by Matt Drabble
He had slept fitfully last night; his dreams full of black capes and falling blades, spinning severed heads and the splattering of warm blood. He’d been prescribed a dream suppressant when he was younger called Periactin. He’d later learned that it was a drug commonly used to help war vets with PTSD. It had been years since he had felt the need for the drug’s ability to hold his nightmares at bay, but last night he wished that he’d kept a supply in stock. His mobile medicine cabinet carried several prescriptions including Amitriptyline Hydrochloride, Zoloft, and Paxil, all for his childhood trauma that still lingered like a bad smell. Not for the first time he wondered just what impact that afternoon had indelibly left on his former friends.
It was clear to see that PJ had gone from a quiet but studious child to a manual laborer that drank too much. Dixon was obviously mixed up in something illegal. It was not a surprise to find him on that road, but just how far down it he had travelled was a cause for concern. McEwen was a shell of the boy that Tommy had known; where once he’d been a mirror image of Dixon, now he was the polar opposite. Ally had already gone off the rails before he’d left town, but at least she seemed to have come out the other side relatively unscathed, except of course until you took into account her ex-husband. He still couldn’t quite believe that she’d married Dixon; he shuddered at the thought of them together in matrimonial bliss.
He was thinking about a shower when the front door banged loudly. The clock read 10:17am and he figured that it was too early for any of the others to have surfaced yet. As far as he knew no-one else in town knew that he was here.
He shrugged on a pair of jogging bottoms and a hooded top. The day was warming up already and he didn’t feel the need to bother with socks. He suddenly remembered spending whole summers barefoot. His father had used to joke that he must be part Native American. It was a memory that made him smile and feel sad at the same time.
He made his way to the front door and swung it open curiously. Standing before him was Detective Sherman Gaines.
Tommy hadn’t seen the man since he’d left town. Gaines had been the lead detective on the Trotter case. Denver Mills was a small town and the police department consisted of three civilian employees, four patrolmen, and one detective. As far as Tommy knew, Gaines was the only officer in town who actually had any real experience. He’d come to town in the mid-eighties to a storm of public interest and intrigue. Here was a cop from a big city just like the town witnessed on TV week in week out. Before Tommy’s birthday there had only ever be a handful of deaths that required the attention of the police. Most of those had either been farm accidents, drink driving or speeding accidents. On only one memorable occasion had Merrill Thomas got it into his head that the government were coming to take his land. He’d ended up shooting a telephone engineer he’d thought was an undercover agent with a shotgun. Denver Mills was a quiet slice of life and nothing exciting had ever happened, until The Captivating Cosmo X and his Guillotine of Death.
“Tommy, nice to see you again,” Gaines greeted him.
When Tommy was a child he had been fascinated by magic. Detective Sherman Gaines had once delighted his class during a talk about “Stranger Danger” by producing a bouquet of flowers from his sleeve. It was a novelty trick that you could buy at any magic store, but Gaines’ smooth delivery had intrigued Tommy. The rest of the class had laughed and he could remember Dixon and McEwen leading the scorn, but he had liked the effect.
“Detective Gaines,” Tommy greeted back, “How did you know I was here?”
Gaines had been a big man, broad shouldered and barrel-chested. He’d been an imposing presence back when Tommy was a child. He had dark hair and features to match. His mouth was always twitching as if in thought and his jade eyes were always watching. But the cop was so much older now. His shoulders were now slanted and his height stooped. His hair was now a snowy dusting and his face wrinkled by time. He seemed tired despite the early morning hour.
“Ah, small towns, you know,” Gaines said, leaning against the doorframe, a little too casually Tommy thought. “Nothing’s ever a secret for long around here.”
Tommy wondered if he was being paranoid, or if the statement went deeper than the words uttered. “So what can I do for you?” He asked pleasantly.
“Wondered if you’d heard the news?”
“About Trotter?”
Gaines raised an eyebrow.
“Small towns you know,” Tommy smiled back.
“Well I’m just notifying a few select people around town. There has been no confirmation as yet as to Trotter’s state of health. Apparently the fire was so intense that the authorities are having serious trouble identifying the bodies or even how many bodies there actually are. But in the worst case scenario, we’ve nothing to suggest that Trotter would come back here.”
“Where else would he go?” Tommy asked stern faced. “Don’t you remember that he made certain promises to certain people around here when they dragged him away?”
“Well that was a long time ago Tommy,” Gaines said with barely disguised anger.
“Is there some reason that you’re not calling me Mr. Marsh?” Tommy asked annoyed at feeling intimidated by the detective.
“Not at all Mr. Marsh,” Gaines said with a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Just old habits I guess. My advice is just to keep an eye out is all. I’d imagine that in the very unlikely event that Trotter is not among the dead, he would be scooped up soon enough. He’s been cooped up in a loony bin chained to his bed for several years. I’d doubt that he’d have gotten very far.”
“But you still thought enough to come and tell me?” Tommy asked.
“Well perhaps you might pass the message along to your old friends, that is if you haven’t seen them already,” Gaines smiled pleasantly as he turned and headed back down the path towards his waiting car.
Tommy watched him go, knowing full well that Gaines knew that he’d been in the Catfish last night with all of them; small towns and all that.
Thirty minutes later he was showered and dressed for the day. The warm summer was in full swing and he had dressed accordingly. Canvas cargo shorts and a baggy blue polo shirt were his choice for the day.
He was on his way to Dixon’s house out at the lake. The night before they had all been sobered up to one degree or another due to the news report in the bar. Even PJ had seemed alert for once as eyes dropped in flashback shared memories. They had agreed before going their separate ways to meet at Dixon’s place for lunch and to talk. Dixon had been adamant that there was little to talk about. He’d shut the conversation down early, only for Ally’s soft hand to touch his arm and tame the wild beast. After that he’d suggested that they use his place as it was the most private. PJ would have agreed to anything, slipping into the submissive child of his youth. McEwen had nodded, but his eyes were distant and deep in thought. After gently rousing him from his embarrassing faint, Ally had held his gaze and agreed that they all needed to have a long overdue conversation. It was not one that Tommy was looking forward to.
The road opened up into farmland as Tommy drove his SUV out of the residential areas, and then out passed the commercial district. The large open fields were soothing to his soul and he was only just realizing that he’d actually missed the wide open spaces of his childhood. There was always something calming about the swaying crops and there was always something comforting about being able to see the horizon unencumbered by cover, and hiding places.
He resisted the urge to play the stereo as he drove. Normally he would find the silence uncomfortable as his brain raced for nourishment, threatening to turn on itself for sustenance. But he needed the quiet to think and to prepare for what lay ahead. The bar the night before had been a dark place full of shadows in which to hide their past and their emotions. The bright sunny day would leave no place to hide from anything or anyone. All of their secrets would be spread bare in the warm light of the day. He knew that they would dance around real subjects as was th
e way of civilized modern people, but eventually they would have to face their own black truths. He thought of his birthday party, of their guilt and their silence. He thought of spinning severed heads and warm sticky blood. He thought of lost friendships and poisonous secrets and he thought of Ally. He thought of long slim tanned legs poking out of bright white shorts, and he thought of what might have been.
The only problem with trying to think as you drove in a small town was that you always arrived at your destination far too soon.
He pulled into Dixon’s driveway. The directions had been largely unnecessary from Ally, as he knew the lakeside road and he could have guessed which house was Dixon’s. A gleaming black Mercedes SUV was parked outside; its paint was waxed and sparkling. There was a bright yellow Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4, which Tommy recognised from a story that he had once written on the industry. The house itself was a testament to success and wealth. The large three storey building had a sloping driveway that fed into an interior garage beneath the house. The walls were a tasteful sandy beige with several pitched roofs on varying levels. There were green lawn areas leading around to the front of the property, and all were meticulously landscaped and manicured.
Tommy could hear raucous laughter emanating from the front of the house and he followed the pathway around the side. The summer air smelled of cut grass and he could hear various boat engines of varying speeds moving up and down the lake.
As he walked around he was struck by the view of the front of the house. All of the homes along the private road had been built with the lakeside views to the fore. Their fronts were almost exclusively glass fronted, with balconies protruding and stacked decking areas laid for summertime living. He spotted his group of former, and in certainly some cases he hoped, future friends. They were all sitting on garden furniture in a semi circle on the dark oak decking. McEwen was sitting under the shade of a parasol, his creamy white skin seemingly foreign to the sunlight. PJ was lying flat on a steamer recliner. One arm was raised and shaded his face against the brightness, a bottle of beer clutched in his hand. Ally was sitting demurely with one long tanned leg crossed over the other, her face hidden behind large dark sunglasses. Her clothes were simple and basic and devoid of designer labels, but to Tommy she looked like a movie star. All the while Dixon paced back and forth, the king holding court on his throne. As Tommy walked to them and their faces all turned towards him, he could see that Dixon’s face was flushed and his pupils were dilated. His nostrils looked red and raw as though they were paying the price for his appetites.
“Tommy!” Dixon yelled a little too loudly, “Fashionably late as usual,” he laughed alone.
“How are you feeling Tommy?” Ally asked softly.
“Embarrassed,” Tommy replied truthfully.
He couldn’t help but notice how Dixon bristled every time that Ally spoke kindly towards him. Perhaps Dixon had more depth and perception than he had given him credit for. During their childhood friendships he supposed that it was always assumed that he and Ally would one day consummate their burgeoning hormones. Maybe Dixon had always felt like a second choice.
“So what are we all doing here?” Dixon demanded, trying to dominate the group again.
“You know why,” McEwen spoke out from under his shade.
Tommy noticed that the artist was still dressed in his customary black despite the summer day’s heat.
“Ah shit, that was a lifetime ago,” Dixon snapped. “I’m sure that any day now they’ll identify him in the remains. And even if he was somehow loose, wherever that nutcase has gone, it’s nothing to do with any of us.”
“You sure about that?” Ally asked and Dixon dropped his gaze.
“He wouldn’t come back here would he Tommy?” PJ asked nervously.
Tommy watched as PJ, McEwen and Ally all looked to him for answers; even Dixon couldn’t help himself. I don’t want this, Tommy thought desperately to himself. I don’t want to be in charge, I don’t want to be responsible for them. He felt them all slipping back into childhood again. Back then he had reveled in being a leader, but now it was a burden that he didn’t want.
“Gaines came to see me this morning,” he said trying to avoid the question.
“Ah that guy’s all mouth and no trousers,” Dixon flapped a hand in dismissal.
“What did he want?” PJ asked anxiously.
“To tell me about the fire at the hospital, he said to tell all of you.” Tommy answered.
“He’s been buzzing around me for years,” Dixon said proudly. “He’s just pissed because he’s never been able to nail me for anything since I was a kid.”
“And what is there to nail you for?” Tommy couldn’t help but ask, his inner reporter piping up.
Dixon looked at him long and hard. “A lot of things have changed since you last slinked off,” he said in a low angry tone. “Some of us have changed a lot.”
“You haven’t changed Dixon,” McEwen interjected. “You just got bigger.”
“And uglier,” PJ laughed.
“And smellier,” Ally giggled.
“Screw the lot of you,” Dixon said trying to sound irate, but soon he was smiling too as the tense moment evaporated in laughter.
Tommy laughed; it was a warm summer breeze that spoke of happier days and times when they had all been a family. It had been a time when they were close and it had just been them against the world.
6.
old habits die hard
Sherman Gaines sat back from his desk, his elbows resting on the table and his hands folded deep in thought. The police department of Denver Mills was small but adequate for the day to day rumblings of the diminutive town. He had spent his formative years in a proper city where the days were long and grey and the nights were black. He had stood over more dead bodies and shattered lives than he cared to remember. He had lived his life with one eye looking over his shoulder for so long that he had forgotten that there was any other way to live.
He had never married and never fathered. He’d always thought that it would be simply too cruel and selfish to burden another person with his day to day reality. Practically every cop that he knew was either divorced, or well on the way to being so.
He had once attended a crime scene where a junkie had thrown a baby into a roaring oven because the poor child had wet itself and the man had wanted to dry the child rather than change it. The small apartment had stunk of death and despair. The peeling wallpaper was black with mould and the baby’s mother had sat glassy eyed staring at it, her brain fried and long departed. Gaines had stood amongst the filth and the squalor when it suddenly dawned on him that there was a world outside of this black hole. It was a startling revelation that had shocked him in its simplicity. He could just leave, just walk away, and never look back. There had been no guilt at leaving, no sense of unfinished business or cowardice. He had paid his dues and done his time and it was simply time to leave.
His life in Denver Mills had been a real shock to the system. He had not slept properly for the first few months, used as he was to dozing with one ear out for the telephone. He was the sole detective in the town and he was the only police officer of any description with any real experience. The department spent most of its time dealing with farmer boundary issues and drunken teenagers. There had been a small badly organised marijuana ring at the local school that had taken him all of a week to bust up and break down. His position of detective was largely ceremonial, that was until Tommy Marsh’s 12th birthday party and Arnold Trotter.
The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown, was a two bit kid’s entertainer that had never developed his act beyond the minds of children as they were less likely to see the joins. He still shuddered now at the thought of the man. He had worked the blood red streets of a large city witnessing the worst that mankind had to offer, but he had never really been spooked by anyone until he had sat opposite Trotter. Whatever it was that drew children to him in fascinated droves, caused adults to shy away.
> He had been called to the scene by the attending two officers who had found themselves completely out of their depths. He had instantly secured the scene, witnesses, and the man himself. Trotter had sat in the back of his car, cuffed and motionless with only a strange distant look on his face. His magician’s black cape costume a seemingly perverse mockery and only adding to the macabre scene. Trotter’s shock had appeared genuine to Gaines’ trained and experienced eye. His manner exuded disbelief, and if he was putting on an act, it was the best damn one that Gaines had ever seen.
On the ride back to the station Trotter had pleaded his innocence, claiming that it was an illusion that he had used a hundred times before and never with a problem. He swore blind that someone must have tampered with the equipment. Despite the man’s creepy exterior, Gaines had believed his protestations, even going so far as to reassure the magician that his innocence would be proven. Over the next few days though, he had run up against a brick wall of small town minds.
Despite being a local, Trotter was always an outsider; one who began dating Mary Todd. Mary was a corn fed beauty of Denver Mills’ finest and heartiest stock. Her family were one of the oldest that the town had to offer and her father wielded a large amount of influence about the town.
Gaines had found his investigation running into obstruction after obstruction. The common and rapidly spreading rumor was that Trotter had proven himself to be the odd ball that everyone had long expected. His motive varied from person to person, but everyone knew that he was guilty. Their evidence, as far as Gaines could tell, was simply that the man looked a bit weird and his choice of profession only confirmed their suspicions.
It hadn’t taken Gaines long to uncover that Mary was far from the perfect wife and woman. He uncovered a history of drug abuse and extra marital affairs. However, he had been shocked to discover that his investigation was seen as a muck spreading exercise that sullied the good name of the Todd’s.