by A. J. Flynn
Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “I can’t think of anything. Soon after we got home, I was busy taking care of some things around the house. I was in the kitchen several times, which looks out on the boy’s bedroom window, but I didn’t notice anything strange or unusual.”
“Did you ever make acquaintance with the boy?”
“No. I knew who he was, of course, since he lived right next door, but I’m hardly ever home during the day, and even when I am, I seldom venture out into the yard like Harry does. The woman who hired me is insistent that I don’t get tanned. It’s not fashionable this season.” She smiled as she said this.
“Then you don’t know much about the boy?”
“Hardly anything! I spoke to his parents a few times, but Charlie was never with them at the time.”
McPherson rose to her feet. “Well, I suppose that will be all for now. If you can think of anything else, I’d appreciate it if you gave the station a call. We can use all the help we can get.”
Harry Valentine followed her to the door. “We’ll be sure to call if we remember anything.”
“Thank you, and good night,” McPherson said. With a slight nod to Mrs. Valentine, she started back towards the car.
As she walked, McPherson was still wondering about Valentine’s attitude. The man was scared stiff, but why? People were always nervous whenever they found themselves involved in a murder investigation, but there had seemed to be actual signs of terror under the man’s smooth exterior. The question consumed her thoughts as she stepped into the car, only to be stopped short by a shout.
“Officer! Officer! May I speak to you for a moment?”
She paused and looked toward where the voice was coming from. A man was rushing across the street, so she waited.
The man was of medium build, with heavy broad shoulders and a slender waist and hips. Judging by the look of him he could have been a boxer. His hair appeared to be dark, and he was a little out of breath when he finally reached the Lieutenant.
“Sorry to bother you, Officer, but my wife is going hysterical worrying about the kids. Would it be too much for me to ask you to come inside and talk to her? Maybe you’ll be able to calm her down. I’m at my wits’ end.”
“I’ll do what I can. What’s your name?”
The man smiled sheepishly. “Guess she’s got me in a tizzy, too. I’m Karl Fitts. We live over there in that second house from the corner. A few other men were poking around earlier and told us about little Charlie. My wife is terrified. If you could just assure her that there will be police security around, it might calm her down. I know it’s an imposition, being that it’s late—“
“No, not at all,” McPherson interrupted. “I’m Lieutenant Emma McPherson. I should ask you people some questions, anyway, and so long as you’re awake it might as well be now.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Karl said in obvious relief.
McPherson caught a sly grin on Taylor’s face as she started off beside Karl. It always amused Taylor to see her involved with someone who is hysterical, for no one knew better than he did how much she loathed that part of the job.
She’d make Taylor sorry for that, Emma decided, as they arrived at the Fitts’ door.
“Come on in, Lieutenant, and here, give me your coat.”
“No thank you. It’s late, so I won’t be keeping you long.”
As she spoke, a petite woman entered the room. Under most ordinary circumstances she would have been good-looking, but now her eyes showed recent traces of tears, and her hair could have used a combing. As she stepped closer into the light, McPherson noted that she could use a touch-up on the roots of her blonde hair as well.
“Marla, this is Lieutenant Emma McPherson. Lieutenant McPherson, this is Marla. See Marla, it’s just like I said. There will be security prowling the streets all night. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”
McPherson nodded. “We’ll see to it that the neighborhood has every protection, Mrs. Fitts.”
Her expression seemed to be saying she would like to believe what they were saying, but she can’t quite convince herself.
“I have two small children, Lieutenant. I can’t help but be nervous when there’s a pedophile running loose near my home.” There was an unpleasant pitch to her voice that came off like a screech.
“It wasn’t a sex crime, Mrs. Fitts. The boy wasn’t molested. Murdered, yes, and that’s a frightening and terrible thing, but there’s no evidence that it was a sex crime.”
“Excuse me one moment,” she said and left the room abruptly. For a moment, McPherson wondered if she had said something to offend her.
“Marla is apt to be emotional. I hope you can forgive her,” Karl said apologetically.
“Of course. Murder is an upsetting thing, especially when it’s a child.”
They fell into silence and waited for Marla to return. During the lull, McPherson took a glance around the room. She had figured out over the years that you can learn a lot about people just by looking at the way they decorate their homes.
The Fitts’ was comfortable enough, but its choice of design showed that they were far from being wealthy. The sectional couch was brand new, and one chair looked as though it must have been a recent acquisition, but there were a few pieces that looked as though they had been gleaned from someone else’s basement. The sort of thing newlywed couples take to get started, with the intention of replacing them later on, but with newborns and bills piling up, never quite get around to it. However, the whole room had a cozy, lived-in look that was often missing from handsomer homes.
Marla pushed open the swinging door, carrying a tray. Karl hopped to his feet and took it off her hands.
“Why didn’t you call for help, sweetums? I would have carried it for you.”
“It’s not too heavy,” she snapped, and turning to McPherson, said, “I thought so long as we were keeping you up so late, you might like some coffee.”
Her tone was a bit more restrained this time around, and she seemed to have gotten herself under control, but for some reason McPherson sensed that the woman’s control could be turned on or off at will.
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Fitts,” she answered, not seeing any polite way to refuse.
Marla poured her a cup of coffee and offered her some cream and sugar, both of which she refused. “Coffee is a night duty officer’s lifeblood. Over time we learn to take it without the trimmings.”
Marla smiled lightly and nodded, and the three of them sat together sipping from their steaming mugs. Then she set her cup down abruptly and spoke.
“I should apologize for my behavior earlier, but this whole thing has me on edge. I simply can’t see how any normal sane person could kill a small child, especially one as quiet and well-mannered as Charlie.” As she spoke, she stood up and began pacing around the room.
“That’s one of the things I’d like to ask you. How well did you know Charlie, and can you think of any reason why someone would dislike him?”
The woman didn’t answer, and McPherson was beginning to think she might pace back and forth for the remainder of the interview, but finally she returned to her seat next to her husband.
“That’s what makes it so unbelievable. Charlie of all people… Why him?”
Karl took his wife’s hand in his, and said, “Let the Lieutenant ask the questions, dear. She knows what’s important.”
Marla freed her hand and ran it through her neck-length hair. “Of course. Sorry, it’s just that if you’d ever met Charlie, you would see how unlikely it is that anyone would want to murder him. He was such a shy quiet boy, you hardly even noticed he was around.”
“Did you know him well?”
A quizzical frown crossed her face. “You know, now that you mention it, I don’t think I did. He was a bit too old to play with my Teddy. I’ve spoken to him many times, however, like when he would stop by trying to sell tickets for a scout event—things like that. But now that I think about it, all I really k
new about him was that he liked music. I had to listen to him practicing that violin until I thought I might go crazy.”
“When you talked to him,” McPherson asked, “did you ever notice anything about his character that might have irritated someone?”
“Heavens, no! He was so reserved you hardly even noticed him. Now, his brother, Seth—he’s the one who’s the troublemaker. Ted and Seth are closer in age so they play together, but they’re always getting into fights. I’ve told Teddy to stay away from that boy, but you know how they are…boys will be boys.”
“Can you think of any reason why Charlie might climb out the window, when he was supposed to be sleeping?”
“Maybe he lost something and went out to look for it,” Karl offered. “Last night was his scout meeting so he might have lost something.”
“It’s possible,” McPherson agreed. “His body was discovered close to the path he would have taken to go to the clubhouse.”
“Who found him?” Karl asked.
“A man from the other side of the woods. He was out walking his dog, and the dog found him.”
Marla shivered. “I still can’t get over it. Whoever did it must be out of their mind. Do you think it’s possible our children are in danger?” She jumped like she just heard a starting gun. “I better make sure Jade and Teddy are okay,” she cried as she hurried out of the room.
McPherson’s expression was questioning as she watched her go. She couldn’t quite tell how much of this woman’s behavior was real concern and how much was simple acting. She turned back to Karl.
“We don’t feel that there’s any cause for alarm. Take adequate precaution until we catch him, of course, but judging from what we now know, it looks as though Charlie either witnessed or heard something somebody didn’t want known. We still can’t say exactly what possessed him to climb out the window in the middle of the night. If it was to meet someone, it had to have been someone he knew well, and boys of that age seldom have associations with people who would be out at that time of night.”
“You mean like us?” Karl asked in sharp disbelief.
“I doubt he’d go out to meet a stranger,” McPherson observed mildly.
Neither of them had noticed Marla had returned and was now standing in the doorway, so both were surprised when she said firmly, “If it’s anybody around here, it’s Robb Johnson. He’s a drunk, and a fiend, and I don’t see how poor Colleen puts up with him.”
Karl’s face lit up with amazement. “Marla!” he remonstrated, “You can’t accuse a man of murder just because you don’t like him!”
“Yeah, well I don’t care,” the woman insisted. “Robb’s just the sort of person who would do a sick thing like that. The man’s always frightened me.”
It was startling, McPherson thought regretfully. Point the finger at anybody, so long as it isn’t on me or mine.
“We’ll look into everyone, Mrs. Fitts. I suppose there isn’t any more reason for me to trouble you tonight.” She pulled her card from her pocket and handed it to Karl. “Here’s my number. If you can remember anything else, it would be appreciated if you called me.”
“Just one more thing, Lieutenant,” Marla said eagerly, “my mother lives down in Fullerton. Do you think it would be wise if I took the children and stayed with her until this thing blows over?” She sounded more like a child begging to go to the circus than a panicked mother striving to protect her children.
“I don’t see any need for that, Mrs. Fitts,” McPherson answered slowly. “We don’t feel as though the murderer is the kind of person who is apt to strike again. Actually, for you and your neighbors to panic would create more danger than anything else.”
“Well, if you say so, but you can rest assured my children won’t leave my sight until that animal is caught.”
McPherson could see by the tense set of the woman’s jaw that there was no use in arguing further. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, which was more important to her—her children’s welfare or a trip to her mother’s.
She stood up and walked to the door. “Thank you for you time, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”
Karl followed close behind her and released the latch. “Good night, Lieutenant. Sorry we couldn’t be of more help, but—,” then his words were cut off by a sharp scream.
“That sounded like it came from the Turner house!”
McPherson didn’t wait to answer. She ran across the street, calling to Taylor as she ran.
Karl watched for a moment, undecided as to what to do, then shouted back to Marla to lock the door and keep it locked, and took off after the officers.
McPherson banged on Dan Turner’s door, yelling for him to open up. It was several more minutes before Dan answered, heavy-lidded from the sedatives he’d just taken.
“What the hell happened, Turner? Who screamed?” McPherson demanded.
“My wife,” the man answered vaguely. “She woke up and went to the boys’ bedroom. For some reason, Seth had climbed into Charlie’s bed, and for a moment she thought he was gone too. I got her back to bed. That’s what took me so long, but everything’s fine now.”
“Thank God,” Karl breathed. “Would you like for me to stay with you a little while?”
Dan rubbed his bleary eyes. “Thanks, but we’ll be all right. I gave her a second pill, so that should be kicking in soon. Then we can hopefully get some sleep.”
Karl started back to his house, but called back over his shoulder, “Alright, but call me if you need anything.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Dan answered, then turned to face the officers.
“We’ll let you get back to bed, Mr. Turner, but just know that there will be patrol cars circling the block all night, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”
Turner nodded and closed the door. McPherson and Taylor walked back to the patrol car.
“I don’t even know that Seth kid, but I’d gladly boot him one,” Taylor said.
“Hold your tongue,” McPherson answered grimly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
The two officers stepped into the car, and Taylor started the engine. “Where to?”
“Back to headquarters. Maybe they know something we don’t. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
Taylor didn’t bother answering, just put the car in drive and started down the deserted street.
IV
Harry Valentine stood watching as Lieutenant McPherson went down the walk and got into the patrol car. There was tension apparent in every sinew of his slender body. Hayley looked on with concern. It had been nearly three years since the last time he had that look about him. It was the same reaction he had to any officer of the law, and it meant that his old fear of being blamed for something had returned.
“Come sit down, Harry,” she said softly. “Standing there isn’t going to help anything.”
He turned, his face wrought with tension, and began pacing back and forth in the room.
“They’ll find out. They’ll look up a record of every damn person in the neighborhood, and when they learn I’ve done time, they’ll make me into their scapegoat.”
Hayley watched her husband’s hands shake as he lit a cigarette. It was a lesser evil, because so long as she concentrated on his hands she didn’t have to notice the impotence in his eyes.
“They sent you away for robbery, not murder. There isn’t any reason for them to think you killed some kid you hardly even knew.”
The words were somewhat reassuring, but her voice lacked conviction. For the past few years she’d refused to let herself think of the time Harry had spent in prison. Instead, she preferred to pretend it never happened. But now with the police hunting down a murderer, the past was sure to reassert itself upon the present and, if Harry’s suspicions were right, determine their future.
“Don’t be a fool,” Harry lashed out. “Once you take a hit, you’re on their list forever. None of those cops would even think about giving me the benefit of the doubt.”
Hayl
ey narrowed her eyes at him cynically. In that moment he was no more than a stranger to her. Just a skinny, frightened little boy, with nothing more than a superficial resemblance to the man she thought she married. Strange that she never before noticed that look in his eyes. Once, many years ago, she had approached a dog that had been struck by a car, and his eyes had held the same questioning, uncomprehending terror.
“Why did that damn kid have to go and get himself killed?” he whined. “I was careful to make sure nobody around here knew anything about my past, then he had to go and get himself killed. Couldn’t just stay in bed where he belonged.”
“Harry,” Hayley gasped, “don’t you realize the child is dead? You’re acting as though he’d done it just to irritate you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know,” he muttered, crushing the butt of his cigarette before lighting another. Then he resumed his pacing.
“Look, I’m sorry the kid got killed, but that’s just it. He’s dead, but I’m still alive. I’m the one who has to worry about being locked up or sent to the chair. Crying and feeling sorry for him won’t make him come back. Why don’t you try thinking about me for a change?”
Hayley’s face was tense and had lost all of its color. Harry’s display of callous selfishness was a shock that struck to the heart of her soul.
How little one person knew about another, even though they’d been living together for years. She had always known Harry wasn’t an especially courageous or strong person, but it hurt her to see that the kindness and sympathy she had believed to be in his character disappear whenever he felt himself to be in danger.
Harry stopped to flick some ashes towards the ashtray.
“Maybe I should get out of town until all this blows over. There’s a chance they may catch the guy who did it, before they begin to suspect me. The cop said it seemed like someone the kid knew, and from what we know, there won’t be too many that fill the bill.”
Hayley sat staring at the gold inlay on the candy dish, carefully scanning over every curl. Anything was better than watching Harry pace back and forth. Then he stopped in front of her.
