Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(70)

“I’d never do such a thing!” Mahoney said with an air of indignation.

Olivia leaned in a hair closer and became almost certain, there was indeed a sparkle in his right eye. “Never?” she asked.

“Of course not.” With Olivia leaning into his face as she was, Jack Mahoney had to ask, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she answered, moving back. “I was just wondering if you go to church?”

“Yes. My whole family does. We belong to the Methodist Church in Back Bay.”

Now she was certain, the light was there. “What if,” she asked giving him one last test, “the child told you that he saw the murder and the person responsible for the killing was your daddy—what then? Would you believe Ethan Allen or jump to the conclusion he was lying?”

Mahoney chuckled, “My folks passed on a good number of years ago, but regardless of who the boy said was to blame for the killing, I’d be duty bound to investigate the matter. I’m sworn to uphold the law and there’s no allowance for friends or family.”

“Of course,” Olivia sighed, “I was speaking of a purely hypothetical situation, because as I’ve already told you, the boy’s gone. But,” she added, “if he were to come back and if he decided to talk to you…”

“I’ll leave you my telephone number,” Mahoney said, “then if he does come back and wants to help find the killer, you can give me a call.”

“You’re not coming back unless I call?”

“No reason to,” Mahoney said; then he thanked Olivia for her time and left.

Olivia smiled, without a smidgen of doubt she knew, he had the light.



When Ethan returned home from school, Olivia said, “I’ve got two surprises for you.” First she led him into what that morning had been the dining room and was now a bedroom, “This is your room,” she said proudly. “I had planned on having it finished by the time you got home, but I had a bit of an interruption this afternoon.” She then told him about her conversation with Mahoney. “He’s a well-intentioned, church-going Christian,” she said, “and I’m certain he’d do right by us. He’s definitely got the light.”

“I don’t know,” Ethan Allen sighed, a look of worry tugging at the corners of his mouth, “…suppose he says one thing and does another? Suppose it’s just a trick?”

“I believe he’s a man who can be trusted, but you’ll have to be the one to decide whether or not you want to tell him the truth of what happened.”

“Why me?”

“Because,” Olivia answered, “the truth belongs to you. It’s yours to hide away in your head, or let loose so he can arrest the man responsible for your daddy’s death.”

“But…he said he wasn’t coming back if we didn’t call him. Couldn’t we just—”

“Sure, we could hide out here and say nothing; but then Detective Mahoney might never find out Scooter Cobb was the one who killed your daddy. Figuring he could get away with murder any old time he wanted to, Scooter might kill some other child’s mama or daddy, and after that who knows where it would stop.”

“Jeez,” Ethan moaned, “you gotta put it that way?” After a considerable amount of back and forth conversation he reluctantly agreed to talk to Jack Mahoney. “But,” he said, ‘I gotta do it my way. I ain’t telling him it was Scooter ‘til I see the light, okay?”

“Okay,” Olivia answered.





Ethan Allen

I know Grandma Olivia means well, but I got serious concerns about this light in the eye business. If Scooter’s policeman son would send me off to reform school for lying, what’s he gonna do if I claim his daddy’s the one what did the killing?

I seen the damage those Cobbs can do and believe you me, I ain’t none too anxious to tangle with either of them. Grandma Olivia says— I call her Grandma Olivia now ‘cause she said that’s what I’m supposed to call her—anyway, she says she ain’t afraid. She says truth and honesty is on our side; maybe so, but size and meanness is sure on their side.

Other than nagging me for using cuss words, Grandma Olivia’s nice. She treats me good, like I was her true-born grandkid, and she’s always going on about how I remind her of my handsome Grandpa. She says I got his blue eyes and the cut of his chin. I gotta laugh when she says that, ‘cause in the picture I seen, he’s an old man and his chin’s hiding behind a bunch of whiskers.





Truth be Told

In the fall of the year, when a carpet of leaves covered the ground and tree pollen was thick in the air, Jack Mahoney’s allergies ran rampant. He swallowed down pills and sniffed inhalants, but still his eyes watered constantly. Sometimes he appeared almost glassy eyed, and at other times you could believe you were looking into a still water pond reflecting the sunlight. When he finally began sneezing with every other breath, he called in sick and did not return to the station house for five days. On Monday, there was a message from Olivia Doyle waiting for him; all it said was— please call, but he knew what it meant.

Jack called Olivia and told her he would be right over.

“No,” she answered, “I’d rather you wait until tomorrow afternoon; be here at three o’clock.”