Death in the Secret Garden

by Forrest, Richard;

  ‘Where were you when all this was going on?’ Rocco asked.

  ‘I was hiding in a tree where he couldn’t see me, but I ran away when he started chopping.’

  Lyon estimated that in another minute and a half the kid was going to have a full circus in those woods, complete with elephants and clowns. The police officer and the boy were attempting to manipulate each other. Edward’s current lies were obvious, while his first version of the killing had been a straight story of a man shooting Boots and laughing as she crawled across the clearing. Those events were similar to the official crime reconstruction. Initially there had been no mention of a sword, much less someone chopping anyone into pieces. In all probability the bright kid had seen through Rocco’s trickery, and for unknown reasons had turned the situation around to his own benefit.

  ‘How tall was this man?’ Rocco asked,

  ‘Eight feet not including the hat,’ Edward immediately answered smugly.

  ‘And I’ll just bet he had very broad shoulders too,’ Rocco answered.

  ‘You seen him too?’

  Rocco’s ‘OK’ was long and drawn out. He stood and rubbed his hands along his trouser seams. ‘Suppose we go over to the Dairy Queen and get us a cone?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Edward said with the exuberant realization that he had won his battle.

  Rocco and the boy walked toward the gazebo steps until Lyon put both hands on Edward’s shoulders. ‘You told me in the woods that you saw him shoot her,’ he said in a low voice. He felt the boy stiffen under his grip.

  ‘I was lying. He hacked her up.’

  ‘Sure he did, Edward,’ Rocco said in a soothing voice.

  ‘You believe me, don’t you?’ the boy asked Rocco.

  ‘Of course I do,’ Rocco said.

  ‘I don’t,’ Lyon said. ‘You told me the truth the first time. You saw something that day. Don’t you understand how important it is for us to know what you saw? Chief Herbert will protect you. He will not let anyone harm you. Do you understand, Edward?’

  ‘No,’ was the reply.

  Rocco’s returned interest was tempered with skepticism. He was not foolish enough to believe in eight-foot men with swords, but he did put trust in Lyon’s opinion. If his friend’s assessment was that the boy had seen something, he would listen. ‘Why don’t you tell us exactly what you did see?’

  ‘He will hurt me.’

  ‘I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you,’ Rocco said.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ Edward kicked Rocco in the shins and broke from Lyon’s grip to run across the gazebo and slide under the railing at the far end. While Rocco rubbed his ankle, Lyon vaulted the rail. He landed on the concrete walk with a force that stung both feet. He began to run after the boy.

  By the time Edward reached the street, Lyon was close enough to grab his shirt tail. The boy nearly tumbled backward before he turned and began to pummel Lyon with clenched fists.

  ‘Let me go!’

  ‘We have to talk about this,’ Lyon said.

  ‘No!’

  ‘You told me the truth the first time. That is what you must tell Chief Herbert.’

  ‘Let me go!’ He struggled to break Lyon’s firm grip.

  Tires screeched to announce a car’s abrupt halt. Lyon was still struggling with the squirming boy when a high-pitched voice yelled, ‘Leave my son alone!’

  Lyon faced an irate Rebba Dirk. ‘We have to …’

  ‘You pervert! How dare you manhandle my child? They called me from the police station and said you were there. They told me something happened that required a meeting with Chief Herbert.’ She pulled her son toward the car. Edward began to wheeze and buried his head against her side. ‘What have you done to him?’

  ‘Nothing, Mrs. Dirk,’ Rocco said as he joined them. ‘We believe your son may have some important information for us. We were trying to talk to him about it when he ran away.’

  ‘He’s hysterical and sick. That means you did something to him.’ She clutched her child and backed toward the car. ‘I see now what’s going on. You two are big friends. Everyone in town knows that. You are child-molesting together. I will see you broken for this, Chief Herbert. You and your sick friend will end up in jail where you belong. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Rocco sighed. ‘But I would like to talk with your son again. I will arrange an interview, in your presence if you require.’

  ‘If I ever see you within a hundred feet of my boy you will surely pay for it.’ She turned her venom toward Lyon. ‘And you, a so-called Big Buddy, are the lowest of the low.’

  ‘In addition to a crime he may have witnessed in the woods,’ Lyon said, ‘your son needs help. He has his own cemetery for animals that I believe he kills.’

  ‘He finds dead animals in the street. I know about his cemetery and encourage his concern in taking care of those poor dead things.’

  ‘I think it’s a sign of deep disturbance,’ Lyon said.

  Their eyes met. There seemed to be a faint signal from her, and Lyon felt her momentary doubt. It quickly disappeared to be replaced by a flaring anger. ‘Disturbed! How would you know?’ She slid behind the wheel and turned the ignition. ‘You care so little about children that you allowed your daughter to ride her bike in the street and get killed.’ The car jolted forward.

  Rocco put his arm on Lyon’s shoulder. ‘Don’t pay any attention to her.’

  ‘I’ll try not to.’ Lyon turned away, surprised to realize he had tears in his eyes. He was not certain whether this grief was for his dead daughter or the disturbed Edward. Possibly it was a poignant mixture of both children.

  They watched Rebba Dirk drive around the green and accelerate down Main Street.

  ‘I could give chase and ticket her for speeding, reckless driving, and she’s probably not buckled up,’ Rocco said.

  ‘I don’t think that would be a particularly good idea at this point,’ Lyon said distantly.

  They looked at each other and knew what they must do next.

  Sarge’s place had two patrons nursing beers at the bar while they argued over the New York Mets. Sarge was bored, but looked up and smiled when they entered. As they walked in single file to their booth by the window, the bar owner poured a double vodka for Rocco and searched for the Dry Sack sherry. He delivered the liquor to the booth and slid in next to Lyon with his own shot and beer.

  ‘Cheers,’ Sarge said as he downed the drink of shimmering whiskey followed by a long slurp of beer.

  ‘Sarge, did you ever see a man die of liver failure—cirrhosis? It’s a bad way to go. Lots of regurgitated blood,’ Rocco said.

  ‘Mud in your eye,’ Sarge said as he downed the remaining beer. ‘Sorry to hear about your bad medical news, Captain. Liver failure is the pits.’

  ‘Not me. You,’ Rocco said before he shrugged and temporarily gave up on this perpetual battle. ‘Run this kid thing past me again,’ he said to Lyon. ‘Exactly what did he say to you while you were bird-watching?’

  Lyon tried to remember as exactly as he could what was said in the woods. ‘I said to him, if you have your cemetery here, how come you are so frightened of the place? He replied that it was because of the man in the pointy hat. The other stuff he added later. I asked him what the man did that was scary. He said that after he shot the lady he laughed as she crawled.’

  ‘She did crawl across the clearing before she died,’ Rocco said. ‘And that fact wasn’t released to the media. Then the kid did see something?’

  ‘He probably did, but what? And what does it mean?’ Lyon asked.

  ‘He mentioned funny clothes?’

  ‘Possibly clerical vestments. Were the good canon and our friendly check-out girl playing fantasy games learned from Ashley?’ Lyon wondered.

  ‘I’ve got to interview that boy again,’ Rocco said. ‘I’ll probably have to get a warrant.’

  ‘I hope to God you aren’t talking about the Dirk kid,’ a voice behind them said sharply.

  They were
startled to see Captain Norbert of the state police flanked by his two ever-present corporals. The bantam captain was barely the minimum height for trooper requirements, but this deficit was overcome by his barrel chest, which gave him a top-heavy appearance that created a rooster-like strut to his walk.

  ‘Uh oh,’ Sarge said as he slid from the booth. He had been present during past confrontations between the two brothers-in-law and the results were not conducive to a happy hour.

  ‘You had better hope you never see that Dirk kid again,’ Norbert continued. ‘His mama called the barracks with mucho complaints re certain people’s perverted habits. What’s wrong with you, Rock? Pedophilia your bag this month?’

  Rocco exploded from the booth followed by quick intervening movements from Lyon and the two corporals. The large police chief grabbed the captain’s neck with one hand while his other ham-like fist was cocked for a devastating blow. Lyon stepped in front of the fist while the corporals pulled their superior officer away from the line of attack.

  ‘He’s gone too far this time,’ Rocco said. ‘He’s getting a snootfull.’ He tried to slide around Lyon, who sidestepped with him.

  ‘Knock it off,’ Lyon said.

  Norbert shrugged off the corporal’s restraining hands, but made no threatening moves toward Rocco. ‘All right, I headed Big Mama off at the pass this time, but you’re on the edge of trouble, Herbert. When I talked to the Dirk woman she didn’t have anything specific against you except that you were terrorizing her kid. She’s not pursuing the matter at this time because I gave my word that you won’t bother the kid again. Got me, Rocco? Don’t get within a quarter of a mile of that kid. In fact, stay away from the whole family.’

  ‘That boy is a possible material witness to a murder,’ Rocco snapped. ‘I can’t stay away from him.’

  ‘The kid has an active imagination and lies,’ Lyon said. ‘There’s no telling what he’s told his mother.’

  Norbert cast a venomous glare at Lyon. ‘You are included in the hands-off policy, Wentworth. Not that I give a shit about protecting your ass, but I made a package deal, so that includes you. Got me, you two? No kiddy interviews. And stay away from cemeteries. The ME called me all pissed about that exhumation of Bill Tallman. The congressman had arteries that were clogged like the interstate on Christmas Eve. His ticker just blew.’

  Bea wanted to stomp a foot but considered the gesture a trifle over-dramatic. ‘No way,’ she said. ‘I am a civilian. I am worse than an ordinary citizen in that I am a politician. I am not a police officer. I am not a constable. I am not suited to talking to obnoxious children whose mother hates us.’

  ‘Why don’t you call Rebba Dirk and tell her that you have important information for her?’ Lyon suggested.

  ‘What information?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll think of something before you have to go.’

  ‘Sometimes you take me for granted, Wentworth.’

  ‘But of course. That’s one of the advantages of long-term relationships.’

  ‘OK,’ Bea said in resignation. ‘Fill me in.’

  Fifteen minutes later Bea made the phone call. Lyon sat in the living room sipping sherry as she used the kitchen phone. He could not hear her words from this distance, but he could read his wife’s body language. She started out with a smile that merged into a half frown which gradually changed into a full frown. When she started making expansive political-type gestures, he knew she was in the final rounds of a hard sell to convince Rebba. She finally hung up and returned to the living room.

  ‘Well?’ Lyon asked.

  ‘She finally agreed to talk to me and me alone,’ Bea said. ‘That is if I bring her a check for eighty-two dollars for some pellet gun you wantonly destroyed.’

  ‘The kid was going to kill an eagle so I threw it in the river. By the way, he told me it cost forty-two dollars.’

  ‘Another forty for the insult,’ Bea said. ‘I hope this meeting is worth the better part of a hundred dollars to you and Rocco.’

  Patrolman Jamie Martin’s short suspension was over and he was grateful for the opportunity to hand the breakfast tray through the bars to Skee Rumford. The holding cell’s prisoner sat on the edge of the bunk and balanced the tray on his knees as he wolfed down the food.

  ‘We’ll take you over to the court house in Middleburg for arraignment about nine this morning. They’re only going to charge you with assault and attempted rape so you don’t have to worry about the murder charges yet.’

  ‘Thanks a million,’ Skee mumbled through a mouthful of egg.

  Jamie shifted from one foot to the other. ‘Gee, Skee, you’ve got a rep in this town for being a master swordsman. Why did you put the arm on Lori? You never had to resort to that stuff before.’

  ‘I never got turned down by a girl I’d already boffed.’

  ‘She didn’t want to do it where Boots died, right?’

  ‘I guess. A lot of broads would have got turned on just thinking about it, but not Lori. I should have known. She’s one of those broads that think they’re going to save the world.’

  ‘My girl’s like that,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m getting married in October to Jeannie Dockery.’

  ‘Great hooters.’

  ‘She won’t do it, Skee.’

  ‘So, you’ll get it in October.’

  ‘I know that, but in the meanwhile she’s driving me nuts. She does everything but go all the way. I can’t stand it.’

  ‘Talk to her about it. She’ll put out if she has to.’

  ‘I did. We have talked, but she still won’t.’

  ‘Have you, like we used to say in junior high school, gotten to third base?’

  ‘Third base, hell! I’m practically sliding into home plate, but then a wall crashes down and she stops.’

  Skee finished his meal and rubbed his hands along the seams of his chino pants. He slid the tray out through the aperture in the bars. ‘That’s a problem I don’t run into. If I get a girl to go that far she’s at the point where she begs for it. Of course, you have to know what to do. You have to be professional about it.’

  ‘Professional?’

  ‘Hell, yes. None of this second or third base kiddy stuff. This is the real thing, this is going for the gold.’

  ‘Is there something special you do?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Jamie. You have to know about the spot.’

  ‘What spot?’

  ‘That really turns them on. You get to there and you’re not only home free, you’re planted in their dugout.’

  ‘I still don’t understand.’

  Skee approached the cell door and stood with his hands hanging by his sides. He seemed to be considering something. He raised one hand and balled it into a fist. ‘Now, look carefully at my hand and pretend—well, just pretend. I’m going to show you exactly what to do to really score. She’ll beg you for it.’

  ‘Beg?’

  ‘Cry for it. Now look carefully.’

  Jamie bent over to look into Skee’s right hand while the left snaked through the bars and clutched his neck.

  Fourteen

  Rocco poured coffee from his battered Mr. Coffee machine. He handed Lyon a mug. They sipped the strong brew.

  ‘Bea’s going to see Rebba and Edward Dirk later today,’ Lyon said. ‘She’s good at that kind of interview.’

  ‘You’re still convinced the kid saw something?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘My prime suspect is sitting in our holding cell. In a couple of minutes we’re taking him to Middleburg for arraignment.’

  ‘Murder one?’ Lyon asked.

  ‘Not yet. There’s still a few unanswered questions. We have him firm on the attempted rape and assault charges, so that will hold him awhile. I’d like you to drive over with us and give the state’s attorney a deposition on what you saw when Lori charged out of the woods,’ he said as he led Lyon down the hall.

  Rocco clenched the bars in front of the holding cell. ‘I do not believe what I am seei
ng. Please tell me this is a practical joke.’

  The twisting man on the cell’s metal bunk mumbled through his gag. He rocked back and forth within the limited mobility allowed by his bound hands and feet. Rocco unlocked the door and ripped the tape from Jamie’s mouth.

  ‘Ow! That hurt, Chief.’

  ‘I wish it had been a guillotine,’ Rocco said as he cut the bindings with a penknife. ‘How long ago did this happen?’

  ‘Maybe like an hour.’

  ‘I’ll tell them to start a search,’ Lyon said as he rushed for the corridor.

  ‘A couple of guys ought to be writing shift reports in the ready room,’ Rocco yelled after him before turning back to Jamie. ‘All right, duck butter, tell how this came down.’

  Jamie was gone when Lyon returned ten minutes later. Rocco sat on the bunk glowering at the blank wall. He looked up with half a hope. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘No. Sergeant Niles organized an immediate search of the neighborhood. Martin’s moped was stolen and there’s no trace of Skee.’

  ‘Glad about the moped. At least Jamie will suffer more than just a suspension.’

  ‘I hate to suggest it, Rocco, but you have to get rid of that officer. I don’t think he is constitutionally equipped for police work. He’s the one that brought Mead’s vestments, he lost his service revolver, and now he’s allowed Skee to escape. You owe it to yourself and the town to stop this aggravation.’

  Rocco shook his head. ‘Can’t. Nepotism rules. Jamie is a Martin. My mother was a Martin. Jamie’s dad was my uncle, who was chief here when I joined the force after the service. I learned most of what I know from Thadeus Martin.’

  ‘Wasn’t he killed on duty?’

  ‘Shot to death over a stolen tire. A young punk stole a tire from the front of Mac’s Sunoco in full view of Mac. Uncle Tad went out to the kid’s house to bring him in. He was going up the walk with his service revolver still in its holster when a shotgun blast nearly blew him in two. He died in my arms after I promised him that I would put Jamie on the force and look after him. Jamie’s got normal intelligence, but he doesn’t think things through. I once thought of putting him in charge of the school crossing guards, but I didn’t want to jeopardize the children.’