it.
“And someone shot him while he was here alone.”
Calvin’s smooth face creased into a puzzled frown. “Then he’s really dead? But why would somebody shoot him?”
Frank leaned back in his chair, ostensibly unconcerned. “Perhaps because he’d deserted his family and then refused to pay the promised sum of money to them.”
“But why—” he started, and then stopped when Frank’s meaning sank in. “You think I shot him? Why would I do a thing like that? He was my father!”
“The father who deserted you and caused your family great hardship while he was living in luxury. The father who took another wife and now refused to acknowledge you.”
Now Calvin was angry. “I might’ve hated him, but he was still my father! And besides, if he was dead, he couldn’t help us none, now could he? Killing him would be stupid!”
“But what if he’d decided not to give you the money he’d promised? What if he told you to go back home and forget about him or some harm would come to all of you? I know that would make me mad enough to shoot somebody.”
“But I didn’t even see him that day! I wasn’t even in the house. And I don’t have a gun, either!”
Frank was inclined to believe him. Calvin didn’t even know Blackwell was killed with his own gun, so the killer wouldn’t have had one. The story about the policeman sending him on his way was easy enough to check, in any case. And his theory about Blackwell refusing to pay the boy seemed farfetched. Blackwell wouldn’t dare take a chance on offending Calvin and having him spread his story. Paying him off was a simple solution to a very complicated problem, one that Blackwell would have been a fool not to accept. Frank didn’t think Blackwell was a fool.
Besides, if Calvin had taken the money and killed his father, he’d be miles away by now, just as Amos Potter had suggested. He certainly wouldn’t have come knocking on the door and drawing attention to himself.
Now the boy was looking really frightened. “Are you gonna put me in jail?”
It would be so easy. The boy was penniless and alone. No one except his mother would care what happened to him, and she was miles away and powerless to help him. Frank could stick the boy in jail, beat him until he confessed, close the case, and collect his reward from Potter and Symington. That’s what most of the detectives on the force would do. Frank had done it a time or two himself, although never with an innocent boy. The people he usually dealt with were criminals, guilty of something or another, even if it wasn’t the crime he was investigating. If they went to jail, they deserved it, and the world was a better place with them behind bars.
But Calvin Brown was guilty of nothing.
“Did you kill your father, Calvin?” he asked.
“No, sir! I already told you.”
“If I don’t arrest you, what will you do?”
His eyes widened. Frank could see the fear and the hope mingled in them. “I ... I guess I can’t do nothing much. I’m about out of money, so I’ve got to go back home soon. The ticket was just one way, so I’ll have to hop a freight or something, but I got to get back home to help my ma.” He thought a minute. “I sure would like to find out who killed my pa, though. I kinda feel like it’s my duty or something.”
Frank wanted him to stay, too. He might need to ask him more questions when he found out more about the case. And he did need to know who had sent the poster to Mrs. Brown. Someone, it seemed, was trying to cause Dr. Blackwell trouble. If he could find out who, he’d be a lot closer to finding the killer.
“If I pay your rent for another week, would you stay in town?” Frank asked. A few dollars was cheap enough for the help the boy might be able to give him. Besides, he wanted the boy close so he could keep an eye on him. “If you do, I’ll even buy you a ticket back home when you’re ready to leave.”
Now the boy was thoroughly confused. “You ain’t
“And someone shot him while he was here alone.”
Calvin’s smooth face creased into a puzzled frown. “Then he’s really dead? But why would somebody shoot him?”
Frank leaned back in his chair, ostensibly unconcerned. “Perhaps because he’d deserted his family and then refused to pay the promised sum of money to them.”
“But why—” he started, and then stopped when Frank’s meaning sank in. “You think I shot him? Why would I do a thing like that? He was my father!”
“The father who deserted you and caused your family great hardship while he was living in luxury. The father who took another wife and now refused to acknowledge you.”
Now Calvin was angry. “I might’ve hated him, but he was still my father! And besides, if he was dead, he couldn’t help us none, now could he? Killing him would be stupid!”
“But what if he’d decided not to give you the money he’d promised? What if he told you to go back home and forget about him or some harm would come to all of you? I know that would make me mad enough to shoot somebody.”
“But I didn’t even see him that day! I wasn’t even in the house. And I don’t have a gun, either!”
Frank was inclined to believe him. Calvin didn’t even know Blackwell was killed with his own gun, so the killer wouldn’t have had one. The story about the policeman sending him on his way was easy enough to check, in any case. And his theory about Blackwell refusing to pay the boy seemed farfetched. Blackwell wouldn’t dare take a chance on offending Calvin and having him spread his story. Paying him off was a simple solution to a very complicated problem, one that Blackwell would have been a fool not to accept. Frank didn’t think Blackwell was a fool.
Besides, if Calvin had taken the money and killed his father, he’d be miles away by now, just as Amos Potter had suggested. He certainly wouldn’t have come knocking on the door and drawing attention to himself.
Now the boy was looking really frightened. “Are you gonna put me in jail?”
It would be so easy. The boy was penniless and alone. No one except his mother would care what happened to him, and she was miles away and powerless to help him. Frank could stick the boy in jail, beat him until he confessed, close the case, and collect his reward from Potter and Symington. That’s what most of the detectives on the force would do. Frank had done it a time or two himself, although never with an innocent boy. The people he usually dealt with were criminals, guilty of something or another, even if it wasn’t the crime he was investigating. If they went to jail, they deserved it, and the world was a better place with them behind bars.
But Calvin Brown was guilty of nothing.
“Did you kill your father, Calvin?” he asked.
“No, sir! I already told you.”
“If I don’t arrest you, what will you do?”
His eyes widened. Frank could see the fear and the hope mingled in them. “I ... I guess I can’t do nothing much. I’m about out of money, so I’ve got to go back home soon. The ticket was just one way, so I’ll have to hop a freight or something, but I got to get back home to help my ma.” He thought a minute. “I sure would like to find out who killed my pa, though. I kinda feel like it’s my duty or something.”
Frank wanted him to stay, too. He might need to ask him more questions when he found out more about the case. And he did need to know who had sent the poster to Mrs. Brown. Someone, it seemed, was trying to cause Dr. Blackwell trouble. If he could find out who, he’d be a lot closer to finding the killer.
“If I pay your rent for another week, would you stay in town?” Frank asked. A few dollars was cheap enough for the help the boy might be able to give him. Besides, he wanted the boy close so he could keep an eye on him. “If you do, I’ll even buy you a ticket back home when you’re ready to leave.”
Now the boy was thoroughly confused. “You ain’t
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