Back From The Dead

Chapter Eight

Tim Gaines had just finished his homework — his last big assignment before the semester ended — when there was a knock on the front door.

His mother was in the kitchen stacking the dishwasher, and his father was in the living room watching the news. Dad looked out the window and frowned. “It’s the police,” he said.

“What?” Tim got up from his chair and walked over to the living room window. Sure enough, a black and white squad car was parked in front of the townhouse.

Dad was already up and crossing the room to the front door. When he answered the door, Officer Frank Clapton stood on the stoop, a grim expression on his face. Officer Clapton had been one of the investigating officers in the Scott Bradfield and David Bruce assault case five years ago. In the intervening years he’d been a strong ally to the Gaines family, providing Tim with the occasional escort home, or stopping by to see how he was doing. When Jennifer Walbert spread the rumor that he was killing neighborhood cats for satanic sacrifices, Office Clapton had been the investigating officer. He’d even apologized to Tim’s parents that night for the trouble.

“Officer Clapton,” Dad said, opening the screen door. “What seems to be the problem?”

Naomi came in from the kitchen and Tim’s heart clenched in his chest when he saw the look on Officer Clapton’s face. “Evening Mr. and Mrs. Gaines. Sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid I have to talk to your son.” His eyes focused on Tim. For the first time they looked accusing.

“What’s going on?” Tim said. What did they say about me this time? Who said it? I thought they were finished with this shit! I thought it was finally over! Unbidden, Tim felt his eyes begin to tear up.

Officer Clapton extracted a slim notebook from his breast pocket. He flipped through to a fresh page, pen in hand. “Mind telling me where you were two nights ago, Tim?”

“He was right here!” Naomi said, her voice and features showing frustration and a hint of anger. “Where else do you think he’d be on a school night?”

“Please, Mrs. Gaines,” Officer Clapton said. Tim could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t want to question him. He turned back to Tim. “Specifically between the hours of ten-thirty P.M. and five A.M. yesterday morning.”

“He was asleep!” Naomi stated, the irritation clear in her voice now.

“I was asleep,” Tim said at the same time.

“Are you sure?” Officer Clapton asked.

“Will you mind telling us what this is about, Officer?” His father asked.

Officer Clapton ignored the question. He looked at Tim’s parents. “Can you two place Tim in his bedroom at those times?”

“Yes!” Naomi stated vehemently.

“Absolutely,” Dad said, his voice and stance firm.

Office Clapton regarded them calmly. “Two nights ago Reamstown Cemetery was vandalized. Somebody broke into one of the graves and stole…certain body parts. Reamstown police recovered evidence and called us. I wouldn’t be here if that evidence didn’t lead straight to you, Tim.”

Tim felt the blood run from his face. “Wh…what evidence?”

“Do you own a book called Back From the Dead?”

At the mention of the book, Tim felt like he was going to faint. He could tell that the cop knew Tim owned the book; he could probably see it in his face. “Um…well…yeah, I do, but — ”

“Reamstown police found it at the scene,” Officer Clapton continued. “It had your name and address written on the inside cover. Are you sure you were home between the hours of — ”

“I said he was here!” Naomi Gaines was suddenly in front of her husband and son, hands on her hips, a ragged dishtowel in her hand. She faced Officer Clapton, her features pure anger. “I don’t care what you found, Tim would never be involved in something so…so…”

“Believe me, I know how this looks,” Officer Clapton said. “I know the hassle you people have gone through with every religious freak in town accusing you of everything from killing animals for the devil to vandalizing school property with satanic symbols. I know you’ve had to endure years of rumors and harassment and I’m sorry for it. But…I have to ask this stuff. We have the book. It has your name and address on it, a crime was committed…parts of a human body were stolen!”

“I loaned that book out!” Tim said suddenly and then it all came out in a rush, like a confession. “I loaned that book to Gordon Smith. He asked if he could borrow it and I gave it to him Monday afternoon.”

Officer Clapton was writing in his notebook. “Gordon Smith?”

“Dammit, I knew it!” Naomi said. She turned away from the door in anger.

Tim felt suddenly like he was to blame. If he hadn’t been receptive to Gordon’s seemingly friendly overtures maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

“Care to tell me about the circumstances that led to you loaning this book to him?” Officer Clapton asked.

Taking a deep breath Tim told him, starting with the day Gordon inquired about the book and culminating in Monday when Tim finally turned it over to him. “He seemed to be…I don’t know,” Tim said, feeling embarrassed. “Interested in it. I thought…I thought we’d put aside our differences and…”

Officer Clapton offered them a small smile. “I know what you mean, Tim. You were trying to meet Gordon halfway. No problem with that.” He looked at Naomi and Jeff. His features seemed gentler now, more at ease. “I think we can get to the bottom of this,” he said.

“You damn well better,” Naomi said. She was in Officer Clapton’s face again, pointing her index finger at him. “I’ve had about enough of these goddamn self-righteous little shits spreading falsehoods about my son! Do you understand me!”

“I understand perfectly, Mrs. Gaines.”

“I hope you do.” Naomi was so upset she looked like she was going to cry. “I’m…I’m sorry for blowing up at you like this, Officer Clapton, it’s just that — ”

“Listen,” Officer Clapton said. He took a step inside the house. Jeff and Naomi stepped back to allow him entry and Tim found himself huddling near them to listen. “I understand your frustration. Believe me, I do. If it was my kid I’d be furious. I hope you can see my position, though. I can’t play favorites. I have to play by the rules. I know you, and I know you’re good people. Tim’s a good kid.” He nodded at Tim and smiled and Tim instantly felt better. Gone was the cautious semi-accusing tone and stance. “And I know you’ve had problems with certain kids at the school, specifically Scott Bradfield, David Bruce, and Steve Downing.”

“And that Smith brat,” Naomi muttered.

“Have you had problems with Gordon before?” Officer Clapton asked Tim.

Tim sighed. “Back in, like, ninth and tenth grade. He’s friends with Scott Bradfield, David Bruce, and Steve Downing.”

Officer Clapton nodded. “I see. They run around together, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, they don’t have criminal records,” Officer Clapton said. “They’ve been clean since the day they beat you up after school. I will follow up with Gordon Smith, though.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility Gordon was cozying up with Tim to perhaps frame him for something?” Jeff asked.

“It’s possible,” Officer Clapton said. He took a step back so that he was on the front stoop again. “Best thing I can do is bring Gordon in for questioning.” He nodded at them. “Thank you Jeff, Naomi. Tim.” He held his gaze with Tim a bit longer than normal, as if silently communicating that he was on his side, then stepped off the porch and headed back to his squad car.

Naomi closed the front door. Tim felt relieved that the focus of attention was now finally on one of his tormentors rather than him.

“You have one more week of school, Tim,” Naomi said. “I suggest you avoid Gordon Smith as much as possible. Do you understand me?”

“Loud and clear,” Tim said. Mom was right. There was no question about it. Trying to be friendly with Gordon, trying to be civil with him and meet him halfway, had blown up in his face.