Jonathan Kellerman - Compulsion

Nice to see him thinking about the future.

The meeting with Antoine Beverly’s parents was set for noon the following day.

When I got to Milo’s office, a note on the door said A: Rm. 6.

Largest room, at the end of the corridor. An Interview in Progress: Do Not Disturb sign dangled from the doorknob.

I knocked once and went in.

A middle-aged black couple sat across the table from Milo. A wallet-sized photo of a boy was placed in front of the woman and after she appraised me, her attention returned to the image.

The man next to her wore a stiff brown suit, a white shirt, and a gold tie secured by a silver clip. An American flag pin rode his lapel. His gray hair was tight; in front it faded to skin. Under a white thread of a mustache, his smile was obligatory.

The woman had on a charcoal pantsuit. High waved hair was one shade darker than her clothes. She drew away from the photo with reluctance and placed her hands flat on the table.

Milo said, “Mr. and Mrs. Beverly, this is our psychologist, Dr. Delaware. Doctor, Gordon and Sharna Beverly.”

Gordon Beverly half stood and sat back down. His wife said, “Pleased to meet you, Doctor.”

The pressing of cool dry flesh. I sat next to Milo.

He said, “Mr. and Mrs. Beverly brought me this picture of Antoine.”

I studied the picture, maybe longer than I needed to. Smiling, clear-eyed boy with a space between his incisors. Short hair, blue shirt, plaid tie.

“Doctor, I was just explaining that you were involved because of the complexities.”

Sharna Beverly said, “We could use a psychiatrist because if it wasn’t that maniac in Texas, it was some kind of maniac. I knew it from the beginning, kept telling those other detectives.” A silver-nailed finger touched the edge of the photo. “It’s been so long. No one did anything.”

“They tried,” said her husband. “But there were no leads.”

Sharna Beverly’s stare said he’d blasphemed. She turned to me. “I’m here to tell you what Antoine was like, so you’ll understand he didn’t run away.”

Milo said, “No one suspects that, ma’am.”

“They sure did sixteen years ago. Kept telling me he’d run away, run away. Antoine liked his practical jokes but he was a good boy. Our other boys went to college and that was Antoine’s plan. He especially looked up to his biggest brother, Brent. Brent has a degree in sound engineering and works on motion pictures. Gordon Junior is an accountant at the Water and Power.”

Gordon Beverly said, “Antoine wanted to be a doctor.”

“You probably heard this a million times,” said his wife, “but not knowing is the worst. Doctor, be honest with me. Knowing what you know about maniacs, what chance is there this devil in Texas is telling the truth?”

I said, “I wish I could give you a solid answer, Mrs. Beverly. But there’s no way to know. His story’s certainly worth pursuing. Every angle is.”

“There you go,” she said. “ Every angle. That’s what I told those detectives sixteen years ago. They said there was nothing more to do.”

I glanced at the picture. A boy frozen in time.

Sharna Beverly said, “They should’ve had the courtesy to answer our phone calls.”

Gordon said, “They answered them at first, then they stopped.”

“They stopped pretty quickly.” Daring her husband to argue.

Milo said, “I’m really sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, Lieutenant. Let’s do something now. ”

Milo said, “Getting back to what we were talking about, ma’am, how exactly did Antoine get that magazine job?”

“Magazine subscriptions,” said Gordon Beverly. “Nice white neighborhood, supposed to be safe.”

His wife said, “He’s not asking what, he’s asking how. Antoine found out at school. Someone put a flyer up on the bulletin board just before summer break. Antoine loved to work.”

“Antoine had ambitions,” said her husband. “Talked about being a surgical doctor. He liked anything scientific.”

Sharna Beverly said, “The flyer made it sound like easy money, magazines selling themselves, just jumping into people’s hands. I told Antoine that was foolish but he couldn’t be convinced. He copied down the number and went to a meeting on a Saturday. Took two friends, all of them agreed to do it. They got sent to Culver City, which in those days was all white. They worked five days steady and Antoine sold the most subscriptions. The following Monday is when Antoine never came home.”

I said, “Did Antoine or the other boys have any unpleasant experiences on the job?”

Sharna said, “Antoine said a couple of people called him nasty names and slammed the door in his face.”

Gordon said, “The N word. Other things along those lines.”

“Why they sent those boys into a white neighborhood,” said Sharna, “I’ll never understand. People in Crenshaw read magazines, too.”

“Supposed to be safer,” said her husband.

“Apparently it wasn’t,” she snapped.

He touched her elbow. She shifted away from contact. Ran a hand over the snapshot. “They threw those children in with strangers.”

Milo said, “Did the detectives sixteen years ago canvass the neighborhood where Antoine delivered?”

“They claimed they talked to everyone,” said Sharna. “If they didn’t, are they going to admit it?”

She folded her arms across her chest.

Milo said, “What was the name of the company that hired Antoine?”

Sharna said, “Youth In Action. They closed down after Antoine disappeared. At least in L.A.”

“Because of Antoine’s disappearance?”

“After Antoine, the schools wouldn’t let them advertise. I went to the library, used a computer to look them up, couldn’t find any mention of them. Did that yesterday, when I found out we were coming here. The only person I remember was a Mr. Zint, called to tell me how sorry he was. Sounded to me like he was worried we were going to sue him. Didn’t know anything helpful.”

I said, “Antoine worked with two friends.”

“Will and Bradley,” she said. “Wilson Good and Bradley Maisonette. Friends since kindergarten. They helped carry the coffin and cried like babies. Said Antoine was selling the most.” Reluctant smile. “Antoine had a way of talking you into anything.”

Milo wrote down the names.

Sharna Beverly picked up the photo and held it to her breast. Her fingers covered the top of Antoine’s face. His eternal smile made my eyes ache.

I said, “Did Brad or Will report anything unusual those five days?”

She said, “No, and I asked them. The van dropped them off one by one in Culver City. Antoine got off first and was supposed to be picked up last. When the time came, he wasn’t there. The van waited an hour, then drove around looking for Antoine. Then Mr. Zint took Bradley and Will back to the school, which is where he always picked them up. Then he called the police. Bradley and Will were shook up, Bradley especially. He already lived through a drive-by.”

Gordon said, “Not in our neighborhood. Visiting a cousin in Compton.”

Sharna said, “It was me, I’d go straight to Texas, put hot pokers on that devil, run one of those electrocuting lie detectors they use on the al-Qaidas at Guantánamo. That’d clear it up soon enough.”

She glared at her husband.

He fingered his flag pin.

“Lieutenant,” she said, “do you have any feeling about that story that devil’s telling?”

Milo said, “I wish I did, Mrs. Beverly. The sad truth is these lowlifes lie as easily as they breathe and they’ll do anything to get out of dying.”