by Matt Drabble
“Chief?” Katy prompted.
Gaines looked at the young woman with her whole life stretching out in front of her; a lifetime to make good decisions to warm her elderly days, or bad ones to haunt her dreams. “We have to notify everyone involved in the trial. Everyone that might be a potential victim,” he said firmly.
“Who does that cover?” Katy asked pointedly.
Gaines stared at her hard. If Trotter was back and on the rampage then as police officers they would likely be caught in the crossfire. “Well Moss here worked the prosecution side of the case. We have Larry Taylor who was the Chief at the time already accounted for in two pieces. Kelsey Falcon was Trotter’s defense lawyer and he’s still missing and we found Dale Midkiff who was the jury foreman dead on his porch with most of his face missing.”
“So who does that leave?”
“First port of call is Harry Fielding. He was the presiding judge and he still lives in town.”
“Why exactly would Trotter go after his own defense lawyer? I’ve read the trial transcripts and it seemed like a pretty much open and shut case against him,” Katy asked and Gaines knew that he had to start taking her more seriously.
“A little too airtight?” He responded cryptically.
“Look, I don’t have your experience. Hell I barely have any experience, but the whole thing smells fishy to me. I get that a jury in a small town like this would be out for blood over the death of one of their own. But there seemed to be hardly a whisper offered in his defense. No witnesses called, no cross examination, no evidence. Added to the fact that the dead woman in question was Mary Todd and we all know just what sort of influence Adrian Todd exerts over this town.”
“So what do you think?”
“I can’t help but think that if the girl’s father wanted blood, then he was going to get it whichever way he could.”
“Do you know that Trotter was seriously assaulted in prison?” He asked.
“I heard something about that. Isn’t that when he got transferred over to the mental hospital?”
“Yes,” Gaines said sighing heavily. “From what I hear Trotter was trapped in the prison basement over a weekend. Whatever hell he went through down there changed him forever. After he got out of the infirmary he was transferred over to the secure wing at Blackwater Heights.”
He hadn’t wanted to tell the tale now. Not when the crows were still eying the fresh corpse of Graham Moss trussed in a barrel. But he didn’t have the luxury of time on his side. His gut was telling him that it may already be too late. If Trotter was back in town, then there was death and retribution coming for a lot of people.
He took a deep breath. “Alright Katy,” he began. “This is between just us. This isn’t for public consumption or even for the ears of your fellow deputies. I think that Trotter was innocent. I think that there was a simple malfunction of a guillotine trick at Tommy Marsh’s birthday party. I believe that a group of kids either maliciously or accidently tampered with the equipment and that Mary Todd’s death was a tragic accident.”
“Which kids?” She asked succinctly.
“Tommy Marsh, Lee McEwen, Russell Dixon, Peter Joffre, and Alison Chambers.”
“I know McEwen, he’s that artist. I also know of Dixon obviously because he’s got a record with us. I think that the Chambers girl married and then divorced Dixon and got Nan’s Diner as part of the settlement. And Joffre has spent more than one night drying out in the town cells. Tommy Marsh I don’t know.”
“Well Marsh is back in town and just in time for the festivities.”
“Isn’t that a little bit of a coincidence?” Katy pondered. “Are we sure that it’s Trotter that’s come back to town and not just Tommy Marsh?”
Gaines was taken aback by the thought. He had been so convinced that Trotter was on the rampage due to his own feelings of guilt that he hadn’t thought of any other possibility.
“What else about the trial?” Katy prompted again.
“Um, yeah. I was taken off the case by Chief Taylor before I even got a chance to get started. I was on the scene first and those kids had guilt painted all over their faces. Next thing I knew I was sidelined and the kids were strictly off limits. I know that the prosecutor Moss came out of the trial with enough money to start up his own firm. The defense attorney Kelsey Falcon took early retirement. The jury foreman paid off his farm’s mortgage a week later. And we both know that whatever Adrian Todd’s source of income is, it’s enough to fund such an Endeavour.”
“Have you spoken to the judge, this Harry Fielding this morning?” Katy asked nervously.
“I couldn’t get an answer,” Gaines answered, his voice thick with defeat.
“Well then. That’s the first place to start,” Katy said quickly. “I’ll wait here for Doc Norton and one of the gruesome twosome. Burns or Trinder,” she replied to his quizzical look. “And you get over to the judge’s place and we’ll go from there.”
Two minutes later Gaines found himself heading back down the dirt track road as ordered by his twenty something deputy. The old pop culture phrase “I’m getting too old for this shit” never seemed more apt.
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Tommy hung up the phone as PJ’s shower echoed through the grubby house as his friend got ready for the day. Ally had sounded better this morning. He had apologized for not checking back on her last night and her voice had sounded a little too casual as she said it was no big deal. Part of him felt chastened by her coolness, but the other part felt encouraged. Neither of them had been able to get McEwen on the phone yet. He knew that the odds were stacked firmly in favor of his friend merely being either out of signal range or wrapped up in his business. But his stomach rolled nervously nevertheless. He knew that in the movies he would be able to conjure a plan to track down their illusive stalker, but this was real life and he was no more a detective than he was an astronaut.
He had told Ally that they would meet her for breakfast at the diner. He wasn’t exactly hungry, but PJ could certainly do with something to line his stomach.
He checked his pockets for his mobile medicinal supplies and found that he was running low. It had been the first night in more than he could remember that he hadn’t required a chemical nightcap to sleep. In fact now that he thought about it he hadn’t taken anything for the last couple of days. The realisation came as a shock to him. He had been dependant for more years than he’d like to count, but the last couple of days the need had just slipped away. Perhaps it had been the distraction of all their lives potentially being in danger, but it was nice to have a clear head for once.
“You know I’ve just realised something,” PJ said as he stepped out of the bathroom with just a small towel covering his modesty.
“What’s that?” Tommy asked the dripping man.
“It’s your birthday in two days.” PJ grinned.
“Yeah great, another step closer to the grave,” Tommy grinned back.
“Hey we should have a party,” PJ said.
Even as the words fell from his mouth Tommy felt the good nature sucked from the room.
“Oh shit man, sorry I didn’t think,” PJ apologized.
Tommy couldn’t help but find the black humor in the honest suggestion. “Maybe we could book some entertainment, I hear that there’s a magician in town who’s pretty good.”
PJ snorted and Tommy felt a sense of reclaiming their old lives. For so long they had lived under the shadow of a 12 year old’s birthday party. It was a specter that had loomed over their shoulders and shaped their lives for the worst.
They left the small house after PJ had dressed and walked in the warm sunshine to the diner. It was too nice a day to drive and for the time being at least, Tommy felt pleasantly at home.
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Gaines pulled into Harry Fielding’s driveway. The retired judge’s car was still parked neatly off road and sat there gleaming under the sun with fresh polish.
He stepped out into the hot day and wondered at
the juxtaposition of the weather and his current duties. He had heard from Katy before he had got here. Deputy Burns and Doc Norton had arrived on scene and Deputy Trinder was supposedly hotfooting his way over to the judge’s house.
Gaines knew that he should really wait for Trinder before trying the house, but he couldn’t. Trinder was more likely to be a hindrance than a help at a crime scene, especially if it was an active one.
Gaines withdrew his service revolver from the glove box. The black revolver felt alien in his hand and it had been a lifetime since he had needed it. None of the officers were armed in Denver Mills. There had simply never been the need for them. Not to mention the fact that Burns would likely shoot someone by accident and Trinder would most likely shoot himself in the foot. Katy was the only one that he would trust with a firearm and he decided that he would issue her with one later that day.
He paused outside the house. Katy’s thoughts about Tommy Marsh suddenly rushed back at him. Was it possible that Arnold Trotter actually had had nothing to do with any of the murders or disappearances? Everything had only hit the fan after Tommy had turned up back in town and what did he really know about the man anyway? He shut off the distracting thoughts and got back on the clock.
He checked the revolver over. Made sure that it was loaded and that the safety was on. He rang the doorbell and waited. The home was large and expensive and befitting of a man in the judge’s position. The large wooden front door was painted bright white and pretty climbing floral decorations framed the opening with fragrance.
He reached out and banged hard on the door. The sound echoed throughout the house, but no footsteps came to meet him. With a heavy heart he flipped the safety off the gun and tried the handle. The door was locked and part of him was filled with hope. Maybe the judge had simply gone somewhere within walking distance and everything was fine. Another part of him that had spent too many days and nights walking a real beat was full of dread.
He scooted around the side of the house following the ornate stone path. The judge obviously had a green thumb and his garden must be the source of much pride and jealousy amongst his neighbors.
He made his way through an arbor and around to the rear of the house. The long lawn swept down towards the river at the bottom of the judge’s property. Gaines allowed himself a moment of bitterness thinking of his own small apartment. Just how much of this home was bought with Adrian Todd’s money he wondered.
He approached the back of the house carefully. There were large patio doors that opened the rear of the home out into the garden. He tried those doors but they were equally locked. He checked through the other windows and could see nothing out of place inside the house. There were no obvious signs of a disturbance or any sign of a break in. He stood there and let a heavy sigh of relief go. There seemed to be nothing amiss and no reason for him to affect entry into the house. He flipped the safety on again and slipped the revolver into his coat pocket and turned to go.
He had just decided to do a quick random check with the neighbors to look for Fielding when he spotted the summer house at the bottom of the garden. It was not a welcome sight as it offered one last opportunity for undiscovered horrors. He almost cursed himself for seeing it, before starting the walk down.
The lawn was dewy despite the day’s growing warmth and he felt the moisture seep through his shoes. The wooden structure was an ideal sitting place and Gaines could picture himself whiling away summer afternoons. As he drew closer he could see a silhouette through the summer house’s window and his heart sank again. The shape was sitting rigid and was motionless.
“JUDGE?” He called out loudly. “JUDGE FIELDING? IS THAT YOU?”
He pulled the gun back out of his pocket and flipped the safety off. He drew the gun up and it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as his arm trembled.
“Whoever is in there, let me see you hands!” He ordered firmly.
He moved closer to the summer house door and held his breath as the figure remained motionless.
“I want you to stand up slowly!” He barked again to no avail.
The figure didn’t move and he reached the door. Now he could see clearer. The figure was seated with his back to him but he could recognise the judge’s profile.
“Judge? Are you alright?”
He opened the summer house door and scanned the room quickly. There were several pieces of garden furniture folded and stacked neatly against the far wall. He could now see that the Fielding’s hands were tied around his back and he was strapped to a chair. There was a smell that invaded his nostrils that was a fleeting flashback to his dark past. It was as unmistakable as it was haunting. It was death.
He gingerly pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside. The heat from the day was already stifling inside the unventilated summer house. After having to fight the crows at another murder site only an hour or so before, now he had to contend with the buzzing of flies.
The judge’s face was frozen in a horrific final mask of terror. There was an unbelievably still almost fully inflated balloon strapped to his chest with a long thin metal needle pushed through and into the man’s chest beyond. It was without doubt another familiar themed crime and another that beggared belief.
Gaines leant forward and checked the man’s pulse regardless of the need. He was subconsciously slipping on his overcoat of professionalism and avoiding the sight before him.
He stepped back outside once he was satisfied that Judge Fielding was dead. He paused as he took his phone out of his pocket and stared at the backlit digits. He had to call this in and get poor old Doc Norton out to his third murder in as many days. He was seriously concerned about the aged doctor’s own condition. This was definitely not what the man had signed up for. He also knew that this would without doubt be taken away from him. The town council would convene immediately and demand answers. The only trouble was that he had little to give them. It was all well and good running scenarios through his own mind, but when he had to stand and voice those ideas he would be laughed out of the room. He would be accused of watching too many movies and letting his imagination run riot. To make matters worse the council may have six members, but there was only one voice, Adrian Todd. He let his mind run around the corners of the conundrum. Would Adrian Todd really want outside interference, especially if he was as culpable as Gaines thought in the trial of Arnold Trotter. Not to mention the fact that he knew but could not prove that Adrian Todd’s income came from dubious sources to say the least. Maybe he would have time to put things right after all. Maybe he would have the time to wrap up his own affairs before all this was over.
15.
running in quicksand
Tommy and PJ hadn’t even reached the diner when the chirpy morning sky was shattered with the sound of wailing sirens. The police car flew past them at a rate of knots not seen in Denver Mills for more than two decades. Any good humor that was bouncing on the air between them evaporated as quickly as the car sped past.
“Oh God,” PJ moaned, “Now what?”
Tommy had no answer and only quickened his pace. The police car had passed them in the direction of the diner and his heart thumped hard against his chest as he thought of Ally. The rest of the journey was silent and seemed to last for an eternity, but eventually he rounded the corner. He sighed internally with relief as he saw Ally standing outside with some of her customers trying to guess the cause of the panic. She caught his eyes across the road and her face flooded with a relief that matched his own. He blushed involuntarily at her concern. He waved, feeling like a fool, but wanting to show her some kind of gesture. Tommy and PJ crossed the road and joined the throng.
“What’s going on?” A wrinkly old woman demanded of him when he walked up as though his job was bringing the news.
“I’ve no idea,” he answered.
The woman shook her head angrily at him and stomped off back into the diner to finish her breakfast.
“Do we know?” He asked Ally quietly.
&nb
sp; “No word yet,” she whispered back. “Someone saw Doc Norton being driven out towards the edge of town by Freddie Burns, one of the deputies,” she explained to his puzzled look at the name.
“I don’t know about you,” he whispered back, “but I’m getting a bit sick and tired of waiting around for God knows what to happen.”
“But what the hell can we do?” PJ added in a matching whisper.
“We’ve got to do something,” Ally said as the last of her patrons had headed back inside the diner.
“But what?” PJ hissed as the worry rose in his voice.
“Look, let’s not panic,” Tommy soothed. “We don’t even know if it is Trotter’s return. And as far as we know we might not even be on his list. If we are, maybe we’re so low down on it because he hasn’t come after any of us yet has he?”
PJ looked pensive as he thought. “What about McEwen? How do we know that he’s ok? I mean no-one has spoken to him yet have they?” He said morosely.
“Lee is off out of town for a few days,” Ally said reassuringly. “If Trotter is here then he’s the safest of all of us, don’t you think?”
Tommy agreed with the logic but he was sure that it wasn’t that simple. He knew that he would have felt an awful lot better if one of them had managed to speak to the artist.
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Dixon was in a foul mood and it was only getting worse. Finding his boss, Adrian Todd, sitting in his house last night like he owned the place was bad enough, but getting reamed out like a naughty schoolboy was almost too much to suffer. Whilst it was true that he owed Todd for his own success, it was not an open ended gratitude. It was fortunate that Todd had only spoken to him in such withering tones when they had been alone. He wasn’t sure that his temper could have handled being scolded in front of others.
Todd was nervous and jumpy like Dixon had never seen before. He wasn’t happy about a delivery that was a little light. Natural seepage didn’t figure much in Todd’s vocabulary. Dixon had tried explaining until he was blue in the face that no matter how well you paid a criminal he was still going to steal a bit extra for himself. But Todd was not for sharing that particular philosophy. Dixon found himself wasting way too much time chasing a few missing bags here and there instead of the bigger picture. Last night’s dressing down had been another case in point. Todd’s overly aggressive attitude was vexing though, and Dixon could only assume that Arnold Trotter was the root cause.