunner combed the area.
After a several hours of poking and prodding the area, a dilapidated pairing of a diesel engine and electric motor caught his eye. It generated only rust. Resting near the path between the body and transport, he searched beneath the I-beam skids. There, rich dirt hid fat worms and nothing else.
He continued his investigation, working his way up and around. In the exhaust manifold of the large, sturdy Cummins diesel engine, he discovered a valve handle. It seemed to match the equipment in age.
"What have we here?" Gunner said aloud.
He pulled a chewed pencil from his back pocket and retrieved the item. It was small, almost dainty for the brutal bulk of machinery before him. A dried substance covered part like a fancy cookie hand-dipped in chocolate.
Drawing it close, he sniffed at it. Not like a dog sniffing a crotch rather like a child inhaling his favored grandmother's stew, long and purposeful. It smelled of iron but was as likely the metal as blood. Taking a small clear sandwich bag from a backpack, he opened and slid the handle inside. He pinched the seal closed to secure it within.
Gunner walked to the path to consider the object. The two paths were perpendicular, meeting at a place where the lab coats had earlier dug something from the ground. There were four distinguishable holes and a small pile of dirt that appeared sieved through a screen. He made a mental note to ask Bo what had been unearthed there, if anything.
He returned to the generator and scoured every inch searching for a stem the handle might fit. There was none. Gunner knew it could be the haystack needle that would break the case. He had to get it to Bo.
After a squad car slow-rolled past, he took the spoils and left.
That evening, he phoned Bo.
"Ello," said Bo.
"Hey it's Gunner. I found something at the lake. It's probably nothing but."
"The lake? You've been fishing?"
"Fishing for evidence."
"Wait. What? What lake were you at?"
"Wolf Lake."
"You went to the boy's crime scene?"
"Yeah I was there after the white coats left."
"Gunner - what are you doing? You're not supposed to be visiting crime scenes. You're no longer a cop."
"I know Bo and I fucking remember why." Gunner pulled the phone from his ear and held it against his chest. He looked at the ceiling, took a long, deep breath and squeezed the receiver to his ear. "After the other day I wanted to help."
"Obviously I can't make choices for you. You can best help by standing clear. Is it a handcuff key?"
"No. I found a valve handle. I think it should be examined."
"A valve handle? The place is littered with machine parts. Why would you figure it has anything to do with the murder?"
"I think it has blood on it. If you want to meet tomorrow I can give it to you."
"Gunner, I don't, I."
"I know I'm not a fucking detective anymore and for the sake of argument neither are you. At least not one with a badge. I still have the goddamn instincts, the nose of a grubby bloodhound as you used to say. My nose says this handle is a piece of your puzzle."
"How big is it?"
"Three, four inches maybe. I haven't measured it."
"I don't see how a handle that small could have been used to bash the boy's head in. Or are you suggesting the valve was the murder weapon and the handle came off at some point?"
"Maybe the boy was trying to use it as a defensive weapon and it's the killer's blood."
A pause became an uncomfortable silence.
"All I'm saying is test it for blood and go from there."
"I think it's a wild goose I don't feel like chasing Gunner. Focus on you and please don't go to the lake again."
"Why you gotta be an ass about this man? I'm trying to make things right with you."
"Keep the handle Gunner. Use it as a line weight the next time you go fishing - for fish."
"Damnit Bo."
"I-I have to go. There's someone here."
Despite whatever intentions, a raging bull in a china shop will always prove itself such.
When it came right down to it, Patty, despite all logic, raged.
"I'm bringing Jay Fitzgerald in for questioning," she argued.
"I agree with Bo. It's a bad idea," said Prescott. "Let's park a tail on him and see what happens."
Patty's head ping-ponged between the two.
"Once the cat's out of the bag, there's no putting it back," Bo said, fidgeting with his broken gear.
"I don't give a shit about the fucking cat. Okay."
"Patty, all it will do is let him know we are on to him an
d he will lawyer up."
"I understood the reference Prescott. I'm not a fucking idiot."
"Then prove it."
"Tell me this, how do you even know if it is a cat without looking in the bag?"
"By watching the bag, listening to it, feeling the shape and for claws, gathering the evidence to understand what is in the bag."
"Exactly and that's all I want to do. I don't want to let Jay out of the bag, I want to squeeze and listen."
"By?"
"Play the grand gesture. Tell him we need his help - with the necklace. How could he refuse to help a dead classmate?"
Prescott turned to Bo sitting silent. His hands fell apart and he shrugged.
Patty watched. "Besides, Jay could be doing exactly that. Cory could be our killer, as could Jay. Fuck maybe they did it together like the boys from the twenties, Leonard and Lowe." She focused on Bo waiting for his correction.
Bo's eyes rose to meet hers. He did not say a word.
"I'll call John, Detective Lancaster and set it up."
Bo stood and reached for Prescott's hand. "I have another engagement," he said shaking hands.
"How well you know the guy?" Patty asked watching Bo leave.
"Better than most," Prescott said.
"What's his deal?"
"Sorry."
"Why is he here?"
"The Governor, Milton, the boy's father, me, we all want him here."
"Right but when we went to Haverly's house, he didn't know Bo."
"Friend of a friend I believe."
"Yeah sure, the richies always are. What's his background? What exactly does he bring to the table?"
"He's a valuable resource Detective. The sooner you get that chip off your shoulder, the less aggravation you'll have in your life."
"Yeah sure. I'm the one with the chip."
"You know some people get what they give. Others give what they get. Which are you Jameson?" Prescott walked away.
Two hours later Lancaster called to inform Patty the Fitzgerald’s agreed to cooperate and were willing to meet at their house or at Lancaster's office. They were unwilling to make the trek to Indiana. He set the interview for his office later that day. Bo
Everyone showed: Indiana and Illinois State Police, the FBI, Bo, Jay Fitzgerald, his parents Edgar and Abigail, and her attorney brother Ernie. The squad room resembled a 1/8th scale diorama of the Policeman's Ball.
“Bo? Bo Boson, whatever are you doing here?”
“Hello Abigail. How have you been?”
“Just dreadful this mess with the Haverly boy. Poor Millie must be beside herself.”
“Yes, I imagine so.”
“Do you know Edgar?”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Bo said stretching forth a hand.
“Boson is it?” Edgar asked shaking hands.
“Yes sir, Bo - Boson.”
“And how is it you know my wife?”
“Surely you know of Bo dear, we licensed that piece of medical equipment from him – three years ago was it?”
“Roughly,” said Bo.
“Oh right, right, right - we’ve made good money on that contraption.”
“Yes, I’d say we have.”
Mr. Fitzgerald stinted a laugh.
Patty looked up from her desk. When the family had arrived, they failed to acknowledge her presence. She felt more like a staffer from the secretarial pool than lead detective. The disrespect enraged her. She stewed, turning it to fuel for the coming interview. Patty snorted as she turned away. The bull was off and running.
In the interrogation room, Lancaster opened. He introduced Patty and turned the matter over to her. "You've met Detective Lancaster," Patty said. "It seems you all know Mr. Boson." Her hand lifted toward the end of the table. She introduced Prescott then dove in head first starting with the puka shell necklace.
“I reported mine missing. Ask Principal Williams!” Jay responded to Patty’s accusing eyes. The lawyer in Uncle Ernie took the boy’s arm controlling his emotion.
"The same day it went missing?"
"A few days after."
"Why would you wait to report something missing?"
Jay turned to his uncle. "It wasn't worth more than the memory of a wonderful vacation. And I wasn't certain I hadn't forgotten it at home. I wanted to look more before making an accusation of stealing."
"Right," Patty quipped.
"A person's reputation may not mean much in your world but it's everything in mine, ours. You can damage your own reputation by making false accusations. Besides, there's like fifteen students in my gym class. I would not have had any inclination toward accusing any particular person.“
"So you believe Harold Haverly stole your necklace while you were in the shower?"
"As I said, I haven’t accused anyone.”
“Harold is, was in your gym class?”
“Yes, I've been told he was."
“As were others,” Uncle Ernie added.
"I see. I see. What about Cory Walker, is he in your gym class too?"
"Cory Walker, Cory Walker. The name sounds familiar but I'm not certain. Who is he?"
"He's friends with Harold."
"Cory Walker is in the same gym class," Lancaster said examining a separate sheet of paper.
"You think this kid Cory had something to do with Harold's murder?"
"I didn't say that,” Patty said surprised by the boy turning the tables on her.
A thin, prideful smile formed on Ernie’s face.
“This is your necklace?” Patty asked pushing the photo closer to the boy.
“Looks like a common item Detective,” Ernie said leaning toward the picture. “I don’t see how the boy could possibly identify this as his.”
“But he can say."
“This isn’t mine,” Jay interrupted, tapping at the photo. “It isn’t mine.” He sat upright. His hands clung to the edge of the table he pushed away and glared at his uncle.
“How can you be so certain?” Patty asked.
“The part you screw together, it’s silver. Mine was a gold colored metal, not gold but the other one.” His finger waved at the air.
“Brass?” Uncle Ernie said.
“That’s it, brass. Mine was made of brass.”
“And you’re certain?”
“I put in on everyday for almost a year. I’m certain.” He turned to his left. “I’m certain Uncle Ernie.”
“Well there you have it, the boy is quite certain the necklace is not his.”
Jay smiled. His fingers tapped the table.
Patty eyed Lancaster as if trying to speak through extrasensory perception.
“What?” Ernie asked watching the pair.
Patty’s hand found her mouth as she fell into a deep thought. Lancaster stared at the gym class roster in front of him.
“Are we done then?” Ernie asked.
Patty looked to Prescott and Bo then to Lancaster again.
His head rattled into the slightest of shake communicating, “No.”
Patty’s eyes shrunk to a tight stare. She turned and lifted a small stack of folders from the chair seat to her left. She placed the pile on the table and patted at it. A deep breath filled her lungs. “Thank you for coming in today.”
“So that’s it?” Jay asked as Ernie climbed to his feet.
“Good luck with your investigation,” Ernie said.
As the pair left the interview room, Bo and Prescott followed.
Patty opened the top folder and pulled out another photo. She showed the reconstructed necklace picture to Lancaster. His head nodded in agreement, as he focused on a brass screw clasp.
“I wanted to see his reaction,” Patty said.
“I think it's best kept between us at this point. Today will put him at ease.”
“We should go thank the parents.”
“And see if Prescott can help with surveillance.”
“Exactly.”
Patty and Lancaster rushed
to catch up without appearing thus. They casually walked up behind Uncle Ernie speaking with Bo.
"Bo Boson, I was surprised to find you included in this," Ernie said with a hand out.
"Hello Ernie. I'm not the least bit surprised to see you."
Ernest Wilson bellowed a hearty laugh. His character the only thing more bodacious than he. They walked toward Jay's parents. “You know Abby, of course, have you met my brother-in-law Edgar?”
“Yes, Abigail introduced us earlier.”
“Oh good. When she’s not being a tyrant, she's awfully sociable.”
“Indeed,” Abigail agreed.
“You still tinkering?”
“Sure," said Bo, "when I find the time.”
“Of course. If you come up with anything else Abby may be interested in you be sure to let us know.”
“Absolutely Ernie.”
Patty thanked the family for their time and assured them the information Jay provided was helpful.
“I do hope you catch this cad Bo. For Millie’s peace of mind,” Abigail said.
“I assure you, we’re doing everything we can,” said Patty.
Abigail judged her. “Mm-hmm.”
The foursome left.
"Prescott, can you get a tail on him?" Patty asked.
"Consider it done." He walked to a desk and phoned his office.
"Are we dropping surveillance on Cory Walker?" Lancaster asked.
"No. Let's keep it for now," she said.
"Two lines in the water?"
"Something like that."
The strangest bedfellows can make the most interesting relationships.
The policeman's staple of coffee and donuts seemed an odd coupling to Bo. He enjoyed donuts well enough though he preferred a higher sugar to dough ratio. The caffeine he wanted cold with a carbonated bite. On his way in, he stopped for two bags of holes from a third generation family bakery near his house. One bag for him, the others could share.
He sat quiet in the back of the morning meeting. His tongue worked at a lump of dough stuck in a lower molar. Scanning the room, he realized Dave Lowman was missing from the group. As the realization formed, Dave came almost in a sprint. A plastic evidence bag in hand held high in front like a relay racer's baton.
"What the hell is that?" Patty asked backing away like it was contagious.
The Wolf Lake Murders (A Bo Boson Adventure Book 1) Page 8
