God Save the Child

“Let’s check again,” Healy said. We walked to the front door. Healy opened it, went outside, shut it behind him, and tried the knob. Locked. I opened it for him from the inside. We went to the back door. Healy did the same thing. Same result. I let him in. We walked around looking at the windows. Most of them were closed and locked. Those that weren’t locked were screened. There was no sign they’d been tampered with. The screens were aluminum, part of screen and storm combinations.

“Someone could have gone out, reached back in, released the catches, and lowered the screen,” I said, “to make it look like it was inside business.”

Healy nodded absently. “Yeah,” he said, “but why would someone do that?”

“Misdirect the cops,” I said.

“Maybe,” Healy said.

“Course with Chief Trask on the track,” I said, “you probably don’t need too much misdirection.”

Healy separated a peppermint Life Saver from the roll and popped it into his mouth. He didn’t offer me one. “Well, he’s just a hick cop. Not a high-powered fast gun in from the city. Couldn’t even solve a simple missing person squeal.” He sucked on the Life Saver. “You find the kid yet?”

“Nope.”

Healy said, “Oh.”

We went back to the living room. The photographs had been taken. The measurements made. The corpse was wrapped in a blanket and lying on a stretcher. Trask looked at Healy. Healy nodded and Trask said, “Okay, let’s get him out of here.”

Two Smithfield cops picked up the stretcher and went out the front door.

“Union Hospital,” Trask yelled after them. “And tell ’em it’s for Doc Woodson when you get there.”

“Anything missing, Trask?” Healy asked.

“Mrs. Bartlett says no. She don’t see anything gone. Liquor cabinet was open but nothing missing.”

Marge Bartlett was sitting with her knees pressed together on the couch. The lines around her mouth seemed to have deepened. She needed to freshen her makeup.

“What was he doing here, Mrs. Bartlett?” Healy said.

“Who?”

“Maguire. What was Maguire doing in your house while you were away?”

“Oh, Earl has his own key. He’s an old and dear friend. He often lets himself in. We’re having a party tonight, and he said he’d come out early and help me set up the bar and things because Roger wouldn’t be able to get home till after supper. Almost time for... My God,” she looked at her watch, “it’s after four. My company is coming in three and a half hours. I’ve got to get ready. Spenser, you’re going to have to help me.”

I nodded. Healy said, “Do you have any idea, Mrs. Bartlett, who might have done this?”

“To Earl? I don’t know. He was a lawyer; perhaps he made enemies.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Lieutenant, I simply must get ready. I’m having sixty-five people here tonight. And I’m already very late.” She was on her feet moving toward the hall as she spoke.

Healy looked at her with a puzzled expression. “It’s grief, Lieutenant,” I said. “She’s hiding her grief and carrying on.”

Healy snorted. Trask said, “Well, she is. She’s being damned brave.”

“Brave,” Healy said.

“I’ll question her later on,” Trask said, “when she’s gotten herself together more. Ya know.”

“Yeah,” Healy said, “you do that.”

Trask said, “Got any theories, Lieutenant?”

“I’d guess someone was in here expecting no one to be home, and Maguire came in and surprised him. There was a fight, Maguire went for the poker, and whoever it was hit him with something else and broke his neck. Then he got out of here.”

“From the way the rug’s bunched up and the body’s lying, I figure he came at him from the dining room,” I said.

Healy said, “Maybe.”

Trask said, “How’d he get in?”

“That’s a problem. Maybe one of the screens was unlocked or the door was ajar. Maybe somebody had a key.”

Trask looked shocked. “Wait a minute, who the hell would have a key except the family?”

Healy shrugged. “Maybe the lock was picked,” Trask said.

“How long you been chief here?” Healy asked.

“Seven years,” Trask said. “Before that I was a sergeant.”

“How many people have you run into out here that can pick that kind of a lock?” I said.

“There’s always a first time.”

“We’ll wait and see what the doctor can give us,” Healy said. “If I was you, Trask, I’d put a man here.”

“I had one, but when Mrs. Bartlett went off with Spenser, I took him off. She was supposed to call when she came back. I only got twelve goddamned men, Healy.”

“I know. Spenser, you hanging in here?”

“Yeah. I’m staying in the guest room. If you get a chance, let me know what the doctor says about cause of death.”

“Oh, of course,” Healy said. “Want I should iron your shirts for you or anything while I’m here?”

I let that pass. “Well,” I said, “time to dig out the old gold lamé tux and freshen up for the party.”

Both Trask and Healy looked very sourly at me. I knew how they felt. I felt the same way.

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