The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1)

by A. J. Flynn

  “I just met with Mr. Hardwood, along with his other teachers, this morning, but I didn’t have very much time to get to know them.”

  Nerdelbaum’s face brightened. “Mr. Hardwood is a very dedicated man, Lieutenant. Fortunately for him, though, and I don’t mean to sound envious, his wife has an income that allows him to further his education and attend courses that the rest of us are forced to forego. If ever a man deserved it though, it’s Mr. Hardwood. He’s a born teacher.”

  “I’m sure he’s very competent. Would you say that he gets along well with his pupils?”

  The science teacher smiled ruefully. “Well, I’ll say this much: he’s a perfectionist, and very few people are perfect. There have been one or two misunderstandings, but those who really know him know he drives himself twice as hard as anyone else.”

  “Then there are those who don’t care for him?”

  “Lieutenant, of course there are always some people who aren’t akin to others. In the case of Mr. Hardwood, he never did anything to win the friendship of those who disliked him.”

  “I see,” McPherson answered. “I also spoke to two young ladies, named Preacher and Powell, and to a Mrs. Helen. What about them?”

  Nerdelbaum wrinkled his nose. “How the Powell woman ever got her degree, I don’t know. One thing I’m sure of is it couldn’t have been on merit. The only interest she takes in her job is that it will feed her until she can find herself a wealthy husband. The same is almost true for Miss Preacher, except she doesn’t spend quite as much time primping. To give a woman like that a license to teach such an exact science as mathematics is borderline criminal.”

  “I see—“ McPherson tried to interrupt, but the man wasn’t to be stopped.

  “The Powell woman is supposed to introduce her students to the wonders of literature. Literature, indeed! I’ve often wondered if her courses weren’t made up solely of true confessions. The woman is an incurable romantic if I ever saw one. As for Mrs. Helen, she’s only working until her and her husband are able to pay off their house. It’s criminal, I tell you. Any one of the three could just as easily accomplish their goal by working in a factory. Then they wouldn’t be able to endanger the minds of our young people,” he finished bitterly.

  It was obvious that female teachers were a sore point for this man, if not an actual prejudice, and McPherson saw no use in pursuing the interview any further, so she rose to her feet. “Well, I guess that’s it. Were you home Tuesday evening?”

  “Yes. That was when my cold was at its height. Every joint ached, and I had a headache the likes of which I can never recall having before.”

  “I appreciate you troubling yourself to talk to me when you’re not feeling well, Mr. Nerdelbaum, and if you can think of anything else that might help, I’d appreciate you calling me.”

  They walked into the hallway, where McPherson retrieved her coat.

  “Tell your mother we won’t be bothering her anymore unless it’s necessary, and thank you again.”

  “Good-bye, Lieutenant, and don’t worry about Mother. She’s getting older, and frankly she isn’t the easiest person to live with.”

  That was easy enough to believe, for even though she hadn’t made an appearance, her presence still lingered via the still and rather uncomfortable atmosphere of the house.

  Taylor was deep in the novel he’d bought during lunch.

  “Haven’t we got enough intrigue around, without you spending your naptime reading about it?”

  Taylor grinned. “We never meet the class of people these guys do. Schoolteachers. You spend your whole day talking to schoolteachers, and you know what? In this book the girl is only two chapters in and she’s been seduced twice, once by a dark passionate stranger, and another time by her blonde neighbor. How long has it been since you’ve been seduced, Lieutenant?”

  McPherson glared at him.

  XIII

  It had been a long day for Ella Shepherd, but then some days were like that. She usually had her time committed one or two weeks in advance, and sometimes there weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish everything she would have liked to, but then there were days like this. Days when all the things she’d been working on were finally completed, and the things she had planned would begin tomorrow.

  Most of the clubs and committees she served on bored her to death. There were many times where she thought if she was forced to hear someone plead for another worthy cause, she might puke, but at least it was something for her to do. She’d seen widows who devoted all of their time to being widows, and she didn’t have any intention of following their lead. “Social justice warrior,” was the title she had bestowed upon herself, and even if it left something to be desired, it was better than chronic mourning.

  Being married to Larry Shepherd had been the kind of thing all women dream of but few ever get to experience. Their life had been filled with happiness, friendship, and a deep passion built on love and mutual respect.

  It had been more than ten years since she had lost him while traveling on a mountain climbing expedition, but his memory was as vivid to her as if he’d been home the day before.

  When he’d been reported as lost, she hadn’t been unduly frightened. He had been an outdoor man since he was a boy, and she was sure that, even though he had been reported as lost, he was more than capable of taking care of himself. After three days of searching they finally found him. He had been swept up in a small avalanche, during which he had suffered from an extensive head injury. Apparently, he had frozen to death while unconscious.

  Ella had heard the term, “mad with grief,” but had always classified it along with “death by a broken heart.” Perhaps they were only phrases, but hardly anything that was true to life. However, circumstance proved her wrong.

  For nearly four months after Larry’s death she had lived in a kind of limbo. Part of the time she did everything she could to pretend that the accident had never happened and Larry would be coming home soon. The rest of the time she indulged in a hysteria of grief that hardly any of her family or friends could cope with.

  Finally, a family minister managed to snap her out of it. He’d laid aside his usual sympathetic understanding and let her know in no uncertain terms that there was a big difference between grief and self-pity.

  “I doubt,” he had said said to her coldly, “that Larry would have loved you as much as he did if he had known you were capable of turning away from his son in this time of need. A woman worthy of so much love would focus on helping her child instead of indulging herself in a carousel of selfish emotion.”

  She had hated him. He was a cold and unfeeling man, she had said to herself, but finally the truth of what he had told her became evident, and she was forced to resign herself back to reality.

  It had been difficult, but she had managed. Her life was built around her son Ben now, but she’d learned that she can’t smother him with her love. By keeping herself busy with various activities, she would be capable of giving him the guidance he needed, without overdoing it.

  The school bus had gone past at least fifteen minutes ago and Ben still wasn’t home. She wasn’t too worried, though, as he was more than able to take care of himself, but she wished he would get home soon so she would have somebody to talk to.

  Ella stood in her front window and looked out over the familiar street. The sun was already setting, and there were lights flickering on in some of the houses. The daytime traffic had been fairly heavy for a residential street, but none of the cars had stopped. Most of them had seemed only to be curious, driving by to take a look at the house where a murdered boy had lived. It had been somewhat amusing to watch as the cars sped up purposefully when one of the patrol cars passed by. To all appearance the drivers might have just remembered pressing business they had elsewhere, but it was doubtful they were fooling anyone.

  She hadn’t seen anyone who lived in the neighborhood all day, besides Marla. There had been their encounter with her earlier that morning, and
then again around noon she had scurried into her garage and grabbed two suitcases. Since then, all had been quiet.

  Ben was running when she first spotted him. He hurried from behind the Fitts house and came to a quick stop on the front sidewalk. He stood looking back behind him for a while, then turned and started slowly across the street. It was clear to Ella that something was troubling him.

  She watched him closely. Even though he was only fifteen, he was the same height his father had been, but today there was an unnatural slouch to his upper body. He shuffled along awkwardly in a way that made him seem childish, in spite of his precocious size.

  Ella felt suddenly afraid. What had happened to transform her normally high-spirited son into this slow-moving character creeping up the walk?

  She made her way to the door to greet him, masking over her concerns with a smile.

  “Hello, dear. You’re late.”

  “I know.” The boy’s voice was devoid of expression.

  Ella clenched her fists. She didn’t want to treat him like a baby by questioning him too closely.

  “Did you mow the Fitts’s lawn?” She knew perfectly well that he hadn’t, but it was a way to break the ice.

  “No.”

  She waited patiently for him to continue, but he didn’t show any indication of having more to say.

  “They’re sure to be disappointed. You know Mr. Fitts likes to keep his lawn nice and trimmed, and he depends on you.”

  “Not any more, he doesn’t.” He was nearly shouting, then his voice broke into a squeak that was particular to adolescent boys. “She screamed at me to go away or else she would call the cops, like I was some kind of stranger.”

  Ella’s face flushed hot with rage, but her common sense told her she had to remain calm.

  “Now, Ben, I’m sure she was just upset about something. You know how I get sometimes.”

  “If she didn’t want me to be there, all she had to do was tell me. She didn’t have to threaten to call the cops.”

  Ella’s predominant thoughts consisted of doing Marla bodily harm, but she did her best not to betray her feelings to the boy.

  “You know, we’ve all been upset since that horrible thing happened to Charlie. I doubt she was thinking straight when she said that.”

  “It wasn’t just her.” His hurt, resigned tone twisted her heart.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I took a shortcut through the Turner’s yard, same as I always do, and Mr. Turner stormed out and yelled at me to get off his property and quit snooping. I wasn’t snooping, I was just cutting through, like always.”

  Ella opened the breadbox and reached for the bread with shaking hands. “Pour yourself a glass of milk and I’ll make you a sandwich. I think you’ll feel better once you’ve had something to eat. Just remember, the people around here aren’t being themselves, especially Mr. Turner. They don’t really mean what they say.”

  Ben opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. “Yeah, but he still said it,” he muttered.

  Yeah, they still said it, Ella thought, and they’ll be answering to me for it soon enough.

  Ben took a seat with his sandwich, and despite his hurt feelings ate it with relish. She didn’t interrupt him, as she had plans to make. She intended to pick Marla apart, piece by piece, but first she had to get rid of Ben somehow. It wouldn’t do for him to think she was out fighting his battles for him. He looked at himself as the man of the house and took his position very seriously.

  Finally, awaiting his approval, she hit upon a solution.

  “Do you have anything planned, between now and dinner?”

  “No, why?”

  “Well, I saw that the prescription that doctor gave me is running low. I was wondering if you would mind running downtown to get it refilled for me?”

  “Sure. You’ll have to give me some money for my bus fare, though. I’m broke.”

  She held herself back from pointing out that he was always broke, and found her purse. She removed a hundred dollar bill from her billfold and handed it to him.

  “If there’s anything you would like to see, you might as well stay out for a movie and get yourself something to snack on. I wasn’t able to go shopping today, so there isn’t a lot in the house to eat.”

  His face lit up with enthusiasm. “I think that superhero movie came out today. You remember, the one we saw the trailer to?”

  “Yes, I remember, and if you walk a block down from the theater, there’s a good restaurant. You could order yourself a nice dinner before you go to see the movie.”

  Considering the fact that there was a fast food burger joint on the block before you reached the theater and restaurant, it was a useless suggestion, but it gave her something to say.

  “I’ll give it a look,” Ben promised, with a spark of his old elation. “I better get changed. The public deserves to see me at my best.”

  Thank goodness for the fickleness of youth, she thought, but unfortunately she wasn’t able to change her own mood quite so easily. As soon as he’d left, there were a slew of well-chosen remarks she intended to deliver to the lady across the street. Mr. Turner, she was willing to overlook, but not Marla.

  Ben came back in with his hair carefully styled, and wearing grey tapered sweatpants and a new blue hoodie.

  “You better wear a jacket. It’s set to get cold.”

  “All right,” he agreed, and grabbed a sports coat out of the closet. “Well, see ya later.”

  He kissed the air around her cheek and went out. She followed him to the door and called out the standard mother’s farewell. “Don’t be late.”

  He shouted something back at her in answer, but she couldn’t make out his words, as he sprinted to the bus stop.

  As soon as he was gone, Ella grabbed her sweater and thrust her arms viciously into the sleeves. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her, as she stepped out, was a fair measure of the state of mind she was in. She was as angry as she’d ever been, and she looked forward with pleasure to doing something about it.

  She had always thought of Marla Fitts as a milksop, a mamma’s girl, but she had never actively disliked her. The time they’d spent together drinking coffee and chatting had always been pleasant. After all, one couldn’t expect perfection in friends any more than one expects it in one’s self, but to make Ben suffer for her stupidity was a step too far. Marla was going to have a few plain truths about herself pointed out. Things her husband was too gentlemanly to reference, even if he noticed them.

  Ella noticed that Karl’s car was in the driveway as she marched up the walk, heels clicking. When she finally reached the door, she rapped vigorously, then lowered her head to the side, raised it and rapped again. She’d hardly finished the second series of knocks when the door swung open and she found herself face to face with Karl Fitts.

  “Hello, Ella,” he said, greeting her. “What’s wrong? You look like you want to bite someone’s head off.”

  “I do,” she answered shortly, “and I’d appreciate it if you brought Marla out. There are some things I would like to say to her.”

  Karl looked puzzled, but he held the door open for her as he motioned her in. “Come in. We’re still packing. Marla and the kids are leaving town tonight. I returned home early to help then drive them to the station.”

  “I take it she’s going home to Mamma.” Ella’s voice was sharp as shattered glass.

  Karl gave her a look of surprise, but was saved from answering by Marla’s entrance from the hallway.

  “Yes, I’m leaving to visit my mother, not that it’s any of your business. And what’s wrong with that?”

  Ella folder her arms over her chest and squinted. “First let me ask you a simple question, then I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. Just what was your intention with your treatment of Ben this afternoon? He’s been stopping by to mow your lawn for two years now, and you’ve known him even longer than that! Up until today, you’ve always made him feel welcome, so I would like to know w
hy you decided to yell at him to leave or else you would call the police. You’re acting like he turned into a leper overnight.”

  Karl stepped forward. “Just what in the hell are you talking about, Ella?”

  “Marla knows perfectly well what I’m talking about, and I’d like to hear her side of it.”

  Karl turned to Marla. “Well, Marla. What’s she talking about?”

  Marla’s face flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to hurt Ben’s feelings, and it had seemed like such a small lie at the time. After all, Karl hadn’t been very enthusiastic about her going to her mother’s, and it seemed like a good idea to call and say there had been a strange man at the door. After all, she hadn’t actually seen Ben, so it wasn’t exactly a lie, but she hadn’t counted on being faced with it.

  “Well…see, when this knock came at the door, I got scared. You know how nervous I’ve been, Karl, so I just called out to whoever it was to go away. I didn’t even know who it was. I just called out.” The story sounded foolish even to her own ears.

  “You didn’t even know it was him?” Ella snorted. “I’ve been here plenty of times when Ben came over to mow the lawn. He always knocks, then yells his name so you won’t have to bother coming to the door. I suppose he changed that year-long habit today, though, huh?”

  “Well, if he called then I didn’t hear him,” Marla bit back defensively.

  “What about the part where you threatened him with the police? I guess you want me to think that when he came home looking hurt he was lying.”

  Marla had no answer, but Karl asked, in a low voice. “Was that when you called for me to come home? Was Ben the strange man who tried to break into the house?”

  “Karl, please,” Marla said with a sob, “I can’t be sure—“

  “Sure!” Ella scoffed. “I’ll tell you what’s sure. You wanted something to tell Karl that would make him allow you to go home to your mother’s, and I bet you had a hectic time trying to think of something. Karl, you say you came home to help pack. Well, I don’t think you were really needed. I saw Marla dragging in the suitcases about noon.”