morning?”
“Around ten.”
“Why’d you come?”
“I had a kolache for her. Sometimes she doesn’t eat right.” Ren looked down at the gravel under his feet. “The truth is I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“You opened the screen door and went in. Then what?”
“Everything was a mess, worse than usual. I went back to her room and I saw, like, this stuff on the wall. The blood and all. I was afraid it was Charlie. I thought he’d hurt her. Then I saw him on the floor.”
“What did you do then?”
“I got out of there as fast as I could.”
“And went straight to the constable?”
“No. I went home first.”
“Why home and not to Constable Hodder?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
“Do you know where Charlene—Charlie—is?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
Ren hesitated. “No.”
“But you do know the girl pretty well?”
“We’re friends.”
“I don’t know Charlie myself, but I just got off the phone with some folks in the juvenile division who do, son,” Olafsson said. “One thing they told me about Charlie, she has a temper. And they told me about her father and how he treated her sometimes.”
“So?” Ren didn’t like the feel of the detective’s words.
“You saw the baseball bat beside the body?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know who the bat belongs to?”
“It’s Charlie’s.”
“That’s right. Charlie’s. I want to ask you something, son, and I want you to answer me as honestly as you can. Will you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
“Do you think Charlie could have done this to her father?”
Dina stepped in. Ren appreciated how firm and cool she seemed. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Detective.”
“I’m just asking for an informed opinion.”
“Of a fourteen-year-old boy? About a murder? That’s low and you know it.”
“It’s okay,” Ren said quickly. He looked at Detective Sergeant Olafsson steadily. “She couldn’t. He was a bastard sometimes, but she loved him. She wouldn’t do something like…like in there.”
Olafsson nodded, scowled a little. “I understand you live in the woods, a resort, with your mother. That right?”
“Yes.”
“You ever see a small animal, a rabbit, say, trapped in a corner? Even a rabbit can get vicious when it’s threatened.”
Dina said, “He’s not the jury, Detective. And you’re not the prosecutor. No need to convince him of anything.”
Olafsson looked at her, and Ren saw his jaw tighten. “You certainly seem to think you know your way around the law, Ms. Walport. What is it you do?”
“I watch a lot of television. Cop shows. You’d be surprised what you can pick up.”
Although a smile played briefly across the detective’s lips, it didn’t seem friendly. The way he started to look at Dina, as if she were a steak sizzling on a grill, didn’t sit well with Ren, either.
Olafsson returned his attention to Ren. “Did you touch anything or move anything while you were in the trailer, son?”
“No.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
Olafsson seemed to be waiting for Ren to reconsider. With his silence, Ren held his ground.
“All right, then. I guess that’s it for now.”
Hodder said, “Okay if I take these folks back to town?”
“I suppose. We may want to talk to the boy later.” He glowered at Ren. “No trips out of town for a while, okay?”
Ren nodded.
“I want you back here right away, Ned,” Olafsson added. “We need to go over the vic’s friends, acquaintances, drinking buddies, girlfriends. Whatever you can tell me.”
“I’ll be back in ten.”
Olafsson strode toward the trailer home.
They piled into the Cherokee. Hodder backed out and headed north into town.
Dina spoke toward the windshield. “You know Olafsson?”
“I’ve worked with him before. Never a murder investigation. He’s not what I’d call a warm man, but he’s thorough. And fair.”
Ren
“Around ten.”
“Why’d you come?”
“I had a kolache for her. Sometimes she doesn’t eat right.” Ren looked down at the gravel under his feet. “The truth is I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“You opened the screen door and went in. Then what?”
“Everything was a mess, worse than usual. I went back to her room and I saw, like, this stuff on the wall. The blood and all. I was afraid it was Charlie. I thought he’d hurt her. Then I saw him on the floor.”
“What did you do then?”
“I got out of there as fast as I could.”
“And went straight to the constable?”
“No. I went home first.”
“Why home and not to Constable Hodder?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
“Do you know where Charlene—Charlie—is?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
Ren hesitated. “No.”
“But you do know the girl pretty well?”
“We’re friends.”
“I don’t know Charlie myself, but I just got off the phone with some folks in the juvenile division who do, son,” Olafsson said. “One thing they told me about Charlie, she has a temper. And they told me about her father and how he treated her sometimes.”
“So?” Ren didn’t like the feel of the detective’s words.
“You saw the baseball bat beside the body?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know who the bat belongs to?”
“It’s Charlie’s.”
“That’s right. Charlie’s. I want to ask you something, son, and I want you to answer me as honestly as you can. Will you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
“Do you think Charlie could have done this to her father?”
Dina stepped in. Ren appreciated how firm and cool she seemed. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Detective.”
“I’m just asking for an informed opinion.”
“Of a fourteen-year-old boy? About a murder? That’s low and you know it.”
“It’s okay,” Ren said quickly. He looked at Detective Sergeant Olafsson steadily. “She couldn’t. He was a bastard sometimes, but she loved him. She wouldn’t do something like…like in there.”
Olafsson nodded, scowled a little. “I understand you live in the woods, a resort, with your mother. That right?”
“Yes.”
“You ever see a small animal, a rabbit, say, trapped in a corner? Even a rabbit can get vicious when it’s threatened.”
Dina said, “He’s not the jury, Detective. And you’re not the prosecutor. No need to convince him of anything.”
Olafsson looked at her, and Ren saw his jaw tighten. “You certainly seem to think you know your way around the law, Ms. Walport. What is it you do?”
“I watch a lot of television. Cop shows. You’d be surprised what you can pick up.”
Although a smile played briefly across the detective’s lips, it didn’t seem friendly. The way he started to look at Dina, as if she were a steak sizzling on a grill, didn’t sit well with Ren, either.
Olafsson returned his attention to Ren. “Did you touch anything or move anything while you were in the trailer, son?”
“No.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
Olafsson seemed to be waiting for Ren to reconsider. With his silence, Ren held his ground.
“All right, then. I guess that’s it for now.”
Hodder said, “Okay if I take these folks back to town?”
“I suppose. We may want to talk to the boy later.” He glowered at Ren. “No trips out of town for a while, okay?”
Ren nodded.
“I want you back here right away, Ned,” Olafsson added. “We need to go over the vic’s friends, acquaintances, drinking buddies, girlfriends. Whatever you can tell me.”
“I’ll be back in ten.”
Olafsson strode toward the trailer home.
They piled into the Cherokee. Hodder backed out and headed north into town.
Dina spoke toward the windshield. “You know Olafsson?”
“I’ve worked with him before. Never a murder investigation. He’s not what I’d call a warm man, but he’s thorough. And fair.”
Ren
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