Little Boy Blues (14 page)

The doorbell had an expensive peal. Brandon’s mother, slender and elegant in trim silk taupe pants and matching top, did not smile when she answered. Gussie didn’t get past the door.

We followed the scent of Brandon’s mother’s exotic cologne to the media room. She still held the automatic door opener to the Lexus. She looked like she was on a quick break from filming a high-end lifestyle show, and it was time for Take Two. On second thought, I decided her face had too much hard edge to make her really likeable on television.

“You have company, Brandon. Alvin Ferguson and a friend. I’ll be back in half an hour. Maria’s here if you need anything. Don’t forget to offer your visitors something to drink.”

I figured a warmer woman might have offered Alvin her concern about his missing brother, but hey.

Brandon presided over a room full of electronic equipment, soft carpet, halogen lighting and a whiff of disinfectant. I figured that the motorized wheelchair had set somebody back twenty-five grand minimum. According to Alvin, it was a custom job. Brandon looked like any other freckle-faced, redheaded young man, except for the shrivelled legs and the scar down the right side of his face.

“How you doing, Brandon?” Alvin gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Brandon’s lip quivered. It took me a minute to figure out what he was trying to say, but Alvin didn’t seem to have a problem understanding.

“I know,” Alvin said. “It is too bad about Jimmy.”

I strained to hear Brandon’s response.

“Yeah, it is hard,” Alvin said. “But we haven’t given up hope.”

I was impressed Alvin could understand the torrent of syllables.

“I don’t know where he could have gone. Hey Brandon, this here’s Camilla. She’s helping us find Jimmy. She wants to talk to you about Canada Day.”

I shook his hand. Brandon’s left-hand grip was remarkably strong. Despite her apparent need for speed, Brandon’s mother hovered near the door of the media room.

Fifteen minutes later, we were no further ahead. Thanks to Alvin’s translation, I learned Jimmy normally got to Brandon’s between five and six o’clock on Sunday afternoons. As a rule, they would watch two videos that Jimmy had picked out while eating takeout pizza courtesy of Brandon’s parents. Brandon didn’t read comics. They watched the videos until just before ten in the evening, when either Tracy or Vince came to pick up Jimmy. Sometimes, if Tracy and Vince were tied up, Brandon’s father would drive Jimmy home. Once or twice, he’d taken a taxi. But the routine was unvaried. Nothing we hadn’t known when we’d arrived.

Brandon’s mother interrupted. “Don’t forget, Brandon. We had something special planned for Canada Day.”

Brandon said something.

Alvin said, “He didn’t forget.”

She raised her sculpted eyebrow at the response. “Well, you didn’t mention it, dear.”

“We didn’t ask him,” Alvin translated. For my benefit, I guess. They both seemed to understand everything Brandon said.

You had to know how to ask the right questions with these kids. And not only that, but you had to ask the questions right.

“Did you have something special planned for Canada Day, Brandon?” Alvin asked.

“Yes,” his mother said. “We had a big barbecue planned for the evening. Steak and corn on the cob. Strawberry shortcake. Brandon was terribly disappointed when Jimmy didn’t show up. We waited and waited.”

Brandon said something.

“You’re right,” Alvin said. “Jimmy must have had a reason.”

“At the time, I was annoyed because Jimmy didn’t let us know he wasn’t coming. It held up our little party, and I believed he was being thoughtless,” Brandon’s mother said.

“What time did you expect him?”

“We were going to get started about six. He knew that.”

“You said his mother should have called us.” This time Brandon spoke clearly enough for me to understand.

She flicked a glance at Alvin. “I assumed he’d changed his plans. And Brandon was so disappointed, it made me really angry at Jimmy.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Alvin said.

“Jimmy wouldn’t miss a barbecue,” Brandon said.

“I didn’t realize that fully,” his mother said.

I strained to understand Brandon. “I told you he called me,” he said.

“I should have contacted your family, Alvin,” she said.
“Maybe they would have started the search earlier. I feel so responsible.”

“It’s easy in hindsight,” Alvin said, with admirable grace.

“Perhaps. I keep asking myself why I didn’t make that call.”

That was a good question. “Why didn’t you?” I said.

She hesitated. “Jimmy often did foolish things. And he could get himself into a state over silly situations.”

Brandon said, “Sometimes thinking isn’t Jimmy’s best thing.”

“That’s true,” Alvin said.

“I don’t think anyone in your family mentioned the barbecue,” I said to Alvin.

“They probably didn’t know.”

“Why wouldn’t they? They keep such close tabs on him.”

“You have to know our Jimmy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe he thought they wouldn’t let him come.”

“But he always came here, every Sunday and special occasion. Why would he hide it?” Brandon’s mother said.

I caught the implication. “So you’re saying that Jimmy told lies?”

“No,” Brandon said.

“Yes,” his mother said.

Alvin kept his cool. “Not really lies. He always gets caught when he tries. He doesn’t mention things he should if he thinks he won’t get to do something. Or thinks he’ll get into trouble.”

Brandon’s mother pursed her expensive lips. “That’s a form of lying.”

Alvin shrugged. “It’s our Jimmy.”

Brandon said something I couldn’t make out.

His mother said, “Maybe I do feel guilty.” If you went by
the look on her pinched face, she not only felt guilty, and rightly so, but she felt angry at Jimmy for causing it.

“You’re going to find him, Allie,” Brandon said.

“Thanks, Brandon,” Alvin said.

“Did you find out who Jimmy was afraid of?” This time even I understood every word.

Alvin said, “Jimmy was afraid of someone?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“When?”

“He told me on the phone. When he called about the barbecue.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he might come a different way to my house. The boardwalk. He said he saw someone bad from a long time ago, and he said he was afraid.” Brandon looked exhausted by the effort of making himself understood.

“But he didn’t say who?”

We couldn’t mistake Brandon’s expression. I had seen that grief on the faces of everyone who cared for Jimmy.

“I told him don’t be stupid, don’t go on the boardwalk. I told him to come the regular way. I told him to call Vince.” Brandon appeared to be struggling for breath. “I told him. Now he’s gone.”

“Oh, my God,” his mother said. “You should have said something.”

Tears trickled down Brandon’s scarred cheeks. “You would only get Jimmy in trouble.”

“Brandon,” I said, “help us. Did Jimmy say if it was a man he was afraid of?”

“Just he saw someone bad, and he was afraid.”

“And he didn’t say what he was afraid of?”

“No.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Brandon?” No mistaking the accusation in his mother’s voice.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Really,” she said.

Brandon stared at the wall. “Jimmy said don’t tell anybody. He said it’s a secret.”

“Did Jimmy call back?” I said.

“No. And he never came.”

“Do you know where he phoned from?” I said.

Brandon looked from me to Alvin to his mother. “He didn’t say.”

Alvin leaned over and gave Brandon a hug. “Thanks, Brandon. You have been such a big help. We didn’t know Jimmy was afraid of someone.”

“One more thing, Brandon. Did you tell the police?” I asked.

“They didn’t ask me.”

Alvin said. “This is important. We will have to talk to the police.”

“I’ll tell them about the phone call, Allie. But you have to bring Jimmy back.”

So we have something to get our teeth into,” I said as we schlepped the long walk down King’s Road towards the Fergusons’.

“What?”

“Now we need to find out who Jimmy was afraid of.”

“How?”

“We know he wasn’t afraid of anything when he was with Thomas.”

“We think we know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“We didn’t ask Thomas if Jimmy was afraid of anything.”

“Fine. We’ll ask him. And we need to find people who might have seen Jimmy on his way from his visit with Thomas to Brandon’s place.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it was Canada Day, so people would have a different routine. Lots of visitors, tourists.”

“We can get a call out through the police and the media.”

“I guess we have nothing to lose,” Alvin said.

I thought we had plenty to lose if we didn’t pick up the pace.

To my surprise, Ray Deveau answered his phone when I called from my cellphone. Even more surprising, he didn’t sound unhappy to hear from me and quite pleased to get this possible lead from Brandon.

He said. “Thanks. We’ll get on it right away. We’ll talk to
Thomas again too and see if he knew anything about this.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me to mind my own business?”

He chuckled. “Appreciate the tip. Take care of yourself.”

“Imagine that, Alvin. A cop who doesn’t get pissed off.”

• • •

Mrs. Parnell waved at us from the porch next door as we shuffled up the front walk to the Château Ferguson. Even Gussie was shagged out. But I could tell by Mrs. P.’s triumphant expression that she had a juicy bit of intelligence. We headed next door and met her on the porch. She lit a Benson and Hedges and dragged deeply on it. “Donald Donnie and Loretta seem to know a lot about what’s going on in Sydney.”

“No kidding,” said Alvin. “They’re the biggest gossips in town. Part of what I love about them.”

“One has to admit, it has a certain convenience.”

“Don’t say that in front of my mother.”

“Never mind. It’s turning out to be a blessing. Donald Donnie and Loretta think Jimmy had another friend your family didn’t approve of, dear boy.”

“He did?”

“Apparently.”

“They said they had made several attempts to pass the information on to Vince, but he wouldn’t even stop to talk to them.”

“Vince doesn’t like them much.”

“He told them to mind their own business and not to bother your mother.”

“That’s Vince for you.”

I said, “We need all the leads we can get.”

“Thank you, Ms. MacPhee.

“Who did they say his friend was?” Alvin asked.

“I believe I have this right, someone named Reefer. Is that possible?”

“Lord thundering Jesus,” said Alvin.

“What?” I said.

“That would be Reefer Keefer.”

“They also said that Dr. Vincent Bigshot Ferguson shouldn’t be so high and mighty, since he got into plenty of trouble when he was a nipper.”

“Really?” I said. “And then he grew up to be a jerk.” Before Alvin could offer the
pro forma
defence for a family member, I asked, “Could this Reefer Keefer be the person Jimmy was afraid of?”

For some reason Alvin thought that was funny.

Mrs. Parnell regarded him fondly. “Apparently not, Ms. MacPhee. But they thought you might want to talk to him on the double, because he’s supposed to be leaving town.”

• • •

To find Reefer, Alvin, Gussie and I hoofed seven blocks back downtown and then up a three-story external staircase on what once would have been a grand old home of some steel baron. Whoever owned the building might have been a bit unclear on the concept of maintenance. Alvin seemed calm, but as we climbed, I wondered if the staircase might not tear itself away from the house and collapse, tossing us onto the roughly paved yard below.

As we reached the top landing, which was furnished in empty cases of Moosehead, KFC containers, Pizza Pizza boxes and a stack of
National Enquirer
s, the door opened.

“Man, what a bummer.” The man in the doorway had
shoulder-length wavy brown hair. He was of average height, slender but well-built. He was a ringer for the man from Galilee. He grabbed Alvin in a bear-hug. Gussie ducked.

“Thanks.” Alvin managed to preserve his precarious dignity, even with his earrings jingling.

“I’m ripped up, man, really ripped up,” Reefer said, his eyes flickering in my direction. “You know, really right ripped up.”

“Yeah.” Alvin adjusted his cat’s-eye glasses. “This is Camilla. She’s okay.”

“No shit, man?”

“Yes. And we wanted to talk to you before you left town,” Alvin said.

Reefer jerked. “Leave town? I’m not leaving town? What makes you say that? No way. I’m not leaving town, man.”

I looked around for a suitcase.

Alvin said, “Okay, relax, Reefer. Camilla’s a lawyer. Everything you say will have the seal of confidentiality.”

This was the first I’d ever heard about this seal of confidentiality, and I would have been interested in learning a bit more about it, but I lost my train of thought when Reefer wrapped his arms around me.

“Glad to meet you, man. Never know when you’ll need a lawyer.”

I only had to sniff the air to conclude that, in Reefer’s case, this could be any minute.

“Come on in, man,” Reefer said, peering over the rickety railing at the street below.

Alvin and I lurched into a one-room dwelling.

“Did you see a patrol car? I’m having a bit of trouble with backdraft on the fan. Have a seat,” Reefer said.

I looked around. Everything in the place was a throwback to the seventies, including the cushions on the floor. I figured the
seventies was the last time the place had been cleaned too.

“I’ll stand. We’re in a bit of a hurry. Aren’t we, Alvin?”

Alvin had moved a guitar, a huge pile of CD jewel cases and a duffel bag and made himself comfortable on the sofa, which also seemed to be a daybed and possibly a desk. “Sit down, Camilla. You won’t get anything out of Reefer if you’re standing.”