by A Wallace
Charley gave Justin a reassuring smile. “We want to ask you a few questions. Answer as best you can.”
Justin locked onto Charley’s eyes. “Okay.”
She inhaled deep, releasing it with a slow breath. “What grade are you in, and how old are you?”
“I’m twelve and in the sixth grade.”
“What time did you leave for school this morning?”
The pitch of Justin’s voice increased as he drew out the words. “This morning.” He studied the ceiling. “I was late, but I’m supposed to leave at seven. About seven-fifteen.”
Charley’s forefinger twiddled with her chin. “Why were you late?”
“I haven’t felt good in the mornings.”
“Why?”
“It’s not the same.” Justin curled his body inward.
“What isn’t?”
He lowered his head and mumbled, “Robin.”
Murphy softened his expression. “You miss her.”
He swallowed deep and nodded.
“Do you walk to school every day using the soccer field?”
“Yes, it’s faster.”
“Were there other children nearby?”
The boy shook his head. “Me and Robin are the only kids on our street.”
“What made you notice something on the soccer field?”
“The candles. One was burning. That’s when I saw a person lying on the ground.”
“You didn’t realize it was Robin?” Charley said.
“No.” Justin gulped and lowered his head as his mouth distorted. “I didn’t, not till I ran over there.”
“When you saw her, what did you do?”
Justin sniffed, his eyes watered. “I was so glad to see her, with her missing and all. I was excited.” His body shook as he covered his eyes, his lower lip quivered. “I kept trying to get her to talk to me.” He wiped his eyes with the balls of his hands. “But she wouldn’t.”
With her thumbs, Charley wiped his tears from his cheeks.
“You and Robin are good friends?” Murphy said.
“She’s my best friend, in like, forever.” He sniffed.
“You protected her?”
“She’s little.” He turned to his mother. “Isn’t she Momma?”
“Yes, sweetheart, Robin is small for her age.” Elise hugged her child.
His eyes captured his mother’s loving gaze. “But she was strong and tough.”
A single tear fell from Elise’s eye. “Yes.”
Murphy cleared his throat, displacing the anguish of witnessing the child’s grief. “When Robin didn’t move did you touch her or move anything?”
He nodded.
“Tell us what you did.”
“I shook her, held her hand. Talked to her. I messed up her hair, but I fixed it for her. She’s picky about her hair.”
“Did you see anyone around the soccer field this morning?”
“There was the pool guy.”
“Tell me about him.” Murphy leaned towards the young boy. “Can you describe him?”
Justin shrugged. “I dunno.”
“What was he wearing?”
Justin squirmed in his seat, hesitating, he took a deep breath.
“It’s okay, son, answer the question.” Keith patted Justin’s knee.
“I’m thinking.” Justin waved his hands in front of his body. “Those things men wear to fix cars.”
“Coveralls?” Charley said.
“Those.” Justin pointed his finger.
“What color were they?” Murphy said.
“Uhm… white.” Justin’s eyes darted to the ceiling and pointed. “Spider.”
The adult’s heads followed the line of Justin’s finger. The arachnid eased its way toward the light fixture.
Murphy attempted to regain the boy’s attention. “Were the coveralls clean or dirty?”
“Clean.” He tracked the spider on the ceiling. “His hair was the same color.”
“Same color as what?”
“His hat.” Justin moved his hand to his shoulder, eyeing Murphy. “His hair was black. It came to here.”
“He had long hair?” Charley said.
Justin nodded.
“What else do you remember him wearing?” Murphy said.
Justin pointed at his eye. “Sunglasses. The earpieces were neon-green.”
“Was he tall, short, fat, skinny?” Charley said.
“He was skinny and not tall.” Justin pointed at Murphy. “He’s a lot taller.”
“You’re sure you’ve never seen him?” Murphy said.
“I’m sure.”
Charley leaned back in her chair. “Is there anything else you can remember?”
“His hands.” His attention returned to the spider on the ceiling, tracing its patterns with his finger. “He wore gloves.”
“Did he see you?” Murphy said.
“Yes. I yelled at him, but he ran away.”
“What was he doing?”
“Nothing.” Justin shrugged. “He was next to the diving board.”
“Was there anything in his hands?” Charley said.
“No.”
“Did anything seem out of place?” Murphy said.
“Like what?”
“A box, tools, anything?”
“No.”
“What direction was he looking?”
“Uhm.” Justin’s eyes focused on the ceiling again. “Mostly towards the pool house.”
“He was looking away from you?” Charley said.
“Yeah, kinda. He looked towards my house.”
With a concerned gaze at Charley, Murphy tightened his mouth. “That’s all I have for now.”
“Same here,” she said. “Justin, if we have more questions later, would it be okay if we called you?”
Justin peeked at his parents. They nodded. “That’ll be okay. I don’t care.”
Charley stood, smiling at the lad. “Thank you, Justin, you’re a big help.”
“I hope so.” He pinned Murphy’s eyes with his own. “Please, find who hurt her.”
Murphy rubbed Justin’s shoulder as he stood. “We’ll do our best.”
Justin tugged on Murphy’s coat sleeve. “At least she won’t be at home anymore.”
Charley’s head canted to one side. “What do you mean?”
“Robin stayed at my house a lot.” Justin brushed his hair from his eyes. “She didn’t like it at home.”
Lines formed at the bridge of Murphy’s nose. “Why?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.” Justin shrugged. “All she would say is her family was weird.”
“What kinda weird?” she said.
“Just that they’re not very nice.”
Charley rolled her lips in and rubbed her mouth. “Thank you, Justin.”
Murphy extended his hand. “Goodbye, Justin. It was nice meeting you.”
Justin smiled and shook Murphy’s hand. “Don’t forget the Redskin caps are in the front of the store.”
“I won’t forget.” Murphy smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkerson,” Charley said.
They acknowledged each other and shook hands.
Murphy and Charley exited through Ms. Cooper’s office. As Murphy shifted in front of Charley, Ms. Cooper attempted to block him. “Did everything go okay?”
Charley sped past as Murphy weaved around the woman, ignoring her, taking a place next to Charley.
Her hand on the doorknob, Charley said, “Everything went well.”
Murphy grazed his hand over hers. Charley slid her hand away as he turned the doorknob, opening the door.
Ms. Cooper tapped his shoulder. “Call me.”
“Humph, not a chance.”
Charley shimmied into the hallway as Murphy slammed the door behind them. Together they walked briskly to a nearby rear exit leading to the soccer field.
“Crime scene?” he said.
“Yes,” she said, continuing her stride towards the field.
&n
bsp; They approached Carmichael and Phillip Fleming while they placed Robin into a body bag. Carmichael stood, making eye contact with the two of them. “Hang on. I gotta play boss man for a second.” In his usual commanding tone, he directed forensics. “I want samples of every flora, dirt, rock, everything around her body. There’s a little girl here and I’ll be damned if I let her killer keep his freedom.” He took a breath swapping his attention to Charley and Murphy. “Okay, I want both of you at the morgue at four tomorrow afternoon. The preliminary autopsy will be complete by then.” Carmichael and Fleming carried Robin’s body to the wagon.
“I’ll be there,” Charley said.
“Same here,” Murphy said.
Charley tapped Murphy’s arm with the back of her hand. “I almost forgot to mention, you should invest in a voice-activated recorder. Let your thoughts flow. Don’t edit yourself. Sometimes the simplest nondescript observation can solve a crime.”
“I have one. What’s next?”
She spotted Doobie amid the crowd of investigators, scurrying to find evidence. “Doobie.”
He stopped mid-step “Yeah?”
“Gotta sec?”
Doobie walked in their direction. “Plenty, how many you want?”
“Just a couple.”
“Find anything out from the Wilkerson kid?” Doobie studied both of them.
“We did, interesting interview,” Charley said before she and Murphy told Doobie what they had learned.
“Pool man?” Doobie said.
“That’s what Justin said,” Murphy said.
“Could be something.”
“Also, Justin claimed Robin wasn’t happy at home, but he doesn’t know why,” Charley said.
“Hmm,” Doobie scratched his chin, “find out what you can about the Senters.”
“I’ll do that. Are the detectives still with the victim’s parents?”
Doobie shook his head. “Their interviews are complete. Forensics is finished too. Why?”
“Making sure. I want to talk to them.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Thanks, I’m outta here.”
He pointed at Murphy. “When you speak with the parents, take him with you.”
Charley turned on her heel, slamming into Murphy who stood too close. She raised her chin, focusing on his eyes. “You heard the man, let’s go.”
Chapter 4
Senter of Attention
Reston, VA - Senters’ Residence
Tuesday, 15 March - 12:30 PM
The crime scene behind them, Murphy and Charley strode toward the parking lot adjacent to the swimming pool. Near the vehicles, he volunteered, “I’ll drive.”
Murphy’s remark passed unnoticed. Charley sauntered towards the eight-foot chain-link fence surrounding the pool area.
“Faraday, did you hear me?”
Both arrived at the fence, Charley stopped in front of the diving board and curled her fingers into the links. “Why was he here?”
“Who?”
“The pool man. It doesn’t open until Memorial Day weekend.”
“Recurring maintenance?”
She stepped back, raised her hands, sweeping them in front of her body. “Of what? It’s closed. The pool is covered, and the pool house gate is secure.”
“What’s on your mind?”
Charley stepped aside, removing her phone from her back pocket. She tapped the keypad, then settled it to her ear.
Murphy stayed behind while she spoke and drifted along the barrier. Her fingers flitted over the diamond-shaped links until reaching the corner. She stopped, resting her forehead on the fence, continuing her conversation. The call complete she spun around pocketing her cell and trekked towards him.
“Well?” He parked his hands on his hips. “Who did you call?”
“Parks and Recreation.” Leaves from last fall had congregated around the fence base.
“And?”
“They weren’t here. Rounds occur the first Monday of each month.”
“Anything else?”
“They wear black coveralls when performing maintenance on pumps and waterlines.” She motioned him to follow. “Let’s go check the locks on the main gate.”
“All right.”
She bounced the lock in her hand. “Secure. Check it to make sure I missed nothing.”
Murphy sidled next to her, exploring the device. “Tamper free.”
Charley stepped backwards. “Justin said the pool man was medium height and thin.”
Murphy nodded.
She backed up several feet, sprinted towards the fence, jumped, using it as leverage. The toes of her boots dug into the links forcing her body upward. With a tight grip on the upper railing, she hauled herself above the top pipe. Braced in position, she glanced at Murphy. “I’m athletic, but a small man could scale this fence.” She dropped to the ground. “That’s how he entered.”
“I’ll call Doobie and advise him what we’ve learned.” He dug his cell from inside his suitcoat.
Charley sauntered aimlessly forming a mental picture of the surroundings, concentrating on the diving board. “It’s not him,” she mumbled.
Murphy returned his mobile to his pocket. “What?”
“The pool man, he’s not the killer.”
“Your reason?”
Charley shook her head. “It’s not him, but maybe he saw something.”
“You did this in Charlottesville.”
Her eyes didn’t leave the pool area. “What?”
“You get this far-off look while you speak with a slow, quiet voice. It’s like you’re not here.”
She flitted her hand. “Oh, that.” Her gaze wavered over the landscape. “Justin wasn’t a threat to the pool guy. Otherwise, he would be dead or missing.”
The corner of Murphy’s mouth pulled back as he nodded. “True.”
“We should go.”
Side by side, they strode towards the black, four-wheel-drive Ford F-150 with darkened windows. Murphy spotted a branch lying on the ground. He grabbed Charley’s arm, pulling her towards him to prevent her from tripping.
Charley pulled her arm out of his grasp. “What are you doing?”
He pointed at the limb. “I didn’t want you to fall. It’s like you’re in some kinda trance or something.”
“It’s called thinking.” She continued to the parking lot. “Were my eyes forward?”
“Yes.”
“Then I saw the limb.”
Reminded of Charley’s obscure reticent nature, Murphy’s curiosity heightened. Camouflaged and insulated, she kept her life a secret.
Last September, commissioned to assist the Virginia Bureau of Criminal Investigations, Charley helped with a high-profile crime involving the murder of a Virginia State Delegate’s daughter and family. Their working relationship congenial at first, but later a disagreement between them emerged into acrimony when the case ended in disastrous circumstances. Murphy later learned she had the privilege to decide when her role in investigations was complete. Charley departed without informing Murphy. Her stealthy escape left him embittered.
Carte blanche her prerogative, she used it to her advantage.
Both of them seated and belted in his truck, he keyed the ignition, eyeing her. Expressionless, she stared out the window.
On their way to the Senters’ home, Charley’s chin rested in her palm. Her concentration on the scenery, she occasionally tapped her fingers above her lip.
In the driver’s seat, Murphy glanced at her several times. Quiet, she seemed calm and unfettered by the day’s events. His gaze too long, she cast a sidelong glance his way, and smirked before returning to the view outside the window. He shook his head, discouraged.
Murphy turned left onto Braelynn Drive. She pointed toward the windshield. “That’s it.” Parked on both sides of the street were news vans and cars.
Police cruisers blocked the entrance to the Senters’ neighborhood. Selected officers wore riot gear for crowd control. Reluct
ant, journalists and photographers followed the directions of law enforcement despite salivating for the inside story.
The curious crowd eyed the truck as it idled.
“What are you waiting for?” she said. “Park.”
“We’ll park on an adjacent street, or wait for someone to leave.”
“There.” She pointed.
“No. It’s someone’s driveway. Not my style.”
“The house is vacant, go ahead.”
“What’s your proof?”
“The lockbox on the front door? Also, there’s a ‘For Sale’ sign.”
“Oh.”
“The upstairs windows, no blinds, drapes, nothing. No one lives there.”
“We’ll do it your way. If a crazy woman comes after me with a rolling pin, I’m pointing at you.”
“Don’t worry, tree-boy, I’ll protect you.”
He rammed the truck into gear, maneuvered through the crowd of journalists and parked in the driveway. Charley hopped out of the truck, approached the house, and peered into a window. “Empty. No furnishings.”
Hands upon his hips, he stood next to her. “I like this house, terrific family home, spacious, huge yard for children to play.”
“Planning your future?”
“Don’t we all?”
“No.” She turned away, crossing the street towards the Senters’ home, admiring the Bradford Pear trees in full bloom along the sidewalk.
She grumbled at the news crews when they neared the two-story, red brick colonial house. White pillars supported the covered porch. “A wake of vultures, how fitting.”
“We could use them for target practice.” He grinned.
“I wish.” Her eyebrows rose.
They trekked up the boxwood lined cobbled walkway. Side by side, they took the steps, and stood at the door. A white porch swing to the right swayed with the calm March breeze. Robin would never sit there again, kicking her feet while singing her favorite song from the radio.
On the left, two country-style rockers creaked in the gentle wind, one for Robin, the other for her mother and her new baby brother. Robin would never see her sibling grow up, nor would she join her mom, rocking and singing to him, as her mother enjoyed with Robin ten years ago. There would be no laughing and peeking over her mom’s shoulder as her mother rocked the baby. Robin would never experience the joys of having a younger sibling to cherish and protect.
Various reporters and journalists yelled Charley’s name.