The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1)

by A. J. Flynn

  The doctor spoke up. “As you say, Lieutenant, it’s possible, but I’m inclined to doubt it. His clothes were in disarray, and the only dirt we found on him was from where he’d been lying on the ground. Also, there was nothing particularly savage about the manner of killing. It looks like it might have even been an accident.”

  “Well, we’ll be able to judge better once the autopsy’s finished. Thanks, Doc. There doesn’t seem to be much more we can do here, so we’ll head on out.”

  “Good night, officers,” the doctor answered, and turned his attention back to the lab men, while McPherson and Taylor started down the path.

  They reached the car and got in. Taylor called in to headquarters, and McPherson slumped in her seat, lost in her thinking.

  “Where to now, Lieutenant?” Taylor said, after he had learned there was nothing new.

  “Garrett and Fichte have been interviewing the neighbors, so let’s see if we can run them down. Maybe they’ve learned something besides Charlie was a good boy who minded his parents and played the violin,” she said in a dejected tone.

  “Sounds good. But hey, don’t get so down in the dumps. After all, they only just found him a little while ago,” Taylor said as he flipped a U-turn back to South Pines.

  The car used by Sergeant Fichte and Detective Garrett was parked at the curb, near the Turners’ home, but there was no way to know which house they were visiting. Taylor parked behind it and McPherson said, “We’ll wait. No point in frightening them. Go ahead and take a nap if you want. I need some time to think.”

  “OK, but I gotta say I’m getting pretty hungry.”

  “We’ll stop for a bite once we’ve spoken with Garrett and Fichte. Maybe the neighbors know we need something to work on. I think you’ll make it until then.”

  Taylor slumped down in the seat and lowered the bill of his hat over his eyes, while McPherson lit a cigarette and waited, deep in thought.

  It was about twenty minutes before the other officers appeared down the street. McPherson didn’t know who lived in the house they just exited, but she could make out a woman standing in the doorway. Once she saw that the woman had gone inside, she slid out of her seat and hailed the two men.

  Garrett was the first to arrive. He was a medium-height, wiry man, with sparkling blue eyes and a dark shock of wavy brown hair. He also possessed the unfortunate opinion that he was a rare gift to the world. An opinion which, to say the least, was not shared by McPherson.

  “Find anything?” McPherson asked when Garrett was within earshot.

  Fichte arrived closely on his trail, and the dark night made his cavernous deep-set eyes look like puddles of shadow.

  “Nothing much, Lieutenant. Everyone’s in shock. They all seem to have liked the boy, but none of them seemed to know him very well,” Fichte said in a soft voice.

  Garrett’s voice was deeper, and filled with disgust, as he said, “They don’t seem to know a damn thing.”

  “What do you want them to do, make something up, just for your sake?” McPherson said sarcastically.

  “Hell, no, but some of these folks have known the kid for nearly three years, and you know what they have to say about him? He was a good kid—real well behaved. If you mention his brother, they’ll give you a tin ear, but Charlie was a model of good behavior.”

  “What about alibis? Do they all have one?”

  “All but Mrs. Johnson. But she says she was home alone when it happened, and there isn’t any reason to think otherwise. Mr. Johnson still isn’t home yet, and neither are the Valentines,” Fichte added quietly.

  “Tell me who these people are and what they’re like.”

  “Well, there are the Fittses. That’s their house we just came out of. They have a few kids of their own, and seem nice enough, but the wife is scared stiff. They say they had company over last night, so we can confirm that in the morning.”

  “The Rogers live over there,” Fichte continued. “They’re an older couple. The husband is sickly. I can’t imagine him being able to walk all the way there, let alone carry the boy.”

  “The wife’s sure big enough,” Garrett snorted, “Got a backside like an oil tanker.”

  “They said they were home together. But we weren’t able to confirm that,” Fichte carried on calmly, ignoring Garrett’s crass interruption.

  “The Shepherds live in that third house down.” Fichte pointed. “It’s just her and the boy. He’s about fourteen. They say they went to the movies and ran into an old friend, so they should be easy enough to check out.”

  “Mrs. Johnson was home alone. Says her husband works nights a lot. He’s a used car salesman and has to keep up with contacts. He hasn’t come home tonight, so we’ll have to pay him a visit tomorrow.”

  “If I had her lingering around the house all the time, I’d work every night, too,” Garrett sneered. “Of all the dirty old bags I’ve seen, she takes the cake.”

  “Garrett, can you keep your god-damned opinions to yourself?” McPherson snapped.

  “He’s right, Lieutenant,” Fichte interjected. “She wants you to think she’s a perfect lady, but she keeps begging to know just what happened to the boy, down to every last detail. Says she knows it was a sexual predator, and we’re keeping the truth from her so as not to frighten her.”

  McPherson sighed. “There’s always one in every neighborhood. Well, you fellas can go ahead and knock off for the night. Taylor and I are heading off to grab something to eat, then we’ll make a trip back to see if the Valentines are home.”

  The two detectives said good night walked to their own car.

  McPherson turned to Taylor. “See if you can find a restaurant that’s nearby. I’m starving.”

  “OK,” he replied as he hurried to the car. “There’s a shopping mall nearby. I’m sure we can find something at the food court.”

  Once McPherson was inside, he pulled the car into the street.

  II

  They made their way through the dark streets, lost in thought. Finally, Officer Taylor said, “Why in the hell did the kid do it? What made him get the idea to climb out the window in that robe? It doesn’t make sense why he’d all of a sudden decide to go for a walk in the middle of the night.”

  McPherson rested her head on the back of her seat and closed her eyes. “From what they’re saying, he was a well-behaved kid, and not the sort that would leave in the middle of the night just for a walk. Wherever he planned on going was important to him. More important than whatever punishment he might have gotten if he were caught. I think we’ll have to talk to one of his friends—a good friend. Someone the boy liked and trusted enough to give and receive favors.”

  Taylor thought this over, then asked, “But if they were such good friends then how did the boy end up strangled?”

  “Somewhere during his wandering last night,” McPherson answered in a low tone, “Charlie must have seen or heard something he shouldn’t have. Something someone was willing to kill to keep from being uncovered. Exactly what that thing is is hard to say, but you can bet your wife’s new panties, I’m going to find out.”

  “Yeah, good thinking.” Taylor parked along the curb. “How does Chinese food sound? There’s a place open there across the street.”

  “Show me the way. I could eat sawdust if you seasoned it.”

  The place was lowly lit, but on the whole both officers had seen far worse, so they picked out a booth.

  “Should we order some beers, or are we still on duty?” Taylor asked hopefully.

  “Still on duty,” McPherson replied but, after a brief look at the young man’s disappointed expression, added, “so I can have one while you look the other way. Then you can have one, and I’ll do the same.”

  Taylor was still smiling when the Chinese waiter offered the menus.

  McPherson waved hers away. “I’ll have a dish of prawns, chow, and egg foo yung, and a bottle of beer as well.”

  “Same,” Taylor agreed.

  The waiter returned
with their beer before they even knew he was gone.

  “Fast service.”

  “Yeah,” the lieutenant mumbled, dabbing her mouth after a long swallow. She’d been on duty since early that morning, and needed a beer.

  “How’s Liam?” Taylor asked.

  “Fine. He found a few new houses for me to look at, but I’ve been too busy to really settle down and study them. Where he finds them I’ll never know, but I swear some of them look like they would dissolve in a rainstorm.”

  Taylor laughed. “That’s funny. A tough cop like you spending her spare time wandering around looking at foundations and plumbing.”

  “What’s so funny about that?” McPherson asked mildly. “When Liam and I get married, we’ll have to have a place to stay, and when you’re investing that kind of money, you better make damn sure you don’t get trapped. The only things Liam pays attention to is how big the rooms are and how much cupboard space the kitchen has. He doesn’t seem the least bit interested in whether or not it will blow over from the first high wind.”

  “You’re funny, Lieutenant. So, when are you and Liam planning on taking the big leap? You two have been together as long as I’ve known you.”

  “Hopefully by summer. After all, neither one of us are exactly young anymore, and we wanted to make sure everything was just right before we started. We should have everything set out by May or June.”

  “Well, good luck.”

  “Thanks. Looks like our food is on its way. Order me another beer, will you? I’m going to call up the lab and see if those casts were any good.”

  “Sure thing, but don’t be too long or your prawns might get cold. Nothing gets colder faster than fried prawns.”

  “It’ll just be a minute.”

  McPherson kept her word, and within two minutes she was back.

  “Anything?”

  “Two of the footprints were good, but both of them were from the left foot. It looks like the tire prints were the best, so we’ll have a lot of footwork ahead of us finding out who they belong to.”

  With that they both settled into eating. When they were finished, each paid for their own check and returned to the car.

  “It’s a little after ten,” McPherson said, “so let’s run back by the Turners, just to make sure things are still quiet. Maybe the Valentines will be home by now and can tell us something. Probably not, but it’s worth a try.”

  “OK, Lieutenant. Who needs sleep anyway?”

  McPherson grunted. “Yeah well, I love my work. Let’s get going.”

  Taylor steered the car away from the curb and swung into the street. “You don’t plan on bothering the Turners anymore tonight, do you, boss?”

  “No, and don’t ever call me boss. Just drive. I’m trying to think.”

  Ten minutes later, they were coasting quietly past the Turner house.

  “All’s dark and seems well,” Taylor remarked.

  “Yeah, which is what you might expect, I guess. The doctor must have knocked both of them out. Circle back around the block and park in front of the Valentines. I saw a light on, so they must be home.”

  A few minutes later, Taylor pulled up to the curb. McPherson stepped out while Taylor slid down in his seat for a nap. With a look of irritation, the lieutenant began walking towards the house, which, besides a single added carport and a mint-green paint job, was an exact duplicate of the Turner’s place. The thought played in her mind that if she were color-blind, and came home drunk, she’d have one hell of a time finding his house. Smiling at her own mental picture, she rang the doorbell.

  III

  The man that answered was tall and slender, and good-looking by most people’s standards. He had wavy dark hair that grew down to a widow’s peak, and hazel eyes that looked both soft and sad. The only thing that prevented him from being classically handsome was an indefinite lack of character in his face. But regardless of his level of character, McPherson was forced to admit to herself that he was probably good with women.

  “Hello?” It was more of a question than a greeting, and, considering the time of night, he had a point.

  “Hello. Sorry to bother you so late, but I’m Lieutenant Emma McPherson of the police, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  It was hard to be sure, but for a brief moment it seemed as if an expression of fear had crossed Valentine’s face. The next moment it was gone.

  “Yes, Lieutenant. How can I help you?”

  “You’re Mr. Valentine?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I’d like to ask you and your wife some questions in connection with the Turner boy’s murder.”

  Harry Valentine stepped back and ran his palm down the navy lapel of his suit jacket. “Please step inside. We heard about it over the news while we were on our way home. I don’t think we know anything that will help you, but ask away.”

  McPherson stepped inside. The room was decorated in ultra-modern furniture. The chairs looked like overturned baskets, and the tables and couch seemed to be perching precariously on spindly iron legs. Everything in the room was some shade of green, with the sole exception of a large red bowl, sitting atop a boomerang-shaped coffee table.

  “Let me grab your coat and hat.” Valentine’s voice was low and hearty, like he was welcoming an old friend.

  “Oh, no thanks. I won’t be long.”

  As it appeared expected of her, McPherson lowered herself gently onto the edge of one of the basket chairs.

  “First of all, I would like to know if you saw or heard anything last night that seemed out of the ordinary. Noises, strangers loitering, anything like that?”

  Valentine had settled onto the couch and was now lounging. “Nothing I can think of.” For a moment he studied the tip of his shoe, then continued, “Hayley and I went out for dinner last night. We do that quite often. What with my wife working, cooking at home every night can grow to be too much of a good thing. We returned home at around eight thirty. Hayley fussed around with her hair and makeup, things like that. I sat down and watched some television, and we both went to bed at around eleven thirty. I can’t remember hearing or seeing anything out of the ordinary.”

  “When you got home, did you see anyone hanging around, or the Turner boy starting off anywhere?”

  “No. They’re saying he climbed out of his bedroom window. He could have been doing that when we drove up and we still wouldn’t have seen him. The carport is on the other side of the house.”

  The man’s voice seemed calm, but he kept his eyes glued to the toe of his shoe, and continuously stroked the fabric of his lapel.

  “I see. Would it be possible for me to speak to Mrs. Valentine? Since she was in different rooms of the house from you, she might have noticed something that didn’t have any special meaning for her at the time, but might help us now.”

  “Of course. She’s taking a shower, but I’ll let her know that you’re here.”

  Valentine stood up and walked out of the room, and McPherson glanced around. All the furniture seemed brand new. There wasn’t a single item that could have been more than two years old. That was an oddity. Even in the homes of newly married couples there was usually something sitting around from the life they had had before marrying. The Valentines didn’t seem to have anything like that.

  Harry returned a little while later. “She’ll be right out. She wants to help as much as I do. Do you have any idea why someone would want to do such a thing?”

  “No, not yet,” McPherson said. “We can’t find any reason for him to go out. Did you know Charlie?”

  “Yes, I guess you could say we were familiar. He was a quiet kid, never had very much to say. Not unfriendly, though, just a little shy. We spoke a few times while I was out working in the yard. I can’t seem to remember what we talked about now. He wasn’t very forceful. I mean some kids you look at them and think they’re cute as hell, while others you’d just as soon boot them across the street. He was far more the former than the latter.”


  McPherson nodded. “I understand. His mother says he was very well behaved, and I guess your testimony confirms that. At least so far we haven’t found anything to make us think otherwise. That’s what makes it so difficult to find reason for him sneaking out. Of course, most kids are prone to the unexpected.”

  Valentine stood up and walked nervously to the table lamp and picked up a box.

  “Smoke?” They lit up, and Valentine sat down again.

  “The Turners must be going through hell. First thinking the boy might have run away, or been kidnapped, then finding out he’d been murdered. If he was an adult, you would figure someone probably had a reason to hate him, but a small boy like that—” Valentine’s voice trailed off.

  “Yeah,” McPherson agreed, and they both lapsed into silence, until Hayley Valentine entered the room.

  Harry stood up and, taking her by the hand, led her to the couch beside him.

  “This is Lieutenant Emma McPherson, dear. She would like to ask you some questions about last night.”

  “Hello, Lieutenant. How are you?”’ the woman said softly.

  She was tall and slender, and one of the rare few women Emma had seen who could pull off the tight legged pants she was wearing. Even fresh out of the shower, and on such short notice, she appeared to be perfectly groomed. She wasn’t beautiful, but her high cheekbones and light grey eyes, and the way her alabaster skin contrasted with her inky black hair, made her a woman everyone and their neighbor could admire.

  “I’m sorry to have come by so late, Mrs. Valentine, but you weren’t home when we came by earlier.”

  “No, we had dinner and an early show downtown but please don’t apologize. Anything we can do to help, we’ll be more than willing.”

  “Thank you. First, I’ll ask you the same question I asked Mr. Valentine. Did you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary after you returned home last night?”