Sleepless Nights

by Pierre C. Arseneault

  Libby would be the last to drive home. Sober.

  38

  At a little past two in the morning, Dwayne and Maureen sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table sipping coffee while they both surfed Facebook on laptops. A bloop sound echoed as Dwayne got a message from Libby.

  “You still awake?” was what it said.

  “I work graveyard shift five days a week. Of course I’m still awake,” he replied sarcastically adding a winking emoticon instead of punctuation.

  “I drove past Burnett’s on the way home,” replied Libby.

  “So?” asked Dwayne.

  “Robert’s cruiser was there,” wrote Libby in her reply.

  “Molly must have finally gave him a reason to stick around,” wrote Dwayne as he grinned causing him to have to explain his amusement to his curious wife who sat across from him at the table.

  “lol,” was Libby’s only reply.

  39

  The sun’s rays were shining through the small slits on the sides of the layered dark curtains covering their bedroom window casting a soft glow about the room. It was close to ten thirty on Sunday morning when Dwayne’s telephone rang, waking Maureen and not Dwayne. Reaching over her husband Maureen picked up the cordless phone from the nightstand and glanced at the display screen before poking her husband with it a few times while it rang. Dwayne stirred, opened one eye and looked at his wife holding a cordless phone in a hand aimed towards him.

  “It’s Libby,” said Maureen sounding half asleep. “Ask her if she forgot we work graveyard.”

  Dwayne propped himself up on one elbow, took the phone and put it to his ear. “Hello,” he said as it rang again. Focusing he pushed the talk button and said hello for the second time.

  Maureen had already rolled over and was struggling with her pillow in an attempt to get comfortable.

  “Did you hear from Robert this morning?” asked Libby sounding slightly irritated.

  “No, why? You jealous?” asked a smirking Dwayne.

  Ignoring his comments, Libby replied. “His cruiser is still in the lot at Burnett’s. I saw it when I went to get coffee at Santorene’s this morning.” Libby paused before adding. “Clovis is gonna kill him if he finds out he left his cruiser there overnight.”

  “You woke me for that?” asked Dwayne unsuccessfully trying to suppress a yawn.

  “He’s not answering his phone either, Dwayne,”

  “Like I told you last night. He’s been chasing after Molly since he moved back here. He’s probably at her place. Now I only went to bed at six, Libby. Call me if someone dies or something. Ok?” Dwayne hung up, cradled the phone and plopped backwards into his pillow.

  40

  Libby sipped coffee from a Santorene paper cup with the white plastic lid as she drove up Short Fir Road. With nothing to do early on a Sunday afternoon she was on her way to the hiking trails near and around Pinewood Lodge. A thought raced through her mind and she quickly pulled her Jeep over to the shoulder and came to a grinding halt sending a cloud of beige dust billowing up only to be whisked away by the slight breeze.

  If Robert left his police cruiser at Burnett’s because he went to Molly’s place. Then why would Molly’s tiny blue car still be in the same parking lot too?

  Libby was certain that she had seen it that morning. But she had been too wrapped up with the idea of Robert’s cruiser still being in the parking lot of the local drinking hole to have realised it. And a sudden urge to satisfy her burning curiosity made her pull a u-turn and head towards town.

  41

  Libby parked her Jeep next to Robert’s police cruiser in front of Burnett’s Place. Her own reflection caught her eye as she pulled the handbrake. The sun’s glare on the large tinted window turned it into a giant mirror reflecting everything before it. The only part not a reflection was the large red lettering spelling the words BURNETT’S PLACE.

  Clovis had insisted that most of his off-duty officers drive their cruisers this weekend. Little news about Crandall meant that he could indeed show up in Carlton. And Clovis wouldn’t admit it but now that his daughter Anna was in town, he wanted his officers on high alert. He had also insisted they keep their gun belts in the trunk just in case. A quick glance at Robert’s cruiser made Libby’s heart sink. She not only saw the cruiser in the parking lot but the gun belt neatly folded in the passenger seat. She knew he was careless enough to leave it in the seat but not overnight.

  Molly’s car was on the opposite end of the parking lot past the end of the building. Same place she always parked, underneath the last of the large spotlights. She always backed in so the driver’s door would be towards her when she walked to it late at night. Libby pulled out her cell phone and dialled Robert’s number only to end the call before it could even ring once.

  Clovis is gonna fire him, she thought.

  With Floyd’s truck nowhere in sight, Libby wondered if he had finally let someone else come in to open up the place. Floyd was such a control freak which would make this so damned hard to believe.

  But the gun belt in plain sight. Why?

  Libby quickly hatched a plan to save Robert’s hide. She would go to the station, get the spare keys to the cruiser. Put the gun belt in the trunk and park the cruiser at the station. Libby started her Jeep and drove off, station bound on this sunny Sunday afternoon.

  42

  Upon her return from the station, Libby had parked at the very same spot she had a short while before. Focused on her task, she climbed out of her Jeep making her long ponytail bob in her enthusiasm. Her haste combined with not taking the time to figure out which set was which, Libby had taken the large set of keys and shoved it into her small purse that now bulged and swayed heavily at her side. She walked at a brisk pace around her Jeep, the sound of some loose gravel atop the faded asphalt crunching under her feet echoed against the building. She pulled the large set of keys from her purse intending on going through the tags to select the right one. Before she had the chance, something caught her downward glance.

  At her feet sat what looked like an imperfect circular shadow. At first the large dark spot about the size of a manhole cover had looked like a shadow but she saw now that it looked wet. The tips of her feet were just over the edge of it when it caught her eye. Without much thought she casually took a step back. Libby knew it hadn’t rained at all in the last few days and so the dark stain was out of place. Plus it had a look as if it trailed off a little, thought Libby. It was as if it pointed towards the door. As if in a trance Libby took a few steps forward and could see the sunlight glinting on a spider web in the darkness of the sunken doorway. At least at first it looked to her like it was a spider’s web until she got closer and noticed the glass on the front door had been shattered causing the glass to crack in web-like patterns. The safety laminated glass held in its place. The dark blotch-like puddle had led her to the door with broken glass. On the bottom sill of the door was what could only be dried blood. A small part of her assumed it was blood all along but she couldn’t bring herself to accept it. A puddle of blood that size clearly indicated something horrible and the fact that whoever had bled there had either dragged themselves or perhaps been dragged away. Either one was a terrifying thought.

  Libby’s police officer instincts kicked in, being careful where she stepped while backtracking to the passenger side of Robert’s cruiser. She unlocked and opened the door. Libby unsnapped the holster and drew the Glock 9mm and left the gun belt lying in the passenger seat. There was no point in taking the time to try and fit into Robert’s belt. Glock in hand with the safety off, Libby pushed through the doorway slowly, daylight glinting on the broken glass. She was careful not to step on the blood as she stepped into the darkness.

  The contrast of the bright sunny day against the purposefully gloomy inside of Burnett’s made Libby strain to see. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the lack of light in the bar.
Her gun clutched in her cop double handed grip and angled slightly downwards, she patted her side for the flashlight that should have been there had she been on duty.

  “Floyd?” said Libby calling out. “Molly?”

  She walked forward squinting as her eyes were getting accustomed to the lack of light when she felt her foot hit something making her stumble slightly. She glanced around the room to make sure nothing would catch her off guard before she looked down at her feet. Before she could see what was there, her other foot stepped in something slick and she was lying prone before she even realized it. Her ponytail saving her from being knocked unconscious as the back of her head hit the floor hard. Her gun hand twitched on impact and a shot went off. They would later figure out that her bullet lodged itself in a wide varnished wooden moulding, inches from one of the many flat screen television sets mounted on the wall.

  Outside, in the parking lot of Burnett’s, a pair of crows who had been eating the dead cooked worms from the hot asphalt flew away, scarred off by the muffled gun shot that had come from inside.

  A dazed Libby opened her eyes to see a foot lying right next to her prone self. Her eyes travelled up the leg as she propped herself up on her elbows on the slick flooring. Shock filled her as she saw the legs led to a waist but stopped there. The upper body was missing. She raised an arm, gun still in hand and looked at it, realizing she lay in a pool of blood. The blood had seeped out from the severed waist and had congealed on the hardwood flooring.

  Her eyes had taken time to get adjusted to the sombre inside of the bar but now she saw everything pretty clearly, but was no longer sure she wanted to see what was there to be seen. She struggled to her feet while staring at the half body next to her. Turning her gaze she saw Robert staring at her with his mouth open. Only it wasn’t Robert but just his head sitting askew on the bar in a puddle of gore. Behind it was Floyd who looked like he was standing at first. But she saw his outstretched hands had been pinned to the rack of glasses above the bar given him the looked of being crucified. His head slumped forward as much as it could. That’s when Libby realized the legs on the floor next to her were Floyd’s.

  What madness, thought Libby. She felt her stomach churn and nausea washing over herself. The feeling got stronger and Libby ran for the door. She pushed through it hard hearing snapping sounds as more of the glass cracked in the process.

  I can’t throw up on a crime scene, thought Libby as she stopped to vomit next to Robert’s police cruiser. Her knees almost buckled beneath her and her head spun as she braced herself on the car.

  43

  All of Carlton was oblivious to Libby’s findings as she was vomiting next to Robert’s cruiser in the parking lot of Burnett’s Place. Most of the town’s folk were spending the afternoon as they always did on Sundays.

  Accustomed to a life of graveyard shifts, Dwayne and Maureen were sleeping in.

  Bonnie Campbell had her short silver hair in large curlers while she sat at her desk at the headquarters of the Carlton Gazette starting to plan her next edition. Her stainless steel Santorene coffee cup sat next to her giving off a slight aroma of coffee accentuated by a generous dose of Baileys Irish Cream.

  Ernie Woodman was at home on Sunday’s like he always was. While his wife was out playing the weekly bridge game with her lady friends; he was playing dress up in his wife’s closet.

  Linus and his wife Geraldine sat in their old dark blue Ford Escape. This time both their boys visited with Doctor Evee Melanson.

  Father Finnigan was visiting the residents of Sleepy Meadows like he always did on Sunday afternoons.

  Jack Ledger wore the brightest combination of yellow golf shirt, chequered shorts and Irish tweed hat of all the others on the golf course. Of course by this hour his blood pressure was rising as his game got worse and worse.

  The motley crew still played the traditional Sunday game even if it was never quite the same after the mysterious disappearance of their golf buddy, local shipping tycoon Gary Chapmen.

  Clovis and his wife Raylene were in the process of cleaning up after having barbequed with their visiting children. Now that the kids were grown, they didn’t come home at the same time very often so they had spent the morning as a family. They had intended on making a day of it but Raylene knew that would change when the phone rang.

  “Dad, it’s for you,” said Anna, handing him the phone.

  44

  Looking through her kitchen window, Raylene watched her husband Clovis speed away in his cruiser, the roof lights flashing.

  “Where’s Dad going?” asked Cotton.

  “What happened?” added Anna.

  Raylene looked at her kids. “I don’t know but I’ve never seen your father so pale, ever.”

  “He told me to stay home with you guys,” replied Cotton.

  Anna looked at her mother. “Seriously, what’s going on? Where’s he going?”

  “It must be bad because he wouldn’t tell me,” replied Raylene. “But he went white as a ghost when I asked if it had to do with Crandall.”

  45

  Clovis flicked on the siren and gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white as he sped up. His mind going back to the call he had just gotten from Libby.

  “You know how we always say that nothing ever happens in Carlton?” Libby had said in a crackling voice. He could tell she was emotional. And for Libby to get emotional that meant someone she knew was involved.

  “Yeah, why?” he had asked in reply.

  “Crandall’s in town. You better get over to Burnett’s and fast.” Libby had said.

  46

  Dwayne sat on the edge of the bed with his back to his wife as he spoke on the phone. He set the cordless phone back in the cradle and turned to see if his wife was going back to sleep. Maureen wasn’t asleep as she lay there, wide awake and curious as hell.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “It has to be important for Clovis to call you on a Sunday afternoon.”

  “He asked me not to tell anyone,” said Dwayne as he got up off the bed. “Even you!” Dwayne could see his wife was not pleased by that comment.

  Maureen knew it must be serious. It must be extremely serious for Clovis to insist that Dwayne not tell his wife about it. She would try to get him to tell her something before he was able to get dressed and leave but he refused. She got the impression that Clovis hadn’t told him everything either which only strengthened her theory that it had to be something serious.

  47

  Maureen kissed her husband as he left. She watched Dwayne hurry and drive away in his cruiser with the lights on as soon as he pulled out their driveway. She could still hear his engine roar as he vanished from sight. That sound was soon replaced by his siren and that faded away as well as he drove towards the center of town.

  She flicked off her coffee maker, pouring a cup and sat at the kitchen table before her laptop. A few moments later she was logged into Facebook and looking at pictures someone had posted on their wall. Clovis in one picture as he hung police tape surrounding the parking lot of Burnett’s Place, a few cruisers could be seen. Rumours were already spreading on the website. This was expected, especially in such a small town. A few people messaged Maureen to ask what was going on but she ignored the messages but stayed glued to the screen waiting for updates.

  48

  Word spread quickly about the police being at Burnett’s Place. Social media only fanned the flames as rumours of Crazy Crandall spread like fire in tall dry grass on a windy day. Word reached Bonnie Campbell through her usual source. Her police scanner set atop the beige metal filling cabinet alerted her early on. She dropped everything and got to the scene as Clovis strung up the police line tape.

  Bonnie, now curler free but still smelling like hair products was visibly shaken when she spoke.

  “Is-is Molly in there?” She knew full well she was as
Clovis didn’t make eye contact. This told her Molly was inside and she was most likely dead. The ambulance sat just outside the police tape with one of its paramedics standing by, pale as ghost. A still shaken Libby wrapped in a blanket while sitting in the back of the ambulance with the other paramedic as she breathed into an oxygen mask.

  Jack Ledger stepped past a few stunned onlookers as he placed a comforting hand on Bonnie Campbell’s shoulder.

  “I guess Lincoln was right after all, huh Clovis?” remarked Jack.

  “I can’t comment,” said Clovis as he tied the end of the caution tape and snapped off the roll. “You know that.”

  Not long after, all of Carlton was crawling with Stonevalley Police. Crime scene investigators had taken over the scene at Burnett’s leaving Chief Clovis and his officers wondering if their sleepy little town would ever truly sleep again. It had been a long time since the town has seen something even remotely like this. The town would need time to mourn long after this day had passed.

  “They don’t seem to be locking down the town like I expected,” said Dwayne to Clovis.

  “I know,” replied Clovis. “They seem entirely too calm about everything for my liking.”

  “What’re you thinking, Chief?” asked Dwayne.

  “I’m thinking I wish I wasn’t so popular right now.”

  A clearly befuddled Dwayne replied. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Clovis scratched his salt and pepper covered scalp as he spoke. His voice lowered as he glanced at the Stonevalley Officers milling about. “I mean half the town was at my birthday party. If it wasn’t for that, Robert might still be alive.” He sighed and added. “Molly and Floyd too.”

  “You’re seriously not blaming yourself for a serial killer killing are you?” asked Dwayne.

  “No. But had the usual Saturday crowd been at Burnett’s I don’t think this would have happened.” Clovis stopped talking while a Stonevalley officer walked past him. “Because of my party there are no witnesses either. Don’t tell Raylene I said that. This is police business, right?”