CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
As soon as Elaine stepped inside Silas’s room, he asked her to close the door. She did.
Everything in his room was very familiar to her: they’d had many tantalizing discussions there, from the very personal to the extraordinarily complex. Silas could be somewhat of a philosopher, chronicling events and detailing facts like a database. But the amazing thing was how he could decipher those facts and hold adult, almost professor-like discussions on so many subjects. Elaine should’ve felt ignorant around him, but he had a way of making even the dimmest feel as though she had something to contribute, some knowledge to share.
Silas’s feet glided across the highly polished, hardwood floor in his room, the oak glistening so much that it almost lit his way. Occasional area rugs were spread out to resemble cumulus clouds against a light brown sky. He pulled a chair out from his desk and turned it around. As he sat down, his foreground image settled fast in front of his favorite pastime, a Macintosh computer. Beside that was the ink-jet printer he’d used to make everything from greeting cards for his friends, to drafts of business documents for his father. The printer was a simple yet effective device with great resolution. As a matter-of-fact, Silas had used the machine to print up the card stock name badges the associates had worn on Carl’s last day.
“Have a seat,” Silas said, folding his arms across his chest and settling into a comfortable slouch.
Elaine sat down on the edge of his four-poster, canopy bed, taking a moment to admire the handmade blue, yellow, and gray diamond quilt adorning it. Silas had a cast iron bed with ornate scrollwork and medallions carved in the form of Greek gods and set in the headboard and footboard. These legends were also incorporated in the brocade and swaths of gold draped around the bed and puddling down to the floor.
Mythological motifs were picked up in the wallpaper and other necessities scattered all over the room. The fixture in the center of the ceiling had light shining from the open mouth of Zeus. Several tabletop lamps were modeled after Silas’s favorite god Athena. An automaton of Achilles, the barbarian happy to indulge himself on the battlefield, was deftly perched above a somber portrait of Carl. There was obviously some Freudian connection going on with that, with Achilles and Carl both at home consorting with human sacrifices and such; it was only right that their images would have been so close together.
Apollo, Hades, Europa, Heracles, Nike, Poseidon, Pegasus, and Zeus reoccurred over and over again in the wall pattern. A Nemesis doll, the god of perpetual irritation, was beside a small snapshot of Tasia. Propped up on an easel in one corner of the room was a reproduction of Prometheus Bound by Peter Paul Rubens. Zach had painted it for practice on several of his days off. The story was that Prometheus had been doomed to eternal agony unless he confessed his secret. While other seven-year-old boys were collecting X Men comics and building houses with Legos, Silas was building a shrine to mighty warriors who never existed. Maybe it wasn’t a healthy pastime, but lacking any real-life heroes, mythological creatures seemed to be all that he had.
“What’s wrong, Elaine?” Silas asked, finally drawing her attention. So wrapped up in the blatant symbolism in the room, she’d forgotten why she was there. She laughed, waving her hand.
“It’s nothing. I’m a little rattled because your mother makes me so nervous.”
“Me, too,” he said, and her smile faded. She knew that he meant it.
“So, what’s up?”
“I’d like to ask a favor of you.”
“If I can,” she said, shrugging.
“I want you to get Marlon, Nicolette, and Alex together and tell them about the missing name badge.”
“Only Marlon’s badge is missing. Why do you want me to tell Alex and Nicolette about that?”
“I don’t know if I can trust them.”
“Trust them to do what?”
“To tell the truth about what happened to my father. After all, Alex lied about that false document.”
“Only because your father told him to.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you think Alex had something to do with his death?”
“I’m not sure. I’m not sure about any of them.”
“What do you have against Nicolette?”
“She thought Marlon had been given the job she’s been dying for. That sounds like a motive to me. Besides, something about the whole name badge thing isn’t right.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. The police won’t let me help them. I haven’t seen any of the evidence. I’m just a kid, you know.”
“Sometimes I forget,” she said, grinning. “What relevant facts do you know so far?”
“I’m sure that my father’s dead and that somebody killed him,” Silas said, his voice echoing across the colossal bedroom. His attitude was rather testy, and with good reason; his father was gone and because he’d been a very difficult man, the list of suspects was endless.
“I’m sorry,” he continued, “but I believe I’m on the right track.” A tear crept from his left eye and he wiped it away, embarrassed by the show of emotion. “My dad wasn’t the nicest man, but he was the only father I had.” Sniffling, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “So, will you help me?”
Elaine scratched her temple even though it didn’t itch, and stared down at the ivory-colored cloud rug at Silas’s feet. She believed the boy had every right to do what he thought was best to find out who was trying to get away with murder.
“I’ll help you,” she said.
Silas lifted his blond head and nodded. He didn’t smile back, but his tears had long since subsided and a look of determination was seared on his face. Elaine almost felt sorry for the three unsuspecting coworkers.