Jubilee's Journey (Wyattsville #2)(58)
“You could be right.”
“I absolutely am. Remember when Mike wrote about that butcher over on Elm weighing meat with his thumb on the scale?”
“Seven or eight years back, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Carmella answered. “But people remember. Now everyone insists on getting a pound–and-a-half of sausage for every pound they buy.”
“That’s true,” Lucinda agreed.
By the time Carmella finished pouring out her version of a crooked cop getting a hoodlum off scot free, Lucinda was nearly in tears. She promised that Mike would do something to right this travesty of justice, or he’d be cooking his own dinner for a month.
On Friday morning the headline in the Wyattsville Daily read, “SHOOTER TO GO FREE?” Mike felt putting the accusation in the form of a question would serve the purpose, but an angry Lucinda disagreed. Numerous times he’d explained how making an unsubstantiated statement could be cause for libel, but his wife turned a deaf ear and suggested a week of sleeping on the sofa might change his mind.
When Mahoney arrived at the hospital that morning, he was greeted by squinty-eyed looks of suspicion. It was not until he saw the newspaper on the nurses’ station countertop that he understood why. The bold headline was all but impossible to miss, and the story went on to describe how the suspect was shot by Sid Klaussner, the store owner. After detailing a myriad of good deeds attributable to Klaussner, the article reported that according to a reliable source the suspect in custody had not yet been charged with the shooting. Mike had added a closing paragraph.
“Certain sources indicate that despite the preponderancy of evidence, it is questionable as to whether the suspect will in fact be set free. We have to ask you, Detective Mahoney, is this justice?” Twice the article had mentioned his name, and it had also questioned why a detective from Northampton would be involved in a Wyattsville case.
Mahoney cringed. “Damn.” He walked into Paul’s room. The boy remembered nothing more than he’d said yesterday. Mahoney questioned him about whether he might have seen a “Help Wanted” sign and gone into the store to ask about a job.
“Is any of it even a little bit familiar?” he said.
Paul’s expression was an absolute blank. None of the suggestions generated a smile, a frown, or even a blink.
After almost twenty minutes Mahoney knew nothing more than he did when he walked into the room, and given the article in today’s paper there was sure to be a greater push than ever for prosecution. So far the evidence was all circumstantial. The truth was out there, but only three people saw what happened that morning in Klaussner’s Grocery. Hurt McAdams was missing and Sid Klaussner was still in a coma, which left only Paul.
Paul knew what happened, but the image of it was hidden in the darkest corner of his mind, a place where ugly, mean, and hurtful things could be forgotten and left to die a death of anonymity. Normally that was a good thing; this time it wasn’t. The road to redemption ran smack through that black hole, and Mahoney had to uncover whatever was there.
He thought back to yesterday. Seeing Jubilee had jogged the boy’s memory; not all of it, but some. Questions went without answers, but Paul had responded to visual stimulation. Things he could see, touch, and feel brought back memories.
Mahoney left the hospital and headed for Olivia’s apartment.
Before she had the door fully open, Mahoney started asking about the things Olivia had found in Jubilee’s travel bag. He followed her into the living room, then said, “Mind if I take a look at them?”
Olivia pulled the tattered bag from the closet and set it atop the coffee table. “This is everything,” she said. “There were a few pieces of underwear but no other clothes or…”
Mahoney ignored the words as he pulled the miner’s hat from the bag, then the pictures, and a child’s story book. These were all personal treasures, things that had little or no value to anyone but the boy who had carried them with him when he left home. For a few moments Mahoney stood there leafing through the worn pages of what was obviously a family Bible. Then he said, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take Jubilee and this bag back to the hospital.”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Seeing her brother in such a state is awfully hard on Jubilee, and she was there just yesterday.”
“I think Jubilee and the things in this bag might help us unlock Paul’s memory,” Mahoney answered. “Unless he can tell us what actually happened in that store…” The rest of the sentence trailed off, too unthinkable to consider.
When Olivia suggested they wait a bit for Ethan Allen to return from school, Mahoney said it would be better for him and Jubilee to go alone. “I’m trying to do this as quietly as possible.” He made no mention of the newspaper article. When Olivia appeared reluctant, he added, “Let’s ask Jubilee if she wants to go.”
Since they both knew what the child’s answer would be, Olivia went ahead and nodded her consent.
On the drive back to the hospital, Mahoney explained that he was hopeful the things Paul had packed in the bag would jog his memory of leaving home.
“Oh, they will,” Jubilee said confidently.
Mahoney smiled and said nothing. He knew children Jubilee’s age had a faith that was all too soon outgrown. They believed in princesses, fairy tales, and happily-ever-after endings. Even when there was no bread for the table, they believed Santa would show up simply because it was Christmas Eve. Times like this Mahoney wished he could slide back into such a faith instead of struggling with the reality of a situation.