Bringing Adam Home - Les Standiford [14]
Campbell was a younger man whom Walsh had gotten to know at the Diplomat Hotel in his lifeguarding days. Campbell was a pool boy, a decent, hardworking kid who’d never had much of a home life or any chance for a college education, and Walsh had always liked him and felt sorry for him—“Dudley Do-Right,” he nicknamed him. When the Walshes started to move up in the world and he and Revé bought a house, Walsh and his wife invited Campbell to live in one of the spare rooms. He was to help out around the place and get himself into the community college. As long as he stayed in school, he could stay with the Walshes, but if Campbell quit school or flunked out, he’d have to leave. That was the deal. Unfortunately, Jimmy had dropped out of school a few months ago, Walsh told Matthews during their interview. And Walsh had been true to his word.
“So where is this Jimmy Campbell now?” Matthews asked, casually enough, after their exam had ended.
“Dudley?” Walsh shrugged, clearly still disappointed with his former ward. “He’s out there helping with the search.”
Matthews took another look at Hoffman’s list of subjects to be examined, which Hynds had passed along. No Jimmy Campbell among them. A guy living in the Walsh house until a few months ago, intimately connected to the family, and he’s not on the list? He glanced back at Walsh.
“You got this Campbell’s phone number?”
Walsh was puzzled, but he was already reaching into his pocket for his address book. Matthews jotted down the information, and by 9:00 p.m. that evening, Jimmy Campbell was in the examining room at Hollywood PD, and Joe Matthews was hard at work on his next subject.
Hollywood, Florida—August 8, 1981
In the wee hours of Saturday morning Matthews finished his work with Jimmy Campbell. He was tired, and what he had learned during his interview with Campbell had wearied him even more. He completed his notes on the examination and took a walk down the hall to Detective Hoffman’s desk.
“Yeah?” Hoffman asked in his normal surly fashion when Matthews approached.
“I finished with John Walsh,” Matthews said.
“It took you long enough,” Hoffman said, with a glance at his watch. “So what’s the story?”
Matthews shook his head. “He’s clean. No involvement, no guilty knowledge.”
Hoffman said nothing, but he seemed anything but pleased. “So who’s next?”
“I already did ‘next.’ A guy named Jimmy Campbell.”
Hoffman stared back, surprised. “That name’s not on the list.”
“I know,” Matthews said, and then began to explain why he had called Campbell in and what he had learned during the interview.
When he finished, Hoffman was beside himself with excitement. “That’s it. There’s our fucking guy,” he said, halfway out of his seat.
Matthews held up his hand. “What are you talking about? You’re not even listening to me.” He pointed to his notes, where everything of real importance was spelled out:
The following are the relevant questions asked of Mr. Campbell during his polygraph examination:
Concerning Adam’s disappearance, do you intend to answer all my questions truthfully?
Answer: Yes.
Do you know who took Adam?
Answer: No.
Do you know where Adam is now?
Answer: No.
Did you conspire with anyone to cause Adam’s disappearance?
Answer: No.
Are you withholding information from the police concerning Adam’s disappearance?
Answer: No.
Do you suspect anyone of taking Adam?
Answer: No.
Do you know who took Adam?
Answer: No.
Did you take Adam?
Answer: No.
“I worked him every which way. He’s not involved,” Matthews assured Hoffman.
“Bullshit,” Hoffman responded, shaking Matthews’s report between them. “You tell me the guy was living in the house, doing what you say he was, and he’s not involved in the crime somehow?”
Matthews sighed. He knew what he’d written down, what