by W. H. Clark
The man with the plans saw Newton and Ward, and this set him in a quandary of whether to acknowledge them or to keep telling Kenny what he wanted to hear, what he was paying this man to tell him. Kenny noticed his discomfort and glanced over to Newton and Ward and then back at the man and the two others he was with.
“We’ll pick this up in five minutes,” he said, approaching the oncoming detectives with handshake ready and outstretched. “Detective Newton and…” He grasped Newton’s huge hand and squeezed it so that Newton wanted to say ‘stop’.
“This is Detective Ward,” Newton said.
Kenny grabbed at Ward’s hand and Ward tried to make sure he got a good thrust into the handshake to avoid what he’d noticed Newton had suffered but he wasn’t quick enough. He felt his metacarpals crunch.
“You’re here to see me about the old guy.” It wasn’t a question but seemed like an order, as if he was driving a meeting to an early conclusion because he had to be at another one as soon as possible. He could’ve said, “Get on with it, you sons of bitches,” for all the strength of his delivery.
So Ward slowed it down purposely and said, “The school getting some work done?”
Kenny momentarily seemed to be shaken down a rank or two by Ward’s question but he quickly snapped back in charge, like a sergeant major snapping his heels together. He might as well have demanded a salute, Ward thought.
“So let’s talk about the old guy,” Kenny said. “Homicide? That’s unfortunate.” And Ward thought his choice of phrase was also unfortunate. But he didn’t bite and he let Newton have a poke.
Newton said, “Would we be able to ask you a few questions, Mr. Kenny? You want to do it here or go somewhere warmer?”
“Here is fine. This won’t take long, I’m sure. And I’m used to the outdoors. All part of the job.”
“Okay,” Newton said. “I wondered if you could tell us about the security procedures you have in place at the nursing home.”
“Ask a specific question, detective,” said Kenny.
“Okay, well, let’s start with the security cameras that aren’t working,” he said, and then he realized he hadn’t asked a question. “Let me rephrase that. Were you aware that your cameras aren’t working?”
“Being fixed today. Next question.”
“What procedures do you have in place for controlling access into and out of the home?”
“You know the answer to that, detective. Next question.”
Newton rubbed his back. “And the control of medication?”
“We have a small pharmacy which is secured at all times. All drugs are locked up.”
“Who has access to the pharmacy?”
“The on-call doctor and the residential nurses.”
“And who keeps the key?”
“The key is locked in the safe.”
“And who has the key to the safe?”
“The manager of the facility has the key to the safe.”
“Yeah, we’ve spoken to him,” Ward said. “We’ve asked for a full inventory to be taken of all the drugs you got locked up there. Make sure none are missing.”
“So that’s what killed the old man? Drugs?”
“I’m afraid we can’t discuss any details at this stage, sir,” Newton said.
“Are you suggesting the drugs came from our pharmacy?”
“Again, with respect sir, we can’t discuss any details at this stage.”
Kenny smiled. And then Ward spoke. “You ever take time to visit the home?”
Kenny paused and sized up Ward. “I often pop in to say hello to my guests. And to maybe pick out a room for when I might need one.”
Ward tried a smile. “Were you there on Sunday night?” The question surprised Newton more than it did James Kenny, who briefly smiled.
“I would have to check back,” he said. And then, “Yes, possibly. Am I a suspect, detective?”
“No, of course not,” Newton said.
“As for suspect status, I don’t think you are just yet,” Ward said, and Newton looked at him as though wanting him to stop.
“Just yet. Ah. Mr. Poirot, you do play games,” Kenny said.
“Did you know the man, sir?” Ward glanced over to the school then as he waited for the reply.
“I knew Bill O’Donnell, yes. He was a guest of the nursing home. I know all my guests.”
“I’m sure you do,” Ward said, “but did you know Mr. O’Donnell on a personal level?”
Kenny looked at Newton. “Your guy here is very thorough, detective. You got a good one there.” And then he looked at Ward. “No. I didn’t know him on a personal level.”
“So you didn’t visit with him on Sunday?”
“No, I did not. I was there only briefly to have a walk around. Run a finger over the surfaces so to speak. I do it most weekends as a matter of fact.”
“Don’t you find it a little strange that a man of his financial resources should be able to afford your prices, sir? I mean, it can’t come cheap.”
“I don’t know what you are driving at, detective, so I’m not sure I can answer that question.”
“Okay,” Ward said. “I think we have everything we need for the time being. We appreciate your cooperation, sir.” He looked at Newton to see if he had any questions, but a slight shake of the head said he didn’t.
“Well, if you need anything else you know how to contact me.” And with that comment Kenny turned his back on Newton and Ward and a wave to his three men brought them scuttling over to him.
Newton took a painkiller from the bottle and swallowed it with a grimace that might have been pain or the effort of a dry swallow.
Newton said, “Are you kidding me? You know who that is?”
Ward turned to Newton but his peripheral vision captured Kenny, a blur on the edge of his thoughts. “You know you said about instinct? Well, ignore what I said. It’s now set to twitching.”
“You think he’s a suspect? Goddamn it, Ward, this is the richest man in town. In the county, probably. You don’t think—”
“I don’t like the guy. And I think he did know O’Donnell. In what capacity I don’t know but he knew him all right. And he doesn’t seem too concerned that there’s a killer on the loose in his nursing home.”
“Now hold on—”
“No. I’m running this case, remember? I asked for you to be put on the case.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Ask me that question a few days down the line.”
“We don’t go around upsetting the richest man in town is all I’m saying,” Newton said.
“Why not? His wealth don’t come into it.”
“And his influence. He’s connected. He knows everyone who’s anyone at the golf club, damn it, and that includes your captain. So don’t you go digging around too much with Kenny or you’ll end up digging yourself into a hole you might not want to crawl out of. S’all I’m saying.”
“Well,” Ward said, “I got an advantage here in that I don’t know or care about people’s influence or reputation around here and I don’t give a rat’s ass who I might upset.”
At that Newton just shrugged.
“And what’s an old guy like O’Donnell doing, spending his last few years in a nursing home that costs around thirty thousand bucks a year?”
“Maybe he had a good insurance plan,” Newton said.
“Well, correct me if I’m wrong but he don’t seem like the kind of guy had a pension pot to piss in.”
Ward waited for Newton, who sighed. “I think it’s time you got a bit of background on the other case. Find you something out about O’Donnell.”
“We’re not working the other case. I got strict orders on that.”
“Strict orders from who?”
“From Gammond. He don’t want you reopening old wounds is what he said.”
Newton was silent for a few seconds and then he said, “Let’s go see Alice White.”
“Next of kin?” Ward asked.
“Closest he’d got to any. It’ll be a good place to start. Get you some context on the guy.”
26
“I’ll kick off the questions,” Ward said. He and Newton had located Alice White at home on the quiet side of town. “Seems you know the lady and I’d kinda like to get to know her too, at my pace.”
Newton nodded and clapped his hands to get some blood running through them. The cold seemed to age him, a pallid undercoat showing through his complexion, emphasizing the wrinkles and making visible the stress. He looked like old furniture too far gone to restore.
Alice White answered the door on one knock and her deep purring voice, like that of a content tigress, led them inside. The house was warm, old people warm, and Ward took off his coat. Alice White took it from him and set it on a coat stand by the door. He removed his hat and placed it on the hook next to his coat.
“Mr. Newton? Your coat, sir?”
But Newton shook his head. The warmth seemingly hadn’t hit him like it had Ward. He bit his bottom lip as if to stifle something wanting to come out.
“We’ve met before, Mr.…”
“Ward. Sorry, I’m Detective Ward. But I don’t think we’ve met before.”
Alice White coughed up a deep laugh.
“Not you, Mr. Ward. Mr. Newton and me have met. Long time ago.”
Newton still didn’t talk but nodded at her, took off his cap, and then looked down at his feet.
“I won’t ask you to take off your shoes. Just wipe them on this here mat and come into the parlor. Fancy name I call my living room.” The words seemed to wash over Ward and he felt relaxed by them as if enchanted.
She was dressed for a Sunday and Ward knew for sure that she always dressed for a Sunday whatever day it was.
In the parlor three cups were set out for tea. Cookies circled a doily-dressed plate, some in gold foil and some bare.
“The ones without the wrappings I baked myself for you this morning. Truth told the wrapped ones are for show and ain’t nobody never touched those before when my best homemade cookies are on offer. Please sit.”
Ward and Newton sat and then Ward noticed the single tear on Alice’s right cheek, at odds with her broad smile which broadened further when she noticed Ward looking at her with concern written on his features.
“They leak from time to time in this cold. Sure it’s an age thing.”
Ward wondered how they leaked in this heat, though. He glanced around the room and the first thing that struck him were the photographs of children. Lots of photographs of lots of children.
“My babies.”
Ward opened his face to ask a silent question.
“My foster children. Brought up no children of my own but many little ones have graced this house. Some troubled and some mellow but all wonderful in their own ways.”
Ward smiled. “You got any now?”
“Oh no. Not no more. Getting too old to keep up with them. One thing always been true is that children draw energy. And at my age I ain’t got enough of that most days to keep my own engine revving. Tea?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Ward said.
Newton said nothing but Alice poured three cups anyway. Ward eyed the cookies and Alice pushed them his way and he accepted the invitation readily.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about William O’Donnell,” Ward said. “Would you mind?”
“No, no, of course not.” The smile still illuminated her face and Ward wondered if she knew what had happened to him, but he knew that of course she did. At least she knew he was dead.
“What can you tell me about him? Did you know him well?”
“I knew him very well,” said Alice. “Very well. As well as anybody might know him I would say. But not as good as God knew him. I see the man but God sees the heart. What I can tell you, though, is the William I knew was a good man. A good man.”
Again Ward allowed space for Alice to continue and she filled that space, the smile never leaving her face.
“I first met William at my church. One day he appeared. I can tell you which day because it was the Sunday of his grandson going missing.”
Newton looked up now and Alice brought him into the conversation with a slight, almost indiscernible nod of her head. Newton seemed to freeze in that gaze.
“Go on,” Ward said, encouragement that wasn’t necessary. He took out his notepad and began to write as she spoke.
“He hung around at the back and he kind of stood out. Took him for a hobo at first. And he was white. Not to say we don’t have white folk at the church but not so many. When the service ended he stood aside to let people out but he stayed there. Never took his eyes off of Christ. I did the flowers back then and I was tending them when he walks up to the front and, as a good Christian, I ain’t normally quick to judge but I confess on that occasion I thought he had an eye for the altar. We got a fair weight of gold and silver on there. But he just walked up and stood there staring up at Christ on the cross. I carried on with my business and kept a half eye on him, strange looking and sad as he was. Yes, he looked as sad as anybody I ever saw. I like to leave people be when they like that, communicating with the Lord. I’m not sure he knew it back then but he was doing that all right. God’s always listening even when you not saying nothing. And William wasn’t saying nothing. And then suddenly he spins around as if he’s come out of a trance and he looked startled and he got me startled. I think he saw that and he just says to me, ‘I wanted to get closer.’”
“Closer?”
“Closer to God. He told me later that he picked the Westmoreland Gospel Church because he thought we got closer to God with our ‘dancing, singing and whooping hallelujahs’ as he put it. Closer than the other denominations. And he was keen as corn dogs to get up close and personal with the Lord at that time.”
“So would you say he was a deeply religious man?”
“No, Mr. Ward. I wouldn’t say that. For sure he would be there every Sunday and some Saturdays too, and he started to help out with odd jobs around the place, but he wouldn’t be described as deeply religious. Never saw him sing nor pray. Not outwards anyway. Some, they sing inwards and I think maybe William was one of those. He once told me he didn’t pray because he was scared to hear silence coming back. He just wanted to know God was there. To trust he was there. He had faith because he needed faith. I think that’s it. I think he needed it because of little Ryan. Not a day passed for that first year that he wasn’t out looking for Ryan.” Her voice was as sweet as her cookies and Ward helped himself to another, rapt in her story.
She stood then and walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. She took out a photograph and handed it to Ward.
“Here’s a picture from a couple years ago at one of our events. He always smiled for the camera, though his teeth weren’t perfect.” She laughed.
Newton lowered his head and Alice paused to look over at him.
“Mr. Newton. I feel what you thinking but I tell it as it is, as facts I know. William wanted to get closer to God. And you thinking that was because he took the life of his Ryan. I knew William as a kind man, not the sort of man that would do such a thing, but it don’t matter what I think. You always suspected William, I know. But it don’t matter much what you think neither. Fact is, only God can judge and if William done anything like you say he did, then I guess by now God has sat in judgment on him.”
Newton didn’t say anything but sat there with hands gripping knees and head bowed again.
“And you ain’t touched your tea, Mr. Newton. No mind. I’ll get us a fresh pot while you two talk amongst yourselves.”
She stood up slowly and steadied herself before moving on out of the room. Ward looked over at Newton and for a minute he thought he was looking at a man on death row.
“It’s bullshit,” Newton said. “I’ve heard all this bullshit before. She knows something more and she ain’t telling. O’Donnell just appeared from nowhere on the day the boy was reported missing and gave m
e this story of his truck going missing and him going off to look for it. Something didn’t add up.”
“Did he report the truck missing?”
“So what if he did? Yes, he did. But to me that don’t add up to a convincing alibi. I’m telling you, Ward, there’s something else here. And I think she knows. Why was he at the church anyways? He suddenly goes to church. A black church. Don’t make sense. Never made sense.”
“After losing his grandson I guess he might go to church. It’s not that unusual for someone to go pray for something like that.”
“It don’t match the timeline.”
“How’s that?”
“Because he went to church before he knew the boy had gone.”
Ward stared sleepily at Newton. “Okay, look—”
“I had him, Ward. I had him. He was at the church before Ryan was reported missing. His truck went missing. He took the boy and then after he’d killed him he went to pray for his own soul.”
“Okay. We need to focus on the old man’s homicide for now. I need to get background on the man. She’s the one person knew him best. Got to be something in what she’s telling us even if it’s not the full story. God will strike her down if she’s telling lies. That’s how it works, right?”
Newton shook his head and was about to speak when Ward’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the display and decided to take the call. The call lasted less than a minute and by the time Ward hung up Alice was back in the room with a fresh pot of tea and more cookies.
“Was that a phone I heard? That would be the station, I figure.” She sat down slowly, smiling at Ward and holding his stare. He looked over to Newton, who sat upright now. The phone was on vibrate and hadn’t rung out loud.
“Mrs. White. I have a few more questions. Did you receive any money from William?”
Alice White poured tea. A fresh cup for Ward, but Newton placed his hand over his cup to decline.
“Yes, I did, Mr. Ward. You don’t need to ask me that because you got access to William’s bank account. Regular payment each month of five hundred dollars.”
Newton’s jaw loosened.
“May I ask why? What was the money for?”
