Chapter IV
THE SUN CASCADED through Mae's window and highlighted the crystalline pattern forming around the edges of the window.
Mae rolled over and stretched her hand toward Henry's side of the bed, hoping against hope that yesterday had been a bad dream.
The cold, smooth surface of the blanket still tightly wrapped under the mattress confirmed to her that her nightmare was real.
Pushing herself upright, her hazy eyes tried to focus as she took in her wrinkled and twisted clothes from yesterday.
Standing to straighten her skirt, a sudden wince crossed her features as she put her full weight onto her sprained ankle.
She crossed gingerly to the door. As she exited her room, she noticed Simon's door ajar. She peeked inside, but he wasn’t on his bed.
His hunger must have gotten the better of him this morning.
She crept down the stairs and checked the time on the clock before making her way to the kitchen.
She had overslept. Some biscuits were gone, and the jam jar had been left open with the knife still inside.
Mae thought of Henry’s note and she began to panic.
Had he gone to school today? He must have.
She looked towards the stairs. Simon's door was ajar. She had passed it in the dark before dawn. His train set was still on the floor — he had promised to put it away before school. He had never come home to keep his promise.
* * *
Before The Note
On her way to her room, she paused to check on Simon. As she cracked the door open, she saw him lying on the floor rebuilding his favorite train set for the hundredth time. “It’s getting late, Simon. Why don’t you put the train away for tonight and hop into bed?” she suggested.
“But, Mama, I am so close to finishing this last loop,” he moaned, pointing at the section of unfinished track stretching behind the door.
Mae inspected his intricate track route that he had assembled in just the few short hours after dinner.
He had used books to prop up portions of the tracks to create hills, and an old broken kite was folded over another portion, denoting a tunnel.
Mae smiled as she saw multiple routes converging into one track from the other side of the room.
She saw that he had taken out his tin soldiers and blocked off one section of the railway.
“Simon, you lined up all the soldiers over here on the track,” she said, pointing. “Now they can’t get through.”
“Of course I did, Mama. That’s not the way the train needs to go.” He clicked the last short piece of track into place and grabbed his train, winding it up as he walked to the other end of the room. “See, watch.”
He set the train down on the track, and the little wheels began chugging along one of the multiple lines that converged.
As it continued, he narrated, “The train is coming from Grand Central. See the big hill it goes over?” Mae watched the train climb the track propped up by the books.
“Then it converges with all the tracks here,” he continued, pointing out the switch point where the tracks came together.
Mae saw that the next section of track had a sharp curve to the left. “Oh... I don’t think it’s going to make that bend, Simon!” Her voice escalated as the train approached the L-shaped turn.
“Yes, it will. I’ve already tested it!” he grinned as the train swooped gracefully to the left, just barely hanging onto the track on its way by.
It curved around in the recently finished loop, disappeared under the kite only to reappear at the far side of the room and finally come to a halt at the track’s end.
Mae clapped and Simon bent over in a playful bow. As he stood up straight, he waggled his eyebrows at Mae and made a funny face. Mae giggled before noticing his swollen cheek. Her heart squeezed, and she went over to hug him. “Okay, Master Conductor,” she breathed into his ear, “time for bed.”
He squeezed her back and hopped into bed.
“Hey, what about cleaning up, mister?”
“Aww, Mama…” he whined slightly, “Can’t I do it in the morning?”
“Fine, but I want it cleaned up before you leave for school. Promise?”
“Okay.” She kissed the top of his head and pulled the door shut.
An hour later, she was barely sleeping before the sound of Henry’s feet in the foyer woke her.
She heard the front door open and close.
She closed her eyes again. He must have forgotten something important at the office—but at this hour?
It would be a long night for him if he decided to sleep there again.
Deciding she wouldn’t catch him anyway by the time she reached the foyer, she rolled over, tucking her hand under her pillow and nodded back off to sleep.
* * *
She had heard Henry leave. She had rolled over and gone back to sleep. She had not asked where he was going.
After looking at the evidence of his normal breakfast, she considered whether she should check on him. No—she was overreacting. He would have a hard enough time at school today missing Henry. She didn’t need the boys to make fun of him too, once they saw his mother there.
She grabbed a biscuit and slathered jam on it over the sink, biting into the hard, dried-out sugary brick. Pouring herself a glass of water, she washed the biscuit down and forced herself to finish it.
After cleaning up the mess and herself, she retrieved the police captain’s summons and set out for the 4th Precinct.
The commute had been draining, but finally she pushed open the door of the station.
She was taken aback by the stench of stale alcohol and cigarettes.
The relative quiet of the exterior was sharply contrasted by the internal bustle.
Men in blue uniforms and suits zig-zagged past each other, most reading as they walked.
Ragged-looking men and women sat listlessly in little wooden chairs lining the right-hand side of the room.
She approached the large desk that stood guard and separated the uniformed men from the outside world.
The man behind the desk was scribbling something down on a sheet of paper, unaware of her presence.
Her eyes flitted around the precinct as the familiar taste of her forefinger took up residence between her lips.
When she realized the surrounding noise wouldn’t allow for her presence to become known, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she ventured.
The man’s head snapped up, apparently surprised at her sudden appearance. “Good mornin’, Ma’am. What can I do for ya?”
“I’m here to see a Captain Cormac?” She proffered her notice to him. He glanced down and scanned the words. Immediately his countenance softened.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said softly. “I’ll let him know you are here. Please have a seat right over here.” He came out from around the desk and guided her to a section of seating well away from the right-hand side of the room.
She rested on the edge of the chair and placed her purse and hands in her lap.
Her eyes followed the back of the man’s head until he knocked, then disappeared into a glass-doored office.
Presently, he reappeared and trotted back over to her.
“He will be right with you.” He smiled awkwardly as he reclaimed his seat at the desk and returned to his work.
Several minutes went by as Mae studied the various characters milling around the room.
One officer was dragging in a poorly dressed man reeking of whiskey, whom he promptly deposited on the bench on the far right wall.
A loud ring from the central phone cut through the stale air.
A distant hallway echoed with a slurred and tuneless song.
Several men were smoking cigarettes in a huddle around a large blackboard whose writings Mae couldn’t make out at this distance.
Mae’s head spun as she tried to block out the noise.
A young man dressed like the notice boy materialized to her left.
“Mrs. Turner, the Captain’ll see ya now.
” Mae straightened herself and followed him through the maze of desks and bodies to the entrance of the glass-doored office.
“Cap, Mrs. Turner.” He waved his hand toward the interior as he exited.
Mae inched into the office and stood just inside the door.
The man sitting behind his desk finished signing something and raised his eyes to her face.
He was in his early 60s with a similar navy uniform as the officer the day before, but his had two blazing yellow bands at the neckline.
As she drew closer, she noted the deep lines criss-crossing his face and the puffy bags holding up his weary, bespeckled eyes.
“Come in, come in.” He directed her from his seat.
He shuffled some papers around on his desk and brought one to the top of the pile.
Mae stood patiently in front of the desk and kept her eyes trained on the man’s large hands holding the paper at a distance while he read the report.
“Says here that your husband was found yesterday in his office and that it may have been deemed suspicious.” He paused.
“Yes, sir,” Mae acknowledged.
“Says here that the coroner examined the body and notes.”
Here it was. The police captain would confirm that Henry had been murdered. Mae braced herself.
“Says here that it was due to natural causes.” He glanced up over his reading glasses at her.
The air in the room grew thin as her eyes lost focus. She sensed the man come around the desk and usher her into a chair. “Danny!” He yelled out of the doorway, “Get this woman a glass of water!”
Someone produced a glass of water instantaneously.
Mae reached out a shaky hand and tried to grip the glass.
The water level teetered back and forth to the glass’s edge.
She brought it to her lips and felt the fetid water touch her lips.
The captain removed the glass from the desk and leaned his hip back against the surface.
“Natural?” Mae mumbled.