The Violet Crow by Michael Sheldon Page A

papers,” Bruno said.
    â€œSuppose this is just a normal family. They have no experience disposing of a dead body. They watch a bunch of TV and figure the ground must be frozen because of the snow. If they don’t bury her deep enough, some animal will dig up the grave. If they put her in the river, she’ll wash up.”
    â€œSo they use the meeting house, thinking it will confuse people … as it has. But they still need a way to get in. And they managed to do it without leaving clues. That takes a lot of skill.”
    â€œOr access to the meeting house. What if Quentin had an illegitimate daughter? Because of his role at the school, he might have wanted to keep it secret.”
    â€œThat’s what I’d call a tortured scenario,” the Chief observed. “To make it work you need an illegitimate kid who’s seriously handicapped. A guiltily obsessive father who won’t even put her in a nursing home. Otherwise, she would’ve been reported missing.”
    Bruno picked up the thread. “Right. She’d have to be living at home somewhere. Probably with the mother, never going out. The only other person who’d know she existed would be her doctor.”
    The Chief shook his head. “It doesn’t add up. The motive for killing her is to get rid of the burden? I can’t see Quentin doing that.”
    â€œMaybe the mother did it, and Quentin’s protecting her.”
    The Chief grabbed his phone to make a call. “That’s a lot of ‘ifs,’ but right now it’s all we’ve got. We’ll check into it, but it’ll take some time. There are a lot of doctors in the area.”
    Bruno hesitated. “What I just told you: There’s logic to it. But it doesn’t feel right. It all comes back to the girl. Why didn’t she feel anything? There are powerful emotions at work here. There must be. But I can’t find any trace of them. It’s hard to imagine anybody, let alone parents, who could do something like that—without emotion.”
    â€œI know,” said the Chief. This was the same brick wall he’d been running into since the investigation began.
    Just then Ray rambled in with a couple of enormous cheesesteak hoagies wrapped in white paper. The smell of fried onions filled the room. Ray placed them on the table without comment and went back to work, leaving the velour curtain partly open.
    â€œDig in,” said the Chief. Consuming a Tano’s cheesesteak hoagie with everything on it requires both hands and considerable concentration to keep the contents of the sub from sliding out onto your lap. Both Bruno and the Chief worked in silence for about seven and a half minutes.
    Then Bruno spoke. “I had this dream. About William Penn.”
    â€œWilliam Penn?”
    â€œThe statue of William Penn on top of city hall in Philly. It … he was walking around.”
    â€œThings like that happen in dreams.” The Chief continued eating.
    Then Icky and a couple of friends entered the shop. The Chief could see him joking with Chris and hear him laughing out of proportion to anything that might have been said.
    â€œDo the numbers 50-3-2-60 mean anything to you?”
    â€œSounds like a basketball score. College. 53-60.”
    â€œIt’s not basketball season. I was watching a volleyball game last night on TV.”
    â€œAnd?” The Chief was still keeping an eye, and half his attention, on Icky.
    â€œAnd I think it was four different numbers. 50-3-2-60, not 53 to 60. Usually the high number goes first.”
    â€œTrue. True. Maybe it’s the combination to a gym locker? Or a safe?”
    â€œYou know in Hebrew, the numbers are actually letters of the alphabet. So you can translate numbers into words and vice versa. I tried that, and it came out ‘SBGN.’ That mean anything to you?”
    â€œSBGN?” the Chief echoed dully. “I dunno. Sonny Boy Good