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

weight of her tirade. McPherson was beginning to feel as bad as Garrett, but once she’d started in on her, it was too hard to stop.

“You don’t know anything,” the woman protested in a thin voice. “You talk like there’s something wrong with my association with Mr. Hardwood. There wasn’t. We were just friends.”

“Yeah, well if everything’s so good and innocent, why lie about it?”

“Aw, come on! The only thing you can think about is sex,” she bellowed, her confidence returning.

“Mrs. Johnson, your sex life doesn’t interest me in the least. All I would like to know is, was Hardwood the man who was seen entering your house or was it someone else, and what time was it when whoever it was left?”

Her lips pursed at the insult. “Of course it was Mr. Hardwood. You don’t think I’d have another man out here, do you?”

“I don’t know. When did he leave?”

“Shortly before ten. He had to be back home by ten thirty. We spent a lovely evening together listening to music.”

“That’s sweet,” McPherson said sarcastically. “I’ll have you driven downtown for your statement.”

She was a short ways from the car when Mrs. Johnson called her back. “What is it, Mrs. Johnson?”

“Is Robb still alive?”

“Yes. An ambulance is on its way.”

“Thank you. I’m glad. I wanted to ask you about Mrs. Valentine, too. Whatever happened to her?”

“She was assaulted.”

“Sexually?”

McPherson looked at her and thought about how people must have worn that same expression during public hangings.

“No.”

She didn’t bother elaborating any further, just walked away and left her sitting.

To the patrolman waiting by the car she said, “Grab your partner and take her down to headquarters. And unless you want to feel disgusted, don’t bother talking to her.” The man didn’t quite seem to understand what she was saying, but he didn’t ask any questions.

McPherson walked into the house and found the captain examining the door. “What do you think got into him, Captain?”

“I was wondering if maybe he was the person who committed the assault on Mrs. Valentine. From what they’re saying, the first sight of a patrol car sent him off his rocker.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t quite fit. He was a pay-as-you-go kind of guy. Why would he all of a sudden get the idea to beat up a neighbor?”

“Under ordinary circumstances I’m sure he wouldn’t, but something was definitely out of the ordinary tonight. Men don’t just go around shooting themselves for the hell of it.”

“You might be right. I’m sure Mrs. Valentine can tell us tomorrow. That Johnson woman just admitted that Hardwood stopped by the night Charlie was killed. Says they had a wonderful time together.”

“Then it looks like you’ve placed him at the scene of the crime.”

“Sure does. Let’s get back downtown and listen to his version of how they spent the evening.”

“All right, but remember—you’re a cop, not a judge.”

XXIII

Hardwood was sitting in the far corner of the room poring over mugshots. He was very intent on his task, and with one look at him you might think it was possible that he would point out the murderer any moment. He was so engaged that he didn’t see McPherson and the captain enter the building.

They went straight to the captain’s office, closely followed by Detective Aiden. Aiden was young for a detective, and was overflowing with energy. Every time he went somewhere he acted as if he might be called on to save the castle singlehandedly, and would be able to do it, too.

Aiden made a beeline to the captain’s desk and set a note on it, but he couldn’t wait for him to read it. “Garrett and Fichte found the tires,” he started with a rush. “They’re in the lab as we speak. He hid them in the top rafters of his garage, but the lab says there’s no doubt they’re the ones that fit the casts. They also found a pair of shoes, but they don’t think they’re the ones from the prints. They’re the same size, but they suspect he might be wearing the ones we want. Mrs. Hardwood has been placing calls every few minutes to inform her husband about the search, but we haven’t let him know she’s been calling. He’s in there right now, acting like a good citizen.”

“Good work, Aiden,” the captain cut in. “Can you ask him to come in?”

“Yes, sir,” the young man agreed and hurried off to his task.

“Well, that just about sews him up,” McPherson said. “He’ll be surprised once he finds out why he’s really here. Are you planning on sitting in, Captain?”

“No,” he replied and grabbed his hat. “I have a meeting to attend. A few prominent people want to ask me when we’re going to catch the murderer, and it’ll give me great pleasure to tell them we got him. Go ahead and use the office if you want.”

McPherson grinned. She had sat in on some of the meetings set up for the main purpose of roasting the police force, and it was good to know this time they would get their words thrown back at them.

“Thanks, Captain. The way I’m feeling I could use a little privacy, that way I can let him know my opinion of him.”

“So long as you stick to telling rather than showing. Remember, Aiden will be waiting outside, and it wouldn’t be good to corrupt him.”

McPherson shook her head. “No. With the way I feel, I think I’ve had enough violence to last me the rest of my life.”

“Alright then, I’ll get going, and congratulations. You and the rest of the officers did a damn fine job.”

“Thanks, but maybe if we’d been faster some of those things that happened wouldn’t have.”

“We’re officers of the law, McPherson. Don’t expect too much from any of us, nor yourself.”

Once the captain had gone, McPherson sat down at the desk. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so drained. She was wondering what it might feel like to be starting in on a