“Without a last name, that won’t get us anywhere,” Ray muttered. “Let’s get back to Lundquist. You say he came in alone and he didn’t hook up with anyone before he left, right?”
“Right. I got flooded with drink orders and, when I looked up, he was going out the door solo.”
“If Lundquist stuck around for roughly an hour and a half, according to our timeline, that would means he left around midnight.”
“That sounds about right.”
“That coincides with his estimated time of death,” Ray told him. “Any chance you heard gunshots?”
“Are you kidding? The place was rocking. We had a great band. They’re scheduled to play again tonight. If you want to hear what the noise level was like, come back later and check it out for yourselves. ”
Ray turned to Waverly. “The shooting happened almost within spitting distance of this place. If those two didn’t hook up here, maybe he picked her up somewhere nearly. They could’ve been headed back when it happened.”
“Can’t rule it out.” Waverly fiddled with his mustache. “Before we go chasing around to other bars, let’s see if anyone else in this joint knows our Jane Doe’s name.”
The bartender leaned in close. “Listen, guys, we’ve been told to soft-pedal the talk about that mugging. Bad for business, you know? If you’re going to talk to the servers, could you do it out of earshot of the customers?”
“Yeah, sure,” Waverly said. “Gotta keep people coming through that door, right? We wouldn’t want something as minor as a murder investigation to interfere with your tips.”
No farther ahead than before, Ray and Waverly stopped to strategize on the sidewalk outside Gluek’s.
“Well, at least we know Lundquist was here. Wherever he and the woman met,” Ray said, “it had to be close by.”
“No kidding,” Waverly agreed. “She wouldn’t be hiking any distance with those stilts on her feet. So, whatd’ya want to do, buddy?”
“Kieran’s and the Lyon’s Pub are closest. I’ll take Kieran’s,” Ray suggested. “When we’re done, let’s meet up back here. It shouldn’t take either of us long.”
They walked in opposite directions—Ray traveling across Hennepin Avenue down South Sixth Street, Waverly going down North Sixth Street to North First Avenue. Each of their destinations was little more than one hundred yards from the crime scene near Gluek’s.
Ten minutes later, Ray left Kieran’s without any new information. No one had seen either the unidentified woman or Lewis Lundquist. Frustrated, he started on his back to meet Waverly.
At Hennepin Avenue, Ray looked left down the street at a squad car parked outside a movie theater. A cop was standing with a group of theater employees outside the entrance.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, Ray veered left.
8
At the theater, there was no chaos—no apparent call for back-up, just an officer outside the building, involved in some kind of interaction with a group of young theater employees. Moviegoers sporadically filed past, craning their necks in an effort to catch the drift of the conversation taking place several yards from the main door.
When the officer turned his head, Ray recognized his craggy profile and he stepped up from behind. “Anything I can do to help, Officer Keller?”
“Oh. Detective Schiller… Thanks,” he said, “but I think I’m about done here.” He turned and addressed the employees. “If there’s nothing more any of you can tell me, you can go back to work now.”
As they returned to their work stations inside, the aroma of buttered popcorn escaped the building and infused the air outside with its mouthwatering scent. It reminded Ray he hadn’t eaten in nearly eleven hours.
“What’s going on?” Ray asked Keller.
“It’s the damndest thing. A kid was found in the theater—a little shaver, about four or five, all by himself… in his pajamas.”
“You’re kidding,” Ray said. “When was this?”
“Late this morning. The cleaning crew came in and found him scrounging in discarded boxes for leftover popcorn. Wegner and Freitag came and got the kid, but they weren’t able to talk to all the employees. Not everyone got here before their shift ended, so I came to talk to the stragglers.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I heard the kid’s not talking… not a word.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s got to be scared half to death,” Ray said.
“I’ll never understand how someone can do a thing like that, especially to a kid… especially when it’s the kid’s mother.”
“You know that’s who left him?”
“We’re not positive yet, but for now, we’re chancing a guess. Anyhow, one of the employees said she saw a woman rush into the theater with the boy late last night. A blond,”
Blond. “Did she give you more of a description than that?”
“She remembers her being in a form-fitting white dress and very high heels. Oh,” he added, “and the girl said she had a nice figure. That’s all she could remember about her.”
“Anything about a coat?” Ray asked.
“She didn’t mention a coat, but if the woman had been wearing one, the girl probably wouldn’t have been able to describe the dress.”
“Good point,” Ray said. “What about a ticket? Didn’t the woman stop to buy one?”
“Apparently not. I was told she came in and rushed straight into one of the showing rooms with the boy. The employee said the final showings were nearly over anyway, so she didn’t bother to stop her.”
Ray sensed it was all part of the answer to a bigger question, but that question was getting hazier by the minute. With the theater little more than a stone’s throw from the crime scene, and the woman’s description matching their Jane Doe, the proximity of the two locations seemed to be more than a coincidence.
He and Officer Keller moved to the squad car away from the steady trickle of customers.
“This woman sounds like someone Waverly and I have been trying to identify,” Ray told him. “I’d like to show to the girl a picture of the woman.”
“It won’t do you any good. She says she didn’t see her face.”
“Not at all?”
“She said she was too busy closing up the candy counter to notice. Plus, the woman could’ve blended in with the crowd as everyone was leaving the theater.”
“You say the boy didn’t give his name,” Ray said, double-checking.
“Not his name, address, or phone number. Nothing. Like I said, Wegner and Freitag couldn’t get a word out of him... well, not until they started to take him out of the theater. Wegner said he hollered, ‘Mommy said to stay here.’ Poor kid. They took him to the station and, as far as I know, that’s the last thing anyone got out of him.”
“The station…” Ray’s eyes widened. “Is he still there?”
Keller checked his watch. “He was twenty minutes ago. CPS was called right away, but it took the crisis worker forever to show up. Now with all the red tape to wade through… You know how it goes. They’re still trying to arrange emergency foster care for the kid.”
“Thanks.”
Ray turned and hurried inside to the theater’s candy counter. He pulled out his wallet and scanned the shelves of chocolates, gummy candies, licorice and more. “Give me one of those Hershey Bars.”
With the candy bar in his pocket, he hurried back down Hennepin to North Sixth Street where Waverly stood waiting for him.
“What kept you?” Waverly asked. “From the looks of you, you got something interesting.”
“And from the looks of you, you didn’t,” Ray said.
“Not a thing. So what’s up?”
“I’ll tell you about it on the way back to the station. Get in the car.”
At the station, they strode down the hall to an interview room and looked through the one-way window. The boy sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a few small toys, a coloring book and crayons.
“He’s a cute little guy,” Waverly said
. “He looks a lot like Joey.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“The woman with him isn’t bad either,” Waverly said. “She’s damn near as hot as Gail.”
Ray gave him a sidelong glance. “Thanks… I guess.”
He and Waverly entered the room quietly, mindful of the traumatized child. The woman attending to the boy stood and shook their hands as the three of them introduced themselves.
Smiling, Ray walked to the boy and got down on one knee, putting himself on his level. “Hi, my name’s Ray. What’s yours?” That got him nothing but a suspicious stare. “You know what? I’ve got a little boy just about your age. His name is Joey. That isn’t your name, too, is it?”
The boy shook his head. “Nathan.”
“Hey, that’s a great name. Nathan what?”
Lynda Morton leaned close to Waverly and whispered, “Your partner just got more out of him than I have since I got here.” She waited hopefully, but the child shut down again.
“I see Mrs. Morton brought you something nice to wear,” Ray said. “I like your shirt. With those jeans, you look like a cowboy. Way cooler than pajamas, right?”
He motioned Waverly over. “This,” Ray said, “is my friend Nathan. Nathan, this is Detective Waverly. He’s my partner. You want to say hi to him?” The boy only stared at Waverly’s thick mustache.
“You like my whiskers?” Waverly asked. Nathan continued to stare. “You know, you look like a very smart young fella to me, and I’m never wrong about these things. I’ll bet you know all sorts of neat stuff like your how old you are and even what your last name is. Heck, I’ll bet you even know your address, right?”
Nathan nodded.
“I knew it. Can you tell me?” The boy held up four fingers. It wasn’t the answer he was going for, but Waverly said, “You’re four? See? I knew you were smart. What about your last name, Nate? Can you tell me that, too?”
The boy got up and hurried to Lynda Morton, clinging to her side.
Waverly tried to put him at ease with a broad smile. “How about it? Can you tell me where you live?”
The boy’s chin quivered and his eyes pooled with tears.
Waverly tried to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t know, Nate.”
Ray got a whiff of urine before he saw a puddle forming at the boy’s feet. Tears began trailing down the child’s cheeks.
“That’s all right,” Ray told the boy. “Don’t worry about that.”
Lynda Morton bent down and cupped the boy’s cheeks in her hands. “It’s all right. I’ve got other clothes in the trunk of my car that are just your size.”
“I’ve got this,” Ray told her. He held his hand out. “Come with me, champ. I’ll get you fixed up.”
“Oh,” Morton said, looking a little surprised. “All right. If you’re okay taking care of that, I’ll clean the floor and get some fresh clothes from my car. It shouldn’t take long.”
As she hurried from the room, Ray continued to wait for Nathan to respond. “You ready?” he asked. The boy reached out and gave him his hand.
“Atta boy.” Ray glanced at Waverly. “We’ll be back in a ‘jif’.” He gave Nathan’s hand a squeeze. “Tell him, Nathan.”
At the door, Nathan sniffled and whimpered, “Be back in a jif.”
“Good job, pal.”
Ray led him into the men’s room where Detective Burke cocked an eyebrow at the odd pair. “Who’ve ya got there, Schiller?”
“This is my pal, Nathan. Can you say hi to Detective Burke?” Nathan obliged with a silent wave while Ray stripped off the boy’s wet clothing. “We’ve got a little clean-up to take care of,” Ray said. To avoid any accusation of impropriety, he added, “Mind sticking around until we’re finished in here?”
“Sure. I can spare a couple of minutes. Does Waverly know you’re grooming his replacement?”
“He should be so lucky,” Ray chuckled. While he and Burke made small talk, he set the boy on the sink and did a perfunctory but passable job of washing and drying him before slipping his jacket around him, rolling the sleeves up until the tips of Nathan’s fingers peeked out.
“Hey, Nathan, I almost forgot,” Ray told him. “If you reach in one of those pockets, I’ve got something in there for you.”
The boy dug in one pocket, then in the other and pulled out the Hershey Bar. A smile lit his face.
“You need help getting that opened?” Burke asked.
The boy shook his head, ripped off the wrapper and took a bite.
Ray gave him a wink. “If Mrs. Morton asks where that candy bar came from, just tell her it came from a friend, okay?” Rather than risk Nathan tripping on the bottom of the jacket, he lifted the boy into the crook of his arm. “Well, what do you think? Should we go back and see what my partner and Mrs. Morton are doing?”
Nathan nodded and took another bite of the milk chocolate.
“Burke, thanks for hanging out with us.”
“Anytime.”
With Nathan in one arm and the underwear and pajama bottoms he had rinsed and wrung out in his other hand, Ray re-entered the interview room. “Good as new,” he said, setting the boy down.”
“So I see. Thank you, Detective Schiller,” Lynda Morton said. “You can have your jacket back in a minute.” She pulled fresh clothes from a plastic bag, replacing them with the damp clothing she took from Ray and set about dressing the boy. “Nathan,” she said, “where did you get the candy bar?”
He turned and pointed at Ray.
“Traitor.” He tousled the boy’s hair, took his jacket from Morton, then stepped away, motioning for her and Waverly to follow.
“Mrs. Morton, we need to talk to him. We’ve got to find out who he is and what happened.”
“You can try, but I doubt you’ll get him to open up. I’ve been working with him all afternoon, and nothing I’ve done has gotten me anywhere. He doesn’t want to communicate.” She quickly added, “And I’m not referring strictly to verbalization. I can’t get him to act it out, draw pictures that might give us a clue…nothing.”
“At least let us try,” Ray said. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve got a son just about his age. I give you my word we won’t push him too hard, but we’ve got to take a shot at getting some information from him.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “Go ahead, but I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
“Fair enough.”
Ray set Nathan on a corner of the interrogation room table. “There you go, Nathan. You get the best seat in the house, okay?” He and Waverly pulled up chairs and sat down in front of him, smiling, trying to gain his trust.
“You said you were three years old, right?” Ray asked, hoping for a verbal correction.
The boy shook his head and held up four fingers.
“That’s right,” Waverly said. “You told us that. I remember. Now what about your name… your last name, I mean. Can you tell us what it is?” The boy gave Waverly a blank stare and bit off another chunk of chocolate. Waverly gave it another try. “My name is Dick Waverly. My partner’s name,” he said, pointing at Ray, “is Ray Schiller, and your name is Nathan… Nathan what?”
The boy swung his legs and took another bite of the candy, but didn’t answer.
“The lady who took you to the theater…” Ray said. “Was that your mom?”
Clearly wanting to get down, Nathan set the candy aside and wriggled his hips closer to the table’s edge. Ray picked him up and set him on the floor.
“Was it your mommy who took you to the theater, Nathan?” he pressed.
The boy turned his back to them, sat down on the floor and began playing with a red Matchbox car.
Ray sat down beside him. “Cool car. I’ll bet it’s fast, too.”
The boy moved the toy car around the floor, maneuvering it in a series of rapid circles and turns.
“Look at you go,” Ray said. “You’re quite a driver, you know that? Way better than my partner,” he said.
“Cheap shot,” Waverly muttered. He watched as the boy brought the car to a stop. “You stopped the car. How come? Are you home?” he asked.
Nathan nodded.
“Great. Better park in the garage.”
They watched as he made a precise right-hand turn, pulled up a bit and stopped.
“Nice job,” Ray said.
The boy smile broadly.
Crouching beside him, Waverly said, “Who’s in the house, Nate—your mom, your dad?”
The boy’s chin quivered as he picked the car up and threw it across the room. It clattered against a table leg and fell with a soft metallic clank.
Waverly scooped the toy up and looked it over with exaggerated concern. “Oh-oh. Looks like this is gonna need a little bodywork,” he said. “I can prob’ly fix it for you, though, Nate. It’s just a bent wheel.”
Nathan scrambled off the floor and hurried to Lynda Morton’s side. He leaned against her, cowering.
“Detectives,” she said, wrapping an arm around him, “I understand that you need answers, but you can see this isn’t accomplishing anything. Don’t you think he’s been through enough for one day?”
“You’re right,” Ray said. “Have arrangements been made for him yet?”
“I got a call while I was getting the clothes out of my car. There’s a wonderful foster care family waiting to take him in.”
Waverly gathered up the toys, coloring books, and other miscellaneous clutter Morton had brought with her, and tucked them into a canvas bag.
She took it from him and lifted Nathan in her arms. “We’re going to go now, Nathan. Do you want to say goodbye to Detective Schiller and Detective Waverly?”
The boy buried his face in the side of her neck.
Ray patted his back. “I’d like to talk with you again sometime. Would that be all right with you?”
Turning toward Ray, he hesitated before forming an “O” with his thumb and fingers, then quickly spread the index and second fingers apart like open scissor blades before retreating to the security of Morton’s arms as she carried him away.
Web of Silence: A Ray Schiller Novel (The Ray Schiller Series Book 4) Page 5