Sleepless Nights

by Pierre C. Arseneault

  “Gotcha!” said a smiling Floyd as he winked and wiped up the counter. “Nobody’s seen you-all. Right, Lincoln?” Floyd glanced at Thinkun-Lincoln and back to the ladies. “Ah, he’s too drunk and stupid to remember anyway.”

  Lincoln turned in his stool and looked at Raylene who was closest to him now. “You know, Raylene. I was thinkun, man is the only creature on this planet that chooses to be a vegan or a meat eater.” Lincoln spun in his stool again and faced the bar as he continued. “No other creature gets to make that choice. Did you know that?” He drank the rest of the beer before him and gestured to Floyd for another.

  “That’s it, Lincoln,” Floyd said as he grabbed the empty bottle from in front of Thinking-Lincoln. “I know you’re past your limit when you start talking like that.” Floyd put the empty behind the bar. “You’re cut off tonight. You’ve had enough booze for one night.”

  “Fuck you, Floyd. Gimme another GODDAMN beer,” said an angry Lincoln as he slapped his palm down loudly on the bar making most of the patrons twitch and grow quiet as a result. “You’re only trying to impress the Chief’s wife, you fuck. I’m a fuckin’ paying customer. Gimme a beer!”

  Libby deliberately dragged her feet as she walked up to Thinking-Lincoln. She did this so that he would hear her coming and not be startled. His face now flush and his lower lip trembling in anger, he slowly turned to face Libby. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder and spoke calmly. “Come-on, Lincoln. Let me give you a ride home. Ok?”

  Lincoln knew it was in his best interest to do as Libby requested. Not only was the Chief’s wife watching, Libby herself was a police officer. As a result, he slowly, submissively slid off his barstool as he gave Floyd a scowl of resentment. As they approached the door, he spoke loudly. “Any news about Crazy Crandall?”

  “Nothing yet,” replied Libby as she pushed the door open. Libby escorted Lincoln all the way into the passenger seat of her Jeep. She looked behind her to see the small procession of ladies exiting Burnett’s place. Each woman was heading home from their secret rendezvous.

  “I don’t know how she does it,” said Raylene clearly commenting on Libby being a police officer. “Having to deal with drunks and troublemakers.”

  Maureen laughed. “Libby said the same thing about you yesterday. She said; ‘I don’t know how Raylene puts up with a room full of rambunctious kids all day.’”

  Bonnie laughed and staggered slightly, trying not to let it show that she might have had too many drinks this evening. “I think I’d rather be a cop than a teacher,” she said aloud as she scooted into her car. “At least cops get to carry a gun,” she said as she shut her car door on the hem of her jacket. Bonnie was oblivious to the tip that protruded slightly from under the door as she drove away.

  9

  On a typical Friday morning, Clovis and Libby would have found Dwayne in his usual position. With his chair leaning precariously back, his feet perched on the desk and a book strewn about somewhere. They both assumed so because this is how they found him most weekday mornings. He should have been asleep at his desk with spots of drool on his shirt. Chief Clovis gently opened the door of the Carlton Police Station not wanting to startle the sleeping beauty. He found instead that Dwayne was sitting bolt upright at his desk. He was bright eyed, awake and waiting for them to arrive.

  “Lot’s happened last night,” he said loudly before Libby was even completely inside the building.

  “Really?” asked Libby.

  “Yes, it did,” replied a smirking Clovis. “But not in Carlton though.”

  Libby approached the bullpen giving Dwayne a knowing look as she smiled. Both she and Dwayne spoke in unison. “Nothing ever happens in Carlton.”

  Chief Clovis laughed aloud. Dwayne piped up and said. “Sleepy little town’s aren’t always so sleepy you know.”

  “Ok, give?” said Libby as she noticed Dwayne’s desk was no longer tidy and neat. Something had definitely happened and the evidence was the scattered newspaper, note pads and unfolded maps. “What’s got you so riled up this morning?”

  “Something really interesting must have happened,” said Clovis with a smile as he pointed to the book on Dwayne’s desk. The book was partially hidden by one of the maps laid out on the well-worn wooden surface. “His bookmark looks to be in the same place it was yesterday morning.”

  Dwayne ignored the Chief’s sarcastic comment. Meanwhile Libby had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Libby sat at her desk attentively with her Santorene coffee cup cradled in both hands. Clovis picked his up, cracked it open and perched himself on the edge of Libby’s desk. Dwayne shoved over the maps and pulled his keyboard into place as the screensaver of his wife’s photography dissipated and revealed a full inbox. With a few clicks of his mouse, Dwayne pulled up an email as he spoke.

  “Nowlan told me they got hundreds of tips ever since the news of Crazy Crandall’s escape.”

  “Who’s Nowlan?” asked Clovis speaking from behind his coffee cup which he held before his mouth.

  “Officer Nowlan at the Stonevalley P.D.,” said Dwayne as he opened an email and from it, opened up an attachment as he continued. “He called me early last night about a tip he got that concerned us.” The picture on the screen was a map covered in red dots. Most of the dots were in and around Stonevalley. They covered some of the outskirts of the area and after swift work of the mouse; the map now showed a single dot which was very near Carlton. Dwayne pointed to it as he spoke. “He sent me a map he made of the locations from the calls claiming to have seen Crandall. Some they dismissed with quickly for various reasons. Some they checked out much more intensely and many had not been followed up on yet.” Dwayne paused and looked at Clovis. “They found an older man dead on the side of the highway just outside of Stonevalley. They still haven’t identified him.” Dwayne was pointing to a dot on the north side of Stonevalley. “His wallet is missing and they believe the killer stole his vehicle.”

  Clovis raised his hand with index finger pointing upwards, as if shushing Dwayne before he asked a question. “Back up here. Why do you say they didn’t follow up on some tips yet? Is it a lack of manpower?”

  “Timing,” replied Dwayne. “They found the old man not long after he had died. Nowlan says there is no way he could have been at some of those other sightings. Oh, and a lack of manpower too, I suppose.” Fact was Dwayne didn’t really know and that was obvious to Clovis as he sipped his coffee analyzing all the information at hand.

  “But they don’t know for sure Crandall is the one who stole the old man’s truck do they? How was he killed?” asked Libby.

  “They’re waiting on an autopsy. It had to be him,” replied Dwayne.

  Clovis spoke. “If Crazy Crandall had killed that old man and stole his truck, you wouldn’t need an autopsy to know the cause of death.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” replied Dwayne.

  “The dot near Carlton,” Clovis began asking as he pointed a finger from the hand which still clutched a half empty coffee cup towards the monitor. “That one near Carlton is right outside the old Brooks farm isn’t it?”

  “Yup,” replied Dwayne. “Old man Charlie Brooks himself called in and said he saw a hitchhiker near his place. Said it looked like Crandall.”

  Libby nearly choked on her coffee in surprise at Dwayne’s comment. “Charlie Brooks is half blind and probably shouldn’t be driving as it is.”

  Dwayne pivoted his chair facing Libby. “Nowlan said old man Brooks was pretty persistent. And he could hear his wife hollering at him in the background.”

  “Yeah, well… half blind or not, Mr. Brooks is still driving that old 58 Chevy Apache truck of his,” said Clovis. “I’ll go for a drive out there this morning. His wife must be worried sick.” Clovis walked into his office and threw his now empty coffee cup in the open waste basket making a hollow thumping sound and sat behind his desk.

&n
bsp; “Good idea, Chief,” said Libby. “Go home, Dwayne. Maureen should be home by now.”

  “I’m way too wired to sleep,” replied Dwayne as he put on his cap. “Call me if anything happens. Off duty or not.”

  Clovis spoke loudly from inside his office. “Go home, Dwayne, I’m sure you’ll have your radio on to make sure you don’t miss a thing anyway.”

  Dwayne could hear the sarcasm in Clovis’s voice.

  10

  A few moments after Dwayne closed the door behind him, Clovis exited suddenly from his office. “Well I’m gonna go for a spin to see old man Brooks about a hitchhiker.”

  Libby, startled, spilled coffee on herself. “Bat shit!” she exclaimed harshly. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  Clovis smiled and adjusted his cap. “Don’t forget to log off Facebook,” said Clovis as he pushed through the gate of the bullpen.

  Dabbing at her coffee stained breast with a crumpled up dirty napkin, Libby spoke. “Facebook is where the people in this town do the most gossiping these days and it can’t hurt to see what they’re saying about Crandall.” Libby tossed the napkin away and took tissues from the box on her desk and dabbed at the stain some more. “You go see Mr. Brooks and make sure that crotchety old geezer doesn’t beat you to death with his wooden leg.”

  “I’ve known Mr. Brooks since I was knee high. You just gotta know how to handle him,” replied Clovis as he slipped on his baseball cap. “No discussing politics. And if you get him to tell you a joke or two, you’ll learn that there ain’t nothing crotchety about that old man.” Clovis smiled and glanced at Libby as he closed the door behind him. Libby was pulling at the wet spot on her uniform shirt to keep it from clinging.

  She shot a glance at the door as it shut, clicked on the Facebook event. Once opened, she typed up a message to the invited guests.

  “Hey everybody. Just a reminder as everything is still on for Saturday night at 8PM. Please be careful around Clovis as he doesn’t suspect a thing and we would really like to keep it that way.

  Thanks.

  Libby”

  Hitting send, she sipped the rest of her coffee as she already started getting replies to her Facebook message.

  “I’ll be there with bells on,” replied Ernie Woodman who would undoubtedly be wearing his custom-made T-shirt that had the word “BELLS” written on it.

  Libby rolled her eyes but smiled just the same.

  11

  A fresh shirt on, Libby felt a quick surge of panic as she patted her pockets feeling for her house key as she stood on the stoop of her small bungalow. Relief washed over her as she felt the key ring in her pants pocket. She normally kept the single key on the SeaWorld keychain in her breast pocket. The idea of it sitting in the bottom of the nearly empty hamper, still in the coffee stained shirt pocket had only hit her once she had shut the door. She pulled the key out, smiling as she tucked it into her breast pocket. Her mind was so preoccupied with Clovis’s surprise party that she had no memory of placing the key in her pants pocket. Stepping off the stoop, she heard the radio in the car but couldn’t comprehend anything that was said. Hurrying to her squad car, she cracked open the door and reached in for the CB’s mike. She waited for a moment until she heard a voice come over the radio.

  “Libby, are you mobile? Over,” she heard Clovis say.

  “Yes, sir. Over,” she replied.

  “Where are you? Over.”

  “Home. Changing my shirt. Over,” replied Libby knowing full well Clovis would think that was really funny. After a few seconds she spoke again. “Did you talk to Mr. Brooks yet? Over.”

  “Yup. The description does sound a bit like Crandall but I don’t think it was him. His wife made him call. Over”

  Libby climbed into her car and replied. “Ok, I’ll let Stonevalley P.D. know when I get back to the station. Over.”

  “Hey-uh, is there something going on at The Lodge this weekend? Over.”

  “Not that I know of,” replied Libby. “Why do you ask? Over.”

  “I saw a beer truck going that way earlier and Pinewood Lodge never gets deliveries on Fridays. Not unless he’s catering. Over.”

  “Fuck!” Libby said to herself. Thinking quickly she replied. “Didn’t the dart league start again recently? Maybe you guys drink more than you’ll admit. Over.”

  A brief pause with nothing coming back but dead air made Libby worry that her attempt at deception had not sounded convincing enough. Clovis replied. “Maybe so. Hey, what’s this I hear about you driving Thinking Lincoln home last night? Over.”

  “Fuck! Fuckin’ small fuckin’ towns!” exclaimed Libby to herself in frustration. She knew a few gossip hungry people had seen her driving with Thinking-Lincoln in her Jeep. Someone said something and somehow it got to Clovis of all people.

  “Saw him staggering badly when I drove by. More than usual so I gave him a lift.” Libby grimaced wondering how bad that lie sounded. “I was afraid he’d get run over or something. Over.”

  “He must have been talking a lot. Over.”

  “Enough,” replied Libby. “He said that the only reason man evolved and other creatures didn’t is because of their imagination. All creatures can learn but man can imagine. Made me think so much I couldn’t sleep. Over.”

  The radio crackled before the reply came. “Yeah, he was plastered alright.

  “Do me a favour, Libby. When you get back to the station, find out if they’ve gotten any other tips about Crazy Crandall in our neck of the woods? Over.”

  “Will do,” replied Libby. “I gotta quick stop I wanna make, grab a coffee and then I’m going back. Over.”

  “Ok then. I should see you in an hour or so. Over and out!” replied Clovis.

  Libby racked the CB mike and pulled out her cell phone. In a brief instant she had already sent a text to Raylene. “Call me,” was all the text said. Libby knew Raylene would be in class at that hour but knew she should speak with her before Clovis could. So their stories would mesh at all the right places not to arouse any more suspicion. Fooling someone who is paid to be suspicious was getting tiring and Libby couldn’t wait for it to be all over.

  12

  Chief Clovis couldn’t stop thinking about why Libby lied about driving Lincoln home on the previous evening. Thinking-Lincoln always walked home from Burnett’s Place. This was the only reason he still had a driver’s license. He was smart enough to walk when he was drunk and that was often enough. But Lincoln was also stubborn when he drank unless he thought it would get him into trouble. He had a temper but knew well and good not to blow up around cops. Clovis knew Libby had lied about it but why would she? What was she covering up? While on his way back to the station, he decided to take a detour by the cemetery and see if Thinking-Lincoln would be there.

  As the police cruiser pulled up alongside the curb, Clovis could see Lincoln sitting in the second row of graves in the cemetery with his Weed Wacker nearby. He was leaning against one of the large very old granite tombstones with his stainless steel thermos sitting on the ground next to him. A half-eaten sandwich in his dirty hand as he watched Clovis drive up. This thought Clovis, was a strange place for a man to take his lunch break but not for Thinking-Lincoln. The cruiser stopped with the window already rolled down. Clovis didn’t want to just come out and ask what he had come here to ask as that would make Thinking-Lincoln think. Maybe he too would lie. Clovis had no way of knowing if he would or not.

  “I see Father Finnigan is keeping you out of trouble by keeping you busy,” said Clovis.

  Lincoln smiled just enough to show that he found that statement somewhat amusing. “Two cemeteries and a Church do keep me pretty busy I suppose.”

  “Not to mention the leaves. They will be keeping you very busy soon,” replied Clovis as he shot a glance towards the near-dozen large maple trees in the cemetery. He was clearly stalling and no
t getting to the point and he figured Lincoln knew this.

  Lincoln looked at his sandwich and back at Clovis. “What’s this I hear about old man Brooks seeing Crazy Crandall near his farm?”

  Fucking small towns Clovis thought to himself. “Whoever he saw, it wasn’t Crandall. That much I can tell you.” Clovis frowned knowing he was about to say something he shouldn’t but did anyway. “I’m not even sure the man he saw was hitchhiking for that matter.”

  Lincoln picked up his thermos and took a drink, paused and spoke. “How come you’re so convinced Crandall won’t come this way anyway.”

  “You of all people should know that, Lincoln.” Clovis chuckled slightly. “Nothing ever happens in Carlton. That’s why we all talked of leaving back when we were in school.”

  Lincoln smiled. “And that’s why you came back. Because nothing ever happens, right?”

  Both men laughed a little. Lincoln took another swig of his thermos. “You know some people say that atheists are evil? Have you ever heard of an atheist strapping a bomb to his chest in the name of nothing?”

  At that moment, Clovis noticed the pint shaped bulge in the pocket of Lincoln’s overalls. “Nope, can’t say I have,” he replied.

  “I don’t think I ever hear of the atheist crusades?” Lincoln smiled. “Worship nothing or I’ll kill you!” he added.

  Drunk at noon, thought Clovis. His drinking is getting worse. All this talking in circles was getting Clovis nowhere he thought, so might as well just ask. “What’s this I hear about Libby giving you a ride home last night?”

  Lincoln paused and looked at his half eaten sandwich. Clovis knew whatever Thinking would say next would be a lie. He could feel it in his bones. “Fuckin’ Floyd was being a prick. He must have called her or something because she was outside when I left.”

  A lie and Clovis was sure of it. His gut told him so, but why?

  Lincoln wasn’t sure why he lied. Perhaps he did so because he knew what the ladies had been planning and he didn’t want to be the one to spoil it. Clovis wasn’t nice to him back in their school days. But he also wasn’t mean to him either. Clovis had always respected him in ways that most people from their high school years didn’t. For this reason, he sort of liked Clovis although he would never admit to liking a cop.