Dunston Falls

by Al Lamanda

  As Reese’s men lifted Peck and carried him out, Peck’s cigarettes fell from his pocket. Kranston picked the cigarette pack up and sat on the sofa.

  At the door, McCoy turned to look at Kranston. “Ed, are you coming?”

  “I’ll be along,” Kranston said, removing his gum.

  Several of his men carried Reese out to a waiting car. Kranston was alone. He removed one of Peck’s cigarettes and lit it with a match. It had been so long since he smoked, but damn it all, they were still so good.

  TEN

  Peck hummed to himself as he shaved before his bathroom mirror using a sleek and efficient, electric razor, the newest model available, the one with five, floating heads and guide bar. After shaving, he felt the smoothness of his skin, splashed on some aftershave, and then inspected his face carefully. While slight bags had settled recently under his eyes, his overall appearance was not that of your average fifty four year old man. His hair was thick and dark, his chin void of the normal middle age sag. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged with the strength of his youth and his chest and stomach were firm and flat.

  Pleased with his appearance, he left the bathroom and wandered into the large, ultra modern, gleaming white kitchen. Filling a stainless steel coffee pot with purified tap water, Peck set it on the latest coffee maker from France to brew. While he waited, he used a dishtowel to wipe down the ceramic, counter top tiles until they shined.

  When the coffee was ready, Peck filled a mug, reached for his cigarettes on the table and walked to the window. He lit a cigarette and looked through the spotless glass. Trees were beginning to bud, as were flowers. The sun was high and warm and he was growing anxious to go outside, walk around and smell the spring air after being cooped up like a house cat for months.

  From his office in the main lab, Ed Kranston made notes in a book as he sat on a sofa and watched Peck on one of a dozen monitors. As Peck moved from room to room, a different camera picked him up and showed Kranston exactly what he was doing at every moment. Audio recorded every word Peck spoke, to himself and others. Even the phone had a direct feed to Kranston’s equipment so he could monitor Peck’s social progress.

  Behind Kranston, the office door opened and Tom McCoy entered. “How is he doing today?” McCoy said, joining Kranston of the sofa.

  “He looks terrific,” Kranston said. “But a bit antsy.”

  “Spring fever.” McCoy looked at a monitor and watched Peck smoke a cigarette by the kitchen window. “He’s come a long way in four months.”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t sound happy.”

  Kranston looked at McCoy. “It’s that meeting with Justice.

  “What about it?”

  “They want the timeline moved up.”

  “That’s impossible. They know that.”

  Kranston shook his head. “We know that. They don’t know anything.”

  “Then we’ll have to make them understand that work like this takes years of planning and development before it’s perfected,” McCoy said. “This isn’t the fast food industry here.”

  “That’s the problem,” Kranston sighed. “They know it takes years, but they want it in months.”

  “Months?” McCoy said. “It can’t be done in months.”

  Kranston watched Peck move from the kitchen to the living room where he sat on the sofa and clicked on the sixty-inch television. “You’ve heard about the latest uprising in the middle east?”

  “Who hasn’t. It’s been all over the news since last week. Just when we thought peace would last among the tribes, a new nutcase arrives on the scene and starts cutting heads off again.”

  “Nutcase or not, remember what happened the last time we ignored a state of affairs like that. It blew up in everyone’s face. Two million were dead before the UN called its first meeting. It will be worse this time. A lot worse.”

  McCoy sighed as he watched Peck light a cigarette on the monitor.

  “They want the CIA to go in and begin infiltration as soon as possible,” Kranston said. “The quicker they can turn his high ranking staff against this new would be dictator the faster we quell the violence.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them I would present the results at the meeting and let them decide what to do from there.”

  “By results, you mean Peck?”

  “Yes.”

  McCoy looked at Peck on the monitor. He was motionless on the sofa, seemingly uninterested in the television. “What’s he doing?”

  “Waiting,” Kranston said.

  “For what?”

  “Me.”

  Peck’s head was hurting again. Not the overpowering pressure and pain as he experienced in the past, but just enough to encourage him to lie down.

  He stared at the pure white ceiling in his bedroom as he waited for the pain to subside. He didn’t remember painting it white, but he must have. After all, this was his house.

  The same argument could be made of the bedroom furniture. It was the latest in fashion and design, sleek and efficient, unisex in nature. He didn’t remember buying it, but he must have. It was here. So was everything else.

  The pressure behind his eyes finally dissipated enough for his to stand up. He went to the bathroom where he washed his face with stinging cold water. The freezing effect always made him feel better around the eyes.

  He wondered if he should take the medication Ed gave him for the pain. He decided against it. There was no sense in wasting a pill if the pain had left on its own.

  Peck went to the first floor of his house and entered the living room where he turned on the television. There was never anything interesting to watch. Using a remote, he flipped channels until he settled on a cable news program. There was unrest in the middle east, protests in Russia, demonstrators in Washington, atrocities in Africa. What else was new?

  Peck glanced at the heavy watch around his left wrist. It was nearly four in the afternoon. A slight case of anticipation was bubbling inside his stomach. He lit a cigarette and smoked it to the filter.

  The front doorbell rang and Peck jumped up from the sofa. That would be Ed.

  Kranston sat in a chair opposite the sofa and carefully inspected Peck, who occupied the seat opposite him on the sofa. A briefcase rested on Kranston’s lap.

  “How are you today, Dave?”

  “I’m fine Ed, how are you?”

  “Good.”

  “Did you bring my cigarettes?”

  Kranston opened the briefcase, removed a carton of cigarettes, and rested it on the coffee table. “Have I ever forgotten?”

  Peck picked up the carton and removed a pack. “Would you like some coffee, Ed? I just made it.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  They moved to the kitchen where they sat at the table while Peck poured coffee into two mugs.

  Peck lit a cigarette. “I want to go outside, Ed.”

  “Soon.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as the doctors say you’re fit to resume your duties as police chief.”

  Peck took a sip of coffee. “I feel fine. I want to walk around and smell the fresh air.”

  “I think what they’re worried about is your mental condition, Dave.” Kranston looked at Peck as he sipped coffee. “After all, when a man has been in a car accident like the one which put you into a coma like that, they error on the side of caution. It’s for your own benefit.”

  “But, I feel fine. My mind is as clear as a bell and I hardly have headaches anymore.”

  “I hope so, Dave. The doctors want to test you next week.”

  “Test me? How?”

  “I’m not sure. With questions, I would imagine.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  Kranston shrugged his shoulders. “Questions to determine your state of mind, as I understand it.”

  “Maybe I should get ready then,” Peck suggested.

  “Good idea. I can help.”

  “How?”


  “I can test you. For instance, who is the president of Russia?”

  Seated on the sofa in Kranston’s office, McCoy watched and listened with keen interest as Kranston asked one question after another to Peck. To Peck’s credit, he got nearly every one right.

  Pleased with Peck’s progress, McCoy stood up and walked to the window to look out. Peck wasn’t the only one experiencing spring fever. It was a long, hard winter, spent mostly indoors at the secret lab where the artificial lighting wreaked havoc with your eyes after several months of intense exposure to it.

  Outside the window, grass showed the first signs of growing, as did flowers and trees. In the background, McCoy heard Kranston continue questioning Peck.

  A quote he read once in college by Publilius Syrus in 42 B.C., flashed through his mind. “It is sometimes expedient to forget who we are”, Syrus said. Never was that quote more appropriate.

  ELEVEN

  The state of Maine was experiencing its worst heat wave in a decade during the week of the Fourth of July. Temperatures reached one hundred and one degrees by noon of the third. As Peck drove his sleek, ultra modern police cruiser through the center of Dunston Falls, he was grateful for its powerful air-conditioning unit. Earlier models of the hybrid, police vehicles didn’t have the power of the old gas-guzzlers and the AC was always weak.

  Peck parked in his reserved spot outside the four story, municipal building, next to the town mayor’s car. Exiting the cruiser, Peck climbed the steps of the municipal building where he paused to look at the banner that stretched across Main Street. HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY 2019, DUNS TON FALLS, the banner read.

  Peck entered the modern municipal building, which housed the six-man police force he was head of, the mayor’s office, tax assessor, code enforcement officer, the DOT and school board. Only the police department and small holding cells occupied the first floor.

  As Peck entered his office, his senior man, Lieutenant Reese greeted him from his desk against the wall. “Morning, chief. The mayor is in your office. “

  “Ed? What does he want?” Peck said.

  “Don’t know. He wouldn’t say.”

  Peck picked up a coffee mug and filled it from the double burner, French made, coffee machine. “I guess I’ll go see.”

  Peck’s private office was located at the rear of the large central office and enclosed behind a large window and glass door. The word s Captain David Peck were stenciled on the glass door in white lettering.

  “Good morning, Dave,” Kranston said when Peck entered his office.

  “Ed,” Peck nodded. “What can I do for you?”

  “Close the door.”

  Peck closed the door and took a seat behind his desk. Kranston occupied the chair facing the desk.

  “Dave,” Kranston began. “We have almost sixteen thousand residents in our town. Another ten thousand are expected for tomorrow’s celebration.”

  Peck took a sip of his coffee. “You don’t want a repeat of last year.”

  “That’s right,” Kranston said. “But, you’ve only been here ten months, how do you know about last year?”

  “I can read reports, Ed.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Relax, Ed. I didn’t work twenty five years in New York City and not learn a few things about crowd control.”

  “I realize that,” Kranston said, removing the wrapper from a stick of gum. “I guess I’m just jumpy. These celebrations are very important to the economy of small towns. Maybe you could give me an overview for tomorrow night.” Kranston placed the stick of gum into his mouth and looked at Peck.

  Peck sipped coffee, and then picked up a folder from his desk. He flipped it open to the first page. “The fair begins at five PM. I will have my entire staff posted on the ground from start to finish, beginning at three. I will be there as well. There are six reserve officers for backup duty and they will be on walking patrol. The fire department will have an EMT truck posted at entrances, north and south. Doctor McCoy and several nurses from the hospital will be on duty at aid stations around the park. The fireworks will begin at nine and will run forty-five minutes. The fire chief has coordinated the event with the pyrotechnics team hired by the town council.” Peck paused to look at Kranston. “Of which you are head of.”

  “What about the underage drinking?” Kranston said. “That was the main concern of the council after last year’s disaster. Another incident like that and the council will vote to shut down the fair.”

  “All vendors are on alert,” Peck reassured Kranston. “If any of them are caught selling alcohol to kids, they will be arrested on the spot and banned from future events.”

  Kranston looked at Peck. “It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases.”

  “There’s always a last minute detail, but I’m confident tomorrow will go off without a hitch.”

  “Well,” Kranston said and stood up. “I’ll be in my office. Let me know if there is anything you need.”

  Kranston left Peck’s office and walked through the main office to the door. As he passed Reese, they made brief eye contact. Kranston appeared to give Reese a tiny nod.

  Around twelve thirty, Peck set aside his paperwork and walked to the main office. Only Reese, recovering from a line of duty gunshot wound was around.

  “Feel like lunch?” Peck said. “I’ll buy.”

  “What if there’s a 911 call?” Reese said.

  “Put the phones on call forward to my cell phone,” Peck said. “We can always relay it to a car in the field.”

  “Just like in the big cities.” Reese stood up from his desk and walked to the door with a noticeable limp in his left leg.

  Peck and Reese crossed Main Street and entered Deb’s Diner. The sleek, ultra modern restaurant combined new age and art deco architecture in its décor. Peck and Reese found a booth near the window. The diner hummed with activity.

  A short, blond woman of about thirty approached Peck and Reese. She held a coffeepot and smiled at them. “Coffee?”

  Peck and Reese turned their cups over and she filled them.

  “What are the specials today, Deb?” Reese asked.

  “The meatloaf is heaven,” Deb said. “I made it myself.”

  Peck and Reese looked at each other. “Two,” Peck said.

  Deb smiled and went to get their orders.

  Peck said, “How is the leg today?” looking at Reese.

  “Stiff. It’s been a year, but I still can’t believe that kid shot me over a speeding ticket,” Reese said. “I think Doctor McCoy is taking the brace off the knee next week. God knows, I’m ready.”

  Peck looked at Reese. “He’s a good man, Doctor McCoy.”

  “Yes,” Reese said. “He is.”

  Peck drove to his large, two story home on the west side of town. Situated off a back road in the woods, it faced a small pond. He nearest neighbor was a thousand yards to the right.

  Having grown up and lived most of his life in a city of nine million, the quiet, country setting was a welcome change of pace, even if it took some getting used to at first.

  Peck removed the heavy utility belt around his waist and set it on a coat hook in the foyer. He went to the kitchen for a can of beer, opened the sliding doors and stepped out to the backyard. The lawn needed mowing. He sat in a patio chair, lit a cigarette and listened to the slight breeze waif through the tall pine trees. He looked up and the tips of the trees rocked gently as the breeze continued to blow. The temperature had fallen to ninety. Maybe the heat would break for the holiday tomorrow, which, as experience taught him would be a good thing. Tempers were short when people were hot, especially if alcohol was part of the mixture.

  The Fourth of July celebration was a complete success.

  The temperature at sunset was eighty-nine degrees and dropping quickly. Peck patrolled the fairgrounds and met up with Ed Kranston. The mayor was delighted.

  “It’s a record year for attendance,” Kranston said. “I might even be able to balance the budget this
year.”

  Peck lit a cigarette. “We could use a new squad car, Ed. Those 2015’s we drive are showing their age.”

  “Contact Ford, see what kind of deal they have,” Kranston said. “But, don’t make any commitments. The council would have my ass.”

  Peck nodded. “Want to see the fireworks, Ed?”

  “Why I’m here.”

  At the small racetrack in the center of the fairgrounds, thousands of people gathered, anticipating the start of the fireworks display. Peck and Kranston stood on the fringe of the crowd and watched the dark sky.

  The blond haired Deb Robertson was suddenly at Peck’s side. “Hey, Dave.”

  “Hi, Deb. I thought you were at your booth,” Peck said.

  “I was. I closed it early. I love fireworks.” Deb looked at Kranston. “Good evening, mayor.”

  “How was business?” Kranston asked.

  “Best year ever.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  The fireworks began and the sky lit up in a dazzling display of colors and shapes. The show lasted forty-five minutes and drew loud cheers and applause from the massive crowd. During the finale, a barrage of rockets illuminated the sky so brightly; Peck could have read a newspaper.

  As the sky darkened, ten thousand people cheered.

  Kranston turned to Peck. “I’ll be heading home, Dave. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Mayor,” Deb said.

  Peck lit a cigarette and watched Kranston walk toward a fairground exit.

  “Guess I’ll be going home, too,” Deb said. “Five Am comes awful early.”

  Peck nodded as he took a puff of his cigarette.

  Deb looked at Peck. “You know, Dave. For ten months now, you stop by my diner every morning for coffee. We say our good mornings and you go on your way. What does a girl have to do to get you to ask her out?”

  Peck hesitated, thrown by the question. “I don’t know. I wasn’t aware you wanted you wanted my attention.”

  Deb smiled as she shook her head. “Silly man. Walk me to my car and we’ll talk about it.”