by Matt Drabble
Todd’s business had swelled from growing a few marijuana plants at the back of one of his fields, all the way up to the manufacturing level. Now they shipped lorry loads out from under the town’s nose. Todd had already amassed enough influence to protect them all and only Gaines had proven to be the man they had to watch for. And even Gaines in the end had grown fat and lazy as his retirement approached. Dixon figured that even salmon must grow tired of swimming upstream eventually. The operation had run smoothly for years and most of the town had profited in one way or the other.
He pulled his truck into the space behind the large converted barn that served as the offices for the illegal operation.
His early days had been as “ask no questions muscle” and nothing more. However ever since he had arranged the weekend party for Trotter under the prison laundry he had been unofficially promoted.
He walked into the office that was a hive of activity. Despite their main product, the organisation was far from laid back. It may be a hick town at heart, but their operation was on the cutting edge of technology. Todd had recruited only the best and the brightest from the young men in town. He inducted them early when they were impressionable teens with the lure of easy money and the dropping of panties that seemed to follow. He paid for all of their college educations through a town scholarship fund and brought them back and set them to work. There were no loose cannons here. No-one was going to get a truck pulled over for having a taillight out and then having their illegal cargo discovered. Dixon knew that he was perhaps the one member of the team that wasn’t educated, but he was also Todd’s junkyard dog. He was the one to dish out punishment when necessary and deserved. The college kids were all terrified of him, but he was also secretly intimidated by their education. On more than one occasion he had handed out a little corporal punishment when it wasn’t technically warranted.
The room was large and air-conditioned. The computer setup was state of the art and silver screens lined a long table inhabited by two young men busily typing away. Merv Duncan ignored him irritatingly but at least Matt Murphy had the intelligence to look awkward and nervous.
“Morning fellas,” Dixon barked in his customary fashion.
“Hey Russell,” Murphy answered anxiously.
Duncan waved a hand half-heartedly over his shoulder without turning around and Dixon’s mood thermometer jumped another notch. He was about to take some of his frustration out on the skinny man when the door burst open behind him.
“FREEZE!” Deputy Henry Trinder roared.
Murphy and Duncan jumped at the explosive entrance but Dixon fixed the deputy with a withering stare. “You know that shit wasn’t funny the first 10 times that you pulled it,” he snarled.
“Oh you know you love me,” Trinder grinned.
For a spit second Dixon wondered if he was going mad. Was this what it felt like? The idea of pulling his gun and putting holes in the whole damn lot of them was suddenly very appealing. He had enough on his plate without dealing with these idiots.
Deputy Trinder was one of the many town employees on Todd’s payroll. Unfortunately Trinder and his partner Freddie Burns were two of the dumbest people Dixon had ever met. Just how they managed to pass their basic training was still a mystery to him.
“What the hell are you doing here Trinder?” Dixon demanded. “Shouldn’t you be helping old ladies across the road?”
“Funny man,” Trinder grinned, his sunny disposition unaffected. “Got some news for your boss that I thought you should run along to him like a good little message boy.” Trinder’s tone dropped a few degrees and Dixon thought that he might need to set the young deputy straight on a few things before the day was over.
“So what’s the message?”
“Tell him that Graham Moss and Harry Fielding were both found dead this morning.”
Dixon didn’t let his face show the deaths register on it as his stomach lurched and rolled over. There was surely no denying now that someone was offing those responsible for Arnold Trotter’s incarceration and odds were that it was the man himself.
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Doc Norton was on his way out to meet Gaines at the second murder site. It was still well before lunchtime and he was already exhausted. He had spent the evening before tracking down a lot of phone numbers from his past and calling in several favors. He had spoken to the pathologist charged with sifting through the gruesome wreckage. He had also managed to eventually get hold of one of the psychiatrists treating Trotter. The picture painted was one of a man that had simply retreated from the world and drawn back into himself. During his stay at the secure wing Trotter had never so much as spoken. The man had been practically catatonic and the doctor had assured him that Trotter could not be described as much of a danger to himself or others. A litter of bodies in Denver Mills may beg to differ.
Graham Moss’ face had been stripped bare after a night in the company of the crows. It was an image that he thought he would never be able to cleanse himself of. Gaines was apparently waiting for him at Judge Fielding’s house with yet another body to peruse.
He had felt too shaky to drive himself and thus was currently being chauffeured there by Katy Jacket who seemed to be the only deputy of three worth a damn as far as he could tell. The woman may be young, but she was old at heart as his late wife had been fond of saying. Her mind was sharp and she exuded a natural leadership that made it impossible not to listen to her.
“How are you feeling doc?” She asked worriedly.
Her concern was touching and he didn’t feel patronized. He could see that the young deputy was driving with her head slightly twisted to one side. He had also noticed that she often rested her hand on her cheek whenever she could. She had a small crescent moon birthmark on the side of her face that was barely noticeable, but she always seemed terribly self-conscious about it.
“Don’t worry Katy,” he grinned back, “I may be an old man but I’m not about to peg out on you just yet. I’ve got a few more miles in the tank left.”
She smiled in return.
“I know that a lot of people most have told you this before, but it really isn’t noticeable you know?” He saw her neck blush and the tendons tighten but he pressed on nevertheless. “It really isn’t Katy, it’s a tiny mark that gives you character.” He could feel waves of her distress flowing towards him and backed off. It was such a shame that people never seem to see what others do when they were looking in the mirror.
“How much has Gaines told you?” He asked partly to change the subject and partly because he was curious to know if she was any more in the loop than he was.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she drove, seemingly internally debating.
“He’s told me pretty much everything, I think,” she finally said.
“Is it a secret?” He barked back, childishly annoyed that he was the one on the outside.
She retold Gaines’ story as she drove and he sat and listened. She also told him of her concerns about Tommy Marsh and Gaines’ tunnel vision, it was an interesting point, and he told her so.
“I just think that it’s a little bit too much of coincidence,” she added. “You know, Tommy Marsh is back in town almost on the anniversary, and his birthday no less. You’re the doctor here doc, but I can only imagine just what that scene might have done to a 12 year old kid.”
“I was the Marsh’s family doctor for more years than I can remember,” he replied. “I treated all of those kids for shock at that party. I know that Gaines always thought that they were guilty of something, but I guess that’s why he’s the detective and I’m the quack.”
Katy laughed. “You’re a lot sharper than that.”
“Maybe not sharp enough, not yet,” he mused.
“You know I can’t help but think doc that a man in your profession might be able to gain access to a few files here and there,” Katy pondered aloud with purpose.
“Are you thinking that Tommy Marsh might have left a trail of med
icinal breadcrumbs so to speak?” He said cottoning on to her meaning.
“Just a thought,” she said innocently.
Norton’s mind was already taking a similar path. He had already played detective last night in gaining information on Arnold Trotter. Katy was sharp enough to have her opinions taken seriously and she did have a point. What if Trotter wasn’t what they all thought he was? After all he wasn’t the only man who might have come home for a reunion.
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Tommy drove as Ally sat beside him and PJ fretted in the back. They were on their way out to see perhaps the one person in town that might be able to shed some light on the elusive Arnold Trotter.
Tommy had examined all of the registered facts about the case. He had used all of the facilities afforded to him as a reporter at the newspaper offices. He had studied every piece of the paper trail and found that every piece raised more questions than answers. The Trotter family tree had long been assumed dead and buried. Arnold’s parents had both passed away many years before his incarceration. There had been no other siblings and it was common knowledge that there had been no other family. At the trial he had stood alone without family or seemingly, friends. No-one in town had appeared as a character witness and no-one had seemed to have a good word to say about the man. This was what Tommy had found the most troubling. Every trial had two sides to it, every trial, that was, except Trotter’s.
It was Ally that had provided a slither of an idea. Working in the diner and serving many of the oldest residents in town, she had picked up more than a few juicy nuggets of conversation over the years. One such snippet was that there had been one person who had attempted to speak up at the trial. That person had felt the weight of almost the entire town bearing down on them. It was more than possible that it was just a rumor as was the way with small towns and small town gossips.
Jeremiah Hogan still lived almost in town. He had a place out in the sticks and pretty much kept to himself. Word was that Jeremiah had tried to speak at the trial on behalf of Arnold Trotter, but events had conspired against his testimony. Jeremiah had been a teacher at the local school and a lot people in town over the years had passed through his classroom at some point, including one Arnold Trotter.
“You sure about this guy?” PJ asked nervously from the back of the SUV.
“Nope,” Ally replied honestly.
“Oh good, as long as we have a plan then,” PJ said sarcastically.
“Easy PJ,” Tommy interjected. “We don’t have any better ideas and at least we’re doing something.”
The road turned from asphalt, to track, to dirt and mud as the drive became increasingly off road. Tommy’s 4x4 was largely cosmetic, but it was better than Ally’s hybrid car. The trees began to encroach over the dirt lane with large overhanging branches that blocked the sunlight. Tommy felt his guts tighten as they drew closer to a small house at the end of the lane. He had seen the scene a million times in a million horror movies before. The house would be a rickety shack inhabited by some crazed backwoods maniac in filthy dungarees and holding an axe. As they emerged from under the natural woodland canopy he was shocked to find a pretty cottage devoid of hillbilly psychopaths. The small house was a single storey building. It was a wooden structure, pristine in white without any hint of decay. The paintwork was perfect and the pitched roof looked newly slated and glistened under the bouncing sunlight. The house was surrounded on all sides by a glowingly healthy looking lawn that was beautifully manicured and mowed. Attractive and colorful border plants edged the garden and the whole scene spoke of loving care and maintenance.
Tommy pulled the SUV into a designated parking area in front of the property. There was a classic Volkswagen Camper Van parked and he pulled in next to it. As he got out, the scent of fresh polish hung in the air and the camper van positively gleamed.
Suddenly the front door swung open hard and an old man tottered out holding a shotgun cradled in trembling arms. The man looked older than God but his face was lit with two bright blue eyes that twinkled with vitality and vigor. He was around five feet nine but his body was now a little stooped which shaved some off his height. His hair was thick and lustrous. It was a pure snowy white and tied back in a ponytail that defied his age. His shoulders were rounded and his waist was trim. His face was lined and creased with a lifetime of life and experience.
“Help you folks,” the man said pleasantly enough but his arms stayed tense and the shotgun seemed ready.
“I wondered if we might have a few words with you Mr. Hogan?” Tommy ventured in his warmest voice.
“Well now Mr. Marsh that all depends on what those words would be,” Jeremiah Hogan replied.
Tommy hadn’t been directly under Jeremiah’s tutelage, but the man had still known his name nevertheless.
“Mr. Hogan, perhaps you remember me?” PJ offered.
“Of course Mr. Joffre,” Jeremiah replied, his tone softening. “We all had such high hopes for you my boy.”
Tommy watched as PJ’s face turned beetroot red and he felt his friend’s embarrassment. Peter Joffre had once been the academic pride of Denver Mills High. He had been the brightest student in school by far and destined for great things. That was until Tommy’s twelfth birthday party that had changed the course of all of their lives forever.
“I don’t know if you’ve been following the news sir, but we’d like to talk to you about Arnold Trotter,” PJ ventured.
Tommy felt the world stop spinning as Jeremiah stared hard at them. He could feel the man deciding and weighing up his options. Eventually he spoke.
“Well then, I guess that you’d better come in,” Jeremiah sighed.
16.
BATON DOWN THE HATCHES
Gaines stood at the Fielding crime scene. Katy and Doc Norton had arrived not long ago, swiftly followed by a shameful Deputy Trinder who was late and offered no explanation.
He’d given Trinder the camera to take the shots of the murder in the summer house at the bottom of the garden. It was one job that Trinder seemed to be able to do without screwing it up.
The rest of them were standing in Judge Fielding’s office in the main house. Katy had pressed him again about doing a background check into Tommy Marsh, only this time she had backup from Norton who’d actually endorsed the idea.
“Have you any idea of the sort of paperwork involved in getting a subpoena for medical records like that?” He asked incredulously.
“I know a guy who could get them without the red tape,” Norton said, his eyes twinkling as though he was having more fun than he’d had in a long time.
“Oh brilliant, you know a guy!” Gaines laughed turning to Katy. “And what exactly makes you think that this is a good idea?”
“He knows a guy,” she said sheepishly.
“Fantastic, we’ve got a double act for the town talent show next year,” Gaines scoffed.
“Oh cool your jets Sherman,” Norton said harshly. “Do you want to know what the hell’s going on in our town or not?”
“Of course I do you old buzzard, I just don’t want it to cost everyone their job.”
“You are such an old woman,” Norton snorted as he walked to the phone that sat on the Judge’s desk.
“Don’t you touch that phone Norton!” Gaines barked. “I’m warning you, don’t you touch those keys. Don’t you dial that number!”
Gaines fumed as the doc ignored him completely and dialed away. He turned to Katy who only looked down at the floor. Helpless he could only stand and wait as the doc chatted away merrily whilst scratching down notes on a pad left helpfully by the phone.
Deputy Trinder stood outside of the room listening. He had finished taking the photos and now he was thinking in a rare moment of inspired clarity that perhaps he might learn something that Mr. Todd might deem worthy of a bonus.
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Tommy and Ally shared a wicker sofa whist PJ took one chair and Jeremiah took the other. The conservatory was uncomfortably hot as the sun magn
ified its heat through the glass walls. Jeremiah Hogan served iced tea on a metallic tray that wobbled slightly and chinked the glasses together as he walked, or more like shuffled in. Up close he seemed older than Tommy had thought and infinitely frailer. His presence was somewhat diminished when not holding a shotgun.
“You know you are the first folks to venture this far out to see me in quite a while.” Jeremiah said.
“Not since the trial?” PJ asked indelicately.
Tommy groaned inwardly. The plan had been to approach the subject with tact rather than diving in headfirst.
“No, not since the trial,” Jeremiah sighed heavily.
“It must have been a difficult time for you,” Ally soothed.
“What is it exactly that you want from me?” Jeremiah asked suspiciously. “I know that the three of you were present at the um…, event shall we say. I had visits from just about every prominent member of this town during that time. Some were tigers with teeth and some were snakes in the grass. It was made pretty clear to me that my presence was not required at the trial.”
“Adrian Todd?” Tommy asked.
“The very same. When his minions seemed to be unsuccessful, the big man took a personal interest. He came out here one day with Taylor, you know the old police chief. They leveled just about every threat imaginable at me from my career to my safety. They promised that Taylor would find a stash of child pornography that would see me fired from teaching and run out of town in disgrace.”
“What were you going to testify about Jeremiah?” Tommy wanted to know. “What were you going to say that would have been so damaging?”