Little Boy Blues
Page 11
“Well, Thomas and Jimmy are really good friends,” Alvin said. “He might know something.”
“We’d all like to know what happened. Getting so you can’t step off your porch. Sydney used to be such a safe little town, and now we have every Jesus thing. Hit and runs, disappearances. I’m not letting Thomas out of my sight until things settle down.”
“Good idea, Mrs. Young,” Alvin said. “You can’t be too careful.”
“Disappearances?” I said. “You mean more than one?”
“Tell your boss, Alvin, that around here we think one is more than enough. Jimmy’s disappeared. Not like Ottawa, where a life’s not worth a Jesus nickel.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again.
“Did you say MacPhee?” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Your family from around here?”
“Originally. I was born here.”
“Who’s your father?”
“Donald MacPhee. He was a teacher when he lived here.”
“Of those MacPhees. Right full of themselves, if you ask me.”
I hadn’t asked her. And didn’t plan to.
“Camilla’s not full of herself,” Alvin said, the edges of his skinny mouth twitching. “And I asked her to come here to see Thomas.”
“Suit yourself, Allie Ferguson. But don’t you scare Thomas. He’s been up every night with bad dreams since Jimmy went missing. I’m too Jesus old for this kind of life.” She pulled herself back into the house and thundered down the hallway. I was pleased to note the mop went with her.
It took a minute to refocus. “So, Thomas,” I said, “do you remember Jimmy coming by here on Sunday afternoon?”
“I remember.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing much.”
“Sat around and talked?”
Thomas frowned. “We didn’t talk much. We were trading comics.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. We always trade comics.”
“So you didn’t talk?”
“Not so much.”
“Did Jimmy have comics with him?”
“Yes. He took my new X-Men, and I wanted to read it again. He was going to bring it back in the morning, but he never came.”
“I see.”
“Gran says the X-Men comic is not important compared to Jimmy.”
“I’d say Gran’s right.”
A screech echoed from the cabbage centre of the small house. “You forget about that Jesus comic, Thomas. You got three thousand others to look after.”
Alvin said, “That’s too bad about the X-Men, Thomas.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your comic.” I meant that too. “So Jimmy was going to bring the X-Men comic the next day?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Did Jimmy ever lie to you?”
Thomas’s eyes widened. “Jimmy never told lies.”
Alvin said. “I guess he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Is that true, Thomas? Jimmy wasn’t planning to go anywhere.” “He was coming here. The next day. He said so.”
I tried to make eye contact with Alvin. “Okay, and on the day he was here, did he mention anywhere else he might want to go?”
“Canada Day.”
“Yes, do you remember where he was going afterwards?”
“Same as always. He came here first. Then he was going to Brandon’s.”
“But this time,” Alvin said, “he didn’t get to Brandon’s.”
“No, Allie. He didn’t. I was worried.”
“Why were you worried, Thomas?”
“Because Brandon called and said where was Jimmy. Brandon was worried. Then Vince came by and he was really mad. And we don’t know where Jimmy went. Nobody knows.” Thomas had tears in his eyes.
So did Alvin. So did I. Where the hell was Jimmy Ferguson? “Jimmy needs his medications. Or he will die.” Thomas said.
“Yes, he does,” Alvin said. Heroically, I thought.
“And I would like my X-Men comic back.”
Mrs. Young stuck her head out of the door again. “One more word, and I’ll throw those Jesus comics into the furnace, Thomas.”
I glanced at Alvin, but he seemed to be holding up all right. I wanted to understand the triggers that sent him over the edge. Because if it had been me, this intensely sad conversation with Thomas would have done it. But Alvin seemed fine.
Another ten minutes of talking to Thomas yielded no more information. As we stood up to leave, I had one question left. “Did you tell the police about Jimmy’s visit?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell them about the comic book?”
“The X-Men? No.”
“Why not?”
“They didn’t ask me.”
I sat down again. “What did they ask you, Thomas?”
“They wanted to know who his other friends were.”
“And what did you say?”
“Jimmy was everybody’s friend.”
“And what did they say?”
“They said, any new friends?”
I glanced at Alvin. “And did Jimmy have any new friends?”
“That’s what they asked. Did he meet anybody new at the video store or something? Someone who was supposed to be a secret.”
“And did he?”
“I don’t think so. He never said.”
“Did they ask anything else?”
“Just about special friends,” Thomas said.
“You mean, Jimmy’s special friends?”
“I was Jimmy’s special friend. And Brandon. And Father Blaise.”
“That’s it?”
“They wanted to know what else Jimmy said. But he didn’t say anything else.”
• • •
We dragged our sorry butts past a new Lexus in the brick-paved driveway. The house was a Georgian-looking dealie in an upscale subdivision high on a hill off King’s Road. The home of Brandon, Jimmy’s other special friend.
“Brandon shattered his spine in a diving accident. He hit an outcrop. He has some brain damage. Let’s hope we can understand him. Sometimes it’s harder than others. Sometimes his speech is clear.”
“This was a long walk for Jimmy.” It had been a long walk for me, and I was used to hoofing it all over Ottawa.
Alvin shrugged. “He loves to walk. Ma and Vince figure it’s good for him. He sees lots of people. He stops and talks to them.”
That would be worth following up. If Jimmy could talk to people, we could talk to them too.
The doorbell had an expensive peal. Brandon’s mother, slender and elegant in trim silk taupe pants and matching top, did not smile when she answered. Gussie didn’t get past the door.
We followed the scent of Brandon’s mother’s exotic cologne to the media room. She still held the automatic door opener to the Lexus. She looked like she was on a quick break from filming a high-end lifestyle show, and it was time for Take Two. On second thought, I decided her face had too much hard edge to make her really likeable on television.
“You have company, Brandon. Alvin Ferguson and a friend. I’ll be back in half an hour. Maria’s here if you need anything. Don’t forget to offer your visitors something to drink.”
I figured a warmer woman might have offered Alvin her concern about his missing brother, but hey.
Brandon presided over a room full of electronic equipment, soft carpet, halogen lighting and a whiff of disinfectant. I figured that the motorized wheelchair had set somebody back twenty-five grand minimum. According to Alvin, it was a custom job. Brandon looked like any other freckle-faced, redheaded young man, except for the shrivelled legs and the scar down the right side of his face.
“How you doing, Brandon?” Alvin gave his shoulder a squeeze.
Brandon’s lip quivered. It took me a minute to figure out what he was trying to say, but Alvin didn’t seem to have a problem understanding.
“I know,” Alvin said. “It is too bad about Jimmy.”
I strained to hear Brandon’s response.
“Yeah, it is hard,” Alvin said. “But we haven’t given up hope.”
I was impressed Alvin could understand the torrent of syllables.
“I don’t know where he could have gone. Hey Brandon, this here’s Camilla. She’s helping us find Jimmy. She wants to talk to you about Canada Day.”
I shook his hand. Brandon’s left-hand grip was remarkably strong. Despite her apparent need for speed, Brandon’s mother hovered near the door of the media room.
Fifteen minutes later, we were no further ahead. Thanks to Alvin’s translation, I learned Jimmy normally got to Brandon’s between five and six o’clock on Sunday afternoons. As a rule, they would watch two videos that Jimmy had picked out while eating takeout pizza courtesy of Brandon’s parents. Brandon didn’t read comics. They watched the videos until just before ten in the evening, when either Tracy or Vince came to pick up Jimmy. Sometimes, if Tracy and Vince were tied up, Brandon’s father would drive Jimmy home. Once or twice, he’d taken a taxi. But the routine was unvaried. Nothing we hadn’t known when we’d arrived.
Brandon’s mother interrupted. “Don’t forget, Brandon. We had something special planned for Canada Day.”
Brandon said something.
Alvin said, “He didn’t forget.”
She raised her sculpted eyebrow at the response. “Well, you didn’t mention it, dear.”
“We didn’t ask him,” Alvin translated. For my benefit, I guess. They both seemed to understand everything Brandon said.
You had to know how to ask the right questions with these kids. And not only that, but you had to ask the questions right.
“Did you have something special planned for Canada Day, Brandon?” Alvin asked.
“Yes,” his mother said. “We had a big barbecue planned for the evening. Steak and corn on the cob. Strawberry shortcake. Brandon was terribly disappointed when Jimmy didn’t show up. We waited and waited.”
Brandon said something.
“You’re right,” Alvin said. “Jimmy must have had a reason.”
“At the time, I was annoyed because Jimmy didn’t let us know he wasn’t coming. It held up our little party, and I believed he was being thoughtless,” Brandon’s mother said.
“What time did you expect him?”
“We were going to get started about six. He knew that.”
“You said his mother should have called us.” This time Brandon spoke clearly enough for me to understand.
She flicked a glance at Alvin. “I assumed he’d changed his plans. And Brandon was so disappointed, it made me really angry at Jimmy.”
“I guess I can understand that,” Alvin said.
“Jimmy wouldn’t miss a barbecue,” Brandon said.
“I didn’t realize that fully,” his mother said.
I strained to understand Brandon. “I told you he called me,” he said.
“I should have contacted your family, Alvin,” she said. “Maybe they would have started the search earlier. I feel so responsible.”
“It’s easy in hindsight,” Alvin said, with admirable grace.
“Perhaps. I keep asking myself why I didn’t make that call.”
That was a good question. “Why didn’t you?” I said.
She hesitated. “Jimmy often did foolish things. And he could get himself into a state over silly situations.”
Brandon said, “Sometimes thinking isn’t Jimmy’s best thing.”
“That’s true,” Alvin said.
“I don’t think anyone in your family mentioned the barbecue,” I said to Alvin.
“They probably didn’t know.”
“Why wouldn’t they? They keep such close tabs on him.”
“You have to know our Jimmy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he thought they wouldn’t let him come.”
“But he always came here, every Sunday and special occasion. Why would he hide it?” Brandon’s mother said.
I caught the implication. “So you’re saying that Jimmy told lies?”
“No,” Brandon said.
“Yes,” his mother said.
Alvin kept his cool. “Not really lies. He always gets caught when he tries. He doesn’t mention things he should if he thinks he won’t get to do something. Or thinks he’ll get into trouble.”
Brandon’s mother pursed her expensive lips. “That’s a form of lying.”
Alvin shrugged. “It’s our Jimmy.”
Brandon said something I couldn’t make out.
His mother said, “Maybe I do feel guilty.” If you went by the look on her pinched face, she not only felt guilty, and rightly so, but she felt angry at Jimmy for causing it.
“You’re going to find him, Allie,” Brandon said.
“Thanks, Brandon,” Alvin said.
“Did you find out who Jimmy was afraid of?” This time even I understood every word.
Alvin said, “Jimmy was afraid of someone?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“When?”
“He told me on the phone. When he called about the barbecue.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he might come a different way to my house. The boardwalk. He said he saw someone bad from a long time ago, and he said he was afraid.” Brandon looked exhausted by the effort of making himself understood.
“But he didn’t say who?”
We couldn’t mistake Brandon’s expression. I had seen that grief on the faces of everyone who cared for Jimmy.
“I told him don’t be stupid, don’t go on the boardwalk. I told him to come the regular way. I told him to call Vince.” Brandon appeared to be struggling for breath. “I told him. Now he’s gone.”
“Oh, my God,” his mother said. “You should have said something.”
Tears trickled down Brandon’s scarred cheeks. “You would only get Jimmy in trouble.”
“Brandon,” I said, “help us. Did Jimmy say if it was a man he was afraid of?”
“Just he saw someone bad, and he was afraid.”
“And he didn’t say what he was afraid of?”
“No.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Brandon?” No mistaking the accusation in his mother’s voice.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Really,” she said.
Brandon stared at the wall. “Jimmy said don’t tell anybody. He said it’s a secret.”
“Did Jimmy call back?” I said.
“No. And he never came.”
“Do you know where he phoned from?” I said.
Brandon looked from me to Alvin to his mother. “He didn’t say.”
Alvin leaned over and gave Brandon a hug. “Thanks, Brandon. You have been such a big help. We didn’t know Jimmy was afraid of someone.”
“One more thing, Brandon. Did you tell the police?” I asked.
“They didn’t ask me.”
Alvin said. “This is important. We will have to talk to the police.”
“I’ll tell them about the phone call, Allie. But you have to bring Jimmy back.”
Thirteen
So we have something to get our teeth into,” I said as we schlepped the long walk down King’s Road towards the Fergusons’.
“What?”
“Now we need to find out who Jimmy was afraid of.”
“How?”
“We know he wasn’t afraid of anything when he was with Thomas.”
“We think we know that.”
“What do you mean?”
“We didn’t ask Thomas if Jimmy was afraid of anything.”
“Fine. We’ll ask him. And we need to find people who might have seen Jimmy on his way from his visit with Thomas to Brandon’s place.”
“Yeah, maybe. But it was Canada Day, so people would have a different routine. Lots of visitors, tourists.”
“We can get a call out through the police and the media.”
“I guess we have nothing to lose,” Alvin said.
I thought we had plenty to lose if we didn’t pick up the pace.
To my surprise, Ray Deveau answered his phone when I called from my cellphone. Even more surprising, he didn’t sound unhappy to hear from me and quite pleased to get this possible lead from Brandon.
He said. “Thanks. We’ll get on it right away. We’ll talk to Thomas again too and see if he knew anything about this.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me to mind my own business?”
He chuckled. “Appreciate the tip. Take care of yourself.”
“Imagine that, Alvin. A cop who doesn’t get pissed off.”
• • •
Mrs. Parnell waved at us from the porch next door as we shuffled up the front walk to the Château Ferguson. Even Gussie was shagged out. But I could tell by Mrs. P.’s triumphant expression that she had a juicy bit of intelligence. We headed next door and met her on the porch. She lit a Benson and Hedges and dragged deeply on it. “Donald Donnie and Loretta seem to know a lot about what’s going on in Sydney.”
“No kidding,” said Alvin. “They’re the biggest gossips in town. Part of what I love about them.”
“One has to admit, it has a certain convenience.”
“Don’t say that in front of my mother.”
“Never mind. It’s turning out to be a blessing. Donald Donnie and Loretta think Jimmy had another friend your family didn’t approve of, dear boy.”
“He did?”
“Apparently.”
“They said they had made several attempts to pass the information on to Vince, but he wouldn’t even stop to talk to them.”
“Vince doesn’t like them much.”
“He told them to mind their own business and not to bother your mother.”
“That’s Vince for you.”
I said, “We need all the leads we can get.”
“Thank you, Ms. MacPhee.
“Who did they say his friend was?” Alvin asked.
“I believe I have this right, someone named Reefer. Is that possible?”
“Lord thundering Jesus,” said Alvin.
“What?” I said.
“That would be Reefer Keefer.”
“They also said that Dr. Vincent Bigshot Ferguson shouldn’t be so high and mighty, since he got into plenty of trouble when he was a nipper.”