The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) A.J. Flynn (ebook reader play store TXT) 📖

“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