by A. J. Flynn
“Well, I spoke to Karl Fitts. Seems like a nice enough fellow. Crazy about his wife and kids, but he still gave his wife the devil for suggesting that if anyone in the neighborhood did it, it was Robb Johnson.”
Ford’s eyebrows rose. “She thinks he’s the one who did it?”
“He’s a woman chaser, and he drinks too much to suit her, so the way she sees it, he must be capable of going around killing people.”
Ford smiled, but said nothing.
“Mrs. Shepherd was at the Turners’, so I met with her. We didn’t talk much, but she seems fine, but Valentine is frightened to death. I don’t see why. His alibi checks out, but maybe he has some other trouble. We’re still looking into him.”
“I gotta say McPherson, you look like the kid that wasn’t invited to the party. You’ve investigated plenty of murders before. Why is this one bothering you so much?”
McPherson stayed silent for a while, then said with a slight grin, “I guess maybe because the people are so ordinary. They’re the same kind of people Liam and I have as neighbors. Average income, average house, decent reputations, yet beneath all that they’re just as vicious and greedy for their own skin as any grifter I ever met.”
Captain Ford pulled a cigar out from the humidor on his desk and clipped the butt.
“You’ve been in this job long enough to know human nature, so quit getting yourself so worked up. Take a couple shots before lunch and things will start to look better.”
McPherson grinned. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” she said as she rose up and walked to the door.
“Oh, there’s just one more thing,” Ford said. “That is, if you think your feelings can handle it.”
“I’ll try. What’s the problem?”
“Early this morning the Turner family received a series of threats against their boy. Extortion. A pay-up-or-else sort of thing. No doubt it’s a crank, but keep your eyes peeled.”
McPherson sighed heavily. “Now everyone wants to get in on the act.”
“Yup,” the Captain agreed. “Murder has a way of rousing up all the weird-o’s. So far we’ve already got two confessions. One just spent the night in the drunk tank, and the other one was living down at Goodfellow’s Mission.”
“Well, I’ll keep in touch.” And with that, McPherson walked out into the busy office space and was hailed down immediately by one of the officers on the phones.
She hurried over. “What’s up, Eddy?”
“There’s trouble in South Pines,” the young man said as he searched through his notes. “Mrs. Fitts just reported three phone calls where there was no one on the other line. I checked in with the telephone company, and they have reports of trouble there. The wind last night blew some wires. I told her that, but she still demanded police protection. I notified the nearest patrol car and they went to talk to her, but I still haven’t heard from them. Also, a Mrs. Shepherd called to tell me they found her son’s dog dead. She doesn’t know what could have happened to it, but she said her son was so upset that she felt the need to report it.”
“Any panties stolen?” McPherson joked dryly.
“No, ma’am. No panties,” the young man answered seriously. “Just what I told you.”
“Good deal. Thanks,” she said, and after grabbing her coat, headed down towards the basement garage.
To her surprise, she found Taylor speaking to the attendant.
“Don’t you ever go home, Taylor? How do you expect to keep up your strength and grow up to be a big boy?”
Taylor was about six foot four and weighed well over two hundred pounds.
“Coffee and alcohol, Lieutenant. Going somewhere?”
“Yeah. You can drive me to South Pines. They just found a dead dog.”
Taylor scratched at his nose reflectively. “I wouldn’t swear it was true, but I’ve heard rumors that there’s a place that’s been set up to deal with just such emergencies. If I’m not mistaken, it’s called The Humane Society.”
“Well, so long as you’re not sure, and we don’t have enough time to investigate, just give me a lift out to the Shepherd house, and we can check out what might have happened to the dog.”
Taylor saluted and left to sign for the car. McPherson got in, and soon they were on their way back to South Pines.
It was about fifteen minutes before they pulled to a stop in front of the Shepherds’.
McPherson pushed open the door latch and stepped out onto the parking strip. “I’m going to speak with Mrs. Shepherd first, then I’ll head on over and see if the Johnson woman’s thought of anything she didn’t tell them last night. So long as we’re here I might as well talk to the Rogers. Remember to keep your eyes peeled, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your sleep. I expect these people to be curious, but I want to see if any of them take it to the extreme. You can forget about the Valentines. They’re both working.”
Taylor nodded, and McPherson started up the walk.
IX
Ella Shepherd answered the doorbell almost immediately.
“Hello, Lieutenant McPherson. We met last night at the Turners’.”
“I remember, Mrs. Shepherd. They tell me you have some trouble here.”
“Come in, Lieutenant,” she said, motioning for her to step into the living room. “I think I might be making too much of this, but my son and Mrs. Fitts were so upset, I felt I better talk to someone about it. Please sit down.”
She chose a red chair that matched the couch, and glanced around the room. It wasn’t furnished in any one particular style, but it had an atmosphere of comfort.
“It’s no trouble, Mrs. Shepherd. I was planning on coming to see you anyway. There are a few questions I’d like for you to answer.”
“I thought you might have a few. A terrible event such as this touches everyone.”
McPherson catalogued Mrs. Shepherd with a practiced glance. Last night she’d been called over in a hurry and she hadn’t taken the time to pretty up, but today she was dressed well.
The woman looked to be a little over forty, with slightly greying hair that showed the time she’d spent grooming, and a good figure, but her most arresting feature by far was her eyes. They were clear grey, with a calm no-nonsense expression to them.
“The patrolmen took a look at the dog before I got there. They didn’t find any marks on him, and they couldn’t detect any signs of poisoning, but they had him brought in for an autopsy anyway.”
A rueful smile played on Mrs. Shepherd’s face. “If you ask me, I think he died from old age, but what with this thing last night…”
McPherson permitted herself an answering smile. “I have the same opinion, but the fact that your son’s upset is understandable, and maybe we can set his mind to rest. How long had he had the dog?”
“Over ten years. He’s heartbroken of course, but it was Mrs. Fitts’s actions that made it even worse.” She offered McPherson a cigarette as she spoke, and lit one for herself.
“How did she happen to see him?”
“Well, my son Ben went out calling for Shadow this morning and when he didn’t answer, he went outside to look for him. He found him in the same spot the patrolman saw him, beneath the cherry blossom tree, then he came running in saying someone had killed his dog.” She sighed before continuing. “So—I went out with him, of course, and we were both standing there looking down at Shadow, when Marla came running out of her house with Teddy and Jade. I guess she was on the way to the corner to catch the school bus. Anyway, as soon as she saw us, she told both of her children to stay there and hurried over to see what was wrong. When she saw Shadow she just stood there for a minute, then she said, ‘Death again,’ and ran back across the street, grabbed her children, and hurried into the house like she just heard the Bubonic Plague was coming. I’ve called her cell phone several times, just to explain, but she refuses to answer.”
McPherson bet that trip to her mother’s was practically in the bag by now. “That must have been hard
on your son.”
“Poor child. Ben was so hurt about his dog, and then to have her make a scene like that! Well, I could have shaken her.”
“We’ll know more about the dog soon. If we can let your son know it was just old age, it might make it a bit easier for him.” McPherson felt a kind of kinship with this woman. It was strange to speak with someone normal in this business. “Well, on to the questions, I suppose. Were you ever acquainted with Charlie Turner?”
Mrs. Shepherd hesitated for a second, then answered, “I knew him, but not very well. I don’t think anyone knew Charlie all that well. He was painfully shy.”
McPherson suppressed a sigh of irritation. Despite the fact that Charlie was now at the center of a murder investigation, he was the closest thing to a nonentity she had ever come across. Even if the boy rose from the dead and went around knocking on every door in the neighborhood, she doubted if anyone besides his mother would have recognized him.
“That’s what everyone says, Mrs. Shepherd, but nobody ever says anything about why he was so shy. Do you have any idea why?”
“I—,” she hesitated, ”—it may seem like gossip, but I’ve always suspected it was because of his younger brother Seth.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, when Seth was a baby he had a real bad case of eczema. That meant the Turners had a lot of worry and extra care while they were waiting for his recovery. It seems to me like they never quite got over the feeling that Seth was delicate and in need of protection, so they spoiled him outrageously at Charlie’s expense, without ever noticing it. Actually, Seth is perfectly healthy, and an aggressive little brat who’s far beyond their control, but in their eyes he’s still fragile.”
“Most people around here don’t seem to think too highly of Seth. Is that the reason everyone seems so certain Charlie ran away from home?”
Mrs. Shepherd flushed crimson. “That was my idea at least, but I can’t answer for the others.”
McPherson fell into silence, and took a long drag off her cigarette while trying to think of a diplomatic way to get the woman to tell her something about her neighbors. Mrs. Shepherd didn’t strike her as the sort of woman who was willing to rake her friends over the coals just for the hell of it. Finally, she decided to hell with subtlety and dove straight in.
“What’s your opinion of the people that live around here, Mrs. Shepherd?”
The woman broke into low laughter. “Lieutenant, are you asking for me to gossip about my neighbors?”
McPherson suddenly felt foolish.
“Forget it,” Mrs. Shepherd carried on in a kinder tone. “I’ve read enough detective novels to know you were going to ask something along those lines, and I’m more than willing to give you my opinion, but remember, it’s only an opinion. I only know a few things about these people, but not enough to make my judgement count for much.”
McPherson gave a heavy sigh of relief. “Fair enough. So—what would you say about the Fittses?”
“As you already know, I’m a bit peeved with Marla for her behavior earlier today, but Karl’s a wonderful man. He works as a foreman in some sort of factory downtown. He’s decent and kind and has a keen sense of humor that makes him great company. However, I’ve heard he has a quick temper. For a while there was a story floating around about a fight he got into at work, but I’ve never witnessed any sign of a bad disposition. He adores his family, and comes home right on time every night, doesn’t drink and only goes out on the nights he goes bowling.”
The first spontaneous smile of the day flooded McPherson’s face. “It sounds to me like Mrs. Shepherd likes Mr. Fitts.”
“Don’t tease me, Lieutenant,” she responded. “Everything I told you is true. Marla won’t fare as well I’m afraid.”
“All right. What about Marla?”
She paused for a moment to think, then continued. “We’re sort of friends, I suppose. By that, I mean we go shopping every once in a while and have coffee, that sort of thing…but Marla still isn’t grown up enough to have women friends. She still has girlfriends, if you know what I mean?”
“I think I understand. You mean she has gal-pals, like a schoolgirl would.”
“Exactly,” she agreed. “That may sound like a strange thing to say about a woman who’s nearing thirty and the mother of two children, but that’s how she is as far as I’m concerned. Sometimes I think if she says, ‘Mother always said,’ or ‘Mother always did,’ just one more time, I might just throw something at her.”
McPherson shifted in her chair. This was proving to be an enlightening discussion.
“I think that takes care of Mamma’s girl. What about the Valentines?”
A small line formed between Mrs. Shepherd’s eyes, and she waited a long time before finally speaking.
“That’s difficult to say. Truth be told, I don’t see much of Hayley. She works all the time, and once she gets home there are all sorts of chores she has to do around the house. They’re always going out, though. When I do manage to see her, she’s always very pleasant, and she always seems to look like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine. She works for one of those exclusive boutique dress shops, so I guess dressing up like that must be part of her job. They haven’t lived there that long. Only about nine months, but I’ve never heard either of them say anything about where they came from. I know Harry a bit better. He works out in the yard on the weekends, and we’ve often talked while gardening. He’s very charming. Always full of wit and good humor, and of course there’s no denying his good looks, but…” and her voice trailed off.
“But what?” McPherson said.
“I’ve always had a suspicious feeling that he was a—, oh how should I say it? Phony is the first word that comes to mind, but I hate to say it.”
“Why do you think he’s a phony?”
“Oh, lots of little things. Take for instance, his clothes. He’s always dressed to the nines. My son Ben always calls him ‘The Dude.’ He even wears nice slacks to garden in, and I mean, even if they’re both working and neither of them have any children to worry about, I’m sorry to say, but that’s just silly.”
McPherson struggled to suppress a smile, but was forced to agree with Ben’s moniker. Valentine had impressed her as somewhat of a dude, as well.
“Do you happen to be acquainted with the Rogers?” she asked.
“Somewhat. They’re not particularly neighborly. But I guess it must be because of his illness.”
“Do you have any reason to believe they may have disliked Charlie?”
“Heavens, no,” she gasped, “it’s unthinkable. The only time Mr. Rogers ever leaves the house is for about five minutes, just after dark. That’s when he takes a short walk.”
“After dark?” McPherson’s eyebrows rose questioningly.
Mrs. Shepherd plucked a piece of loose tobacco from her lip and nodded. “He’s sensitive about his affliction, I think. His back is all twisted up and he walks with a limp.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“He was in an automobile accident back some years ago. I believe his back was fractured or at least badly injured. It eventually evolved into some kind of spinal disease that grows progressively worse. There’s nothing they can do about it.”
McPherson looked puzzled. “That must make walking quite painful for him. You’d think he’d want to move as little as possible.”
Mrs. Shepherd thought for a brief moment, then answered, “All I can offer you is my opinion, but I think it boils down to willpower and hope. I think he just refuses to accept the fact that there is nothing to be done for him, and so he keeps up the best he can in case of a medical miracle. I can’t say I blame him. Miracles do happen.”
“Yes, I suppose that could be the reason, but isn’t it possible someone might have made fun of his condition? Children can be quite cruel, you know.”
She stared at McPherson as though her mind had suddenly fogged over. “You mean Charlie? Oh, now I grant you there are
children that would make fun of Mr. Rogers, but I don’t think there are any around here. Mr. Rogers makes a regular point of sitting in the window, and all the children wave at him as they walk to the school bus. Also, he makes small wood carvings and knits as a hobby. He’s always handing out little figures to the kids along with the doll clothes he makes. Even if one of them were nasty enough to make fun of him, I can guarantee you it wouldn’t have been Charlie. That boy wouldn’t hurt a fly,” she concluded in a vehement tone.
“Well, so much for the Rogers. What about the Johnsons?”
“Oh, I know Colleen very well. She’s a regular member of our coffee club.”
Mrs. Shepherd shifted into a different position and crossed her legs before continuing.
“Colleen is a southern woman and a marvelous cook. As for Mr. Johnson, I can’t say I see too much of him. He’s a used car salesman, and is always out at night. The few times I’ve met him he’s been pleasant enough, though. He has a typical salesman way about him. You know what I mean. And he’s able to turn it on or off as it suits him. As for what he’s really like, I can’t say. Marla thinks he’s the devil… Colleen is sweet and kind, but not all that bright. What I mean is anything outside of her home just doesn’t interest her. She’s unique in this world of wives who want to express themselves outside of the home. She’s a completely content housewife.”
“Yes, but aren’t you?” McPherson asked wryly, as she wondered to herself what the woman would think if she were to tell her where the husband of the completely happy housewife spent the night of the murder.
At this question Mrs. Shepherd tossed her head back and laughed. “Lieutenant, you see before you the bane of our city’s fathers, an ardent clubwoman. I’ve never been truly happy without a cause to suffer for. Making things uncomfortable for those responsible for injustices is my hobby. People around here generally refer to me as a busybody.”
McPherson grinned and rose to her feet. “When you consider the fact that the police department is subject to the whims of the administration, and they to the voters, I better not bother you any further.”
