Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(69)

By Monday morning a relative peacefulness had settled over the Doyle household. Olivia, feeling considerably less threatened, now that she had the Lord on her side, hummed What a Friend We Have in Jesus as the milk cascaded over Ethan Allen’s cereal. As she spread peanut butter on bread she switched over to Onward Christian Soldiers and as she wrapped the sandwiches and put them in his lunchbox she finished up with a chorus of Bringing in the Sheaves.

“You sure you ain’t overdoing it?” Ethan asked.

“There’s no such thing as overdoing your service to the Lord,” she answered, then kissed his cheek and sent him off to school. As soon as he was out the door, Olivia began work on the project she was planning as a surprise for the boy. One by one, she carted the dining room chairs down to the basement storage room, then she turned the dining room table on its side and unscrewed the legs. Seeing how it was too large for one person to lift, she simply shoved it against the living room wall and continued on. She was halfway through giving the walls a coat of royal blue paint, when the doorbell rang. If she hadn’t been preoccupied with fixing a bedroom of his own for Ethan Allen, she might have been more on guard; she probably would have pressed her eye to the peek hole, seen who it was, then refused to open the door. But, with figuring the Lord had already taken care of the problem, and having a head filled with thoughts of what color bedspread to buy the boy, she flung the door wide open without a moment’s hesitation.

“Good morning,” Mahoney said with a smile.

“You?” Olivia gasped in astonishment. “What are you doing here?” She glanced over at the wall clock—twelve-fifteen; luckily she had three hours till Ethan was due home. Before Mahoney had time to answer her question, Olivia said, “He’s not here. Your obnoxious friend frightened the child into running away. God only knows what…”

“Cobb? I can see why the boy would be frightened by him; I’m glad to say he’s not working this case anymore. Anyway, what’s this about Ethan Allen running off?”

With her guard now on full alert, Olivia answered, “Don’t even think about asking where he went, because I assure you I don’t know.”

“Actually, I was hoping to maybe have a word with you.”

Olivia would have preferred not to; she would have preferred to go back to her painting, or better still to have never even answered the door—but she knew if she refused the detective would get suspicious. If he got the impression that she was hiding Ethan Allen, he’d keep coming back and eventually he’d find what he was looking for so it was probably better to deal with the issue now. After a few moments of hesitation, she stepped to the side and said, “Okay, you can come in. But,” she added, “I’m in the middle of redecorating, so you’ll have to make it quick.”

“I apologize, for the way Officer Cobb acted last time we were here,” Mahoney said as he followed her into the living room. “Given the way he acted, I don’t blame you for slamming the door in our faces. A man who behaves like Cobb has it coming.”

“Isn’t that the God-honest truth,” Olivia added. She motioned toward the sofa and suggested Mahoney have a seat; then she sat in the club chair on the far side of the room. “Ethan Allen was scared to death of the man,” she said, “and I know that’s the reason the boy ran off.” Olivia wanted to act weepy to add a measure of conviction to her story but, with being so concerned about time, the most she could manage was fidgety.

“The poor kid—off on his own again,” Mahoney shook his head in a way that seemed sincere, “with all he’s been through…I was rather hoping he’d settle in and stay here with you. Anybody can tell you’re the sort of grandma who’d watch out for the boy and see that he’s taken care of.”

“How could he stay here, with you policemen hounding him?”

“Me?” Mahoney registered a look of surprise. “Not me. I had no intention of questioning him. If the lad doesn’t want to tell what happened that night, then so be it.” Mahoney had made detective long before most patrolmen, simply because he put people at ease and threw them off guard so they’d willingly tell things no one else could beat out of them.

“Oh sure, that’s what you say, but Officer Cobb—”

“He won’t be coming around, he’s off the case.”

“Altogether?”

Mahoney nodded. “He’s on report. The captain—”

“Excuse my manners,” Olivia interrupted, “I’ve forgotten to ask if you might like a cup of coffee or a cold glass of tea?”

“Umm, coffee sounds real good.”

When Olivia returned from the kitchen with two cups of coffee she sat on the sofa alongside Mahoney. From across the room she’d thought she’d seen a speck of sparkle shinning in his right eye and wanted to check it out. She focused on that right eye and leaned forward into his face, “So,” she said, her nose barely inches from his, “if you’re not looking to question Ethan Allen, why did you come here?”

“Primarily to apologize; but, I also wanted to let you and Ethan know that I’m gonna continue working the case. I’ll do whatever I can do to find the person responsible for the murder of his mama and daddy.”

“That’s it? You didn’t come to arrest the boy, take him back for questioning?”