Excerpt: I Don't Believe in Fairies (Working Title)

-- Note: Is not checked for spelling/grammar mistakes.

Thompson opened the door at their first knock.
“Is it him?” he asked hoarsely. “Is it my boy?”

Lisa cleared her throat and looked apologetic. “According to out records, Mr Thompson,” she said in a polite voice, making her best efforts not to sound accusing, “there is no record that you have a son.” Mr Thompson failed to look surprised, and Lisa exhaled a sigh of relief. Wasn’t a screw up from their side then.

“No, of course not,” Mr Thompson murmured. “There wouldn’t be, would there.”

Robert looked at Lisa with raised eyebrows. “Can we come in sir?” he asked.

“Of course, of course,” Thompson muttered. “Come in, come in.”

They both went in.

Tom Thompson’s house looked spotless, for an old bachelor’s house. Somehow, one would have expected something different from looking at the man, with his long grey unkempt beard and piercing green eyes. It was so clean, it almost looked compulsive, unlived in.

He ushered them into the living room, and they sat down on the sofa. Thompson perched on an armchair, looking increasingly worried.

“Can I see him?” he gasped. “I need to know.”

Lisa looked at Robert worriedly. The man looked like he was old enough to have a heart attack. Robert handed the man the photo of the body.

A tear slid down Thompson’s cheek. “That’s him,” he whispered. “I thought it was, but I hoped…” he trailed off. He looked away from the photo, and handed it back to Robert.

“I’m sorry sir,” Robert replied formally. They needed to know. “Can we ask you some questions?”

“Of course,” Thompson replied, looking tired and sad. It made Lisa want to hug him. Talking to the loved ones of victims was so hard sometimes.

“What’s your son’s official name?” Robert asked. Thompson looked worried.

“He did not have one,” Thompson stated. Lisa and Robert looked at each other in surprise.

“What do you mean sir?” Robert asked, confused.
“I used to call him Puck,” Thompson went on, ignoring Robert. “After Shakespeare’s ‘A midsummer Night’s Dream’, you know. Could never pronounce the name his mother gave him.”

“Was she foreign sir?” Robert asked, looking hopeful.

“No, of course not. She was a fairy.”