Mr. 8

Chapter 12: The First Victim

The snow crunched under Denton's boots. The white picket gate stood open behind him, caught in the un-shoveled path. Looking up at the big Victorian house, Denton thought of Linda's painting, even though this was nothing like the Gutman House. There was no cupola, and instead of being red, it was painted white with dark green trim. But they shared in the town's history, as if they were each part of Bexhill's DNA.

He had gotten Agatha Radcliff's address from an old feature piece in the Shopper's Express. They hadn't actually printed her address, but there had been a picture of the house and a mention of the street, which was more than enough information to find it.

The interview had been a fluff piece and comprised mostly of her talking about the philosophy behind her art. There was also a small summary of the Radcliff's long history in the town. The artist's house had been in the family for generations.

On the Gazette's website, he had come across her obituary. The headline was: Community Mourns Local Legend. There were five paragraphs discussing her life and her career but not a word about the cause of death, only that she died on November 7th.

Denton went back and scanned articles from that period. He finally came across a short piece, dated the following day, titled: Bexhill Artist Found Dead. Other than mentioning her prominence in the community, the only facts were that her body was discovered out by Salem Creek Mill, and that the police set the time of death between midnight and 3:00 a.m. There were no other reports on Agatha Radcliff after that.

Why would there be so few articles about the death of such a famous local figure? He could only think of one reason. The same reason which had kept mention of Meyer's death from reaching the front page.

Looking at his desk calendar, he saw that the 7th was just over three weeks before his visit to Meyer's Grimshaw apartment. According to the police report, Alfred Reynolds had been killed on the 16th. Could Agatha Radcliff be the first victim?

Denton sat at the computer clenching his eyelids shut, trying to will the memory of that day in the police station back. What was the name on the second folder? It had sat there across from him the entire time. He could remember that it had been a light blue color. There had been a sticker along one edge with a three letter and three number code, with a bar code next to it. There was something written in blue ballpoint on the tab.

The more he thought of it, the more certain he was that it had been Agatha's name on the folder's tab. He also became equally certain that he had never looked at it and his mind was playing tricks on him.

There was a way to find out.

Grabbing his coat and his car keys, he told Linda he needed to go to the hardware store to get more windshield wiper fluid.

He hadn't completely lied. Two brand new jugs of the stuff sat in his trunk. The stop had taken only five minutes. He should have a good half hour before she expected him home.

After a long wait and two rings of the bell, the door was answered by a kid in a grubby sweatshirt. This had to be the surviving son, who was mentioned in the obituary.

Greasy brown hair that looked as if it hadn't been combed in days hung over his pale face. Dark circles under his eyes made him look gaunt, despite the chubby baby fat around his jaw. It was hard to guess his age, but he must have been old enough that he could be attending Milton. In fact, Denton had to look twice to make sure he wasn't one of his students. Feeling very old, he wondered when it was that he started to think of people of that age as kids.

"Edward Radcliff? I am very sorry for your loss. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Are you another cop?" the boy asked.