The following morning Kurt was again woken by the sound of falling water, but this time it wasn't inside the room. Rain patted a steady beat against the window and Kurt could hear the distant sound of a shutter rapping gently against the side of the inn. Kurt pulled himself up and turned his head, fully expecting to see the same barely used, barren bed he had seen the previous morning. The sight that greeted him instead was quite different.
The bed next to him contained a soundly sleeping Magnus buried up to his neck in blankets to the point where there was hardly anything left of him to view. He looked like a little school boy sleeping in during winter break. In lieu of this the elder detective made no haste in getting himself ready for the day. Still by the time he had finished shaving, brushing his teeth and dressing himself, the lad hadn't even so much as twitched. Magnus needed sleep, that was for darned sure. Knowing that, Kurt decided to do a little sleuthing by himself. He usually worked better alone anyway.
With only a quick glance back, Kurt walked out of the room and latched the door as quietly as possible. His first stop was going to be the local police station. The previous night he had asked the chief of police to send someone over to the Tourneau house in case there was any evidence the kid had left behind in his rush and he wanted to see if they found anything. Besides, the city detectives had yet to visit said station since they had arrived in this isolated little town and Kurt wanted to get a glimpse of just how a small town ran things.
He pulled up to a building that was very similar to the wood cabins he had recently seen, only wider. Upon entering the station the detective wasn't really greeted by much. To his right sat an officer, filling out some paper work on a plain, almost bare desk. To the left of that, Kurt caught sight of a small office containing three occupants; an officer and two civilians by the looks of it. Kurt cleared his throat and the studious cadet looked up in surprise.
"Detective Wallander, sir!" he exclaimed. It was one of the officers from the first night. The tall one. "We weren't expecting to see you today."
"Um, no," replied Kurt. "I just wanted to ask how the house search went."
A look of confusion came over the man's face that caused the beginnings of a scowl to form across Kurt's features. "House search?" queried the officer, "Oh yes, the Tourneau residence. I'm afraid we weren't able to get over there. We had a fire last night, you see, nothing too serious, but being the size we are the policemen sometimes act as fire brigade. Awfully sorry about that…" That last part was added somewhat nervously, probably in response to the loud groan that turned into more of a growl that emanated from the gruff detective's throat.
"Well that's just wonderful." Kurt spit out the words like they had left a foul taste in his mouth. "Fine, then, I'll take care of it myself but first I'm going to check out that other kid we told you about. Jimmy…Jimmy"
"Jimmy Sorn," supplied the officer.
"Yeah, where does he live?" queried Kurt.
The cadet moved back to his desk and rifled through a few papers. "Um…306 Chartreuse road." He said. "It's a little bit past the Tourneau home." As they talked the office door opened releasing Mr. and Mrs. Bromstad as well as a large, burly man with a full beard who Kurt could only assume was the chief of police out here.
When the trio saw Wallander they approached him, the chief extending his hand. "Ah, Detective Wallander. I recognize you from the photo they sent over. I'm Chief Aaron Scmidt." He said in a voice that was broad and robust.
Kurt took the proffered hand and shook it, "How do you do. I was just getting some information from your officer here. I'm a bit surprised to see the pair of you in the station." He said turning his gaze toward the Bromstads. "Is everything alright?" he added.
"Yes, as well as things can be," replied Mr. Bromstad. Both his eyes and the eyes of his wife, however darted over to the chief who in turn looked at Wallander with a broad smile.
"They merely wished to see how the investigation was progressing. I assured them that we are doing everything humanly possible to solve this most terrible crime." The words had a genial air to them but they still sounded a bit forced to Kurt's ears and the detective had to resist the urge smirk at the chief's inflated assertion. If they were doing everything 'humanly' possible then Kurt wouldn't need to do everything himself as he was now forced to do. "I couldn't help but overhear that you are planning to search the Tourneau residence?"
The question brought Kurt out of his musings. "Yeah," he replied. "First I'm going to speak to another kid that we think might be involved."
"I apologize for not searching the house as you had asked. We are a bit of a small operation here." The chief said through a hearty chuckle. The too wide smile was still present on his face and it had Kurt wondering if this man had been spending just a little too much time around the politicians.
"It's fine," said Wallander, even though it was anything but. "Better if we check it out for ourselves anyway. Thanks for your help." Or lack thereof it. Wallander then headed to the door and made a swift exit. Something about that whole scenario felt far too awkward. In fact it made his skin crawl. Not much he could do about that now though.
When he reached the Sorn household he was in a bad mood. His last conversation left him with the distinct feeling that a new ulcer was beginning to form in his stomach. He flew past the ornate bronze gates and didn't even glance at the brightly colored rosebush adorning the lawn that stood out in deep contrast to the murky grey of the sky. He ignored the grand appearance of the stone covered walls and completely overlooked the, were those gargoyles on the corners of the lengthy balcony? After exiting his car, Kurt waited impatiently on the doorstep practically rocking back and forth on his heels in annoyance.
The woman who answered the door was short, about 5 feet or so, with dark brown hair that puffed up a little at the bottom. She wore a knee length, black dress overtop of which was a white apron. Kurt could only assume that this was the maid. "May I help you sir?" The pronunciation was clear but a slight accent tipped the end of her words.
"Uh, yes," he answered her. "My name is Kurt Wallander. I—"
"Ah yes, the detective," she cut in immediately. "The chief called the misses a short while ago."
"Did he now?" replied Kurt. That irritated him a little. He knew how small towns worked, they tend to keep close knit, but he wasn't too keen on having his suspects know he was coming. It gave them more time to coordinate stories.
The maid led them through a corridor into a pristine parlor room. Clearly the woman was good at her job. Everything was so clean it practically sparkled in the sunlight that showed through the large bay windows. It reminded the detective of one of those glass displays you would find in a museum or a jewelry store. One giant, stone covered glass display.
A middle aged woman with long, coifed blond hair walked slowly into the room, the heels of her wine-colored shoes clicking on the marble floor. "Good afternoon detective" she almost purred at Wallander, offering a graceful smile with the words. "I believe you have come to ask my family some questions."
"Erm, good afternoon." Kurt returned the greeting albeit clumsily. "I actually came to talk to your son for a bit."
Mrs. Sorn cocked her head to the side and allowed her smile to lengthen at the edges. Had he not been trained to notice all possible details Kurt might have missed the near imperceptible stiffness that pulled at her features. "Of course," she answered. "He's in the den. Follow me, please."
She led Kurt down a large white corridor accented with gold details. The walls were hung with elegant paintings, not so many that they were completely obscured by pictures but enough so that the wall looked full. It was clear each one had been strategically placed to create just the right effect.
The two continued to a large winding staircase that descended into the basement. When they reached the bottom Kurt had to glance back up the dizzying spiral to make sure that he was still in the same house. The immaculate white of the staircase clashed horribly with the dark chocolate brown walls he now saw. On one side of the room sat an indigo couch adorned with a crumpled up afghan strewn across the cushions. An obscenely large, silver flatscreen was attached to the opposite wall. The room wasn't overtly messy. Just a few things thrown here and there on the floor, but after seeing the rest of the house, the room looked like a garbage heap by comparison.
Over in the corner, a young man sat at a computer desk typing furiously. At first glance he reminded Kurt of Magnus (minus the goofy curls). He was a lean youth with blonde hair like his mother's. He swiveled his chair to face his two guests and then laid his hands down on his lap. "Hello detective," Jimmy said in utter politeness. He was attempting an even, amiable tone but there was a definite quiver in his voice that he couldn't seem to control. The kid was nervous.
"How do you do?" returned Kurt smiling in an attempt to keep the lad at ease. "I just need to ask a few routine questions, okay?"
Jimmy shifted in his seat. "Yeah, sure," he said.
"Alright, um, do you mind if I sit?" Kurt asked as he pointed to the couch. Jimmy shrugged his shoulders then nodded his head. Kurt eased himself down on the cushion, inwardly grimacing at the slight pop and kink of his hips and knees, and began his questions. "You knew Linda Bromstad, correct?
"Yes," stated the boy.
"Do you know anyone who might have had a reason to kill her? Had a grudge against her, perhaps."
There was a shake of a head followed by an "un un."
"Okay." This was getting him nowhere, slowly. Maybe a change of tactics. "Perhaps you could help us with something else. We're looking for someone you know; John Tourneau. Have you seen him lately?"
Jimmy's body tensed briefly and in that moment his eyes flicked quickly to the left, to where, Kurt just realized, Mrs. Sorn was still standing at the bottom of the stairs. "No, I, uh, haven't seen him." The boy stuttered out.
Well, that made things a little clearer. "Pardon me," Kurt said, shifting his head to face the lady of the house, "would you mind allowing us some privacy?" Though the words were kind enough the tone brooked no argument.
"Oh, of course," she giggled softly to herself and headed back up the stairs offering what appeared to be a reassuring smile to her son. A message passed between them, Kurt was sure of it but with the very little he had to go on he couldn't jump to any concrete conclusions about what that message was. It could have meant they knew something but giving the political life running through the whole of this town it could have just meant 'don't do something stupid that will attract publicity'.
Kurt waited until he could hear the obnoxious click of the woman's heels above them before turning back to Jimmy. The kid held himself tightly while his fingers twitched uncomfortably in his lap. His file said he was twenty-one but at the moment he looked to be about the age of a twelve year old who was still afraid of the dark. This boy didn't have the stomach to be a killer. He would have cracked long before this, Kurt was sure of it. That left him to wonder, though, just what was this kid so afraid of?
"It's just the pair of us, now Jimmy." Kurt said in the most comforting tone he could manage. "Whatever you say here, I will ensure to the best of my ability that your parents won't find out. Okay?"
"Okay," replied Jimmy tentatively but if he held himself any tighter he would have started to shake. The experienced detective in Kurt could tell that this would most likely prove useless but he had to ask anyway.
"We've come across some information that says Linda's death could have something to do with an incident that happened four years ago," he began. "An incident you were a part of." Recognition dawned in the boy's eyes. "Can you tell me anything about that?"
Jimmy averted his gaze as he spoke, "It was a stupid thing," he said. "It was really pathetic when I think about it."
"But you were sent away for it, to a correction facility, right? You and John." Kurt was pushing the boy, he could tell, but he needed something to go on.
"We stepped over the line," he admitted, "but it was stupid, like I said. Nothing worth…nothing worth killing Lin over." After that quiet statement the kid clammed up. Nothing more could be gotten from him. Sighing, Kurt stood and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. "I guess that'll be it," he said to which the boy only nodded.
After winding his way back up the stairs and bidding the illustrious Mrs. Sorn a good day, Kurt made his way back to his car slamming the door shut once he was inside. This day was beyond frustrating now. Not only was he dealing with an incompetent "police force", which he hesitated to even call it that, but he really felt like the entire town was hiding something. Of course, it just so happened to be the something he needed to break open the case. He was certain that without that something he didn't have any semblance of a lead. The day went to hell, plain and simple and it was only halfway through. Of course if that wasn't enough, Kurt's phone began to ring.
Sorry this took so long guys but school is school. I do have the next chapter written I just have to type it up. I can promise you more action and for those of you who need thier fix, more Magnus.
Reviews are always welcome. I love them dearly.