The Death of Perry Many Paws (37 page)

“We brought him into the station a couple hours after we left your house. His parents were with him. He didn’t even try to lie about it.” He took a sip of his coffee and put the cup down on the table. Mycroft had taken a liking to him so he had his head rested on his knee, and Officer Donny must have been a dog man because he knew just how to scratch his ears to make Mycroft happy. Maybe even in love.

“But why did he do it? And why the odd dishes?” Cam asked. He had been in his pajamas when Officer Donny had arrived but changed into jeans and a t-shirt. I guess men don’t sit and chat when one is in his jammies and the other in uniform.

“I’ve spent hours talking to this kid and I don’t think he is really such a bad sort. You can usually tell, even when they’re fifteen. Some
kids are hardcore nasty at that age and there isn’t much you can do. But the majority of them can be put on the right path if they have some help. Kelly is definitely one of those. At least in my opinion.”

“Okay. But then why did he terrorize Tamsen like that?” Cam asked.

“First of all, he confessed right away. He knew it was wrong and I believe he was sincerely sorry. He wanted revenge against Mrs. Mack, because he felt it was her fault the bloody shirt had made him a murder suspect.”

“But his father would have made him turn himself in, anyway. I wasn’t the one to ask that he be questioned,” I protested.

“Regardless, he blames you for all his troubles. He was already having problems fitting in at school and the bloody shirt incident didn’t help. He knew he had disappointed his father. He needed to lash out. You were his target.”

Cam shook his head. “My wife was terrified and was cut by glass trying to warn me. Right now I don’t have much pity for the kid.”

“I understand. But listen to how this thing went down. The kid uses a spare key that he swipes from his mother so he doesn’t have to actually break in. Then, he brings a bunch of dishes he bought at a thrift store rather than smash your actual dishes. He doesn’t want to damage your house by breaking in. He doesn’t want to damage your dishes by throwing them on the floor …”

“But he doesn’t mind terrorizing my wife. We would gladly substitute the loss of our dishes and the damage to our house if he had just done this prank when she wasn’t home. He didn’t seem too worried about the damage to her state of mind.”

“Look, I’m not trying to make excuses for what he did or say it doesn’t matter because there was no physical damage to your belongings. It’s just that the way his mind was working makes me think he isn’t all bad.”

“We don’t want him sent to prison or anything,” I interjected. After all, this was my best friend’s stepson. “But he obviously has some issues, some problems that need attention.”

“His parents agree. They were fine with him spending the night in the jail. He’s the only prisoner so that shouldn’t be too traumatic. Tomorrow we’ll need to discuss charges. He’s a juvenile so that will make things easier on him. Take tonight and think about how you would like to handle this. Your opinions will be important with the judge.”

We sat silently while Officer Donny flipped back through his notebook and took another sip of coffee. “If it’s not too late for you folks, I’d like to discuss the money you’ve been finding.” The police had taken away the money from the quilt and the socks when they had left. “The money you found today is the same age as the money from the paper bag, none issued later than 1938. Although it’s impossible to know for sure, I think it’s safe to say it is part of the ransom money from the Raymond Ketchum kidnapping and murder. Do you know why your uncle would have some of the ransom money?”

Cam shook his head. “Uncle Franklin was fifteen when that happened …”

“Ryan Kelly is fifteen, Mr. Mack. Look at the mischief he’s gotten into.”

“That’s a far cry from what you are accusing Uncle Franklin of …”

“I’m not accusing your uncle of anything, Mr. Mack. I’m asking why he might have had the ransom money. Any thoughts?”

“No. It’s ridiculous to think of him kidnapping this man and then shooting him in cold blood. He was fifteen!” Cam held up his hand. “Don’t tell me all the horrible things fifteen-year-old kids have done. I know. I read the papers. But Franklin wasn’t some desperate kid running wild in some gang. He hadn’t been exposed to criminal activity.
He wasn’t fighting to survive in an adult world. He didn’t need the money.”

“Ten thousand dollars was a great deal of money in 1938 …”

“But he didn’t need it. Don’t you see? His upbringing, his station in life, was such that this type of behavior, this criminal behavior wouldn’t be a lure for him,” Cam argued. “He had no reason to have done this horrible thing. And how would he have done it? He wasn’t criminally sophisticated. This crime is way beyond the nature of a teenage prank.” Cam threw up his hands in exasperation. “It really makes no sense. There has to be another explanation.”

“You know, something happened in Franklin’s life when he was fifteen that put everything off course,” I reminded him. “I don’t believe he was a murderer but some kind of involvement in this crime would account for why he suddenly changed. It doesn’t seem like a mere coincidence that this kidnapping happened around the same time Franklin withdrew from society. Plus there is the money …” I felt like I was being disloyal to Cam but I couldn’t ignore such a strong coincidence.

Cam slumped in his chair and buried his head in his hands. “I just can’t believe Uncle Franklin would do something like this. There has to be another explanation.”

“What happened to the victim’s brother?” I asked Officer Donny.

“Dr. Fletcher Ketchum died about thirty years ago. According to the old police reports, he never changed his story regarding the delivery of the money to the exact ransom drop location. He swore he took it there at the exact time and to the exact place the kidnappers demanded.”

“Yet they still killed his brother.” Cam shook his head.

“Clean shot to the head,” Officer Donny needlessly added.

“There must have been someone else who knew about the ransom drop,” I mused.

“Yes, apparently your uncle. He’s the one who ended up with the money.”

“But how? How would he know? Did he even know the Ketchums?” Cam asked.

“According to the old police report, the Behrends family claimed they didn’t know the Ketchums. All the neighbors in this area were questioned, as the murder took place across the street in the woods. No one heard the shot. No one in this neighborhood knew the Ketchums.”

“Was Franklin questioned?” I asked.

“No. Only his parents. Other than hoping someone heard the shot or saw someone in that area of the woods, I doubt the police felt there was much information to pick up from the wealthy residents of this neighborhood. The questioning looks pretty superficial.” Officer Donny looked up from his notes. “With your permission, we would like to search your attic for the rest of the money and the murder weapon.”

Cam stared at him in disbelief. “And without our permission you will get a search warrant and do it anyway, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have my permission. That attic is huge …”

“Perhaps Mrs. Mack can show us the area where she found the quilt and the socks. We’ll start from there and branch out.”

“You can use my map,” I offered.

he police found the remainder of the money in the attic, rolled up in empty tennis ball containers. We had the $850 found in the bag in Franklin’s cottage, $4,000 found in the quilt, $2,000 found in the socks and $3,150 found in the tennis containers. Total: $10,000, the exact amount of the ransom. I had fallen asleep on the couch in the library but woke up when I heard Cam letting the police out the front door. He was arguing that Uncle Franklin would not murder someone for the ransom and then never use a penny of it.

Cam offered to carry me up to bed but we both knew it was an empty gesture. I dragged myself upstairs, threw my bathrobe on the floor and hopped into bed without washing my face or brushing my teeth.

As so often happens when you fall into bed utterly exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. Cam was holding me so tightly that I also couldn’t breathe so had to wiggle out of his grasp to gasp for air. I remember holding Abbey the same way and her hearing her little voice plead, “Mommy, you’re snufficating me.” It felt good to be “snufficated” with love but, being human, I did eventually have to take a breath.

“Do you think it’s possible that all those kids in the picture had something to do with the kidnapping?” I asked as I readjusted myself on Cam’s chest and gave him a hug.

“My mom and Sybil were six …” he protested.

“I know. Not them. The three older kids—Franklin, Edmund and Hetty. Do you think they were involved somehow?”

“It’s hard to believe. How is your side? Does it still hurt?”

“A little. The aspirin helped, though.”

“How about all the cuts?”

“They’re stingy but fine.”

“You should go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.” We both knew that meant I wouldn’t go. “How do you think Franklin got the money without being involved?”

“No idea. But there has to be another explanation. I think we can be pretty sure that he knew where the money came from.”

I raised my head to look at him. That really hurt my left side so I lay back down with a thump on his chest. “You mean because of the collection of newspapers?”

“Right. Whether he kidnapped anyone or not, he had to have known where the money came from. He collected all the newspapers for every year after that, over seventy years. I think that proves he knew the story, was watching to see how it developed and then kept track of it for the rest of his life.”

“Guilt?”

“Maybe. Or curiosity. Or fear that someone would reopen the case and look for the money. The story was mentioned in each April 1 edition and summarized so everyone knew how the case stood. He would have known if the police were out searching again for the money or the killer. My arm is getting numb.”

I shifted over to my side of the bed so Cam could stretch and shake his arm back to life. “Do you think your mom or Sybil know anything? They’re the only ones left to ask. Franklin, Hetty and Edmund are all dead.”

“No. My mom never even read a newspaper until she married my dad. Her father didn’t think she should be exposed to all the nastiness going on outside the sanctuary of their home. I imagine Sybil was brought up the same way.”

“The police will probably question your mother …”

“I wish them luck.”

“Yeah, they’ll have to fight their way past Sybil to get to her.”

“Not worth the effort. She won’t know anything. Although I can’t think of what anyone was hoping to accomplish, this money and this kidnapping and murder are the only motives that have come up for Franklin’s death.” Cam reached out for my hand and pulled it to his chest. “I was so afraid for you tonight …”

“Me, too. I was ready to drop a brick on the head of anyone who tried to hurt you.”

“It’s scary to think we have these violent emotions inside us. Humans can be unpredictable when they’re protecting the ones they love.”

“I was willing to unwrap mouse mummies to save Abbey.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” I reached back and fluffed up my pillows. Cam laid his arm across my stomach. “Why would someone kill Franklin now, after all these years, if it was about the money and the kidnapping?”

“Maybe he stirred up the pot somehow. Made someone nervous.”

“How? He didn’t talk to anyone or go anywhere.”

“That we know of. He may have talked to people. Who knows what he was doing all day,” Cam pointed out.

“Maybe he knew who the Ketchum killer was and threatened to expose him.”

“After seventy years? And if we don’t think Franklin could have been the killer because he was only fifteen then, how old could the killer have been and still be alive now?”

“I suppose if I were a hundred and someone threatened to expose me for a murder I committed seventy years ago, I wouldn’t care at this point …”

“Certainly not enough to hike out to the cottage and stab someone.”

“But what about a relative, someone younger. Someone out for revenge or for the money? That could happen,” I suggested, moving Cam’s arm. “Too hot.”