The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) by A.J. Flynn (early reader books .txt) 📗

carried on in a solemn tone. “Have you ever considered just how few women are built to wear shorts?”

Taylor’s face lit up like a great light had dawned on him. “Yeah well, even if you’re right, think of all the fun I can have window shopping.”

“Oh for Christ sake,” McPherson said in disgust.

“There’s a drugstore nearby, Lieutenant. I’m gonna go pick up a pack of cigarettes. You want anything?”

McPherson fished some change out of her pocket. “Yeah, you can grab me one too. You can save yourself a trip though. There’s a machine just inside, and I’m sure our charming little waitress would be glad to bring them to you.”

“I don’t want to trouble her. Overwork, and all that.”

When he had finally left, McPherson began making her notes. She hardly ever wrote anything down in front of the person she was questioning. A lot of people wouldn’t even tell you their name if they knew it was being written down.

She jotted down out some of the things the teachers had said, and where they had claimed they were on the night of the murder. She also added a few of her own observations.

She’d just put her notebook away when Taylor arrived back with the waitress carrying the sandwiches behind him.

After the big man had squeezed into the car, the waitress fastened the tray, and said, “Seven twenty, please.”

They paid, and Taylor passed McPherson a sandwich and a cup of coffee before taking one for himself. The coffee was half cold, the burger was thin, and the bread was dry. It was an average lunch for the two of them.

When they finished, Taylor flipped on the light to summon the waitress and said to McPherson, “I picked up some literature in the drugstore. It should give me something to do while I’m waiting for you.”

McPherson glanced down at the brilliantly colored paperback. It showcased a scantily-dressed woman with a massive chest, being clutched by a dark-looking rogue. The book blurb said something like, “Dark passion amongst the elite.”

“Literature?” McPherson said.

“Yeah. Realism. It’s the trend nowadays.”

“I think you might do better to study for your next exam.”

“I’m all out of ambition. All I want to do is retire.”

“Well, go ahead. I want to see this Nerdelbaum guy this afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Nerdelbaum home was more or less what she had expected. It was a small cream-colored building with bushes growing close to its side. Years before, homes like these were called bungalows and had been very fashionable, but that was then.

McPherson mounted the steps and tapped the doorbell. Nerdelbaum answered almost at once. He was the perfect picture of a man who had settled in for a quiet day of nursing a cold, all the way down to the cloth tied around his throat.

“I’m Lieutenant Emma McPherson of the police,” she said, flashing her credentials. “I would like to ask you a few questions.”

Nerdelbaum was surprised, but quickly recovered. “Of course, Lieutenant. Come in.”

McPherson stepped into the small dark hallway.

“You better let me take your coat, Lieutenant. There’s a fire burning in the fireplace and the living room is rather warm. I’m suffering from a cold and would prefer not to risk any drafts.”

McPherson shrugged off her coat and handed it to Nerdelbaum. He hung it up, then took the hat and set it on a small table.

“Follow me. We’ll have to keep our voices low. My mother is napping. When she first learned that the boy who was murdered was one of my students, it threw her into shock. You see, she’s getting on in years and has grown rather sensitive.”

“Certainly, Mr. Nerdelbaum. I’m sorry we must trouble you, but everyone with even the slightest connection to the boy has to be questioned.”

Nerdelbaum smiled, but the expression looked out of place on his face. All the lines and furrows seemed to be formed towards displeasure rather than friendliness. His left eye was twitching uncontrollably, just as it had always done whenever he was nervous. Many a student had been reprimanded for making fun of the affliction in his presence.

“Yes, I understand,” he said. “Each of us has a job to do. It’s just that Mother gets easily upset. It’s just she and I, and she’s grown accustomed to the quiet life.”

McPherson grabbed a stick of gum from her pocket and unwrapped it. There weren’t any ashtrays around, which made her think Mrs. Nerdelbaum must disapprove of smoking. It had been her experience that elderly women who somehow managed to keep their middle-aged sons at home and unmarried, were apt to disapproval.

“Please sit down, Lieutenant. The room is rather warm, but, as I mentioned, I’d rather not risk a draft.”

McPherson took a seat on the couch and managed to knock a souvenir pillow onto the floor. When she picked it up the effort made sweat break out on her forehead. It wasn’t just warm in there, it was hotter than an oven. Nerdelbaum didn’t need to worry, there was no way a draft would stand a chance.

“I wanted to ask you about Charlie. As his teacher, Mr. Nerdelbaum, what did you think of him? Was he bright, dull, well-adjusted? I just want your opinion.”

Nerdelbaum raked a hand through his coarse grey hair and wrinkled his forehead in concentration.

“His grades were above average in science, but it seemed to come too easily to him to hold his interest. The sort of thing that would challenge the rest of the students, Charlie could take one look at and remember perfectly. It was all very natural to him.”

McPherson nodded.

Nerdelbaum steepled his fingers and went on. “There isn’t any doubt in my mind that given enough time, Charlie could have easily been one of the most brilliant students I ever had, but if I’m going to be honest I have to admit that the boy lacked something. I don’t know quite how to put it, but he gave me the impression that he was just trying to kill time in my class. Bored is the right word