Bone Harvest - Mary Logue [72]
Folger squirmed as they moved in on him. He looked like he was about to bolt from his chair. “What’s this about?”
“I had a visitor today,” Claire started. “Ray Sorenson. He told me about a recent conversation he had with you.”
Folger stood up with a jolt and his chair tipped over backward. “I don’t need to say a thing.”
“No, of course you don’t. But then we might need to take you back to town for questioning.”
“I was just trying to warn the boy about his immoral behavior. I would think he would be grateful that I came to him and not to his father.”
“A warning is one thing, Mr. Folger, but the threat of blackmail is another.” Claire pointed at his chair. “Why don’t you sit back down?”
Folger perched on the edge of his chair as if he were ready for instant flight. “Ray must have misunderstood.”
“I don’t know. He seems like a pretty smart kid to me. He seemed very clear about what had happened between you two. He was even considering talking it over with his father.”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“I think he would.” Claire paused, then went on. “But that isn’t really what we’ve come to talk to you about. Ray also mentioned that you’re quite interested in the Schuler murders. That you have files on what happened. We were thinking you might be able to help us out.”
“It’s nothing. I have a few newspaper clippings. I’m sure most of the older people in this community have the same.”
“Why this interest?” It was the first question Tyrone had asked. Claire felt it was well timed.
Folger tucked his chin into his chest and stared at the porch floor. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try us,” Tyrone urged.
“What do you know about what it’s like to live in a small community?”
“I’m learning,” Claire said.
“Those people were our neighbors. They went to church with us; they sent their kids to school. As far as I know nobody had a big beef against them. And then, boom!—like that they were killed. And nobody saw anything; nobody knew anything. They never found out who did it. We were none of us safe after that. We all followed what had happened. People talked of nothing else.”
“So you kept track of it all.”
“Yeah, to try to understand. I always felt like if we would just know what had happened we’d be a little safer. You could guard against it happening again. But the not knowing was horrible. It ate us up. It changed us.”
Tyrone leaned in a little closer to Folger. “It sounds awful.”
However, Tyrone’s sympathy had the reverse effect on Folger. He reared back. “There’s no law against keeping a scrapbook.”
“No,” Tyrone said. “Could we see it?”
“Stay here. I’ll go get it from the house.” Folger walked into the house and was gone about five minutes.
Claire gave Tyrone a what-do-you-think look and he shrugged. When Folger returned, he had a big scrapbook with a picture of a doe and a fawn on the cover. The pages and the clippings inside were golden brown with age.
“Would you mind if I looked this over?” she asked him. “It might help with the case.” She wanted to see what he had gathered. On first glance it didn’t look like he had anything she hadn’t already gotten from Harold Peabody.
“I guess, but I want it back. I do bring it out from time to time and I did show it to Ray Sorenson. He seemed interested. Not many of the young kids are. I’ve always wanted to know the truth of what happened.” Folger looked at both of them. “And now it looks like I’m not alone.”
“I’m desperately hungry,” Tyrone announced when they climbed back in the car. He felt like he hadn’t had a good meal since he left Madison. He lusted after a juicy falafel sandwich from the Middle East Café or enchiladas with plenty of salsa, but doubted anything like that was available. There might not be any spicy food available in all of Pepin County.
“I think I can take care of that. If you’re not particular. We’re pretty close to the Fort.”
The Fort, he thought; he wasn’t even going to ask. “How about a beer?