by Beth Byers
Constable Rogers
The boy in front of him was one of the most smug, spoiled, rude young men he had ever had the displeasure to meet. They didn’t even know Rogers’s theory that their friend had been murdered. This was just a conversation about the suspicious death of their friend which seemed as though it were a suicide.
Mrs. Bayles had certainly leapt to that conclusion and she’d fainted into her husband’s arms, making him take her upstairs. It had left Rogers alone with the four living boys, and he eyed them with distaste.
“So, what you are saying is that there was something of an argument between you boys and Edward?” Rogers forced himself to not use Eddy’s nickname.
“Exactly,” Guy Bayles said smoothly. His even smile was without a shred of mourning for the loss of his friend. “Justin was quite upset after that.”
“How long have you known Justin Alanson? You knew him well enough to see that he was upset?”
“Justin? Oh since I first went away to school. We even roomed together a few years. Lately, he roomed with White.”
“White?”
“Friend of ours from school,” Guy said. The other boys shifted but no one expanded upon that comment. Rogers let it go since the fellow wasn’t here.
Rogers nodded, making a note in his notebook. He looked up at them, playing up the dimwitted bumbler that Guy Bayles saw. “That’s a long time to know Alanson.”
The arrogant little prick nodded and didn’t bother to elaborate. Rogers thought it was something of a miracle the boy didn’t do the math for him and then slide out the answer like a helpful snake.
Rogers eyed the other boys who weren’t speaking at all. They were lifelong friends from the same initial year of school. They all expected to go to the same university. Rogers took in a deep breath and then slowly let it out, pretending to make notes.
One of the boys was Beau Grantley, who was the least sporting of them save the next one and tended toward blushing for inexplicable reasons. Rogers thought he might be able to get that boy to speak if the others weren’t around. He was spotty, chubby, and hadn’t said a single word.
The next boy was Hyrum Livingston. He was slim to the point of being painfully skinny. He seemed to choose too big clothes to make himself seem larger, but it just made him look as though he had been terribly sick. He gasped when he learned Justin had died, and he hadn’t been able to hide a tear, but he was also the only one who offered anything useful. “Alanson said he was leaving yesterday.”
“Did he?” Rogers asked.
“He said he’d”—the boy cleared his throat and blushed horribly—“gotten a letter and needed to go home right away.”
Oh this foolish boy, Rogers thought, knowing a lie when he heard it. This was something that was easily identifiable and it would take only a few questions to confirm the truth. Instead of grasping at it, he asked, “When did Alanson leave?”
“I don’t know,” Hyrum answered, gulping. “How could he be dead? Why would he hang himself? Maybe the news was so bad that he couldn’t carry on?”
“He probably didn’t get a letter,” Guy said without the same emotion. “Maybe he just used that as an excuse to leave. We would have gone with him if he’d said he wanted to go back to the lake.”
Rogers eyed the boy. He didn’t like Guy, but that didn’t mean the boy had killed his friend. Rogers turned his gaze to the last of the boys. He was inexplicably called Skippy, but his actual name was John Weil. This one was a tanned, brunette, powerful young man. Of all of them, Rogers guessed that this one had the power to hang the other boy. It didn’t, however, mean the other boys didn’t have sufficient strength. The dead Alanson boy wasn’t that much bigger than the skinny little Hyrum Livingston.
Weil was pale under his tan, and he seemed sick. “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?” Rogers asked almost gently.
“Alanson is dead,” Guy Bayles replied. “What’s so hard about that, Weil?”
“I don’t understand why he’d kill himself,” John Weil replied. “It just…”
“He must have been upset about something,” Rogers offered gently.
“Of course he was upset about something,” Guy Bayles snapped furiously. “He killed himself.”
Rogers leaned back while the boys burst into a series of disgusted back and forths that provided nothing helpful. They argued like brothers, but there was too much history to read into what they were saying. Rogers listened to the argument until Guy Bayles snapped and shut them all up. Rogers lifted his brows as the young men fell into line and then Hyrum Livingston leapt to his feet and rushed from the room.
“Livy,” Bayles said easily, somehow conveying a derogative manner, “is something of a little girl at times. I apologize for our friend.”
Rogers nodded, hiding his disgust. Their friend had just died and Bayles was acting as though nothing was amiss and mocking the one boy who seemed to actually be mourning. John Weil also shot Bayles a dark look and Beau Grantley stared at the floor without a word.
Rogers took careful notes and then rose. He eyed the boys and said, “Until we have confirmed a few facts, you boys need to stay here.”
“What?” Grantley gasped. “What do you mean? Why can’t we go home?”
“What facts? What manner of knot Alanson used?” Bayles asked viciously.
“Those facts aren’t intended for children,” Rogers said.
The boys stared at Rogers with pure hatred and Rogers smiled easily. “Don’t worry boys. Just a few t’s to be crossed and i’s to be dotted. Paperwork and the like. Now, who can tell me how to reach Mr. Alanson’s family?”
Bayles scowled darkly and answered him, then Rogers exited the parlor. Using a maneuver worthy of Janey, Rogers left the door open and the paused outside, holding his notebook as if he were still making notes. Unfortunately he heard only whispering. The few words he was able to catch were surprising, however. The name White was used as often as Alanson. That, Rogers thought, was very interesting, and he needed to know quite a bit more about this White fellow along with Alanson, and what might have driven him to leave the Bayles house and fall victim to murder.
11
CONSTABLE ROGERS
Rogers paced in the police station while he considered the death of Justin Alanson. It was late and Rogers was tired, but he needed to decide what to do. He was sure that the death wasn’t just suspicious. It was murder.
Craig Nathans, the one-time medic Rogers had brought along to retrieve the body, had taken one look, listened to why Georgette thought the boy might have been murdered and then directed Rogers’s gaze to the bruising around the boy’s throat. There were two distinct lines of bruising. If Alanson had hanged himself, there would have been just one line of bruising where the rope tightened around the boy’s neck. The two lines as well as a bruise on the back of the boy’s head showed that someone had disabled the boy and hanged him.
If they hadn’t been looking for that bruise, they might not have seen it. Alanson had quite thick hair, and it was also long as though he’d pushed the limits of how long it could be at school. They also might not have noticed the signs of a struggle near the shoreline. Rogers knelt down just outside of that area.
It wasn’t large enough to show a pack of boys. Rogers hadn’t thought that all the boys had been involved in whatever happened there, but looking back, he felt certain only one boy murdered Alanson.
On the way back to the shoreline, Craig Nathans said with disgust, “This was definitely a murder. Someone killed this child. I have a boy this age.” Craig had gently lifted the body and placed it into the back of the auto they’d brought.
Rogers didn’t feel any less disgusted, and that feeling had accompanied him through the interviews with the boys and then on the journey from the Bayles house back to the police station. It was that same feeling that accompanied him throughout the evening until Janey Thorpe appeared.
“Hello,” she said solemnly, eyeing him with a weight in her gaz
e that said she knew something he didn’t.
Given she was accompanied by both Robert and Charles Aaron, Rogers sighed and stepped back. He took a seat and then faced the family. He couldn’t help but cross his fingers over his stomach and wish desperately that Joseph Aaron was in charge. Rogers wanted to call and ask for help from Scotland Yard, but he wanted to make sure it really had been a murder.
Now that he’d realized what was happening, Rogers was very, very, concerned at how Guy Bayles had directed attention to Eddy Thorpe. Rogers didn’t believe for one moment that Eddy had anything to do with the murder of Justin Alanson, and Eddy had clearly explained his own interaction with the boys the day before Alanson’s body was found.
“I might have broken some basic rules of society today,” Janey said with a scowl at Charles.
“Oh?” Rogers asked.
“And I might have discovered things about Justin Alanson and those at the Bayles’s house that would be of interest to you.”
Janey then explained her afternoon, along with what Eunice had learned from Betty Witham. When she finished, Rogers stared in shock at the little girl who took risks no child should be taking. He slowly turned to Charles and Robert.
“Doesn’t she have dolls?”
Robert snorted as Janey scoffed, her gaze narrowing in frustration. She did, in fact, have quite nice dolls. She had age appropriate books, art supplies, dolls, a tea set, and many other things to distract herself when she wasn’t in school.
“The key factor here,” Charles said before Janey could ring the constable a tirade, “is that Janey has come across some information that is important to this case.”
Rogers leaned in and read Janey’s notes over with her eagle-gaze on him. He paused and then looked up in surprise. “The boy who died before was named Theodore White?”
Janey nodded. “The talented scholarship student who was good at everything.”
Rogers leaned back. When those boys had referenced ‘White,’ they hadn’t done so in past tense. It was why they had shifted about as they had. Two mysterious deaths among the same group of friends. Rogers slowly grinned even though he wasn’t amused.
“They tried to keep me from realizing that their other friend had died,” Rogers said more to Janey than anyone else.
Her bright-eyed gaze narrowed as much as his had upon the realization. He surprised himself, but he valued her opinion. Granted, he wanted to wring her neck for putting herself at risk and when he thought about the adult version of her it was somewhat terrifying.
“Then there’s something about that death that is important,” Janey said.
Robert snorted again, but he nodded when Janey looked at him. “You’re right, little one.”
“Those boys already brought up Eddy,” Rogers told the Aaron family even though he was sure that he shouldn’t.
“What school did the boys attend?” Robert asked.
Rogers answered without thinking too much about it and Robert leaned back. “I’ll head over there and see what I can find out.”
“You are not police officers,” Rogers replied.
“Are you calling in Scotland Yard?” Robert countered, “Because Joseph is sure they will not send him in.”
Rogers understood Robert’s concern. Someone else might buy the story Guy Bayles and his friends would cook up about Eddy. Someone else didn’t know Eddy Thorpe like Rogers did. Someone else might not see the need to look into the school event, the things that Janey had found, none of it.
“What happened to his things?” Charles asked. “Those boys must have gotten rid of them somewhere.”
“They missed his hidden wallet,” Janey added. “I wouldn’t hide my papers from my friends. Not my good friends. I wouldn’t need to.”
Charles glanced at the girl and then at Rogers. Neither of them disagreed with her. She was a clever thing, and the fact that Justin Alanson had determined to hide some of things meant that he didn’t trust his friends.
“If he didn’t trust them,” Robert asked, “why did he come?”
“Maybe something happened during this visit.” Janey eyed all of them and Rogers hid a snort. She was excited that they were listening to her.
“From what those boys said,” Rogers said, “this was supposed to be a holiday visit. Fishing, long rambles, maybe a little boating with friends. That was their plan.”
Janey tapped her fingers. She started to speak and then closed her mouth. Rogers only saw it because she was facing him rather than Charles and Robert.
“What?”
Janey opened her eyes wide and innocent. She looked offended and Rogers clenched his fingers, so he didn’t actually wring her neck. “I saw that look on your face, Janey. What did you just think? What are you up to?”
Charles followed Rogers’s gaze to Janey and asked, “What was it Janey?”
She scowled and shrugged, her mouth closed tightly.
Charles took in a fortifying breath. “Janey, we’re including you to keep you out of trouble.”
“I haven’t done anything,” Janey said fiercely.
“Nothing more than break into a house, eavesdrop on several private conversations, and search a bedroom that you had no business to be in,” Rogers said. “You knew, in fact, that the police were coming to that house, and you wanted to see what you could find first.”
“My brother is potentially at risk,” Janey replied evenly. There was not the slightest bit of apology in her tone. Janey crossed her arms over her chest and eyed everyone who was eyeing her.
“Janey,” Charles said carefully, “we just want to keep you safe.”
“I am safe,” Janey replied with a quick, insistent reply.
“Janey,” Robert tried, “it’s only because we care about you.”
She bit down on her bottom lip and said, “Then you should figure out why one of those boys killed the other boy.”
“Janey,” Charles said, “You are in the beginning of your life—”
“I am not a baby,” Janey snapped.
“I am not saying you are a baby,” Charles replied in his measured way. “You are capable and clever.”
She barely looked appeased.
“Too clever,” Charles added and Janey’s gaze narrowed on him. “You’re right. Rogers will go back and find the information you discovered.”
Janey nodded, though she wasn’t quite able to hide her self-satisfaction.
“Robert will try to find out more about this White boy that died.”
Janey didn’t relax entirely and her arms were still crossed over her chest.
“Was there any other information you think we should try to investigate?”
Janey shook her head. Her face was too innocent in Rogers’s opinion, but the girl didn’t say anything further. Rogers frowned and then recapped the boys he’d met.
“Guy Bayles is a smug little prick,” Rogers said. “My bet is on that boy, especially having learned about the money Bayles owed the victim. The rest of the boys had varying degrees of reaction to their friend’s death.”
“Did anyone question the suicide angle?” Robert asked the constable.
Rogers paused and then said, “Well, Guy Bayles did bring up seeing Eddy the day before, but he also talked about other events of the day and I was sure to ask if they had seen anyone over the course of the day.”
Charles frowned at Rogers, and the constable felt the need to defend himself. “I knew Eddy had seen the boys, Charles. I knew that they had tried to bully Eddy. Not asking about it would have made it seem as though I was disregarding the information I had in advance. It would make Eddy look even more guilty once Scotland Yard is involved. I can wait to call Scotland Yard until a doctor confirms the death looks odd, but the best thing we can do is to give him many lines of inquiry that are of more value than Eddy.”
The others didn’t disagree with Rogers, and he knew all too well that his superiors wouldn’t be happy with his choices. There were reasons there were procedures. Liking Eddy coul
d ruin Rogers’s career if his supervisors realized what Rogers had done to help the boy. He needed, therefore, to see if anyone had seen the boy.
Rogers needed to cover himself as well as Eddy. That was the only way to truly see justice was done. He had to set aside his feelings for the boy and his respect of the Aaron family, who were certain of the boy’s innocence, and make sure that there was no reason to believe the boy had a true motive. Rogers rubbed his jaw, keeping his thoughts private and Charles excused himself a few minutes later.
12
Janey Thorpe
Charles drove Robert to his house and then took her home. When they got there, Eddy was up waiting and Charles eyed her firmly.
“It is late.”
Janey nodded and yawned.
“Promise me that you will stay in your bed. No bicycling to the village, no sneaking into the Bayles house, nothing.”
Janey crossed her hand over her heart and made sure he could see that she wasn’t crossing her fingers. She yawned again, and she really was tired. She wanted to go to bed. After all, she had every reason to get up early, beat Eunice out of bed and out of the house, and take the next step in her investigation.
Georgette dorothy aaron
Georgette woke little Wentworth early and fed him before returning him, fussing to the nanny. She wasn’t sure what she’d do this morning. It all depended on the actions of another, but she wanted to be ready, which meant seeing to Wentworth, dressing, and then drinking as much tea as possible. Georgette moved quietly to avoid waking Charles and then turned on the light in the little office Eunice used off the kitchen. She was tired, and her eyes wanted to be asleep, so she used the smallest amount of light possible to make herself tea. She added her favorite blend of black tea, cocoa, and coffee beans and then doctored as she usually did.
She was on her second cup when the tell-tale squeak of Janey’s bedroom door opened. No one else was aware of it, but Georgette had employed a local fellow to come and disturb the bedroom door for Lucy and Janey, so it intentionally squeaked. Georgette’s plan had been employed after Janey had snuck out of the bedroom one too many times. It hadn’t been enough to stop Lucy from sneaking away, but Georgette knew Janey well enough to know that the girl was up to something. So she waited for the squeaking door, the sneaky movements, and the light out in the kitchen.