Page 20 of The Burnt (The Declan Hunt Mysteries #3)
Mrs B cleared her throat. “I’ve just received an email from Simon Griffin. He says that if you find anything on Milo, that you should come to him first before taking any action.”
“Got it,” Charlie replied.
“He also sent the photo of his son that you requested.”
“Can I see it please, Mrs B?”
She walked over to his desk and handed him a USB key. “Here. It’s labelled ‘Milo’. When you’ve got a few moments, you might want to set up your own corporate email address. It’ll save me time.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that,” he said sheepishly.
Charlie inserted the thumb drive into his computer and transferred the file to the Simon Griffin folder on his hard drive. He double-clicked on the file name and the image opened up. There he was—Milo.
Simon was right, it was a good picture. The teen stood on the banks of a river with the mountains behind him.
He had a slim build and his curly light-brown hair cascaded off his head to well below his ears.
His cheeks still carried a bit of baby fat, which rounded out his face.
He looked like a professional model, but his dark-brown eyes gave off a sense of deep loneliness.
Milo looked very little like his father.
Maybe he took after his mother .
Charlie opened the BenButton app and uploaded the image. He’d played with these programs before and was amazed at how ‘imaginative’ they could be, if software could be described as having an imagination. This program, however, utilised more advanced artificial intelligence.
Charlie followed the prompts, first identifying the year that the original image had been taken, as well as the age of the person depicted at the time.
The program also asked what age he wanted the new image to represent, as well as other attributes including the current location, and the economic and social status of the person.
That would affect things like clothing and hair style.
He pressed the button labelled “Age me”.
Within sixty seconds, the program offered up three options for what the Milo of today might look like. Charlie picked up his laptop and walked into Declan’s office to show him the results. “I give you present-day Milo with three different looks,” Charlie said, showing him the computer.
Declan’s eyes widened. “Wow. These are great.”
“I tested the software on a picture of me, ageing me back to when I was a kid, and it was pretty accurate. So hopefully it works as well when it makes people look older.”
Declan stared at the pictures on Charlie’s laptop, nodding. “Can you send me a copy of these? I think I’ll take them over to Katherine O’Grady and see if any of them ring a bell.” He looked up at Charlie. “Archie’s last words were ‘It was Milo’. Maybe she saw him.”
“Or,” Charlie offered, “maybe Milo was the mysterious man in the brown coat. I’ll email them to you right away.” Charlie took his computer back from Declan. “Now to see if internet searches can find anything that matches these pictures. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
“Great,” Declan said, “Would you mind closing the door on your way out? I have a personal call to place.”
“Sure.”
Charlie left Declan’s office wondering if Milo was, indeed, involved in Archie’s murder. He also wondered who Declan was calling.
* * * *
As soon as Charlie had left the office, Declan picked up the phone. He found the number he needed in his contacts and called it.
“Hey,” a voice answered. “Long time, no hear. Can I assume that you’re not just calling to ask how my day’s going?—which is deathly slow by the way.”
Declan laughed. “No. Not this time, Martin. Are you still at the AMA? I have a professional favour to ask you.”
“So not a booty call then?”
“No,” Declan replied.
“I’ve seen the pictures in the paper of that cutie you’ve been seeing. Must be serious. The boys at the bathhouse were convinced that you’d died.”
“Nope. Still alive.”
“All right,” Martin said. “And yes, I’m still at the AMA. What do you need?”
“I have to track down a licence plate. Gotta pen?” Declan asked.
“If it was anyone else, I’d say no,” Martin admitted, “but for old times’ sake and a few of the nights we spent together, I’ll do it. Shoot.”
Declan rhymed off the plate number.
“Got it,” Martin said. “I’ll run that licence number for you as soon as I can. I’ve got a few things to do first. Apparently, because they pay me, the AMA wants me to take care of their work first.”
“I appreciate it. Talk to you later. Call me when you find out anything.”
Declan hung up, then called Katherine O’Grady.
“You again,” she answered.
Declan grinned. “Yup. The bad penny calls. Listen, I was thinking of popping by, if that’s okay with you. I want to show you a picture and see if it looks familiar. Would you mind?”
“If it’s somethin’ from years gone by, I wouldn’t count on it. My memory’s not what it used to be, if it ever was in the first place.”
“No,” Declan assured her, “if you recognise this guy, you would have seen him recently.”
“Mysterious, but sure. Come over whenever you want. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“I’ll be there around two o’clock,” Declan replied, then disconnected.
I hope this works…
He wasn’t going to hold his breath, but he’d rather be surprised than not to have tried at all.
* * * *
For the third time, Declan stood in front of the door at Katherine’s home and rang the doorbell.
As he waited, he looked around. There was no sign of any police presence, but given that forensics would have wrapped up their work by now, there would be little more to discover at Archie’s place…
unless the murderer returned to the scene of the crime.
He heard a door close and the sound of feet crunching on snow. Katherine was making her way home from Archie’s place.
“You know, if it would be easier for you, I could just rent you a room. The commute here must be tirin’,” she said, squeezing past Declan and unlocking her front door.
“In case you were worried, I wasn’t destroyin’ evidence.
I was just checkin’ up on things over there.
Just ’cause Archie’s gone doesn’t mean I can’t take care of the house.
I’m responsible for it as the executor of his will.
Don’t want the heat to go off and the pipes to freeze.
I suppose you want to talk to me inside? ”
“If it’s okay with you.”
“Boots off. Don’t want muck tracked into my house.”
Declan stepped in, removed his boots, and placed them on the tray by the closet. He hung his coat on the hook by the door and followed Katherine into the kitchen.
“I suppose you want a crème de menthe ?” she asked.
“Love one. Thanks,” he lied, settling into what had become his chair.
She smiled. “Don’t know many men who like the drink. Good to find a kindred spirit.”
She poured two small glasses. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Declan pulled out his phone. “I want you to have a look at a set of pictures of a guy and tell me if he looks familiar.” He passed the phone over to Katherine. “Take your time. You can swipe right to see pictures two and three.”
Katherine stared intently at the screen, flipping back and forth between images. She seemed to always return to the second picture. Whenever she was looking at it, she raised her eyebrows slightly.
Damn it if Charlie hasn’t struck gold with that program of his.
“This one,” she said, sliding the phone back to Declan.
“Are you sure?” Declan asked.
“You bet. I never missed that show, although I thought his character was a bit of a dick.”
Declan had no idea what she was talking about.
“It’s one of the kids from Beverly Hills 90210 , isn’t it? Do you know the guy?”
Declan took a deep breath. “The question is, do you? Have you seen this person anywhere around Archie’s place?”
“Why would a guy from Beverly Hills 90210 hang around Archie’s place?”
“Never mind,” he said. While he was tucking his phone back into his pocket he glanced over at the kitchen counter. There were two things that hadn’t been there before—a framed photograph and a stuffed bear. He recognised both.
“Katherine…the picture and the bear over there,” he said pointing to the counter. “Didn’t they used to be in Archie’s place?”
She glanced in their direction and cautiously answered, “Well…yeah.”
“Why did you bring them over here?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” he said.
Katherine walked over and gently picked the objects up, bringing them back to the table.
“I know you don’t believe there was a thread of humanity in Archie, but he really missed Freddy.
That picture meant a lot to him. It was the only one where the boy’s laughin’.
I don’t even know who was behind the camera the day this was taken.
Archie said he found it tucked under the boy’s mattress after he died.
He framed the photo and kept it where he could see it. ”
Declan nodded. “And the teddy bear?”
“Well, who could leave that sweet little thing alone in that cold, dark house? I mean, really? It didn’t seem right.”
Declan looked at both objects—the photo and the teddy bear. He remembered the first had been in Archie’s room. The second, in Freddy’s.
The bear had been sitting on the bed propped up on the pillows.
It had a necklace of shiny plastic beads strung together on an elastic cord.
Dangling from it was a little silver plastic heart with a heart-shaped paper sticker on it.
There had been something written in pencil on the heart but it had been worn down to a ghostly shadow.
Katherine stared at the teddy bear fondly.
“Funny thing with fathers and sons… When Freddy was alive, they never got along, and I never saw Archie say ‘I love you’ to the boy. But after Freddy died, Archie regretted that he hadn’t made an effort to get along better and tell Freddy how he felt. Men are so stubborn!”
“Would you mind if I borrowed these?” he asked. “I just want to show them to my partner and see if he has any thoughts.”
Katherine looked at the photo and the bear, then up at Declan. “You promise to bring them back as soon as you can?”
Declan gave a gentle smile. “I promise.”
He left Katherine’s house and carefully placed the photograph and the teddy bear in the cardboard box behind his seat. He’d show them to Charlie later and see if he had any ideas as to why Archie would have kept them for all these years.