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

“I’m sorry to have come by so late, Mrs. Valentine, but you weren’t home when we came by earlier.”

“No, we had dinner and an early show downtown but please don’t apologize. Anything we can do to help, we’ll be more than willing.”

“Thank you. First, I’ll ask you the same question I asked Mr. Valentine. Did you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary after you returned home last night?”

Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “I can’t think of anything. Soon after we got home, I was busy taking care of some things around the house. I was in the kitchen several times, which looks out on the boy’s bedroom window, but I didn’t notice anything strange or unusual.”

“Did you ever make acquaintance with the boy?”

“No. I knew who he was, of course, since he lived right next door, but I’m hardly ever home during the day, and even when I am, I seldom venture out into the yard like Harry does. The woman who hired me is insistent that I don’t get tanned. It’s not fashionable this season.” She smiled as she said this.

“Then you don’t know much about the boy?”

“Hardly anything! I spoke to his parents a few times, but Charlie was never with them at the time.”

McPherson rose to her feet. “Well, I suppose that will be all for now. If you can think of anything else, I’d appreciate it if you gave the station a call. We can use all the help we can get.”

Harry Valentine followed her to the door. “We’ll be sure to call if we remember anything.”

“Thank you, and good night,” McPherson said. With a slight nod to Mrs. Valentine, she started back towards the car.

As she walked, McPherson was still wondering about Valentine’s attitude. The man was scared stiff, but why? People were always nervous whenever they found themselves involved in a murder investigation, but there had seemed to be actual signs of terror under the man’s smooth exterior. The question consumed her thoughts as she stepped into the car, only to be stopped short by a shout.

“Officer! Officer! May I speak to you for a moment?”

She paused and looked toward where the voice was coming from. A man was rushing across the street, so she waited.

The man was of medium build, with heavy broad shoulders and a slender waist and hips. Judging by the look of him he could have been a boxer. His hair appeared to be dark, and he was a little out of breath when he finally reached the Lieutenant.

“Sorry to bother you, Officer, but my wife is going hysterical worrying about the kids. Would it be too much for me to ask you to come inside and talk to her? Maybe you’ll be able to calm her down. I’m at my wits’ end.”

“I’ll do what I can. What’s your name?”

The man smiled sheepishly. “Guess she’s got me in a tizzy, too. I’m Karl Fitts. We live over there in that second house from the corner. A few other men were poking around earlier and told us about little Charlie. My wife is terrified. If you could just assure her that there will be police security around, it might calm her down. I know it’s an imposition, being that it’s late—“

“No, not at all,” McPherson interrupted. “I’m Lieutenant Emma McPherson. I should ask you people some questions, anyway, and so long as you’re awake it might as well be now.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Karl said in obvious relief.

McPherson caught a sly grin on Taylor’s face as she started off beside Karl. It always amused Taylor to see her involved with someone who is hysterical, for no one knew better than he did how much she loathed that part of the job.

She’d make Taylor sorry for that, Emma decided, as they arrived at the Fitts’ door.

“Come on in, Lieutenant, and here, give me your coat.”

“No thank you. It’s late, so I won’t be keeping you long.”

As she spoke, a petite woman entered the room. Under most ordinary circumstances she would have been good-looking, but now her eyes showed recent traces of tears, and her hair could have used a combing. As she stepped closer into the light, McPherson noted that she could use a touch-up on the roots of her blonde hair as well.

“Marla, this is Lieutenant Emma McPherson. Lieutenant McPherson, this is Marla. See Marla, it’s just like I said. There will be security prowling the streets all night. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

McPherson nodded. “We’ll see to it that the neighborhood has every protection, Mrs. Fitts.”

Her expression seemed to be saying she would like to believe what they were saying, but she can’t quite convince herself.

“I have two small children, Lieutenant. I can’t help but be nervous when there’s a pedophile running loose near my home.” There was an unpleasant pitch to her voice that came off like a screech.

“It wasn’t a sex crime, Mrs. Fitts. The boy wasn’t molested. Murdered, yes, and that’s a frightening and terrible thing, but there’s no evidence that it was a sex crime.”

“Excuse me one moment,” she said and left the room abruptly. For a moment, McPherson wondered if she had said something to offend her.

“Marla is apt to be emotional. I hope you can forgive her,” Karl said apologetically.

“Of course. Murder is an upsetting thing, especially when it’s a child.”

They fell into silence and waited for Marla to return. During the lull, McPherson took a glance around the room. She had figured out over the years that you can learn a lot about people just by looking at the way they decorate their homes.

The Fitts’ was comfortable enough, but its choice of design showed that they were far from being wealthy. The sectional couch was brand new, and one chair looked as though it must have been a recent acquisition, but there were a few pieces that looked as though they had been gleaned from someone else’s basement. The sort of thing newlywed couples take to get started, with the intention of replacing