Free The Boy Must Die by Jon Redfern

as to why she didn’t intervene on behalf of the boy if he was in any way suicidal.”
    “Why didn’t she?”
    “Didn’t you ask her?”
    “I’m asking you.”
    “Boys lie, Inspector. You should know from your years of experience how certain psychopathic types can fool you.”
    “Are you saying Cody was a psychopath?”
    “Let me take that back. He was disturbed. No, he was very unhappy. And on drugs. He saw Sheree frequently to discuss his hopeless home life.”
    “So she would have observed if he were depressed, even suicidal.”
    “Sheree tends to care too much, Inspector. She smothered those boys with attention, and in my view couldn’t really see how secretive or desperate they were.”
    “Did you see it?”
    “What are you implying?”
    “You seem to have an answer to everything, Professor. You see things, you make educated guesses, and yet in the case of Cody, in spite of what you say, you did nothing.”
    “What could I do? I didn’t want to meddle. Sheree needed to be on her own.”
    “Do you think Cody or Darren would have listened to you if you had got involved?”
    “Oh, come now, Inspector. You know better than that. Speculation of that kind is nonsense.”
    “Hazard a guess anyway.”
    “No. I didn’t care for them. Stayed away from them as much as I could.”
    “How often did the boys come here?”
    “On and off, twice a week, perhaps. Some nights they ate us out of house and home.”
    “They slept here as well?”
    “Sheree awarded them each a bedroom.”
    “You sound resentful, Professor. Did you resent them being here?”
    “Since when did you become a psychologist, Inspector? I was not the least resentful, despite what you think you can interpret in my voice.”
    “Did Cody or Darren ever steal anything from you?”
    “Money, you mean?”
    “Anything. Money, pens, paper.”
    “No. I can’t remember.”
    “Did you ever smell marijuana smoke in the house?”
    “No, but Cody had dime bags sticking out of his pockets half the time. Sheree once brought him down from a bad acid trip and essentially saved his life.”
    “You were there?”
    “I couldn’t help but hear the noise the boys were making, yelling and carrying on.”
    “After Cody’s body was found, did you notice any change in the way Sheree and Darren got along?”
    Randy paused and gazed hard at Billy before answering. “Sheree tried to get Darren to go to another counsellor. He said no. I think she felt she was losing touch with him.”
    “Over what?”
    “You’d have to ask her, Inspector.”
    “Can you think of anyone who wanted to hurt Darren?”
    “No.”
    Billy stood up. “Walk around with me, Randy. Show me the back door. Show me the basement stairs. I need to go down there for a short look around afterwards.”
    “Certainly. There’s not much to see.”
    Randy led Billy into the kitchen. A large yellow room with a sink and fridge and a canister set with a yellow triangle pattern. On a rack, under the cupboards, hung a roll of paper towels, each towel with a border of little yellow flowers.
    “Here.”
    Randy pointed to the closed kitchen door.
    “Wide open this was. And the back entrance door, too. Kicked open, I figure. Both the doors slammed up against the wall.”
    “Any other signs of damage or vandalism in the house?”
    “No.”
    “What’s behind this door?”
    Randy took hold of the kitchen door and pulled.
    The cramped back porch was sunny. One wall held a large eight-paned window with glass shelves tacked up to hold pots of geraniums. On the bottom shelf was a neat row of empty plastic Coke bottles. A round green garbage can crowded a corner by the back door. Billy peeked inside. Nothing.
    Butch joined them. Billy examined the floor. Small bits of dried mud led from the back steps, through the porch, and towards the kitchen. “Looks like they walked through the yard. Or through someone’s yard.”
    A pair of rubber boots sat by the green garbage can, partly covered by a sheet of