An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1) (8 page)

“He left
everything to you.”

“Yes, he did.
God rest his soul.” And then the tear again rolling down her right cheek. She
let this one fall and it wasn’t followed by another.

“Okay.”
Ward let out a sigh. “I will tell you now that we are investigating a homicide
here, Mrs. White.”

“I know
that.”

“And this
is potential evidence. Would you mind if we took these belongings for
examination?”

“You take
whatever you need. I want you to find the person who took William.” Her smile
was still there.

Ward
picked up the Bible and flicked through the pages. As he did so a photograph
fell out. It fell to the floor facedown and Ward saw the tiny hole where the
pushpin had secured it to the wall behind the picture of Bermuda in O’Donnell’s
room at Sunny Glade. A picture the old man kept just for himself. There was
writing on the back and Ward read it out aloud. “John 1 20.” He turned the
photo over and there, grinning up at the camera, was a small boy. About seven
years old. It looked like any other normal happy domestic scene. A little guy
standing in front of the TV, frozen for eternity. A single fading and creased
memory of a lost life. The photo was old and faded, wrinkled from being handled
regularly. Newton’s eyes widened.

Ward
said, “Is this William’s grandson?”

“Yes, it
is,” Alice said after a slight pause, and Newton nodded.

“John
1:20,” Ward said again, and he flicked through the Bible. He knew where to find
John from his childhood. He could even recite John 1:29, the bit about
beholding the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world. That had been
drummed into him at an early age. But he didn’t know what verse 20 said.

And when
he’d read it silently, Ward simply showed it to Newton, who scanned it as
though he’d got a terrible itch in his eyes. The first line did it: “
‘And
he confessed, and denied not.’” Newton spoke the words
and looked straight at Alice White, who placed one hand on top of the other on
her lap.

“I know
what it says,” Alice said. “And I know what you thinking, Mr. Newton. But you
taking that verse out of its true context. The full verse is ‘And he confessed,
and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ.’ John’s telling us he’s not
the Christ. That’s all.” She smiled.

“That’s
the second time O’Donnell’s used that word,” Newton simply said.

Ward was
on the periphery of the moment between Newton and Alice, and he watched the
pain in Newton’s eyes and their refusal to accept the smile from Alice’s mouth.
He put the photo back into the shoebox and that broke the spell.

Ward
said, “You say you knew William as good as anybody.”

Alice
turned slowly back to Ward, keeping her eyes on Newton as long as she could.
She said, “Aside of God, yes.”

“Do you
know if he had any enemies? Do you know of anybody in his life who might want
to do him harm?”

“Sir, no,
I don’t. William was a gentle man coming to the end of his days. Who would want
to harm a man like that? Who?” She turned to Newton then.

Ward
said, “I don’t know. Maybe someone from his past who decided to even an old
score. We don’t know at this stage. But anything you can tell us could help us
catch the person responsible. Is there anything you know that might explain why
someone would want to harm him?”

“All’s I
know, Mr. Ward, is that there is evil in the world. Way the devil works”—her
smile subsided when she said that—“is he confuses. Turns man against man. Ain’t
always no reason. Ain’t always no motive. The devil is among us and he had his
fingers in this business. That I know for sure.”

Ward
paused and thought for a minute. He looked at Newton and opened the way for him
to ask his own questions, but Newton shook his head gently.

“Well,
ma’am. We really appreciate you giving us your time. It’s been a big help.”

“My
pleasure, Mr. Ward, Mr. Newton. If there’s anything else I can do to help I’d
be more than happy. Please catch the person who did this.”

“We will,
Mrs. White. I promise you.”

Ward and
Newton stood and Ward’s eye was caught by all the photos around the room once
more. He looked over them as he made his way to the door, and he flipped open
an album which lay on a bookshelf. He gasped.

“Now
they’s
my other babies, Mr. Ward.”

On each
page were two or three photos of babies, sleeping peacefully. He flipped the
pages and noticed that some were wearing the same clothes. And some of the
babies were so small they didn’t look like babies at all but dolls. He turned
to Alice but words didn’t come.

“They is
in heaven now, Mr. Ward. Ever’ single one of them carried on the wings of
angels to be with the Lord. They come to me to be dressed. Some call me the
Baby Dresser for what I do. Gives an opportunity for their parents to spend
some time with them before they go on.”

Ward
shook his head gently. “How… how many?”

“Some
hundred or so.”

Ward
flipped pages and was finally stunned into silence. Alice looked at him and he felt
a single tear on his cheek. Alice pointed at his face.

“That’ll
be the cold.”

Ward
wiped the tear away and walked to the door. Alice touched his arm as he walked
past and her smile dug into him now and pulled at something. He felt as if he
knew some secret that she had just passed to him and he felt elation and
sadness and wanted to get out of the house quickly. Newton was out already, and
Ward took his hat from the coat stand while Alice passed him his coat.

“Come
back when you ever want to know more,” she said, and Ward knew that meant
something else.

“I will,”
he said. “Thank you, Alice. Thank you.”

Outside,
Newton looked Ward up and down and then got in the car without a word passing
between them. The gloom had turned to darkness, and the cold ripped away Ward’s
top two layers of clothing and cut into him. He had a feeling of not being
there and he shook his head to clear the mist. He flipped open his notepad to
try and remember what had just occurred. At the bottom of the last page he had
written “Jesus is my savior. Christ is my redeemer” in large capital letters.
He glanced at Newton, who sat in the car staring ahead. Ward said, “What the
hell?” and climbed into the car, his hands shaking as he grabbed the steering
wheel.

The Alfa pulled
into the station parking lot and the headlights lit up two figures by the
entrance. Newton recognized one of them right away and said, “What the hell are
they doing here?” And Ward knew them to be local press. One photographer and
one reporter. The camera flashed immediately as Newton hauled his body out of
the car gingerly, his back going into spasm and wringing an anguished look onto
his face. He held up his hand as the camera flashed again and again, at him,
not Ward.

“Come on,
guys,” Ward said, and Newton lunged forward to knock the camera away as the
photographer swerved his swipe.

The
reporter whose name was Larsson said, “Can we have a comment on the Bill
O’Donnell homicide case, detective?”

Newton
squared up to him. “Go and nicely fuck yourself.” Larsson shrunk back,
apparently fearing one of Newton’s clenched fists connecting with his face.

“I’m just
doing my job. Same as you are. No need for the
unpleasantries
there.”

Newton
swung into the station and tested the door’s durability as it crashed against
the stopper behind it. Ward was two paces back and Larsson made as if to grab
his arm but thought better of it. It was enough to make Ward pause, and he
looked Larsson in the eye. Larsson offered his hand and Ward waved
 
him
away like a shit fly. Then he noticed the card in Larsson’s hand.

“You want
to speak to me,” said Larsson. “You need to speak to me. Take it.”

Ward
stood there and faced up to Larsson.

“This is
not about you,” said Larsson. “This thing goes way back. I guess you already
got that. Take the card. Call me.”

Ward took
the card. Larsson smiled like a hyena. Ward tossed the card back at him and
walked into the station.

“You know
where to find me,” Larsson shouted after him. “You will want to talk to me.
Trust me.”

“How the
hell did they get this? How the hell did they get this?”

Ward
could hear Newton’s voice as he entered the building. McNeely was hunched over
her computer and a couple of uniforms hovered around, clearly wishing they had
been patrolling somewhere. Newton jabbed his finger at one of them, Poynter.
“You?” Poynter shook his head. Newton turned to the other. “You?” The other cop
held up his hands in a submissive denial. “Then who in hell leaked this?
Anybody want to tell me?”

McNeely
was the only one who spoke after a couple of beats. “They’ve been there a
while. Hour or so. Nobody has said a word.”

And then
Newton swayed, resembling a leggy sapling blowing in a strong wind. He grabbed
the back of a chair and slumped down on another, just catching enough of his
backside on it to stay seated. McNeely jumped up and grabbed his arm to steady
him, as his unfocused eyes twitched in their sockets momentarily before they
closed.

Gammond
emerged from his office as fast as his pudgy legs could carry him. Ward noticed
he wore stacked heels and wanted to laugh despite the current emergency.

“What the
heck in the heavens is going—” He saw Newton. “Get a doctor. Get him some
water.”

“I’m
okay. I’m okay,” Newton said windlessly. “If I find that one of you sons of
bitches has leaked this thing I will rip your heart out. I will rip your heart
out of your chest. You hear me? You hear me?”

Nobody
said a word and Newton closed his eyes again and drew a deep breath.

The next
day’s
Westmoreland Echo
would run with the headline “Cop in Boy’s Disappearance
Case Investigating Murder of Grandfather. Detective Out to Make Amends for
Botched Case 25 Years Ago.” Complete with a picture of Newton – no Ward in shot
– grimacing at the camera, clearly hurting.

Cherry
smiled a cat-just-fed smile at Ward as he entered the Honey Pie Diner, Jesús on
a leash. Jesús kept focused on the ground as Cherry fussed over to him, cooing
and
gooing
while stooping, showing cleavage and
knowing that Ward was enjoying the view.

“My two
new BFFs came back. Let me see if I remember this. A coffee for the little guy
and a bowl of water for you, sir?”

“He likes
his coffee black,” Ward said, and he waited a while before seating himself.
Cherry playfully snatched at his beard and said, “I like this.”

Ward
liked the touch and he settled himself by the window, same table as before, and
removed his hat. He let
Jesús’s
leash drop to the
floor. “Might help myself to some pie of some sort if you got some,” he said.

Bending
down he rubbed
Jesús’s
head and ears, and the little
dog seemed to relax. He removed his coat, placing it on the seat next to him.
He fished out his notebook and opened it to the last page to check if he had
imagined what he had seen earlier. But it was there in his untidy handwriting.
“Jesus is my savior. Christ is my redeemer.”

He wanted
to shudder but the diner was too warm for that. He just sat there and shook his
head. He tried to fit Alice White into the William O’Donnell case but didn’t
know where to put her.
 
Was she a small piece of the
jigsaw – a piece of sky in the top right corner? Or did she play a bigger part
in this? She had been a nurse in her previous existence. She knew her way
around a hypodermic needle. Was she the one to administer the fatal dose to end
old William O’Donnell’s life? Had she done the same to Doctor Brookline? Could
she have done those things? Why would she?

Yes, she
was the only beneficiary of William O’Donnell’s will, but that didn’t
necessarily make someone a suspect. She couldn’t be. Maybe she was helping the
old man on his way because he had an incurable disease. But that would’ve shown
up on the autopsy, surely. And anyway, she couldn’t be a suspect. She couldn’t
be. That phrase kept repeating in his head. She couldn’t be. And Ward also kept
hearing “Jesus is my savior. Christ is my redeemer.” At the back of his mind he
couldn’t help thinking she had something he needed to know. He just didn’t know
what the question was that he needed to ask to unlock that information.

And then
his cell phone rang. It was Newton.

“Two
things,” Newton said. Ward thought he sounded different. More upbeat. “Firstly,
I been doing some digging around O’Donnell’s bank account.”

“Okay.”

“Statements
going back twenty years. Five hundred a month as Alice White said. His salary
would have easily covered those payments he made.” Newton went quiet for a few
seconds.

“Okay,”
Ward said. He stared at the neon beer sign that adorned the wall over the
diner’s counter. “What was the second thing?”

“What?”

“The
second thing? You said two things.”

“Oh, yeah.
The autopsy on Brookline came back. Death by overdose of morphine. Only, no
obvious evidence of foul play. No signs of a struggle. No forensics to speak
of. Could be looking at a straightforward OD on that one. Or a suicide.”

“Don’t
you think it’s too similar? Gotta be connected?”

“I don’t
know.”

“Okay.”

“And I
been thinking. Gammond doesn’t want me digging around the Ryan case. He didn’t
say anything about you looking at it. How about you take a look? Fresh pair of
eyes. I can have the original case materials ready for you in the morning.”

Ward
rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know.”

“There’s
a connection. I’m sure of it.”

Ward said
after a spell, “If I take a look, then I do it without Gammond knowing nothing
about it. I’m interested. But listen here, Gammond don’t find out. Nobody knows
but me and you. I’ll take a look but if it gets back to Gammond I could be
looking at a move straight back to San Antonio.”

“You got
it.” And then Newton ended the call and Ward stared at his cell for a moment.

Jesús let
out a noisy yawn as Cherry arrived with his bowl of water and a large slice of
apple pie for Ward. “Your pie.”

Ward
smiled at her and said, “Thank you, ma’am.” Now he itched to get his hands on
the case notes for the little boy’s disappearance. His hand found a fork and he
scooped a piece of pie into his mouth.