***
After speaking briefly with the switchboard operator at the town hall, Chief Hanover made his way to the town’s school. Stopping at the reception desk, he asked for a short meeting with the principal and was granted one immediately.
He sat before a stout, middle-aged woman wearing half glasses and peering at him as though he were a student late for a class. He loosened the collar around his neck, glanced at a note he held, and asked, “Have you had any trouble at the school with a child with the last name of Brewster?”
She didn’t look at a file; she knew each of her children in the school like the back of her hand. She stared at the chief. “Eddie Brewster is in sixth grade. His grades have been dropping. He’s an attention seeker. From what I heard, his mother is working two jobs to keep the child under her roof and well fed. He’s alone a great deal of the time.”
The chief rubbed his chin and frowned. “Can you call him in here?”
“Regarding? Let me explain, Chief. I don’t like pulling my children from their studies.”
The chief leaned over the desk and stated plainly, “And I don’t like boys who make bomb threats in my town! Now call him down here!”
She cleared her throat and phoned Eddie’s teacher. The boy was sent straight to the principal’s office.
As the chief waited for the boy to arrive, he diverted his attention to the diplomas and certificates lining the principal’s walls. She was an impressive woman and probably could have been working at a college or university, but instead she’d planted herself in Cold Hollow.
She interrupted his thoughts and asked, “What are you going to do to Eddie?”
He stuck a toothpick in his mouth and rolled it around his mouth. Tucking it to the side, he said, “You’ll see.”
Eddie knocked on the door. When he entered, it was evident his knees were weak, and his hands trembled. He took a seat where the principal pointed and sat, alternating between rubbing his thighs and wringing his hands. His round eyes stared at the chief, and he began weeping before the chief had even opened his mouth.
The chief sat forward with both elbows on his knees and pointed at Eddie. “I know what you did, son. It ain’t right. You scared quite a few people staying at the bed and breakfast, and you wasted the police department’s time. I can have you sent to juvenile court if I want.”
The boy began sniveling and begged, “Please don’t! I was alone and scared and I…” His words left him, and he wrapped his arms around himself and continued sobbing.
The chief sighed. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, and I’m not taking no for an answer.” The boy looked up at him sheepishly. He continued, “A police officer is going to pick you up each day after school. From here, you’re going to go to the police station and clean our restrooms. After that, you’re going to sit at an empty desk and do your homework. The officer on duty is going to check your homework assignments, and you’re going to stay with us until your mother picks you up after work.”
“Do you have a television there?”
The chief nodded. “You aren’t going to watch it. If you’re bored, read a book. Not only that, but tomorrow, you and I are going to the bed and breakfast, where you’re going to apologize to the owner and all the guests about what you did.”
“All of them?”
“All of them. You got me? Oh, and you better behave at school too, because my finger is just itching to call juvenile services.”
The boy wiped his eyes and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do what you say. I have one question.”
“What is it?”
“Do I get to eat? I only ask ’cause I’m always hungry.”
The chief sat back, chuckling, “Well, it seems we’ve got something in common, Eddie. Yes, you’ll get to eat.” The chief stood and glanced at the principal, who was smiling at him. “We got a deal?”
“Yes, Chief, it seems we’ve got a deal. I’ll notify Eddie’s mother.”
***
After dropping off the manila envelope for Maurice at the tavern, she watched him take it to Delilah’s private office and shut the door behind him. Myrna ordered a selection of takeout food and headed home to her family.
They gorged themselves in front of the television as Liam detailed his day at school and how he had received another A+ on one of his spelling tests. Toasts were raised in honor of his obvious brilliance, and after the movie ended, they headed upstairs to bed.
Myrna and Tom Gillette lay in bed reading after putting Liam down for the night. Myrna slammed her book shut and turned to Tom. “There’s trouble in town again.”
Tom continued reading. “I know. Artie told me.” He closed his book and turned to her. “I get half-assed reports from him. He’s worried about you.”
“Why?”
Tom rolled his eyes. “He’s not stupid, honey. He works for the town as the accountant. He sees the chief rush in to the town hall and up to your office. Then the clandestine private meeting with Bertrand Sweeney. And he noticed the new behemoth in town at the bakery.”
“Have you noticed Artie is stumbling around again? I swear he trips over his own two feet.”
“Yes, and don’t change the subject. I’m currently treating him for a middle ear problem. Now, tell your loving husband how you will put us in danger this time around.”
Myrna glanced at him with puppy dog eyes and pleaded, “Tom, I don’t go looking for trouble. I honestly don’t. It seems this town is a magnet for it.”
He placed a finger over her lips. “I know. Now stop procrastinating and tell me what we’re up against. And you may as well tell me why you’re carrying Father’s new gun in a shoulder holster all the time.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You noticed?”
He nuzzled closer to her body. “I notice everything about my wife.” Running his hand down the side of her face, he continued, “You and Liam are the most precious things in the world to me. So, tell me the problem and the solution, and I’ll help you as much as I can. If messages need to be sent at the hospital, I’m your man. If you need anything, I’m your man.”
She smiled, leaned up, and kissed him on the lips. When she pulled out of the kiss, she replied, “This is why I love you so much. Now, brace yourself because this one’s a dilly.”
She explained the potential problem and the proposed solution, and he agreed with her at the end but had some stipulations of his own. “If Samuel Whittier shows the slightest sign of being an aggressive individual or problem for this town, I want you at target practice with me this weekend. I also want the chief guarding you at all times. When no one is around, I want you to wear a bulletproof vest. The chief can get you one. I’m having Hugo stand guard over Liam full time when he’s not at home with us. As for your little experiment, if it’s even needed, I’m in.”
He kissed the tip of her nose and slipped beneath the covers, down to her abdomen, where he began speaking to their unborn child. He said the most ridiculous things, and it didn’t take long for Myrna to be filled with laughter.
***
The following day, Bertrand ran some errands before meeting with the mayor at one o’clock. He stopped at the drugstore for some aspirin, peroxide, and razors. As he paid, he noticed the black Hummer parked outside the building. Sighing, he grabbed his purchases and left. From there, he made his way to the grocery store. He was low on everything at his home, so shopping was sure to eat up some time before the meeting. As he entered and began perusing the aisles, he felt as though someone were following him; he turned, only to see Samuel Whittier feigning interest in a can of soup. He shook his head and pushed his cart forward.
Checking his watch, he noticed he’d have just enough time to load his groceries into his vehicle. He approached the checkout and began unloading his items onto the conveyor belt, and saw Samuel staring at him through the glass front of the building. He began perspiring until he decided the man could not harm him in public. Gathering his wits, he helped the girl bag his purchases and left the store. As he wa
s loading the bags into his trunk, Samuel approached him. “Good day to you, Bertrand.”
Bertrand glanced at his watch and replied, “Good day to you as well, Mr. Whittier.”
He rounded his car as Samuel asked, “Off to another important meeting, or are you just avoiding me?”
Bertrand stopped and placed his hand atop the hood of his car. He stared at Samuel and said, “I don’t know what type of game you are playing, Mr. Whittier, but I can tell you I don’t like it.”
Samuel laughed. “A game? Oh my, I’m much too old to play childish games. However, I can assure you if I were playing a game, I would win.”
Bertrand gave him a steely glare and replied, “Don’t bet on it.”
He got into his car and inserted the key into the ignition, hearing Samuel shout, “The tie you so brazenly wear was meant for me!” Samuel tapped the head of his ridiculous walking cane against the window as Bertrand pulled away from the curb and headed toward the town hall.
When he arrived, he cut the engine, exited the vehicle, and locked all the doors. He raced up the steps to go inside and noticed he was a few minutes late. After waving hello to Artie Lavoie and Amanda Borges, he rushed up the steps to the mayor’s office.
The office door was open, and Myrna greeted him with a smile as she said, “Hello, Bertrand. Please close and lock the door. I don’t want our meeting to be interrupted.”
He did as she asked and took his usual seat. He watched as the mayor spread some newspaper articles across her desk, facing him, and asked him to read them. He felt his face flush as he read each article from his hometown newspaper. They were articles about all the fires surrounding his old home. He swallowed hard when he saw a copy of his father’s obituary.
Myrna said, “I’m going to say a few things to you, Bertrand, and I’m going to ask you a few things. I don’t want to be interrupted. You’ll have your chance to express yourself when I’m done. This is a discussion strictly between you and me. Do you understand?”
He began perspiring again and answered, “Yes.”
She tapped the articles and said, “I think you are a budding arsonist. However, you were only caught stealing, so the point is moot. Any evidence implicating you is long gone.” She leaned forward over her desk, hands clasped before her. “Every single person has a dark side, Bertrand. They have violent urges, but most people don’t act on them. Some people do act on them. Others simply perform an act until they are satisfied, and then they give it up. So my question to you, Bertrand, is thus. Is your dark side satisfied?”
She watched him squirm in his seat and glance around the room. She stopped him. “This conversation is not being recorded. There is no police involvement. As I said earlier, this is a private discussion between you and me, and off the record.”
His mouth opened and he sputtered, “No, it is not satisfied.”
“Tell me why.”
He began visibly trembling; his voice became wobbly. “In the beginning, I did it for fun and because I knew it would torment my dead father to no end. He was not a loving person. And now my dark urges are not satisfied because I just wanted to live a life of peace in this town, but Mr. Samuel Whittier is stalking me, thereby taking away my privilege. When I feel my life is threatened, as I did at Madam’s home, I act upon my urges. He parks his vehicle outside my home at night to intimidate me. He followed me to the drugstore and the grocery store today. I do not like him, Mayor.”
“You felt your life was in danger at Patricia’s home? Tell me why.”
He fidgeted a bit with his jacket sleeves and said, “Madam was not right in the mind. She was also involved in the drug trade and wanted your entire family dead. One day when I reported to work, I found her drugged out of her mind. She was butchering a raw chicken and waving the butcher knife around while she growled and howled. Yes, I felt as though she didn’t quite know who I was and was in attack mode.”
Myrna ventured a guess and replied, “You blew up her house so you wouldn’t have to work there anymore.”
Bertrand lied, “I didn’t intend for her to be home when I did it,” Actually, he could not have cared less whether she was there or not. The woman needed to be put out of her misery.
Myrna sat back and clasped her hands together over her abdomen. She stared at him, unfazed by the confession. She asked, “What would it take to put your dark side to rest…permanently? I’ve had experience with this type of problem, and I can assure you, it is treatable.”
He blew out a breath he had been holding and stared at her. “To help the town rid itself of Mr. Whittier and his cohort.”
She commented, “His cohort isn’t the problem. He’s quite nice. However, I agree Samuel Whittier is a problem. We believe he is out to kill anyone he feels is responsible for his sister’s death. He has not made a move yet, but rest assured, he’s bothering not only you but a great many residents.”
“Then make him leave!”
She stared him in the eyes. “That is my plan, Bertrand, but we can’t rush this. We must be smart about it.” She took a sip from her bottle of water, rolled a thought around her mind, and asked him, “If you want to put your dark side to rest and continue living here, there is one thing you need to do for me, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to report Samuel Whittier stalking you to Chief Hanover. I want it on record. Once you assist me and Mr. Whittier leaves town, you must speak with the psychiatrist at the hospital monthly. Trust me, Bertrand, she’s good and can’t divulge what you talk about during your sessions, not even to your parole officer.”
He relaxed in his chair. “I will do both, and I agree. So tell me how I can assist you.”
Myrna smirked, leaned to the side, and hefted a box filled with supplies atop her desk. She stared at him while wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”
***
Chief Hanover spied Samuel coming from the photo store and exited his cruiser. He approached him on the shoveled sidewalk and noticed Samuel smirking at him as he approached. “Good day, Chief Hanover.”
The chief walked up to him and asked, “You have a few minutes?”
He noticed Samuel check his watch beneath his glove and nod. “In fact, I have exactly ten minutes.”
“Good, it won’t take long.” He cleared his throat and began, “We had a little mishap at the main bed and breakfast early this morning, and I’m questioning the guests there as well as those at the annex. Can you tell me if you made a phone call at approximately two this morning?”
Samuel’s eyebrows rose, and he chuckled. “Chief, I can assure you I was in dreamland. Granted, I’m an early riser, but it’s an insane hour to wake to make a phone call.”
The chief agreed. “I know, but I’m just dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s.”
Samuel grinned. “Yes, I imagine you are. However, you may check the staff records at the annex. There is always someone on duty, and they can attest to my and Ivan’s whereabouts and our use of the phone.”
The chief extended his hand out, and Samuel shook it. “Thanks. I’ll do just that.” He walked back to his cruiser, not wanting to spend another damnable minute with the jackass. He knew who was to blame for the bomb threat but took some enjoyment in letting Samuel know that he was always around each corner of the town.
CHAPTER 7
Big Lou griped while Maurice drove the vehicle. “This morning, she calls me up, yelling. She tells me this is the last day to get the old cinema marquee from this old broad who runs the herb shop in town. She’s got a small section of the store dedicated to antiques, and Delilah would not stop screaming at me for dragging my feet. She said, ‘Just get off your lazy Italian ass and get it!’ I gotta tell you, Maurice, she’s tough on me.”
Maurice drove carefully down the plowed streets to the proper address. “She’s only tough on you because she cares deeply for you.”
Big Lou ran his hand down his face. “I can only imagine w
hat she’d do if she hated me!”
Maurice pulled up in front of the shop to see the elderly woman shoveling a path to the store’s door. He cut the engine and pulled his leather gloves on. “We must help the woman before she keels over and you don’t get the item you were sent here for.”
Big Lou pulled on his gloves. “Let’s get it over with.”
They made their way to the woman, and Maurice reached out for her shovel. “Allow us to assist you.” Her motions stopped, and she eyed them. After handing off the shovel to Maurice, she went to the door of the shop, yanked another shovel down, and handed it to Big Lou. Big Lou looked at the elderly woman suspiciously but got to work shoveling. The owner had long wiry gray hair running down her back to her waist. It seemed to blow about in an imaginary wind. Her blue eyes were the color of ice, and when she stared at him, it pierced him to the core. As the men worked, their breath came out in smoky plumes, and she stood watching them. If they missed a spot, she was quick to point it out. Maurice got a chuckle out of the woman before they were even properly introduced. Big Lou seemed intimidated by her. As they finished the job, Maurice asked her, “Is this to your satisfaction?”
She turned and entered the shop. They leaned the shovels up against the side of the shop and followed behind her. Upon entering, the aroma of fresh herbs and spices overwhelmed them. They spied her near the cash register, lighting a bundle of sage until it began smoldering. She shuffled about the entire store, raising the sage to the corners and whispering to herself. She turned with the smoldering bundle in her hand and stared at the two men. She approached them and ran the sage over their heads to see the smoke billow back at her. She laughed and shook her head. Staring into their eyes, she said in a creaky voice, “You love this town, and it loves you. It will never let you go.”
The Butcher (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 5) Page 5