Chapter 2

1st interview

Detective McDonagh had located the older O'Higgins' house on the outskirts of a larger neighboring town. The sky was mostly overcast with a few rays of light poking through the clouds which gave credence to a mostly gray and depressive day which strongly matched the emotions that most people in Rhodes felt today.

The home was modest; it did not look out of place. He parked the car and gave a small sigh as he took his little notebook and rose out of the car seat. He walked briskly up the stone steps and just as he was about to knock on the dark green door, it swung open.

There, standing in the doorway, was a petite, white-haired old woman wearing thick-rimmed glasses, a floral dress, and slip-on shoes. Despite her appearance, her eyes betrayed a quick wit and sharp intellect.

Suddenly she yelled "IT'S ABOUT MICHAEL ISN'T IT?"

Startled, he took a step backwards before regaining his composure and replied softly "I'm afraid so."

Almost immediately she yelled back "WHAT?"

Forced to yell to be heard, he took in a sharp breath and let out "I said I'm afraid so."

"Come in then!" she replied.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Mrs. O'Higgins asked as soon as Eamon stepped into the porch.

"Why yes certainly. Thank you" he answered. He took off his shoes and followed Mrs. O'Higgins out of the porch and into the living room. He took note of his surroundings. There were family photos everywhere on the green walls and they looked like they were set in chronological order. There were also paintings stacked rather haphazardly at the far end of the hallway, seemingly gathering dust. Looking down, he realized that there was hardwood floor everywhere he went and for the most part still had that oily shine to almost all of the floor. He looked up and was face-to-face with an impressive piece of furniture. It was an old mahogany dresser whose surface looked even smoother than the floor it stood atop of, if that was even possible. On top of the dresser however, was a mirror which was framed by elaborate carvings that depicted creatures of Irish myth and legend both beautiful and horrific. The dresser with ornate mirror was certainly beautiful but he felt like sitting down and so he turned around, walked to the other side of the room, and plopped down on the couch.

He sat back, letting himself get enveloped by the soft cushions. Eamon let himself not think for a couple of minutes as he waited for Mrs. O'Higgins to finish with the tea. He sat back up when she strode into the room with two mugs and a near boiling pot of water on a small tray. She poured the water into both mugs and dropped a tea bag each in. She walked back into the kitchen to put the pot away before returning and she promptly sat down across from the detective.

"So, what is it about Michael that you wanted to know?" she said to him.

Getting used to the yelling, Eamon answered "I would just like to know more of Michael's past, that's all. Was there anyth- wait, where is your husband, Mrs. O'Higgins?

A look of concern had grown on the old woman's face. "Could you excuse me for a minute?" Mrs. O'Higgins said before jogging out of the living room and down the hall.

She stood in the door frame of her and her husband's bedroom and looked inside to find that it was empty. Her expression became that of a look of worry as she looked into every nook and cranny that house had before becoming frantic. She ran outside into the backyard and searched for a little while before running back through the house and out through the front door. Eamon watched as she ran down the street calling her husband's name. 

His eyes drifted over toward the drawer and, like a moth attracted to light, he walked over to the drawer in the corner and glided his index finger softly over it's surface finding the wood smooth and cool to the touch. He slowly looked up and saw his image looking back at him.  He wore a dark blue jacket with a white T-shirt underneath, bright blue jeans, and plain gray socks. Looking into his own face, it almost looked haggard and his eyes, resigned.

Eamon, eventually tired of looking at himself, sat back down on the couch and a few minutes later Mrs. O'Higgins came through the door with her husband. The poor man looked frightened and confused as he was led back to the bedroom and coerced into taking a nap.

When she sat down, Eamon asked "Why was he wandering around outside?"

"He has Alzheimer's, so he's been looking for something that hasn't been around for a long time."

"What would that be?"

"It could be anything like an old football or a hammer or even a 4 year old."

"Was that what he was looking for today."

"No. I don't know what he was looking for today. Shouldn't we be talking about Michael?"

"Yes, we should. As I was about to say, did Michael ever act strange or do something unusual, even as a child?"

"Not really, I mean he was a happy child and solemn teenager and I always thought that was normal. Though, looking back at it now, he enjoyed his solitude more than being around other people because he said once that "other people are exhausting!" and I believed him because I had seen him avoid other groups of kids many times."

"Did he have any friends?"

"Oh yes, he had a close friend or two. I only ever met one of his friends once though."

"What was his name?"

"I'm trying to remember that now, um... uh... just give me another moment... shite... Oh! Wait! That's it! I believe his name was Sean."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!"

"Do you know his last name?"

"I was never told what his last name was. As I said, I only met him once."

"Do you know anything else about him?"

"Let me think... I remember his appearance pretty clearly. The one time I did meet him, he had curly black hair, green eyes, large nose, was skinny and about 6 feet tall. He was also quite the charmer with his smile. Of course, this was about 20 years ago, so I don't know what he would look like now.

"Does your husband know anything about him?"

"No."

"Is there anything else I should know regarding his early years?"

"Early years?"

"Childhood."

"Nothing that I can remember. As far as I know, he was a happy child and solemn teenager, almost stereotypically so. You could ask the schools he went to and the hospital in town... here, I'll write down the names for you."

"Well, thank you. That might be helpful in determining what Michael's mental state was."

"Your welcome."

"Now, did you notice any further changes as he grew out of his teenage years?"

"Well, before he moved away, I saw him slowly opening back up and trying to reach out to other people. He still had the same sort of attitude he had when he was a teenager but I think he got tired of being withdrawn and of self-isolation. Oh, that reminds me, there was one strange thing that he did all the time."

"What was that?"

"After he'd come home from school and finish his homework, he'd take a flashlight, walk outside, cross the street and walk into the forest alone. I never asked him why."

"Why would you do that?"

"I thought I would be overprotective if I didn't let him."

"sigh". "Anyways, when he moved away, did he keep in contact with you and your husband?"

"Yes, we visited each other occasionally and we e-mailed each other quite often."

"How was he when you saw him last?"

"He was doing well last time I saw him. He looked so happy and... and... why did he do it? I don't understand, why did he do those horrible things?"

"We're still not sure if he did them or not."

"I sure as hell am and don't tell me to calm down either. You don't KNOW what it feels like that the person you raised could become something so DESPICABLE! I know he killed his family and god knows how many others. What happened? What happened?!" Mrs. O'Higgins then began sobbing loudly. Eamon then walked around the table and hugged her. He kept in bodily contact with her until he was sure she was no longer crying. He saw some tissues on the other side of the room, retrieved it, and made his way back over to Mrs. O'Higgins.

"Thank you." she said, blowing into the little piece of paper as hard as she could.

"Well, I think it's time for me to go I-"

"No, wait. I have more to say."

"Alright..."

"The last time I visited Michael's, I took my husband with me. Did I already say he had Alzheimer's?"

"Yes you did."

"Well, Michael had also invited a couple of his new friends over and um, how do I say this? Hmmm... let's just say people weren't looking as healthy as they should've been, my husband Seamus and I included.

"What do you mean not healthy?"

" I mean, as soon as I entered that house, I felt nauseous, nervous, mildly irritated, apprehensive, among other things, and I think everybody else felt the same way. We all just felt sick."

"It was probably mold."

"It could've been. I don't know though. You know when I said that I met Sean once?"

"Yeah?"

"This was the second time I met him. Still the curly hair and green eyes but quite the mingr this time round and he didn't look none too happy to see anyone. He didn't let anyone touch him and he wouldn't give anyone any eye contact when we were there."

"Got a last name?"

"Furlong. Sean Furlong."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I didn't remember too at the time."

"Uh-huh."

"Anyways, despite that, we had a grand old time and as soon as we left, we were feeling normal again."

"Definitely sounds like mold."

"Well, I hope that added at least something to this. I'm also sorry for snapping at you like that."

"That's quite alright. Thank you for inviting me into your home."

"Your welcome. Good luck, and goodbye."

She closed the door behind him as he walked down the steps. He got into the vehicle and looked down at his notes. "Husband has Alzheimer's; last visit, nobody was feeling well; Michael stayed in contact with Sean." Eamon wasn't quite sure if what the old woman yelled at him meant anything, but perhaps he would tell his associate to look up into the schools and hospital to see if anything else could be found. First though, he would have to corroborate his notes with others before he would go home and get some sleep.