Inanimate

by Deryck Jason

  “Tony?”

  A sullen voice echoed in the throes of the cells.

  “Hey Unc.”

  “What are you doing down here?”

  Oates asked the question even though he already knew the answer. Tony stepped up to the bars to meet Oates. The cold metal felt nice as he gripped it in the stuffy basement.

  “Look around you uncle, this is the safest place to be right now. I’m not safe outside, no-one is.”

  Oates looked at his nephew intently.

  “What gives you the right to hide? You caused all this.”

  Tony was unable to answer, instead choosing to look down at his uncle’s superbly polished shoes. Oates sighed, he knew his nephew was a screw-up but he got the feeling Tony knew it as well. So he decided not to kick him at his lowest.

  “Sorry to hear about Earl.”

  “You knew him as well as I did” stated Tony quietly.

  “Yes but I didn’t find his body.”

  “Well…” Tony swallowed hard “…It is what it is.”

  Tony looked at Oates thoughtfully. Behind the young man’s thuggish nature was a scared child begging for comfort.

  “You know what this thing is don’t you?”

  “I don’t think it’s one thing. Whatever it was that killed Earl was different from the thing that killed Amanda and Kyle, and probably different from the thing that killed Jimmy and Lucy.”

  “You know, I never really realized my actions could have such severe consequences until now.”

  Oates scoffed.

  “Tony, you killed a man! Don’t tell me you didn’t think there wouldn’t be any consequences after that. It doesn’t matter how innocent or scared you want to act, you’re not an infant! You are very capable of understanding right from wrong, you always have been. You just always chose not to.”

  “And what about you Unc? Weren’t you supposed to arrest me or something? What did you do about it?”

  Oates reached through the bars in a fit of rage, grabbing Tony and pulling him hard up against the cold metal.

  “You ungrateful little prick! I spare you the needle and this is the thanks I get? You’d have been in juvi years ago if it wasn’t for me.”

  “Yeah…” said Tony shakily “…And then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Oates let him go. Tony was right and Oates knew it. Oates knew it all too well. Although on the surface he blamed Tony for causing this he knew it was his inability to keep Tony in check that was the real cause.

  Tony walked back to the cot and lit up a cigarette. Oates decided not to inform him of the state law prohibiting smoking in public buildings.

  “So what now then Sheriff? You know we’re both targets now right?”

  Oates nodded

  “I have to go.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I’m going to see the Williams boy. I’m going to put a stop to all this.”

  Tony took a long drag of his cigarette.

  “You want my advice Unc?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “The boy has to die. He’s pulling the strings here. If he goes, all this stops.”

  Oates simply looked back at him; he had never contemplated this as a solution before. Instead, he looked at his own nephew, his own blood; advocating the murder of a ten year old boy in order to save his own skin. Oates found this especially unsettling as there was no way for them to know if the death of Connor Williams would actually stop anything. Tony was prepared to say such a thing on a whim. It was at that moment Sheriff Oates realized he only had blood in common with his nephew, nothing else.

  “I’ll have Dora bring you some coffee.”

  This was all Oates could say. It was all he wanted to say. He had a monster in the family. This was something he and Andy Williams had in common.

  Oates was determined to get some answers at Hallcombes. Pulling out his reserved parking spot he trundled out onto the main road heading for the highway. The morning dew had only recently begun to disappear, and Staunton was getting smaller behind him.

  CHAPTER 28

  MacNamee had only recently been called over the P.A system despite his request the telephone be used instead. He was, at least happy the message was vague enough so as not to arouse the interest of nosey staff.

  “You have a visitor in the canteen.”

  He knew the canteen would be fairly empty at this time so he could chat without worry of too many ears listening. His office would normally be a better place, but there were too many eyes around there. He would go into his office when all parties had arrived. Gliding down the hallway his feet barely had time to touch the ground in between steps. As he suspected, the canteen was virtually deserted. Most of the staff had retreated into the smoking area to chat while it was quiet. MacNamee looked over at the corner table. Indeed, his visitor had arrived. Sergeant Jacobs sat patiently for his audience with Doctor MacNamee, and soon, Crass as well.

  “Morning Doctor” said Jacobs as MacNamee approached.

  “Thanks for coming over Sergeant.”

  The smell of cleaning fluid was faint in the air, the linoleum floor was shiny from recent mopping. Wet floor signs were dotted around the long tables where the orderly’s normally sat. MacNamee knew this was not the ideal place for a meeting but at least it was quiet. As soon as everyone arrived they would move to his office.

  “I’m assuming you’ve been following the spate of deaths in Staunton?” MacNamee asked quietly.

  “Only through hearsay. It’s quite hard to follow from my position. Those Staunton boys don’t like it much when a city cop tries to interfere in their business.”

  “Well I can tell you this, last I heard there were six bodies, and I think there will be more.”

  “Were they all involved in the death of Andy Williams?”

  “No, not all, but at least two of them were.”

  Jacobs sat back and pondered.

  “It’s hardly concrete Doctor, you said on the phone these were all revenge killings, it doesn’t sound like it. Even if they were, what do you need me for? I have no jurisdiction there.”

  Outside in the parking lot Oates’ cruiser pulled into a gravel-lined space. Loud crunching from underneath the tire tread signaled his entry. Oates lifted his hat off the passenger seat and lingered for a moment in the vehicle, peering at himself in the mirror. He was determined not to leave here today without answers. Oates was so wrapped up in his goals today he was not aware he was carrying a stowaway. From the back floor of the cruiser a brown paw reached for the door handle; timing opening the back door to coincide with Oates opening the front so as to remain undetected. This was the same brown paw that earlier disabled the lock on the cruiser so it could be opened from the inside. Oates took his time, trying to get his frame of mind just right. After a moment he opened the door and got out. With perfect synchronicity, Bear dropped to the ground. Leaving the door open, Bear waited for Oates to enter the building before slipping behind Hallcombes hospital. Using the trees in the surrounding fields as cover, Bear headed towards the city.

  Oates reached the reception desk briskly. The rugged Sheriff looked completely normal in Staunton, but this was the city. And, with his big round hat and sepia toned uniform, it was clear he was an outsider. Oates took off his hat in front of the pretty young receptionist.

  “Hello miss, I’m here to see a Doctor MacNamee.”

  The receptionist looked at him blankly.

  “Sheriff Oates right?”

  Thinking it was pretty obvious he was the Sheriff, what with him wearing his Sheriff’s badge, Oates had to resist the urge for a sarcastic comment.

  “Yes miss.”

  “He’s expecting you; he’s waiting in the staff canteen. Turn right down the hall and follow the signs. It’s not far.”

  Oates thanked her and followed her directions. She was right, it wasn’t far. Soon he was in the canteen meeting three men. Two appeared to be doctors and one was wearing a worn suit.

 
; “Hello Sheriff, thanks for coming.”

  Doctor Crass greeted Oates as the senior Doctor, despite the fact it was MacNamee who dealt with him.

  “Thank you for having me” said Oates as he looked at Jacobs apprehensively.

  “If you’re Doctor Crass then you must be Doctor MacNamee, the voice on the phone.”

  MacNamee greeted Oates warmly.

  “It’s good to finally meet you. I just wish the circumstances could be better.”

  Oates’ eyes shifted to Jacobs.

  “And who might this be?”

  MacNamee introduced the two.

  “Sheriff Oates, this is Sergeant Jacobs, I asked him to come along.”

  “Why?” asked Oates bluntly, suspicious of an outside cop’s involvement.

  Jacobs stood for a moment before answering.

  “Doctor MacNamee was just about to explain that explain that, weren’t you doc.”

  “I was going to discuss all this in my office, said MacNamee. “But it’s much quieter in here than I anticipated so I guess this is as good a place as any to talk”

  The men nodded in agreement.

  “Sheriff Oates, I understand you want to know who is responsible for the murders in Staunton.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, Doctor Crass and I would like to know as well, as would Sergeant Jacobs. Now, the only person who can tell us for sure who is responsible is Connor Williams and so far he has been playing games with our resident child psychologist Doctor Frieda. That said, we are still going to use Doctor Frieda in the questioning process, but we would like a police officer present, to hopefully add some more weight to the questioning. That’s why we asked Sergeant Jacobs along.”

  Crass stepped in.

  “We feel, that since the Sergeant has spoken to Connor only a few days ago, informing the boy of his father’s death, his presence in the room might encourage the boy to give us more details.”

  The Doctors looked at Oates, half expecting some objection.

  “Hey” said Oates “I have no complaints, as long as I find out what’s going on in my town, I don’t care whose present in the room.”

  The Doctors then turned their attentions to Jacobs who was sitting patiently.

  “I have no problem with it, he’s just a kid.”

  The two Doctors shared a looked before Crass spoke.

  “Very good then, I will fetch Doctor Frieda and we will meet in our interview room in ten minutes.”

  Oates sat, trying to look as casual as he could.

  “Sounds good doctor.”

  Oates’ front could be seen through from a mile away. He did not know what to expect when he saw Connor Williams, but this was a child who could be responsible for a number of deaths. And that scared him a little. Jacobs, on the other hand, was not scared. He too did not know what to expect from the boy but at most, maybe Connor had some information on the real culprit. He did not believe for one second this boy could be responsible for murder. That opinion however, was about to change.

  CHAPTER 29

  In the room behind the glass MacNamee, Oates and Crass stood, watching Frieda and Jacobs chat to each other before they interviewed Connor Williams. Frieda looked at Jacobs intently.

  “Have you ever interviewed a child before?”

  “Yes…” replied Jacobs. “…In fact I spoke to Connor just before he was committed here.”

  “Then you know what he’s like?”

  “No, I’m sorry; I don’t know what you mean.”

  Frieda leaned in close.

  “He gets inside your head, he’s very clever.”

  “What is he doing?” MacNamee asked Crass.

  “Christ knows…” replied the older Doctor as he leaned in, pressing a button so his voice could be heard on the other side of the glass.

  “Bring Connor in!”

  Just as Connor entered, Frieda leaned in close and whispered in Jacobs’ ear.

  “Don’t let him get in your head.”

  Jacobs, unsure of what to say, simply watched the boy sit down opposite them.

  “So that’s him?” Oates asked

  “Yeah, that’s Connor.”

  “He doesn’t look like much” said Oates, watching the boy.

  “He’s just a child Sheriff” replied Crass.

  “Tell that to my boys at the station. They have him billed as the devil himself.”

  MacNamee decided not to antagonize Oates; after all he was dealing with a lot. Instead he tried to be sympathetic.

  “I’m sorry you have to deal with all this Sheriff, six bodies is a lot to handle.”

  “Seven” corrected Oates. “Earl, the owner of Earl’s bar was killed last night.”

  “Earls’ bar?” Enquired Crass

  “Wasn’t that where Andy Williams was drinking?”

  “Yep” replied Oates quietly.

  Jacobs sat across from Connor with a notepad in his hand. MacNamee already briefed him on the last interview, where Connor described a strange man in his room, and his description of Dixie.

  “Hi there Connor, do you remember me?”

  “Of course” replied Connor “It’s only been a few days. How have you been Sergeant Jacobs?”

  “I’m doing well Connor, thanks for asking.”

  Jacobs was taken aback by how polite Connor was.

  “How have you been?”

  “I’m excellent, I’ve never been better” said Connor, glancing at Frieda and smirking.

  Jacobs' noticed Frieda couldn’t take his eyes off the boy. He looked nervous, as if anticipating something.

  “Connor, I’d like to talk to you about some accidents that have been happening.”

  Connor was staring right into Frieda’s eyes.

  “Connor?” Jacobs asked, trying to get the boy’s attention. “…Connor!”

  Casually Connor returned his gaze to Jacobs. The atmosphere was very tense and Jacobs could feel it all around him.

  “Did you heard me Connor?”

  As if he had been listening the whole time Connor shot back.

  “Accidents? What accidents are you talking about?”

  “I think you know what I’m talking about Connor” said Jacobs, deliberately calm.

  “I’m afraid I don’t Sergeant.”

  “Come on Connor, the people who have been dying these last couple of days.”

  As if stung by realization, Connor provided an over dramatic noise to the conversation.

  “Oh! The murders!”

  “Yes Connor, the murders.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call them accidents, would you?”

  Connor gazed intently into Jacobs eyes much as he did Frieda’s.

  “So you do know what I’m talking about then?”

  Leaning across the table Connor was choosing his facial expressions very carefully, each conveying an over exaggerated sense of bewilderment.

  “Well no, not really. I mean, you can’t ask me what I know about some accidents if you are actually referring to murder, that doesn’t make sense. It’s like asking me what I know about fish, when really you’re asking me about birds.”

  Jacobs didn’t appreciate being spoken down to like this, especially by a child, even if it was a psychotic one.

  “Ok Connor, I apologize.”

  Jacobs stated through a fake smile.

  “What do you know about the murders?”

  “I know a lot about them. What would you like to know?”

  Jacobs almost couldn’t believe his luck, he was the first to admit (as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious to everyone watching) that he wasn’t a natural when it came to dealing with kids but so far he seemed to be getting maximum information with minimal coaxing.

  “Well ok then. Let’s start off with who’s committing them?”

  Connor smiled.

  “Look at you Sergeant, going for gold right away. No warm-up information, just straight for the prize.”

  Jacobs forcefully smiled back.

  “That�
��s me.”

  “You should know who’s committing them; it was you who had them brought to me?”

  From behind the glass Oates perked up. He leaned into the glass as closely as he could while Connor confirmed what Crass and MacNamee already knew.

  “I didn’t bring anyone to you son.”

  “Not anyone, anything Sergeant. You brought me my dolls; they’re the ones you need to find if you want to stop all this.”

  Jacob’s heart beat faster while Frieda started to sweat.

  “What do you mean your dolls Connor?”

  “Come on Sergeant, everyone has figured this out by now, it’s no mystery anymore. Or if they haven’t they certainly should have. You brought them to me. All of them: Basket, Bear, Dog, my soldiers, my dummies and Betsy.”

  “Betsy?” cried Oates, “that’s the name Benchley was raving about, that’s the one he said killed Jimmy. Who is she?”

  MacNamee looked at Crass

  “The porcelain doll?”

  Crass nodded gently in response while Oates just stood there shocked.

  “Ok Connor, say I was to believe you, how do we stop them?”