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He certainly appears capable of doing harm. He’s got a hard look about him. He’s spent much of his life working outdoors, and it shows in the calluses on his hands and the sunburned streak on the bridge of his nose. He’s big, too. There’s a noticeable bulk hidden beneath his flannel shirt and white tee.
“Where were you at five this morning?” Detective Flynn asks him.
“Probably in the kitchen. About to get ready for work.”
Flynn nods toward the gold wedding band on Ben’s left hand. “Can your wife confirm that?”
“I hope so, seeing how she was in the kitchen with me. Although she’s awfully groggy before that first cup of coffee.”
Ben chuckles. The rest of us don’t. He leans back in his chair and says, “Why are you asking me this stuff?”
“What’s your job here?” Flynn says, ignoring the question.
“Groundskeeper. I told you that already.”
“I know, but what specifically do you do?”
“Whatever needs doing. Mowing the lawn. Working on the buildings.”
“So, general maintenance?”
“Yeah.” Ben gives a half smirk at the vaguely genteel job description. “General maintenance.”
“And how long have you worked for Camp Nightingale?”
“I don’t. I work for the family. Sometimes that means doing some things for the camp. Sometimes it doesn’t.”
“Then how long have you worked for the Harris-Whites?”
“About fifteen years.”
“Which means the summer Camp Nightingale closed was your first summer here?”
“It was,” Ben says.
Flynn makes a note of it in the same notebook he jotted down all my useless information. “How did you get the job?”
“I was a year out of high school, picking up the odd job here and there around town. Barely scraping by. So when I got wind that Mrs. Harris-White was looking for a groundskeeper, I jumped at the chance. Been here ever since.”
For confirmation, Flynn turns to Theo, who says, “It’s true.”
“Fifteen years is a long time to be working the same job,” Flynn tells Ben. “Do you like working for the Harris-Whites?”
“It’s decent work. Pays well. Puts a roof over my family’s head and food in their stomachs. I got no complaints.”
“What about the family? Do you like them?”
Ben looks to Theo, his expression unreadable. “Like I said, no complaints.”
“Back to your interactions with the girls in camp,” Flynn says. “Are you certain there wasn’t any contact with them? Maybe you had to do some work in their cabin.”
“He installed the camera outside Dogwood,” Theo says.
Flynn writes that down in his notebook. “As you know, Mr. Schumacher, that’s the cabin where the missing girls were staying. Did you happen to see them when you were putting up the camera?”
“No.”
“What about the oldest one? Miranda. I’ve been told other camp workers noticed her.”