Grain of Truth

by V. J. Chambers

  She gazed at her small son. He was a beautiful boy, and she adored him. “Why were you fighting, honey?”

  Thad shrugged. “I don’t like it there.”

  “That’s not an answer to my question.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, Thad, sweetheart, I asked why you were fighting. Was someone mean to you?” According to the monitor, Thad had started hitting another little boy out of nowhere, for no reason. Frankie couldn’t believe that was true.

  “Yeah, but that’s not why,” said Thad.

  “I don’t understand. Who was mean to you? The boy you were hitting?”

  “No, I just picked him because he was littler than me, and he probably wouldn’t fight back.”

  “Thad!” She was horrified. What a truly awful thing to say. He sounded like a tiny psychopath.

  “I know it’s not nice, but I figured I had to do something really bad to get kicked out of there.”

  Oh, now she understood. “You picked the fight on purpose?”

  “Because I hate it there, and I don’t want to go back. And if you make me go back, I’ll do it again. I’ll hit girls next time.”

  Frankie put her head in her hands. What was she going to do with Thad?

  “Why couldn’t I just come here after school?”

  “Because this is not an appropriate place for kids, and you’d be in the way.”

  “I wouldn’t be in the way,” said Thad. “I could be really, really quiet. No one would even know I was here.”

  “No, Thad. It’s out of the question. You heard what my boss just said. She said you couldn’t be here every day. I’m lucky she’s even letting you be here this afternoon.”

  Thad stuck out his lower lip.

  There was a knock at Frankie’s office door. She looked up to see that Iain was standing there.

  “Hi,” he said. “I have the missing page from the interrogation with Gutierrez. Elke left it in my office. I tried to give it to her, but she said that you were on it, so…”

  “Oh, thanks.” Frankie got up and went across the room to take the piece of paper from Iain. She stared at it, the words swimming in front of her. How the hell was she going to concentrate on work when she was so worried about Thad? Maybe she should have taken him home after all.

  “Hi,” said Thad. “What’s your name?”

  Iain glanced down at him. “Iain. You must be Thad.”

  “How’d you know my name?”

  “You wrote it on the wall over there.” Iain gestured with his head and eyebrows.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Thad. “What do you do here?”

  “Thad.” Frankie shook her head at him. “Don’t bother Detective Hudson.”

  “Whoa, you’re a detective?” Thad’s eyes got big.

  Iain laughed. “It’s okay. He’s not bothering me.” He turned back to Thad. “I’m a detective, all right.”

  “You solve crimes?”

  “Yup,” said Iain.

  “Like on TV?”

  “Like on TV.”

  “That’s really, really cool. What kind of crimes do you solve? Do you find things that are stolen or do you bring back kidnapped kids or what?”

  “Murder, mostly,” said Iain. “Although, now I work here with your mom, and we make sure that the crimes were solved right the first time, so it could be any crime at all.”

  “Huh,” said Thad. “Is it hard? Do you like it? Do you always wear a suit? Are you a policeman? Why don’t you wear a police uniform? Do you have a badge?”

  Frankie let out a nervous laugh. “Thad, calm down.” When Thad got excited about something, he didn’t know when to stop. He didn’t notice social cues.

  But Iain just held up a hand. “It’s not an easy job, but I do like it. And I usually wear suits. And yes, I’m a policeman. And I do have a badge. Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes,” said Thad.

  Iain got it out and handed it over.

  “It’s so shiny,” said Thad. “Hey, did you know why cops are called cops? Some people think it’s because of copper badges, but that’s not true.”

  “Really?” Iain appeared very interested. “Are you sure?”

  Thad nodded, excited. He loved talking about this stuff. “I am. Totally positive. It’s an Anglo-Saxon word, a verb, ‘cop,’ meaning ‘to catch or grab or capture.’ And the police were called coppers, because that’s what they did. They caught people. Eventually, it got shortened to ‘cop.’ But it used to be really derogatory and you wouldn’t say it to any police officer or you’d make them really mad. It was like a bad word.”

  “That’s really interesting,” said Iain.

  “Thad,” said Frankie. “Remember what we talked about?”

  Thad kept going, oblivious. “Now, the thing is, the metal copper did get involved with it, but that was after the fact. See, it was so offensive to call a policeman a copper that they made it illegal in England to even say it. So the criminals started carrying around copper instead to show it to the police instead of saying it.”

  “Wow,” said Iain. “That is so interesting.”

  “You don’t have to humor him,” said Frankie. She turned to Thad. “Remember, not everyone finds this stuff as interesting as you do.”

  “I do, though,” said Iain. “Seriously.” He grinned at Thad. “It’s good to have a wide knowledge base if you’re a detective. You never know what kind of situation you’re going to end up in.”

  “Really?” said Thad, smiling.

  “Yeah,” said Iain.

  “Can you tell me more stuff about being a detective?”

  “No, he’s working right now,” said Frankie. “You can’t bother him.”

  “I’m taking some documents to Amos to file right now,” said Iain. “He could walk out with me, and I could tell him some stuff on the way. If it’s okay with you.”

  “You don’t mind?” said Frankie.

  “Not at all,” said Iain. “Thad here seems like a neat kid.”

  Thad grinned. “You seem like a cool adult.”

  Iain laughed. “Come on.” He gestured and Thad hopped up to go after him.

  * * *

  “Wait, who are you?” said Mariah Williamson over the phone. “I talked to a guy before?”

  “Yeah, that was my associate, Iain Hudson,” said Frankie. She was in her office, cradling the receiver of the phone between her head and shoulder as she scribbled Mariah’s name on a piece of paper. “He gave me your number. We had a couple more questions about Rory Gutierrez.”

  “Okay,” said Mariah. “But I don’t really have time to—”

  “Just quickly,” said Frankie. “Did Rory have a boyfriend?”

  “Um, I don’t know if you’d call him a boyfriend exactly, but there was a guy that hung around here sometimes.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Seth.”

  “Last name?”

  “Uh, Green? No, that’s that actor.” Mariah hummed softly on the other end, thinking. “I think it was Long.”

  “You’re not certain?”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any way of contacting him?”

  “Uh, no. I haven’t talked to him in years. But, you know, sometimes I see him around town. I don’t think he moved away or anything. Actually, I think he might work at that Mexican restaurant in town. Maybe he even owns it? I’m not sure.”

  “Which Mexican restaurant?”

  “Del Taco. He got married a few years back, and one of my friends was invited to the wedding. She said it was a sea theme, with shells and stuff.”

  “So, you do know him?”

  “No, not really. I mean, I guess we have some mutual friends. We all hung out back in college. Sort of. I mean, there was a large circle of people we associated with back then. But now, we’re all scattered mostly.”

  “You think that friend might have contact information for him?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. But I haven�
��t talked to her in over a year. I could send her a message on Facebook if you want?”

  “No,” said Frankie. “That’s fine. I’ll let you know if I need you to do something like that.” She said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.

  Well, she might have a name. She turned to her computer and tried looking him up. She found about four Seth Longs in the area, all with phone numbers.

  She figured she’d just start calling them one after the other.

  The first Seth Long was in his sixties and had never heard of Rory Gutierrez.

  The second Seth Long was about the right age, but he had just moved to the area a year or two ago, and wasn’t the one she was looking for.

  When she called the third Seth Long’s number, a woman answered. “Oh, Seth’s my husband. What’s this about?”

  “I’m looking into an old murder case, and he may have some information for me if he’s the right Seth Long,” said Frankie.

  “He’s not here right now, or I’d put him on. How would we know if he’s the right Seth Long?”

  “Well, did he go to Haven College?”

  “Yeah, but he dropped out,” she said.

  “Would he have been hanging out with students from the college about twenty-five years ago?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Did he know someone named Rory Gutierrez?”

  “Wow, I have no idea,” she said. “I’ll ask him, though, when he gets home, and I’ll have him call you either way, okay?”

  “Sure,” said Frankie, and left her contact information.

  She called the fourth Seth Long, and another woman answered. “Yeah?”

  “I’m looking for Seth Long.”

  “Seth’s dead.”

  “Oh.” Frankie was taken aback. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

  “Eh, good riddance to the bastard. He was a terrible man, and a terrible husband. I don’t miss him.”

  “Okay,” said Frankie as politely as she could. “Could you tell me roughly when he was born? Would he have been in his twenties or thirties in the early 1990s?”

  “What? No. He just died this fall. He was twenty-five.”

  “Oh, okay. Not the Seth I’m looking for. Thank you for your time.” Frankie hung up.

  She hoped it was the third Seth Long, but she wasn’t holding her breath. If he was at all involved in the crime, he probably wouldn’t want to talk to her, so she didn’t really expect a call back from him. She wondered if calling later in the day would be better. If he did work at that Mexican restaurant in town, though, he might work late hours.

  Hmm. Maybe she should just go by the restaurant. Of course, she couldn’t do that right now. She had Thad to think about. Maybe tomorrow, though. Should she try early or late? She wasn’t sure. She’d maybe come in to the office tomorrow and see if she got a call back from Mr. Long. If not, she’d head out and look for him.

  * * *

  Amos was doing his last walk around of the office, looking to see if anyone was still there, as usual. He turned a corner and there was Iain, who gave him a salute and then headed for the door.

  Amos was about to follow him out, but then he realized it was about the same time as it had been the other night when he’d run into Dick, and he didn’t want to see that guy again, so he sat down at his desk and screwed around on the Internet for about fifteen minutes. Figuring that had been enough time, he got his things together and left the office.

  He was doubly freaked out about Dick now that he’d heard about the guy in Elke’s apartment. That was legit creepy. Amos was thinking about getting new locks put on his door. Or maybe putting them on himself? He wasn’t really a handyman or anything, but he’d gotten a pretty extensive set of tools from his dad for Christmas last year, and he should maybe put them to use.

  His parents knew he was gay and they were fine with it. He’d officially come out to them as a high school senior, right before the prom. His junior year, he’d taken his best friend Mindy to the prom, which had been fun and all, but his senior year, he’d developed this crazy crush on a guy name Raphael—partly because of his exotic name, and partly because he was one of a few other gay guys in his high school—and he wanted to ask Raph out to the prom, but he knew he couldn’t unless he told his parents he was gay.

  They hadn’t been particularly surprised.

  “Yes, sweetie, we sort of figured,” his mother said, giving him a hug.

  “Whatever makes you happy, sport,” said his father, patting him on the shoulder.

  It was true that his being gay was not exactly out of left field. Amos had a love for bright clothes and musical theater and had a voice that sounded like a throaty alto. He also squealed sometimes.

  Okay, a lot.

  Still, his father still seemed to have some idea in his head that Amos was going to morph into Chuck Norris or something. Not that there weren’t gay guys who weren’t pretty Chuck Norris-y. Not as many as Amos would have liked, he supposed. Not that he really dug Chuck Norris or anything, because the guy was old, and his face was—well, there was stuff going on there. But anyway, the point was, his father was always giving him these super guys’ guys presents, and if Amos said anything about it, his father said that he was just trying not to cave to harmful stereotypes about gay men.

  Which then made Amos feel like a walking stereotype, because he didn’t have a lot of traditionally male interests. He didn’t like cars or sports or building things.

  He wondered if he only liked the things he liked because it was easier for him if people knew he was gay right off. It just made all the awkwardness go away. Like, sometimes, he’d get into conversations with other gay friends who said they had issues with girls getting the wrong idea and wanted to date them, and Amos never had that problem. His friends would laugh and call him something like “flaming,” and Amos would laugh too.

  But then he felt self-conscious about it all.

  Maybe he should learn to use power tools. It would give him some depth.

  Probably it would make him sexier too to other guys. Guys with power tools were totally hot.

  So, yeah, anyway, he was going to change the locks on his door and maybe add like fifteen deadbolts while he was at it. Or two. Or whatever.

  He left the office and shut the door behind him. He locked up the office door, turned around—

  And came face to face with Dick.

  “Hey,” said Dick.

  “Hey?” said Amos, heart stuttering in his chest.

  Dick smiled. “I thought I’d come looking for you tonight. You usually are at the elevator by now. I thought maybe you were working late and that you might want some company.”

  Amos swallowed. “You know when I’m at the elevator?” His voice was a squeak.

  Dick shrugged. “Maybe I watch you sometimes.” He stepped closer to Amos.

  Amos backed up and collided with the door. Hell, why was it that whenever he was around this guy, he always felt trapped?

  Dick grinned. “I saw your picture in the paper when they ran that story about the new CRU unit, and I thought you were cute. But I probably would have forgotten all about you until they ran that story about the Mukherjee case. And then…” He lifted his finger. “I remembered you. And, uh, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

  Amos yanked his phone out of his pocket. “Look, you need to back off,” he said, but his voice was still squeaky.

  Dick chuckled. “Playing hard to get, huh? I like that.”

  “No, I’m serious. I don’t know who it is that you’re involved with—if it’s the police department or Rory Gutierrez or Joseph Chapman and Zachary Wheeler or even Joshua Oliver. But you’re not scaring us off this case. We’re going to find the truth. So, just back off.” He brandished his phone. “If you don’t, I’m going to call the police.”

  Dick let out another laugh, but this one was more like a delighted giggle, like a child who’d just received the toy he’d been asking for at Christmas. “Oh, you’re really adorabl
e when you’re scared, Amos.”

  “Back off.” Amos tried to draw the unlock pattern on his cell phone, but he messed it up. His fingers were shaking. His whole body was shaking.

  Dick leaned in close, bracing an arm against the door and looking at Amos’s lips. His voice got low and rough. “Very, very adorable. Even a little sexy.”

  Amos shoved Dick. Put his hands in the middle of the other man’s chest and pushed as hard as he could. He dropped his phone in the process.

  Dick stumbled backwards. “What the hell was that?”

  Amos reached down to get his phone.

  Dick swiped it up off the floor. “Why’d you push me like that? I thought we had a connection.”

  “No,” said Amos, who was strangely out of breath, as if he’d been running a marathon, even though all he’d done was shove the guy. “We don’t. Give me back my phone.”

  “Give me back my phone,” mimicked Dick in a high pitched voice. He laughed. And then suddenly, he stopped laughing. His face went blank and empty, and that was somehow more terrifying that when he was mocking Amos. “Fetch, pretty boy,” he said, and tossed the phone down the hallway.

  Amos hesitated for a second, and then he made a mad dash down the hallway to get the phone.

  When he picked it up, he looked back down the hallway.

  Dick was gone.

  Amos clutched his phone, shaking from head to toe. This was not cool. This was incredibly not cool. He looked at his phone and then managed to get the unlock pattern drawn. He called Elke.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “There’s nothing more you can do?” Elke was saying. She and Amos were down at the police station. They’d filed a formal report against Dick, but they didn’t have much to tell the police. They’d given a physical description, but they didn’t know his last name, and they didn’t know anything else about him. He’d harrassed Amos, but he hadn’t directly threatened him or anything like that.