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

bother saying anything about it, because I didn’t think you would ever suspect me.” His voice was low and firm. “It all happened so quickly, and it was nothing like anything I’d ever pictured happening, even in my most terrible nightmares.”

“From all I’ve gathered, Charlie was a quiet soul that didn’t make enough of an impression on anybody for them to hate him. So why did you do it?”

She offered Hardwood a cigarette and took one for herself as she spoke. Hardwood waited until she had lit up before answering.

“I didn’t hate the boy. In truth, he didn’t have enough personality for me to hate him. His big dream was to be a songwriter.” He sneered. “Him, a songwriter. He couldn’t even carry a tune.”

The sneer grated on McPherson’s nerves. The sight of Charlie on the morgue slab flashed in her mind.

“What does that have to do with killing him?” she asked in a hard voice. “When I was young, I wanted to be an artist. I could barely draw my breath, but nobody thought to kill me for it.”

“That’s not the reason I killed him,” Hardwood whined. “It was just that he was such a damn snoop.”

“Was that what he was doing the night you murdered him—snooping on you?”

“You don’t understand.”

“So I’ve been told,” McPherson agreed dryly. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“It’s just that every once in a while things get to be too much, at home I mean. My daughter is always sick, and my wife is constantly complaining because I don’t make enough money for her to live as she’d like to. Sometimes I just have to get out.

“We had a big newspaper drive at school a few months ago, and that’s when I first met Colleen Johnson. She was helping the children in her neighborhood transport their papers to the school. I helped them unload the car and she mentioned that she had a lot more papers to bring, so I offered to help out.

“After we’d delivered them, and brought the children home, she invited me inside for coffee. Her husband was away. He’s seldom home during the evenings. She told me it had something to do with selling cars.

“Soon we were meeting up whenever we could. I started going to her house, as there was less chance of us being seen. After all, I had to guard my reputation.

“I always parked beneath that tree, but I didn’t know it was beside a path the kids used. It would have been fine if it had been anyone but Charlie who noticed the car. I doubt any of the others would have recognized it, but he did.”

“Why would Charlie recognize it?” McPherson asked.

“One day he waited after school to see me. I had just finished up with a teacher’s meeting, and it was late when I found him sitting alone in my room. He had just finished writing a song he wanted me to hear. As I already said, he was a nut about music, but he didn’t have any talent.

“I played his song for him. It was far worse than all of his prior efforts, but he was so sincere in his presentation and had waited so long to have me hear it, that I felt sorry for him. The school bus had long since left, so I offered to drive him home.

“He took detailed notice of my car, even going so far as to mention the fender my wife had dented.

“That was why he decided to sneak out. He must have noticed the car there before when he was walking along the path, because he seemed to know just about what time I might be there. He even knew where I’d been.”

“Why that night especially?”

“It was that damn contest.”

“So the letter was for you?”

“Hell yes. I’d forgotten to return his music to him, and he was determined to have it to work on the next day. He said he wanted enough time to use whatever I’d offered him in the way of suggestions, then recopy it so that it would be nice and neat to mail.”

“Why didn’t you just give it back to him, or let him know you’d get it for him first thing in the morning, then get out of there?”

Hardwood watched the smoke curl, then said, “I hadn’t brought it with me, and it didn’t occur to me to tell him I’d give it to him in the morning. I suppose it was the raw surprise of finding him inside the car, as well as what he said.”

“He was already in the car?”

“Yes. I never lock it. I was already sitting inside before I noticed him, and he said he hoped that I didn’t mind him being there, and that he would rather not bother me while I was visiting Mrs. Johnson, so he just decided to sit and wait. He knew I wouldn’t be too late. That’s when it all started, I guess. I could see my career and reputation going up in smoke because of that snoopy little shit. And I knew he’d eventually get around to spreading the story, if he hadn’t already done it. Christ, it wasn’t enough for him that I’d put up with him almost every damn day at school, he had to go and track me down in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, I can see why you thought he was a pest, but why did you kill him?”

“When he said that part about my not being late, I knew right away he’d been spying on me. The look on my face must have terrified him because he kept repeating over and over again that he was sorry and tried to get out of the car. But I grabbed him, and he started crying about how he was going to tell his daddy about me. I gripped tighter. Then I could feel him sucking in a deep breath to scream.

“That was when I lost control. All I could think of is how he