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Prologue Covina, California, Fall 1985
Leaning against a tremendous and venerable weeping willow at the north end of the cemetery, Detective Jay LeRoy witnessed the burial of Mr. Darcy. Languorously retrieving from his suit pocket a lighter and pack, he placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. With practiced ease, his hands replaced the items while his eyes followed the Pastor, who was pacing back and forth along the casket, holding an open bible. “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want,” he heard the pastor recite. Withdrawing the cigarette from his mouth, he let out a deep breath and dropped his gaze to the brown grass at his feet. Silently, he listened as the pastor continued, “He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.” Listening to the words of this ritual, he could not be immune to its significance. Psalm 23 was a passage with a heavy and disheartening meaning. With twenty years in this line of work under his belt, he still held compassion for the families that suffered loss. Standing here today, he couldn’t help but feel sickened by this tragedy; the victim being laid to rest was no older than he. Taking a draw on his Marlboro, his eyes fell front row and centered on Darcy’s fifteen year old son. Detective LeRoy’s heart fluttered in an inconsistent beat at the recognition that it could be his son standing there today with his hands thrust into the pockets of his suit and his head hung low. Shaking off those thoughts, he focused his gaze on all three children. Darcy’s daughter Georgiana and the boy George Wickham stood sobbing on either side of William. Reality was sometimes too harsh. Having read the case file, he found that the Darcy children had lost their mother five years prior, to cancer. Now their father, under even worse circumstances; his heart went out to them. By late afternoon, thirty or so of Mr. Darcy’s closest friends and family laded the inside of the estate. Detective LeRoy mingled with the guests, offering his condolences. From what he could tell, Mr. Darcy had indeed been the well-respected, upstanding citizen and the excellent father that everyone spoke of. It wasn’t long before the detective found William sitting in a dark corner, appearing desolate. Approaching him, he walked over and sat down on the couch across from the boy. In an attempt to break the ice, he offered, “It was a nice service.” William, who looked lost in the depths of self pity, chose not to respond or even acknowledge him. “I know what a difficult time this must be for you Will, but…” “William.” The boy hastily corrected him. “Forgive me…William.” He paused a moment waiting for the boy to make eye contact; but he did not. After a moment, the detective continued, “As I was saying, I need to ask you a few questions regarding our investigation and I was hoping that you’d be able to accommodate me. When’ll be a good time?” The young man that sat before him was noticeably troubled. After a long silence, the boy shrugged his shoulders and inquired, “What is it you need to talk about?” Considering the boy’s provocation, Detective Leroy ignored his peevish tone, leaned back on the couch, crossed his legs and stared up over the boy’s head to collect his thoughts before speaking again. “I understand that you were the one that found your father?” With a look of determination, the boy took a moment, drawing in a deep breath as if mustering up the emotional strength deep within to go over these grueling facts again, before replying softly, “Yes, I did.” “I read that you gave your statement to the officers when they were called to the crime scene. Is that correct?” “Yes.” William responded with a firm nod of his head. “Have you been able to recall any other facts that may be pertinent to the case since that time?” “No.” “William, we have a very nice lady down at the station who can listen if you’d like to talk. You could talk about anything. She’s trained to help children such as yourself deal with grief and loss.” A huff and dirty glance were all that was given in response from the boy. Detective LeRoy felt an inch of headway and an ounce of hope with that. Although the eye contact was brief and somewhat of a glare, he felt he was getting through to the boy. Deciding to take his line of questioning in another direction, he asked, “What sort of relationship does George have with your family?” The boy gave the detective a blank stare. A moment later he replied in a sharp tone, “My father became his legal guardian a few years ago when he lost his parents.” “I see.” The detective replied. His hands, cupped together in his lap, made several loud popping sounds as he cracked his knuckles before continuing. “Your aunt will be taking you children in now?” “Yes, when we’re not away at school, we’ll live with her. Those arrangements have already been made if that’s a concern.” The boy sneered as he finished up his sentence. It became clear to the detective that the boy’s cooperation was coming to an end. At that moment the aunt in question walked by the doorway; noticing Detective Leroy in conversation with William, she quickly walked over to her nephew’s side. “Just one more question, William, and then I will find my way out.” Uncrossing his legs, the detective sat up straight, leaning forward to look William directly in the eye. In a low voice he asked, “Is it really true that you and your sister stand to gain the Darcy fortune now that your father is deceased?” The boy didn’t respond to the question, allowing a look of contempt to wash over his face. William’s Aunt Catherine, however, had no such scruples. “Detective Leroy,” she stated, “it’s of common knowledge in this community that the Darcy children are well provided for. William has suffered a great deal in his lifetime, more than some twice his age.” She motioned for her nephew to stand before continuing to address the detective, “I believe that William needs to retire now and get some rest.” Pausing, she waited until he had exited the room before finishing. “And as for you, I’m sure that we’ll need to do a great deal of praying if this is an example of your fine sleuthing skills. All we ask of you is that you find Mr. Darcy’s killer.” Turning her back to him, she advanced several paces across the room before looking over her shoulder to say, “Good day, sir,” and disappearing into the hall. Catherine’s sharp tongue drove Detective LeRoy’s thoughts back to the harsh reality of the investigation. At the present moment, he held little confidence that this case would be solved in a timely matter. He knew just three days after the crime that the small amount of evidence collected would need the ‘good graces of God’ in order to help lead to an arrest. Taking a moment, he dropped his head and made a silent prayer request himself for this family. |
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