A Silent Whisper
by Gary Clifton
Detective Maggs Williams waved a folder at Detective Davis McCoy. “Gotta go, dude. Looks like a kid abduction at the Green Gardens Mall.”
The mall scene was typically chaotic. A burly uniformed sergeant met them in the doorway. His nametag read “J. Jackson.”
“McCoy, Maggs. The kid, uh...” He thumbed his notebook: “Ransome Petrovic, white male, five, according to Mama was tagging along several feet behind her. Apparently, the perp was lurking among hanging lingerie. Kid was gone before Mama missed him. The perv is out the door, the kid’s in his trunk, and they’re in the wind.”
McCoy nodded. “Jake, do we have surveillance tapes, the mother or witnesses?”
“Clerk in Ladies’ Wear recalls the guy from previous shoplifting dustups. The mother is distraught and had to be sedated. EMT’s hauled her to Parkland. And the damned video system is ‘temporarily’ down. They say they can’t give an estimate of when they can reboot the tapes.”
Maggs chuckled. “Can we talk to the clerk?”
“He didn’t see anything. Nobody saw anything. Typical.”
McCoy estimated Salesclerk Flower Mae Marcus to weigh 250. Bathed in perspiration, she was prostrate on a sofa in the employees’ lounge. “Oh, my Gaawwd, I shoulda known when I first saw him, lurking in Ladies’ Lingerie.”
McCoy said, “Understand you know him?”
“His name is ‘Zero’. He’s a homeless monster, and he stays near the mall.”
“Did he harm or touch you, ma’am?” Maggs asked.
“No, but he was gonna,” she wailed.
Two additional witnesses, a janitor, and a customer had seen Zero but not the boy, not any actual abduction. Both agreed to hang around and review the video.
* * *
A call to Records identified Zero as Framingham C. “Zero” Buttworth. They learned he lived in a cardboard box and tent combination beneath a loading dock nearby.
In a half hour, they found Zero living as promised beneath a loading dock. “Maggs, you remember this clown? We popped him for a Peeping Tom case over on Ross Avenue.”
Maggs nodded.
“Hello, Zero, long time no see.” McCoy spread-eagled the disheveled man against the loading dock bearing the painted sign, ‘Trucks Only.’ “Stay, dimwit.”
Zero was indignant. “Kid? Damn, McCoy, I ain’t no rotten pedophile. I’m a professional thief. You got the records. Nothin’ in my history except a little honest thievery. Ya’ pinch a handful of silky ladies’ drawers, you’d be surprised how quick it sells. Keeps the economy moving on the street. An’ hell yes, I was hidin’. That ol’ fat babe drops a dime on me ever’ time I shop there.”
“Shop?” McCoy laughed
Maggs crawled from the makeshift structure. “No evidence of a kid under here, McCoy.”
* * *
McCoy whipped into a spot across from sprawling Parkland. “Zero’s nuts, Maggs, and I can’t decide if I think he’s involved.”
“Same here,” she said.
The name on the tag in ICU read ‘Jane Doe.’ McCoy said, “Ma’am, we are horrified by your situation and are doing everything we can. We need to know your full name and last previous address.”
Pasty-faced and faint, her dull eyes looked up at them. It was questionable whether she understood.
Maggs asked, “Did you see the person lurking, who may have abducted Ransome Petrovic?”
Jane Doe immediately dissolved in tears and refused to speak.
The nurse entered with a firm instruction: “No more questions.”
Maggs dug through the hysterical woman’s purse. “Iowa driver’s license shows her to be Margo LeMatt, address in Des Moines.”
McCoy held up a finger to show he had an idea. “I did a solid for a Des Moines detective recently.” He flipped through contacts on his cell phone. “John Wilson, Homicide.” He called the number and switched to speaker phone.
Wilson answered on the second ring. McCoy reminded them of their acquaintance and explained the current situation. “John, I got a funny feeling this babe dumped that kid in the Trinity River.” He gave Wilson the data from the distraught woman’s purse.
“McCoy, that name sounds familiar. Gimme a chance to dig and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
* * *
Maggs drove them back to Green Gardens. Sergeant Jackson was still at the scene. He said, “The tech geek just announced the video is up and running.”
With Jackson and the three witnesses, they gathered in the mall office. The security video system flickered to life. After some searching, they located Margo in another part of the big store with the boy tagging along behind her.
The boy, appearing weary and possibly weeping, followed at a distance of about ten feet. The picture was grainy and, in particular, the boy’s silhouette was not fully defined. His image appeared to be growing fainter.
McCoy’s cellular buzzed. “McCoy, John Wilson, Des Moines PD here. Margo LeMatt is out of prison. I hadn’t heard that.”
On the video screen, Margo appeared near ladies lingerie passing close to Zero hiding amidst merchandise. The boy was still behind her.
“Prison?” McCoy asked Wilson. “Can you elaborate?”
“Yeah, that heifer paroled out after doin’ only six years of a life sentence for beating that kid to death with a skillet.”
McCoy asked, “She have another kid?”
“Naw, she’s been in the joint. Ransome Petrovic is buried out here in St. Mary’s Cemetery. Whadda you tryin’ to tell me?”
“That we have Margo on tape with the kid on the film with her.”
”You don’t have Ransome Petrovic!” He laughed and hung up.
The group of witnesses leaned closer to the tape to compensate as its video faded. Suddenly, the image of the child disappeared.
Flower Mae fainted.
Maggs said soberly, “McCoy, no way I write this report.”
“Maybe equipment failure, Maggs?”
She snapped, “An artifact from a previous recording, nothing more.”
McCoy fixated on the blank video screen and didn’t answer.
Copyright © 2025 by Gary Clifton
