An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1) (21 page)

Bill
O’Donnell is painting some ironwork. He stops as Newton’s car pulls into the
school parking lot. Newton speaks from a distance and he notices O’Donnell’s
free hand clench into a fist.

“We found
a truck, looks like yours.”

O’Donnell
waits until Newton has reached him before answering, and he speaks in a low
voice, looking around him as he does.

“I’d have
preferred it if we could’ve kept this away from the school.”

“Don’t
you want to know about your truck? I would’ve thought that would be your main
concern.”

“My main
concern is the whereabouts of Ryan.” He unclenches his fist.

“Of
course. Of course. But it’s good news about your truck at least.”

“You’re
trying to get a rise out of me, detective.”

Newton
smiles. “I’m just the bearer of good news.”

O’Donnell
returns to his painting and he turns his back on Newton.

“Just
doing some tests on it. And then you can have it back.”

O’Donnell
stops painting again. He turns to Newton and his tired eyes become smoldering
firecrackers. “I’ll be out looking for Ryan after work. I’ll let you know if I
find anything,” he says. He dips his brush in the pot of paint and pulls it out
clumsily, splashing paint around Newton’s shoes. Newton steps back quickly and
glares at Bill O’Donnell. Bill O’Donnell sloshes paint onto the ironwork.

“We need
the death certificate for the
Novaks
’ stillborn
child,” Newton said to McNeely. “And run the prints you’ve just taken against
the ones from the windowsill. As soon as you can.”

McNeely
watched Ward lead the man to one of the interview rooms.

“That our
killer?” she asked Newton.

Newton
shrugged and he still had the dirt on his hand. He went into Gammond’s office. Moments
later he left Gammond’s office and Gammond followed, his face red and stern.

Ward was
sitting opposite the man who looked like Ryan and Newton entered the room and
sat next to Ward. Ward turned on the tape recorder and read the man his rights
again. The man nodded again to show he’d understood and his eyes bulged as if
he was fighting back tears.

“You
should have an attorney present, son,” Newton said.

The man
looked up at Newton and then looked up at the camera and shook his head
jerkily.

“You have
a name?” Ward asked.

The man
looked beyond Ward. Didn’t say anything.

“How
should we address you, son? John?” Newton said.

Nothing
came back. Newton looked at Ward, who just eyed the prisoner.

“Can we
get you anything? You thirsty? Hungry?” No response to Ward’s question.

“Okay,
we’re going to ask you some questions. We proceed on the assumption that you
understand what’s happening here as you nodded to indicate as such.” Newton
said it for the tape and the camera and the man nodded.

“Are you currently
taking drugs?”

No
response. Just the long stare, bloodshot eyes. Newton let the question breathe.

“Do you
have access to drugs? Legal drugs? Medical drugs?”

No
response.

“Can
you
account for your whereabouts on Sunday, January
twenty-fourth?”

Just the
stare.

“Were you
in or near the Sunny Glade Nursing Home? You remember?”

A couple
of quick blinks.

“Do you
know William O’Donnell, known also as Bill O’Donnell?”

No
response.

“We found
some fingerprints on the windowsill of Mr. O’Donnell’s room up at Sunny Glade.
I think they’re yours, aren’t they?”

The man
looked confused and trembled as if he was about to cry. He looked down at the
ink on his fingers.

“Okay. We
need to make the questions easier.” He invited Ward into the one-way
conversation.

Ward
said, “Did you murder William O’Donnell?”

The man’s
eyes focused on Ward. Ward waited for the question to settle.

“I’ll ask
you that again in case you didn’t get it the first time. Did you murder William
O’Donnell?”

The man’s
distant stare returned and tears started to form and he bit his bottom lip.
Ward looked at Newton and Newton stood up and indicated for Ward to follow him
out of the room.

“Please
would you excuse us,” Newton said.

Outside
the room Gammond was watching the interview on a small screen. McNeely was
there. And Poynter.

“Talkative
little shithead, ain’t he?” Gammond said.

Newton
turned his back on him and said to Ward, “You think he could have killed
O’Donnell?”

Ward
shook his head. “No. But it would be nice to know what he’s been doing up
there.”

“You
think he’s a bit simple?” And he pulled Ward away as Ward shrugged. Out of
Gammond’s hearing range. “Alice said he’s her boy.”

“We need
to go talk to her anyway,” Ward said. “We bring her back in? See if she can get
him to cooperate?”

“Worth a
try.”

Newton
said, “Looks like Ryan grown up, don’t he?”

“He his
dead brother? That would make him O’Donnell’s grandson. I guess that’s a reason
for the visits.”

“Why
through the window?”

“Because
he doesn’t exist. He’s a secret. And secrets don’t walk through the front
door.”

“We need
Alice to make sense of this. McNeely. You got that death certificate yet?”

“On it,
sir,” she said. “The prints. Positive match.” And she skipped away.

Newton took
the copy of the photo of the little boy from the evidence board as he and Ward
grabbed their coats, Ward grabbed his hat, and they left.

The snow
had stopped falling and already the thin covering had frozen to a crunch. Blue
sky cracked through thinning cloud and javelins of sunlight stabbed the earth.

They were
at Alice White’s house inside of ten minutes despite the slow drive. Alice was
at the open door and she disappeared inside as they walked up and they followed
her in. They both stamped their feet. Ward left his hat on.

“Wonderful
service. So glad you could make it,” Alice said. “You two detectives like a
drink?”

They both
shook their heads.

“No, Mrs.
White. Thank you,” Ward said.

“Oh, we
getting formal now, Detective Ward? It’s Alice. Still Alice. I know you got to
be formal in certain circumstances but won’t have you call me nothing but
Alice.”

“We got
your boy, Alice, but he isn’t talking,” Ward said. “He is your boy, isn’t he?”

“I told
you he’s one of my children.” She led them into the parlor.

“He have
a name?” Newton said.

“Sir, he
does.”

“Would
you like to tell me what it is?”

“He’s
called John. John, in the name of the Apostle. Says so on the back of that
photograph you took.”

“His
surname?”

“Why,
Detective Newton, he took my own. White. John White. But I guess you got him as
John Doe or else you wouldn’t have asked me that. He don’t talk much and he’s
probably a little scared. He’s not altogether bright
schoolwise
but he knows the rights and the wrongs.” She seemed to lose her breath a moment
and then she continued. “You know there’s a theory about the painting of the
Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci says Mary Magdalene is actually in the
painting. Now if that’s true, it means John has disappeared. Where’s John?”

Newton
saw that Ward was examining the photographs placed all around the room, some on
walls, the others on any surface that offered enough space. They overlapped in
some places.

Newton
said, “We have John.”

Alice
White chuckled and then said, “He’s a good boy. He didn’t hurt William. You all
know that.”

“Who is
he?” Newton said.

“I just
told you, he’s called John White.”

“Alice.
We need you to be truthful with us here.”

Ward
looked around at the photographs.

“I ain’t
told a lie, detective. The Lord strike me down if I have. I’m cooperating.”

“He one
of these?” Ward said, indicating the photographs.

“No, sir.
He ain’t.”

“Like
John missing from the painting,” Ward said.

Alice
White smiled. “I suppose that’s right.”

“Do you
have any photos of him? Photos you might have taken down recently?”

“I do,”
Alice said. “Would you like me to get them? They’re just here in this
cupboard.”

Ward
said, “Yes, please.”

Alice
bent down with effort as she opened the cupboard. She fished around inside.

Ward saw
the framed needlework that read “Jesus is my savior. Christ is my redeemer”.
That’s why he’d written it down in his notebook. Figured he must’ve done it
absent-mindedly. He then noticed the photograph album he had flicked through
the last time he had been there. The one with the dead babies. He opened it. He
started to turn pages slowly.

Alice
straightened up with Newton’s help and she had in her hands a small grayed
shoebox full of photographs, some in frames, some loose. The topmost ones were
recent. She took one out.

“This is
John,” she said, handing the photo to Newton.

Ward was
still flicking through the album, slowly.

“Do you
have any older ones than that?” Newton said as he studied the photograph in his
hand.

“Yes,
sir, I do.”

She dug
into the box and came up with a handful. She started to flick through them. As
she did so, Newton saw John White’s life played out in reverse. There he was at
eighteen. And then at fifteen. And now twelve.

Ward was
still paging through the album.

John
White at nine. At eight. And gradually, Newton’s mouth opened wider. Until she
got to seven.

“You know
they sentenced John the Apostle to death. They tried to kill him but he
miraculously survived. He lived to a grand old age. He got a second chance.”

Newton
took the photo of the little boy from his pocket.

“You
interested most in these ones,” Alice said, and she laid a few photographs on
the small table next to her.

Newton
spread them out and picked one up. And there, looking up into the camera lens
was the same little boy in the photo that Newton held in his hand, the photo
that had once been in Bill O’Donnell’s room in Sunny Glade. Same clothes. Same
scene. Same house. Alice White’s house. The house looked different now but it
was definitely this house.

“This is
his grandson. Isn’t it?” Newton said just before Ward let out a gasp.

“What you
got?” Newton said.

“He’s
found the other John,” Alice said. “One who
died.
”

Ward
looked at her. Looked back at the album.

“It’s a
dolly,” Alice said.

Alice
White said, “I didn’t do nothing wrong,” after she had been read her Miranda
rights
 
by
Ward. Again Ward felt strange after being in the house. Those words on the
needlework occurred to him now. “Jesus is my savior. Christ is my redeemer.” He
pushed the words out of his mind as he tried to piece together what was
happening. His head felt twisted inside.

“Don’t
need no attorney, detective. I’ll tell you the truth and be represented by the
Lord
hisself
.”

“Okay,
Alice. Tell me why a dead child comes to be alive again?” Ward said.

Newton
had sat this one out. He was talking to Gammond and sorting out a warrant to
dig up the Novak baby’s supposed grave. The final resting place of a dolly.

“It was
back in 1986. Just past a year since Ryan went missing. One day there was a knock
on my door. I answered it and there was William holding something in his arms.
Didn’t need the little squeak that it let out to know what it was. Only one
thing come in bundles like that. And held that way. I asked him who it was. He
didn’t tell me at first. Just told me he would like for me to look after him.
Well, I had doubts. Not of William. I told you he was a good man. I would never
doubt him. I doubted myself. I had looked after many children. Even babies. But
never delivered to me in this way. I lost my nerve a little but William said
I’d be all right. And so I took him in.” She looked over Ward’s shoulder into
the corner of the room as if something was there. It made him look around but
there was nothing.

“Go on,”
Ward said.

“William
went away and brought back some supplies later. Baby supplies. I realized then
that the baby didn’t have a name. So I asked William and he said the baby had
none. ‘None!’ I say. ‘Every baby’s got a name!’ And William said it didn’t and
he wanted for me to go ahead and choose. First name came into my head was John.
After the Apostle. But I say I ain’t going to choose a name. That’s something
parents do. And William told me his mama died in childbirth and I said that’s
so sad. And then he told me his mama was Janice, his daughter, and then it all
made sense.”

Ward
said, “Why did it make sense?”

Alice
said, “Child needs a mama.”

“But he
still had a father,” Ward said, and then he realized and he nodded. “Of course.
Presumably he thought the baby was dead.”

“Uh huh,”
said Alice.

“So how
did a baby that was supposed to be dead… I’m not understanding this.”

“I don’t
know the part about how the baby gets declared dead. But of course they didn’t
have a little body to bury. You’ve seen the photograph, detective.”

“The
dolly. You’re the Baby Dresser, right?”

“That’s
right. I admit right here and now that I dressed a dolly to look like the dead
baby.”

“Why did
you do that?”

“William
asked me to.”

“Okay.
And how did that fool everyone?”

“Not many
people to fool as it happens. There was no body to get rid of in the first
place. I just had to present my own baby for the service. Only person who saw
it was the father. He was so drunk I could’ve put a dead possum in the casket.
After that, the casket was closed. Nobody else saw.”

“Not even
the undertaker?”

“We
didn’t use one apart from to supply a tiny casket.”

“So how
did the baby get to be pronounced dead? Presumably a doctor needs to
pronounce?”

“Like I
said. I don’t know the details of that. Never wanted to. I just did my duty to
William, the child and to God who I knew wanted me to do this for His glory.”

Ward let
out a few liters of air.

“Detective
Ward, William had good reason to do what he did. It’s not my business what the
why was. You’ve seen John. He’s a good boy.”

“He’s a suspect
in a homicide,” Ward said.

“Oh,
moonshine. You know he didn’t do nothing to hurt his grandfather.”

“Did he
know his father?”

“Knew of
him, later. Eugene got
hisself
killed before John was
old enough to understand. William explained when he was a little older.”

“Okay,
Alice,” Ward said. “I might have some more questions later. I’ll get someone to
bring you some tea. And cookies.” He smiled.

“That
would be nice,” Alice White said. “Could I see John?”

“No, I’m
afraid that’s not possible at the moment.”

“You
charge him with murder?”

“Not
yet.”

“And you
not going to.”

“We don’t
know yet.”

“You not
going to,” Alice said firmly. “Let me ask you a question, Detective Ward.”

“Go
ahead.”

“You
carrying something dark in your heart. I see it. Are you ready to meet your
God?”

Ward
almost jumped at the question. He left Alice in the interview room and he
nearly crashed into Newton as he strode through the door.

“Ward,”
Newton said. He had something in his hand. A copy of a document. “Take a look
at this.” He jabbed the piece of paper.

“The
death certificate. So—” Ward’s words chopped off when he saw it. “Doctor
Brookline signed the death certificate.” He rubbed his eyes. “You think
O’Donnell conspired with Brookline to fake the baby’s death? That’s what it
looks like.”

“It’s
what it looks like,” Newton said. “He died a drug addict. My guess is O’Donnell
offered him money to sign the death certificate. And Brookline signed the
certificate and took the money to feed his habit. But if they were both
murdered then it wasn’t for this. For faking the death of a baby? That don’t
add up. It’s the only thing connects them far as I can see. Did Brookline also
know what happened to Ryan? O’Donnell spoke his name. Something spooked
O’Donnell. Something that got him and the doctor killed. I think we’re getting
closer.”

“Warrant
come through to dig up the Novak baby’s grave?”

“Should
be soon,” Newton said.

“What we
going to charge Alice with?”

Newton
said, “We’re not. She can go.”

Ward
said, “Okay. We going to charge the guy with anything?”

Newton
took a deep breath. Shrugged. “We ain’t got a great deal apart from the
fingerprints. If only he would talk he’d tell us he climbed into the window to
go visit his old grandfather. I guess he was just keeping a low profile. He was
supposed to be dead after all. I got no reason to suspect he’s done anything
but be a dutiful grandson.”

“So,
we’re back to having nothing,” Ward said.

“Not
nothing. We’ve got the Brookline angle. The dead baby angle. We’ll work at
those.”

“Damn
it,” Ward said.

And then
the interview room door opened and Alice White was standing there.

“Let me
speak to John,” she said.

Newton
looked at the frail old lady standing there in the doorway and for a minute he thought
it was his mother despite Alice’s color.

“Okay,”
Newton said. And he led her to the other interview room where John White—John
Novak—sat, staring at the wall. He closed the door on them.

“You
sure?” Ward said.

Newton
went to the TV but it wasn’t switched on. He tried the on switch but it didn’t
make any difference. He banged the side of it with his fist. Checked the
cables. Still wouldn’t switch on. Then he dashed over to the interview room
door and burst in. Alice White had John White’s hand in hers. She looked around
at Newton.