Janice Kay - Back Against The Wall

“Beth?” A pleasant tenor voice preceded the man. “That you?”

“Yes, there’s someone here to see you.”

As soon as he saw her father, Tony had to discard preconceptions he hadn’t realized he’d formed. The guy didn’t have a receding hairline, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose or narrow, stooped shoulders. No sweater vest or corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbows, either. If he smoked a pipe, Tony couldn’t smell it.

Instead, the man was tall, thin, handsome, his brown hair graying at the temples. He hadn’t shaved today, and his stubble was clearly gray. Tony saw a resemblance to Matt, in particular, and perhaps to Beth in the bone structure and shape of the eyes. Only Matt’s coloring—blond and blue-eyed, like his younger sister—kept him from being the spitting image of his father.

Tony couldn’t help recalling the straw-yellow hair he’d glimpsed inside the garage wall.

“Bethie?” Perplexity had her father looking from his daughter to Tony. “Who’s this?”

Tony stepped into a comfortable family room with aging carpet and furnishings. Floor-to-ceiling, built-in bookcases covered one wall.

“Mr. Marshall? I’m Detective Navarro with the Frenchman Lake Police Department.”

“Police department? Are you a friend of Beth’s?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. I need to talk to you about something your son and daughters found in the garage. Perhaps we could sit down.”

Appearing bewildered, he sank onto a well-worn recliner that faced a television. “Certainly, but... I don’t understand.”

“Dad, we found something upsetting—”

Tony laid a hand on her arm, silencing her with a shake of his head. “Ms. Marshall, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak to your father alone.”

Alarm flashed in her hazel eyes, but she subdued it enough to nod and say, “I understand.”

Her father watched her go outside with a concerned expression he transferred to Tony. “Is something wrong?”

How was it possible that not one of his three adult children had gone into the house to say, Hey, Dad, we found something strange? Especially given that this was his house. His garage.

Tony went for blunt. “We’ve found what appears to be a human body behind wallboard in your garage.”

John Marshall only stared at him. “Did you say a body?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But...who found it? How?”

“There was an old hole in one sheet of wallboard. Beth took a look in it and called us. I agree that it does appear to be human remains. Crime scene investigators will be here shortly.” Undoubtedly as thrilled as he was to lose their Sunday off. “In the meantime, I need to ask you some questions.”

“I don’t understand. Nobody has gone into the garage in years. How could someone have gotten in, or—” Even he boggled at the unlikelihood of a killer getting around decades’ worth of accumulated belongings to stash a body.

“I suspect the remains have been there for many years, Mr. Marshall. The body appears to be at least partially mummified, which can happen under some circumstances in a dry climate like ours.” Insect-free circumstances, as this would have been until the damage opened the hole, likely much later. He paused. “Because you reported your wife missing, I need to ask about her.”

Obviously perturbed, Marshall said, “The police were convinced she’d left on her own.”

“I understand you found a note.”

“Yes, when I sat down at the computer that evening and moved the mouse, I found that Word was open to a document she must have created. It was brief.”

“Do you still have it?”

He shook his head. “We’ve replaced that computer several times since. I’m sure I printed it for that police officer, but I didn’t need to for myself.” Old pain parted the curtain of vagueness. “I could tell you what it said word for word.”

Tony preferred to locate the printout in a file at the station. On an investigation, he rarely trusted anyone.

“Did the police fingerprint the computer mouse?” he asked.

“It was only one officer, and he didn’t suggest anything like that. He really wasn’t here very long.”

Tony understood. People went missing all the time. Law enforcement response was quite different when a child disappeared, but adults most often did turn up later.

“We thought she’d call.”

“Had you quarreled right before she disappeared?”

“Right before?” he said in apparent surprise. “Well, I don’t know. That was a long time ago. She’d been annoyed with me, but I hoped whatever was bothering her would pass.”

Tony barely refrained from shaking his head. How could this guy fail to grasp the implications here? Well, sure, she and I weren’t getting along. Save the note on the computer? Why would I do that?

“Did you hear from her?” It was conceivable he wouldn’t have told his kids, depending on what was said. Or that he’d choose to lie now.

“Never a word.” He sounded puzzled. “Didn’t seem like Christine, but... Bethie was old enough to take over helping her sister and making meals, so nothing changed all that much.”

Unbelievable. His wife vanished into thin air, but in his view, nothing much changed because, hey, his fifteen-year-old daughter stepped up and kept the family running. Either John Marshall was the most self-centered human being Tony had ever encountered, or he was guilty as hell. Maybe both.

The conglomeration of stuff in the garage made sense now. Tony was willing to bet a pile of boxes had started growing at that exact spot in the garage shortly after Christine Marshall had run away from home. There was a good chance, in fact, that her husband had immediately made sure the one stretch of wall wasn’t visible, in case the police actually troubled to do a walk-through of the house.

Tony rose to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Marshall. I need to ask you to stay out of the garage. We’ll block both doors with yellow tape.”

A look of glazed bewilderment was all the response he received.

As he went out the French door, he heard a spate of voices. The department’s two crime scene investigators must have just come around the side of the house, both suited up in white Tyvek and carrying a toolbox, camera and more. Matt and Beth had obviously hopped right up, while the baby sister didn’t bother. Arms wrapped around herself, she had summoned an expression that was a cross between pouty and distressed. Was self-centeredness hereditary?

“Jess,” Tony said, nodding. “Larry.”

They both appeared grateful to see him. Their job didn’t usually include a lot of interaction with victims’ families.

He looked at the Marshall siblings. “You might want to wait inside with your father.”

“Can’t we go home?” Emily blurted. “Do we have to sit here?”

“Do you all have your own cars?”

Nodded heads.

“That’s fine, then. Let me get phone numbers and addresses first.”

Beth’s chin jutted out. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” her brother said, suddenly belligerent.

Tony raised his eyebrows but only said mildly, “That’s up to you.”

He jotted down Emily’s contact info. She fervently hugged Matt and Beth, then fled.

No loss.

Tony stepped into the garage to join his team. Individual interviews with the siblings could wait until he knew what he was dealing with.

* * *

BETH WENT TO check on her father, to find him sitting in his recliner, staring into space. He must not have moved.

“Dad? Are you all right?”

He turned his head. “How could this happen?”

“You mean, us noticing something was off and checking it out?”

“No, that the detective asked questions about your mother.” His fingers bit into the arms of the recliner. “I don’t understand.”