The Killing Game(66)

“Did he mow your lawn for you?” September asked.

“No. He didn’t do nothin’ for me. And those boys . . . those smokers. They were bad news.” His mouth worked and he added in a rasp, “They left Little Lillian in my mailbox for me to find. Skinned her, they did. I called you people, but nobody did nothin’.”

September recoiled. “Lillian was one of your cats . . . ?”

“Yep.”

“And they skinned her?”

Gretchen grimaced, this time from the image, September believed.

“Sure did,” Bromward said, his jaw working. “I was careful after that, but they moved on.”

“Tommy Burkey was one of them?” September asked.

“Mmm . . . no . . . not really.” He made a face. “They just kinda tolerated him, I think. The older boys. He was a freckle-faced goon who was too stupid to know they used him for their enjoyment. Kinda like a mascot, you know? He was throwin’ rocks to impress them. Didn’t realize it when I threw the rock at him. Thought he’d thought it up all on his own, but it was them older boys.”

“Do you have a name for any of those older boys?”

“One was the renter’s boy. Gimme a minute. I’ll think of it.”

They waited patiently, or at least September did. Gretchen kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Those renters were the ones with the RV. They took off in it after their kid disappeared. The mom was pretty tore up. The dad . . . his name was Pauly, I think. He was a piece of work, too. Never worked, far as I could tell. The mom was a cashier down at the Shop and Save grocery.”

“Did they have any other children?”

“Just the drug addict. He was a decent enough sort. It was really that friend of his that was so . . . what’s the word you use these days? Hmmm. Entitled. That’s it. He was entitled. Wouldn’t surprise me if’n he wasn’t the one to kill Little Lillian.”

September paraphrased, “You’re saying that Tommy hung out with a couple of older boys, seeking acceptance, but that the older boys were really the ones making the bad choices.”

“Tart it up all you like, it boils down to the older boys goading Tommy, but the really bad stuff, yeah. That was them.”

“Would you call them scruffy?” Gretchen asked.

“Sure. Looked like every other boy does then and now. Ripped jeans. T-shirts. Facial hair, if they can grow it.”

“Do you remember Davinia Singleton?” Gretchen questioned further.

“Oh-ho. Now I know where you’re goin’.” His smile was sly. “Shoulda asked me the last time you were here. Yeah, she was a hot pants for the young ones. Ripped out Nathan’s heart, but nobody thought he had the gumption to kill her and him. That’s when Jan and Phil went around the bend. After the ‘accident.’ Weren’t no accident, but then, people’ll try to make things seem better than they are. They raised that little girl all right, though.”

“Frances,” September put in.

“Yep.” He nodded sharply. “After she was all grown up and out of the house, I think that’s what did ’em in. They looked around at each other and thought, I don’t like you. That’s my guess anyway.”

“As I said before, we’re trying to identify a set of bones that belongs to an eighteen-year-old male that was found in the basement of the Singletons’ home,” September said.

The old man scowled. “You think it’s Davinia’s lover, the marijuana smoker?”

“Marijuana. You’re talking about the RV owners’ son?” September asked. Everyone called him a drug addict, and she’d just assumed they meant he’d used something stronger.

“I know it’s legal now, but it weren’t then. He was smokin’ all the time. Smelled like a skunk.”

“With another friend and Tommy?”

He shrugged. “And some others. Now wait a minute....” He pinched his nose. “Maybe the druggie was that other kid.”

“Which other kid?” Gretchen asked, sounding annoyed.

“The one with the horse. That wasn’t the same time, though, was it?” He screwed up his face in thought.

“From what I can tell, the Burkeys left about eleven years ago,” September prompted. “Can you remember any name, of either the druggie kid or the one with the horse?”

“Or their parents?” Gretchen put in.

“One of ’em was kind of a common name, it seems. Escapes me for the moment. That’s the problem with old age. It’ll come back to you when you don’t need it no more.”

“You can call me,” September said, pulling out a business card and handing it to him. “That’s my cell number on the bottom. If you think of any names, just let me know.”

“Any time? Day or night?”

She smiled. “I might not answer in the middle of the night, but yeah.”

“Can you think of anyone else who could fit the age description of the person we’re looking for?” Gretchen asked, edging toward the door. “An eighteen-year-old male, give or take a year.”

“I’ll think on it.... There were a whole bunch of littler kids on the street at that time. They’re all growed up now, too.”