Chapter two
The Art of Sowing Doubt.
As she pushed open the office door with a cheerful"Good morning!", Eve had expected to discover Mark and the Chief over coffee.
A different more hectic scene unfolded before her eyes.
The Chief, papers scattered before him on the kitchen table, was reading attentively.
At the other side of the office Ed on the phone, waving hello to her as she, surprised, approached the table.
She posted herself next to the Chief's wheelchair.
"Good morning Chief," she repeated with a lovely smile, benching slightly forwards in an attempt to see what he was reading.
Robert Ironside smelled her perfume and felt his heart go a little faster but he didn't flinch.
"Nice to see you back Officer. Hope you enjoyed your holiday?" she continued as no reaction came.
She knew her boss and his strange manners and so she allowed herself to tease him once in a while.
What she didn't know was how difficult she made it for him to resist to the attraction she usually exercised.
He fancied Eve. In fact he loved his Eve.
She was every kind of a woman a man could dream off and desire.
Yet he was also her boss which should have made it easier on him to justify his behavior, but it didn't.
On top of that she was an aristocratic, stylish young lady. And even if she obviously enjoyed to play cop herself she was not the kind one could imagine fancying dating a cop, let alone a crippled cop.
True. He hated it if someone used his handicap to treat him differently and now he was flamin' exploiting it himself to justify his attitude towards Eve. It hurt like hell but he saw no alternative.
She began to lose her temper.
"Is someone finally going to tell me what's going on here?" she asked while looking from the Chief to Ed and back. "And where's Mark?"
Ironside finally put down the paper he was holding and looked at her for a while.
"Well....?" she impatiently asked again.
"You just look great officer Whitfield." was, much to her surprise, Ironside's composed reaction.
"Judging from your impatience I assume you're ready for the sergeant's clarifying briefing." Ironside added with an ironic smile.
She didn't say a word, turned her back upon him and Ironside watched her walk over to Ed.
Ironside picked up his papers again and had to admit that Eve's arrival had cheered him up.
It didn't take Ed very long to fill her in. She too recalled the Boyden case and reacted with the same disbelief as the Chief the day before.
"The big problem," Ed said scratching his head, " What reason can we invoke to bring the young man in? He's done nothing wrong... and... being someone's spitting image isn't likely to be considered a crime in this country." Ed was thinking aloud, strumming his fingers on the desk.
Eve too seemed lost in her thoughts and was pacing up and down.
"How can you expect us to think clearly, Chief?" she asked while waving a bundle of papers in front of her face. "This place is an oven?"
"Stop pacing around and sit down Officer. You'll see. It works." the Chief counseled without looking at her.
Eve noticed Ed laugh. She took a chair and sat down opposite Ed, arms crossed and giving him a look as if she had been insulted.
From a distance Ironside glanced at her and her reaction and managed an almost imperceptible smile.
As usual it was Ironside who finally made the decision as to what to do.
"Let's not make it more complicated than it already is. We'll invite Mr. Perkins for a nice talk and from there we'll see what happens next."
"Ed, Eve, I want you to go to the hotel and talk again to the manager and older staff. Take Boyden's picture with you and see what you can come up with. Ok. That settles it than. On your way. Both of you." Ironside went on impatiently.
"And Mark?" Eve suddenly remembered.
"He's alright," Ironside replied, "I expect him back any minute now. Off you go!"
"Say hello to Mark will you, Chief?" Eve almost shouted as Ed was already closing the door behind them.
All alone again Chief Ironside headed for the frig. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in a gulp.
Eve was right. The heat was almost intolerable. Luckily an important drop in temperature had been announced for tomorrow.
"We've already survived seven days in this furnace, we'll survive another one" Ironside puffed aloud, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
He returned to the kitchen table and looked at all the papers. He had already read them over again, one by one, and there was absolutely nothing in it that this time had attracted his attention more than it did four years ago.
Had he let himself embark on a wild goose chase? He didn't know. Yet he had that unpleasant premonition.
"Mark! What's keeping you so long?" he muttered aloud, turning his chair with a jerk towards the entrance.
He hated waiting. It had always been his weak spot. And now confined to that wheelchair waiting had become even more unbearable than when he had had to wait on his feet. Rarely if ever had he felt more helpless than when he had to wait.
Ironside swallowed and rebuked himself. Self pity wasn't going to help.
But he sure would be happy to see Mark come back with the meager objects collected at the murder scene.
About twenty minutes later Mark finally arrived.
"Where have you been Mark? Don't tell me they misplaced the box?" Ironside reacted rather agitatedly.
"Come on, let's see what you've got. Spill it."
Mark still hadn't said a word as he headed for the table where Ironside had shoved to one side the clippings and other papers. Mark sighed and shrugged his shoulders as he emptied the apparently insignificant contents of a large brown envelope
Profoundly disillusioned he added, "That's all." and looked at his boss who also remained perplex at the sight of these few objects.
"You're sure that's all?" Ironside insisted looking inquiringly at his aide before he reversed the envelope anew, as if he expected something more to fall out.
"I knew there wasn't much but I didn't remember it was that little," he said with one hand separating the small objects. A couple of rings, some coins, a broken necklace, even some rusty fish hooks... Nothing really worthwhile. Ironside sat back, looked again at Mark and then shook his head in disappointment. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
"Mmmm... unfortunately that seems to be all there is to the treasure." was Mark's despondent reaction.
"There's really nothing here that can be used as proof, Chief. Only small objects. They could belong to just anyone."
Ironside knew it was looking for a needle in a haystack. And even if they did come up with something what would it change. Boyden was dead.
He had to admit that he absolutely didn't feel comfortable about the whole set up but Ed had been so convincing and enthusiastic he just had let himself being dragged along, like a novice. He let out a deep sigh.
A little wince of pain on Ironside's face as he reversed his wheelchair to fetch some papers he had left on the desk gave away that the ache in his back had turned up again. Mark didn't fail to notice it.
"Your back's troubling you again? I'll get you an aspirin." a concerned Mark said, already on his way to the kitchen.
"No need Mark. It'll pass." Ironside replied with determination. "It's been much worse before."
Hunched forward in his chair the chief suggested, "Let Ed and Eve come up with some good news and it'll make me feel better instantly."
His words weren't cold yet as the phone rang.
Mark answered: "Hi Ed... , Yeah... sure he..."
"Put on the speaker." Ironside said impatiently.
"What's up Ed? Did anyone recognize him? Have you talked to Perkins, Jr.?" he went on questioning Ed.
"Chief! Chief! I have good news." Ed interrupted him successfully and a silence followed.
Mark, amused, observed his boss. Ed had cut him short, which was rather unusual.
"Chief...?" came a surprised Ed.
"Go ahead Ed. Tell me everything. Was he recognized?"
"We showed Boyden's picture to the hotel manager and some senior staff members. All but one identified him as Mr. Charles Perkins. Only the desk clerk wasn't convinced and studied the picture with special attention. He had serious doubts."
"Finally!" Ironside sounded relieved. "Finally something to go on."
"How about that Mr. James Perkins? Is he around Ed? Convince him to have a talk with us here at the office." Ironside ordered.
"Eve is now talking to him and you know how persuasive she can be." Ed tried to reassure him.
"Ok, Ed. I trust you both to bring him along."
Mark turned the speaker off and looked inquiringly at his boss.
"I still don't get it Chief? What on earth can you expect this young dude will tell you?"
Ironside didn't answer. He didn't know. He didn't have the faintest idea as to what to expect. Even if they were to discover something useful, then what? Would it be sufficient to have the case reopened officially?
Each question led to another one.
"Well, Chief?" Mark insisted.
Ironside still didn't answer as he felt he was losing his grip. With each minute he grew more tense and irritable. And the dammed heat wasn't helping either.
He wheeled over to the bureau and back to the kitchen table, working off nervous energy.
Mark was right. Shouldn't he consider calling it off before it got out of hand. Before more harm was done. "Boyden is dead," he repeated to himself, "and that is irreparable."
That's when Ed and Eve arrived accompanied by a nice looking young man.
The Chief turned his chair towards the entrance and was astonished at what he saw.
"Ed was right." flashed through his mind. The resemblance was almost perfect.
Eve did the introductions.
"Chief this is Mr. James Perkins..." and addressing Perkins. " Chief Ironside... our boss."
As the Chief and James Perkins shook hands the young man asked straightforward, nodding towards the wheelchair, "Car accident?"
Ironside was frankly a little taken aback by this direct question. This was an unusual attitude. He was rather accustomed to the opposite: people feeling uneasy at the simple sight of his wheelchair. It had hurt him time and again even if he didn't show it. But then, that too he had gotten used to, or at least so he liked to think.
"A bullet," he answered emotionlessly looking the young man in the eyes, hoping he would leave it at that.
"This nice lady invited me down here for I do not know what. But I must admit she tickled my curiosity and I found it hard to resist her appeal." Perkins went on looking admiringly at Eve.
Ironside sat back in his chair and took a deep breath, relieved the conversation had taken another turn.
"You do have a very charming assistant, sir. Let me congratulate you." he continued without taking his eyes off Eve.
Ironside politely invited him to take a seat.
The first impression he made was that of a well-mannered, articulate, very straightforward young fellow.
Someone with his mind set on following a well defined path.
Ironside observed their guest and noticed he had that typical English composure about him. He did not in the least seem impressed by what befell him. He was very calm and looked around obviously wondering what would follow next.
He did not even seem to be bothered by the oppressive heat in the room and if he did he hid it with a remarkable self control.
The conversation started out casually, making acquaintance, talking largely about his dream to find a nice place to live somewhere in the San Francisco area.
Remembering Ed's account Ironside tried to find out more. "I thought you were born here?"
"Well actually I was. Only... you see... mom didn't expect me at seven months" he said laughing.
"So in fact you never resided permanently in the States?" the Chief went on.
"Oh no. My dad worked for an exclusive London travel agency and for years on end travelled a lot throughout this country. His job was to look out for new locations, interesting places..., happenings... The last years I accompanied him once in a while and San Francisco was always our last stop. His way of taking a little vacation himself you could say." Perkins added with a perceptible nostalgia.
The Chief had deliberately left the Boyden file, his picture and the handful of apparently meaningless objects, scattered before him. The moment they all sat down at the table he had pushed it slightly back, yet making sure most of it remained clearly visible.
When Mark offered them coffee Perkins didn't hesitate to ask for a cup of tea instead.
"A hot cup of tea. Excellent against this inhumane heat." was his advice and adding with a twinkle " I hope the weather forecast is correct and it'll be over by tomorrow."
As Mark brought him his tea he gave a hearty laugh. "Rain is more my cup of tea." lifting his mug towards the Chief as if he was proposing a toast. "London... rain... you get the picture?"
Ironside felt it was time to come to the point. Having noticed that Perkins had tried to get a better look at what was on the table the Chief picked up Boyden's picture and gave it to him. "I saw you were looking at it. Do You by any chance know this man?" he questioned.
Perkins examined it and keeping his eyes focused on the image said, "If I didn't know better I'd bet this could be my father, but ... a few years younger. And then ..., no. I absolutely do not know the person in this picture" he said handing it back to the Chief, who put it down clearly visible in front of him.
"My father's hair is done differently and... this one lacks that tiny birthmark just above the right eyebrow." he went on, completing the description. "Look! ... it should be here." he pointed out to the Chief and then Ed and Eve.
"Of course for someone who only met him once I'm sure these differences would go unnoticed." he added with much self-control.
"Yes, that speaks for itself." the Chief could only agree.
Immediately after that the young man stood up and walked around the table to have a better look at the tiny objects. Without hesitation he picked one out and smiled as he admired it in the palm of his hand.
The others just looked at each other in silence and then back at James Perkins.
"Know what this is?" he said tightly holding up the little coin between thumb and forefinger.
Looking around at them he repeated his question with insistence. "Does anyone of you know what this is?"
"A foreign coin." Mark reacted first.
"Yes. But not just a coin. This is a lucky charm!" Perkins went on quite excited. "It's German. Ein pfennig or if you prefer one penny and in Europe it often stands for luck. My father used to have one."
"Used to?" Ed picked up with renewed interest.
"Yes! He ... he always had it stuck in his pocket until our last trip over here." Perkins paused. Then, visibly affected, he sighed sadly, "He just couldn't find it anymore after we'd returned to London."
His change in attitude did not go unnoticed and some tension became perceptible amongst the participants of this odd set up.
The Chief looked at Ed to shut him up. He knew his sergeant would have it his way and that was exactly what he wanted to avoid. After all they were not interrogating a suspect, but only having a chat with someone who was supposed to have valuable information.
"That coin, or lucky charm, as you describe it was found at a murder scene a little over four years ago." Ironside declared without taking his eyes off Perkins. "Two teenaged girls were found strangled in an abandoned beach cabin. No traces..., no real indications..., nothing concrete to lead us to their murderer. Except some people who saw a man talk to them on the beach."
"And that man..., that's him in the picture?" Perkins intervened, genuinely interested.
"There was nothing material that linked him to the murders. Except five witnesses who were so positive in identifying him, he was ultimately convicted." Ironside continued the expose.
"An alibi? Didn't he have an alibi?" Perkins asked surprised, definitely captured by the Chief's account.
"He had not or it could not be verified. The man had everything against him and on top of that he admitted having talked to those girls because they had asked him how much further they could walk along that beach. The cabin was at least half an hour away from the place they spoke to him. And that's the only time the witnesses went along with his defense." the Chief went on giving away his frustration. "From there on they could have met anyone." he added, straightening up his increasingly sore back.
"Poor man." was Perkins's reaction. "I guess... if those witnesses had encountered my father they could have had serious doubts." he stated.
The Chief stared at him in disbelief and so did the others. What was he aiming at?
Perkins looked around, visibly satisfied he was perplexing them, and underwent their bemused look without blinking.
He proceeded: "I remember that four years ago we left San Francisco one week before schedule. My father had kind off fallen ill."
A deadly silence settled.
Apparently still not satisfied Perkins increased the confusion to an extreme as he added: "But … maybe... you could also explain it as... my father fleeing the country."
It was getting more and more weird. Was he right out accusing his own father or was he merely playing?
No matter what the answer was he had an undeniable sense of drama about him, and he enjoyed putting on that personae.
Ironside and his team had heard enough.
They could not appreciate Perkins playful attitude. Deeply disappointed the Chief was outright appalled.
"This is not a laughing matter Mr. Perkins." he said indignantly. "The man in the picture is George Boyden. He never stopped claiming his innocence and finally hung himself last year."
The expression on Perkins face changed.
"You're right, sir. I... apologize. My attitude is totally out of line." he almost mumbled.
At last, looking apologetically to all present, Perkins expressed with some sympathy: "It is absolutely dreadful to imagine that a miscarriage of justice claimed someone's life. I... I let myself being carried away. It's just... you see... the resemblance with my father... it's so striking."
"And neither you nor your father haven't returned to the States since?" Ironside ultimately tried to find out, feeling more surprises awaited him.
Perkins remained silent for a few seconds. He raised his head to meet Ironside's piercing gaze.
"No sir. We unfortunately did not. Remember the lucky charm I just told you about? My father lost it."
"So what?" the Chief asked irritated, already convinced he was not going to like the answer.
"Well..., he had that strange feeling something was going to happen and I... I remember how he kept on searching for that coin. I didn't understand and just laughed at him because of all the fuss he made about it. Unfortunately about two months after our return to London he... he was run over by a cab. He was the only one to blame. I guess... he just wasn't paying attention."
The three others looked at each other and then at their boss who had expected anything, but that.
Perkins paused. Than declared, "He's been in a deep coma ever since."
"Any chance he'll wake up again?" Ironside queried, with a soft voice, hunching forward.
Perkins shook his head. "No...None." he sighed.
And as if he wanted to make up for his strange behavior earlier: "You can check out if you like. I'll give you the address. He's being taken care of at the Wellington Hospital in London. Here let me write it down for you." Perkins went on nervously looking around for a piece of paper.
The Chief held up his hand. "No need to. I do believe you."
He couldn't explain why but Ironside felt there was no need here to doubt the young man's words. He was sincere.
"I so much keep on hoping he'll wake up." Perkins proceeded calmly looking straight at the chief. "Just like I'm sure sir that you haven't given up all hope either to get out of that chair one day."
Ironside refrained from looking at his friends around the table, feeling them glance at him. They knew how sensitive he was regarding this particular subject. .
He didn't answer. He put up with it while the image of the doctor announcing him "Anything you like. Anything... except walk." flashed through his mind.
And "Hope...! Hope...!" that too echoed in his head. Even his three dearest friends didn't really know how much it was hope that in the end kept him going.
Being an intelligent, reasonable man the Chief realized this conversation wasn't going to make them any wiser. Quite the opposite.
Was or wasn't Boyden the innocent victim of coincidences? More than ever before doubt subsisted. Pushing on would only amplify the already existing confusion.
Reluctantly Ironside concluded this did settle it.
With a "I feel this will do." the Chief abruptly ended the talk. "I'd like to thank you Mr. Perkins for your..., kind acceptance to come down here and have this rather.... uncommon chat with us." he continued coldly. Turning toward Ed he said, "My sergeant will give you a lift back to the hotel."
It was clear he absolutely wanted to get rid of the man and put an end to what was becoming a farce.
James Perkins remained seated for a while, looked at them all, astonished. He expressed his disillusion by a mere "That's all?"
This reaction fortified Ironside's conviction that this young fellow enjoyed the act he was putting up. As if he wanted to make a point: make them understand he was not dupe.
Meanwhile Perkins had arisen from his chair determined to, in a last move, drive the point home. He bent over to the Chief and whispered in his ear, "Maybe it was my father after all. Who'll tell now?"
Ironside could not believe his ears. This he had never expected. He was speechless, and stared incredulously at the young man.
For a few seconds he felt anger was on the verge of taking over. He was one bundle of nerves. He took a deep breath..., hesitated... and then wisely chose not to react.
If Perkins was disappointed that no reaction came, he didn't show it. He amicably extended his hand but Ironside didn't shake it.
"I understand." he said with a feeble chuckle and headed for the door. Suddenly he stopped, turned around and addressed the Chief a last time. "Take care Sir. Life is a precious gift and always worthwhile even..."
"...even when you're a cripple." Ironside hurried to finish the sentence.
Perkins nodded and smiled at him. His eyes mirrored true understanding.
Ironside didn't get it. "That beats me." he thought, aware that, though normally being a good judge of character, he couldn't see through Perkins. This man was inconsiderately, even dangerously playful. On the other hand he attested of such a sincere, absolutely unfeigned, empathy. Something just wasn't right.
The Chief kept on observing him while James Perkins bid them farewell with a friendly: "Goodbye folks. It was nice meeting you."
Finally Perkins spoke to Eve "Maybe you'll let me invite you for dinner one of these days. I'd be honored if you would consider accepting."
"Officer Whitfield has some obligations awaiting her the next days." Ironside cut him short, having decided it was for the best of everyone to put an end to this burlesque masquerade.
Eve, surprised, looked at her boss, got the message, and confirmed it would be difficult.
Ed and Perkins were hardly gone when Mark and Eve bombarded the Chief with the same questions.
"Well... what did he whisper to you...? Did he gave away his father? He must have said something totally unexpected for you to be in such a state. Please, Chief...! Say something...! Tell us!" they begged. Unsuccessfully.
They kept waiting... Observed their boss expectingly. But he didn't give away anything.
The Chief visibly discouraged and disenchanted had reversed his chair. With his back towards his friends he summoned them to clean up the table.
"You're going to let it rest?" Eve continued, vigorously uttering her disappointment.
Ironside turned his wheelchair anew around, and looked hard at her.
"This is not like you, Chief." she insisted. "What about that lucky charm he recognized and...and the fact they left here before sche...,"
"Enough Eve!" he retorted brutally, cutting her short. "A lucky charm!" he exploded. "There're thousands of them circulating. God damn! Don't you think a man's life worth more than a penny. It could belong to anyone. It could be mine, be yours..." he was fuming.
Eve backed down and realized her mistake. "Sorry, Chief. I know,... but I so much..."
"Noooo! Enough!". He ordered, wheeling himself away from them.
Mark and Eve looked at each other and understood the Chief must have had good reasons to keep them out. If he had judged it was for the best not to repeat Perkins last words to anyone, then so be it.
Eve shook her head in disbelief while collecting the files. "He seemed such a nice guy. What a shame. What a mess." she almost whispered to Mark.
"Come on Mark let's get these things back to where they belong and then I think I''d better go home." she sighed, feeling that after her blunder she'd better keep out of Ironside's way.
A little while later, she went over to the Chief who still sat lost in his thoughts and put her hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Sorry, Chief. See you tomorrow."
He looked at her, gave her a bleak smile and nodded. "Goodnight Eve."
Before she reached the door Ironside called after her. "Eve!!! Forget what you saw and heard today. Just... forget it! That's an order! Got it?" ... See you tomorrow Officer."
With everyone gone he turned to Mark and looking drained, sighed deeply. "How about serving us a drink? We deserve it don't you think and … make it a large one Mark."
While pouring them that drink Mark noticed the Chief grab at his back.
"Wouldn't you prefer an aspirin, Chief?" he tried with some insistence.
"No... later." was the answer as he wheeled towards Mark.
"First the mind,... then... the rest." Ironside sighed again, accepting the well filled glass of bourbon Mark was handing him.
"Strange man that Perkins, strange behavior, kinda weird if you ask me. But... I guess you don't wanna talk about it right now,... huh, Chief?"
Ironside acquiesced silently with the eyes, emptying his glass. He asked for another one and then instructed Mark to get Ed on the phone and tell him not to return to the office.
"Tell him to take the evening off just like Eve. Tell him it's an order." he insisted. "Oh... and Mark, ...tell him also to forget he ever encountered someone called James Perkins. Tell him I do not want to hear that name ever again."