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

The doctor spoke up. “As you say, Lieutenant, it’s possible, but I’m inclined to doubt it. His clothes were in disarray, and the only dirt we found on him was from where he’d been lying on the ground. Also, there was nothing particularly savage about the manner of killing. It looks like it might have even been an accident.”

“Well, we’ll be able to judge better once the autopsy’s finished. Thanks, Doc. There doesn’t seem to be much more we can do here, so we’ll head on out.”

“Good night, officers,” the doctor answered, and turned his attention back to the lab men, while McPherson and Taylor started down the path.

They reached the car and got in. Taylor called in to headquarters, and McPherson slumped in her seat, lost in her thinking.

“Where to now, Lieutenant?” Taylor said, after he had learned there was nothing new.

“Garrett and Fichte have been interviewing the neighbors, so let’s see if we can run them down. Maybe they’ve learned something besides Charlie was a good boy who minded his parents and played the violin,” she said in a dejected tone.

“Sounds good. But hey, don’t get so down in the dumps. After all, they only just found him a little while ago,” Taylor said as he flipped a U-turn back to South Pines.

The car used by Sergeant Fichte and Detective Garrett was parked at the curb, near the Turners’ home, but there was no way to know which house they were visiting. Taylor parked behind it and McPherson said, “We’ll wait. No point in frightening them. Go ahead and take a nap if you want. I need some time to think.”

“OK, but I gotta say I’m getting pretty hungry.”

“We’ll stop for a bite once we’ve spoken with Garrett and Fichte. Maybe the neighbors know we need something to work on. I think you’ll make it until then.”

Taylor slumped down in the seat and lowered the bill of his hat over his eyes, while McPherson lit a cigarette and waited, deep in thought.

It was about twenty minutes before the other officers appeared down the street. McPherson didn’t know who lived in the house they just exited, but she could make out a woman standing in the doorway. Once she saw that the woman had gone inside, she slid out of her seat and hailed the two men.

Garrett was the first to arrive. He was a medium-height, wiry man, with sparkling blue eyes and a dark shock of wavy brown hair. He also possessed the unfortunate opinion that he was a rare gift to the world. An opinion which, to say the least, was not shared by McPherson.

“Find anything?” McPherson asked when Garrett was within earshot.

Fichte arrived closely on his trail, and the dark night made his cavernous deep-set eyes look like puddles of shadow.

“Nothing much, Lieutenant. Everyone’s in shock. They all seem to have liked the boy, but none of them seemed to know him very well,” Fichte said in a soft voice.

Garrett’s voice was deeper, and filled with disgust, as he said, “They don’t seem to know a damn thing.”

“What do you want them to do, make something up, just for your sake?” McPherson said sarcastically.

“Hell, no, but some of these folks have known the kid for nearly three years, and you know what they have to say about him? He was a good kid—real well behaved. If you mention his brother, they’ll give you a tin ear, but Charlie was a model of good behavior.”

“What about alibis? Do they all have one?”

“All but Mrs. Johnson. But she says she was home alone when it happened, and there isn’t any reason to think otherwise. Mr. Johnson still isn’t home yet, and neither are the Valentines,” Fichte added quietly.

“Tell me who these people are and what they’re like.”

“Well, there are the Fittses. That’s their house we just came out of. They have a few kids of their own, and seem nice enough, but the wife is scared stiff. They say they had company over last night, so we can confirm that in the morning.”

“The Rogers live over there,” Fichte continued. “They’re an older couple. The husband is sickly. I can’t imagine him being able to walk all the way there, let alone carry the boy.”

“The wife’s sure big enough,” Garrett snorted, “Got a backside like an oil tanker.”

“They said they were home together. But we weren’t able to confirm that,” Fichte carried on calmly, ignoring Garrett’s crass interruption.

“The Shepherds live in that third house down.” Fichte pointed. “It’s just her and the boy. He’s about fourteen. They say they went to the movies and ran into an old friend, so they should be easy enough to check out.”

“Mrs. Johnson was home alone. Says her husband works nights a lot. He’s a used car salesman and has to keep up with contacts. He hasn’t come home tonight, so we’ll have to pay him a visit tomorrow.”

“If I had her lingering around the house all the time, I’d work every night, too,” Garrett sneered. “Of all the dirty old bags I’ve seen, she takes the cake.”

“Garrett, can you keep your god-damned opinions to yourself?” McPherson snapped.

“He’s right, Lieutenant,” Fichte interjected. “She wants you to think she’s a perfect lady, but she keeps begging to know just what happened to the boy, down to every last detail. Says she knows it was a sexual predator, and we’re keeping the truth from her so as not to frighten her.”

McPherson sighed. “There’s always one in every neighborhood. Well, you fellas can go ahead and knock off for the night. Taylor and I are heading off to grab something to eat, then we’ll make a trip back to see if the Valentines are home.”

The two detectives said good night walked to their own car.

McPherson turned to Taylor. “See if you can find a restaurant that’s nearby. I’m starving.”

“OK,” he replied as he hurried to the car. “There’s a shopping mall nearby. I’m sure we can find something at the food court.”

Once McPherson was inside, he