by Wes Markin
“There is only one surviving relative. Charlotte White. Bobby White’s mother. She’s eighty.”
“Well, we need her address, because I’m absolutely certain Gabriel is already there.”
Peter Sheenan knocked on the door of the Rogers general store.
No answer. Strange. He’d never known him to close during the daytime.
He shimmied along to peer through the store window. It was light in the store, but no one was at the checkout or on the shopfloor. Noticing movement at the back of the store, he shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted. He saw a door opening, and then Mason exiting his small apartment tacked onto the back of his store.
Peter waved through the glass, and Mason waved back. He then sidestepped to greet his friend after he’d opened the door. “Not like you to lock up during the day, old-timer.”
“These bones aren’t what they once were. I was taking a nap.” Mason leaned out the shop and gestured down both sides of the street. “Hardly rush hour anyway. Mind you, never is these days. Come in.” Mason clapped him on the shoulder and led him past a row of sealed boxes. “Just in time to help me with a delivery.”
Peter laughed. “Was renovating your shop not a favor enough?”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” Mason led him to the refrigerator. He reached in for two cans of Stinson IPA.
“No wonder you’re taking daytime naps. Bit early for me.”
“You’re retired, you grumpy, old bastard, and well, Mrs. Hindley’s already collected her morning paper, and I probably won’t see another customer until midday.”
“Jesus, things that bad?”
“Yes. So take the damn beer.”
Peter obliged.
“Camden and Dominic Davis have opened a new store on Slant Street. They’ve worked pretty hard at undercutting nearly everything I sell. They’ll be taking a loss, I bet, but they’re only doing it to ruin me.” He opened a can and handed it to Peter. “It’s working.”
“Why would anyone shop from those knuckle-draggers?”
“People have short memories when it comes to saving a buck.”
“Jesus, Mason. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Been preoccupied.” He opened his own can.
“Yes. I understand. But, buddy, you have to keep on.”
“Save it, Peter. Also, don’t tell me what Anthony would have wanted. That little shit threw his goddamn life away.”
“Yes, he did, but you tried everything.”
“So, that’s about the size of it. The Davis brothers are going for the jugular! They just wouldn’t let bygones be bygones.”
“You’ve never told me much about what happened when you were a child.”
“And I’m not about to now. It’s water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned. If they want to dwell on it and drive me six feet under, then so be it.” He opened his own can. “I’m losing the will to fight, to be honest.”
“This doesn’t sound like the Mason I know. Listen, I have some money. A partnership might be just what the place needs.”
“The wolves are at the door again, Peter. My days are numbered. I’d keep your money out of harm’s way.” Mason drank back the IPA in one go. He belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Wolves?”
“Where have you been, Peter? Those who think I abducted a little girl. Strike that. Those who now think I killed a little girl.”
“Things are different now with DNA and forensics. They’ll be able to clear you in no time, I bet.”
Mason snorted and reached in for another beer. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
Peter put his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Go easy on that, old-timer.”
Mason nodded, pulled out another can, and opened it. “You weren’t here the last time, back in ninety when they treated me like an animal.”
“You told me about it.”
“Did I tell you that the Davis brothers fucking revelled in it? You should have seen them then, full of piss and vinegar. That Earl Jewell was a nightmare and was convinced I was a monster, but those brothers … well, they were playing a whole different ballgame.”
“Probably not wise rounding on someone who owns a gun shop.”
Mason chortled and took another mouthful, seemingly content to sip this one a little slower. “It didn’t deter them any—even when I stood outside, waving a gun in their direction. The spiky little shit, Cam, strolled right up to me and told me that he wasn’t armed and I should pull the trigger. That he’d happily die to see a child murderer behind bars. They beat the living shit out of me that day—Cam, Dom, and all their redneck friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Peter. I got off lightly.”
“It doesn’t sound that way.”
“I did. What happened to Lorraine was far worse.” He took two successive gulps. “But I can’t discuss that.”
Peter drank too. He didn’t want to push Mason on what’d happened. The man was struggling to hold it together as it was.
“One of our town’s dirty little secrets,” Mason said, staring at his reflection in the glass of the refrigerator door. “I don’t suspect it’s the only one.”
Peter heard a clatter from behind the refrigerators. “Did you hear that? It came from your apartment.”
“Probably just the wind knocked over something. I left the kitchen window open to let in the air.”
Peter walked alongside the line of refrigerators toward the door to the apartment. “We should check it out.”
“It’s okay, Peter. It won’t be anything—”
Another clatter.
This one startled Peter into life. He moved quickly and went through the unlocked apartment door. “Who’s in there?”
“Hey,” Mason said from behind him. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Peter. Let me go and check it—”
But Peter was already through the door and into the living room. He knew the layout well, having visited on several occasions. He could see why Mason had been hesitant about letting him enter. Dirty plates and empty bottles were strewn across the coffee table. A mound of laundry had collected on the floor, and a small pile of pizza boxes looked ready to topple. Peter eyed the closed door to his left, which led to the kitchen. “Hello?” He paused for a reply, but there wasn’t one.
“There’s no one here, Peter, I’m telling you. It’s just the open window in the kitchen—”
Something smashed.
Peter’s gaze moved to the closed bedroom door opposite him. “Someone’s in there.” He started across the room, reaching for the handle—
The floor rushed up to meet him, and everything melted away.
7
LILLIAN TURNED INTO Charlotte White’s road. “Fuck, you were right. It’s the chief’s car.”
“Keep driving,” Jake said from the passenger seat.
Lillian drove to the end of the road, then pulled over.
Jake looked in his side mirror. “If Jewell exits this direction, we slide down, okay?”
Ten minutes later, Gabriel did just that. Although it was probably unnecessary—as he came past at such a ferocious speed he wouldn’t have noticed them anyway—they slid down regardless.
Lillian shook her head. “You still think this is a good idea? Your obsessed man is going to kill someone before he leads us to any truths.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, Lillian. The other way is that something’s just put a rocket up him, and I’d like to know what that was.”
They exited the car and walked past a series of identical whitewashed bungalows.
“Eerie neighborhood,” Jake said.
“Popular. Garnered the nickname Sleepy Hollow a few years back, on account of them being our retired residents. They are also very wealthy. The board of selectmen put a lot of pressure on the Blue Falls PD to keep this a crimefree area, as many of these folks invest heavily in our town. There’s been talk of turning it into a gated community.”
&nb
sp; “Best way to keep the riffraff like us out. Let’s enjoy it while we still can.”
They walked down a cobbled path lined with garden gnomes and found an elderly lady beside a patch of colourful rhododendrons. She wasn’t gardening. She seemed to be just admiring the flowers and appeared lost in her own thoughts.
“Charlotte White?” Jake said.
Charlotte turned her whole body rather than just her head. She also winced. “Sorry, arthritis. Used to just strike in winter, now it sticks around all year.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Jake said.
“Nah.” She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “When you get into your eighties, you take what you can get. If you still want it, that is. Unfortunately, a lot of my friends have been giving up of late. Anyway …” She used a walking stick to maneuver herself in her direction. “I’ve only just waved off one visitor, so is there a reason I’m high on popularity at the moment?”
“We come from the police department, ma’am. Chief Jewell sent us,” Lillian said.
“Why would he do that? He was just here himself not ten minutes ago.”
“He just told us to follow-up, take some notes. As you could probably tell, he’s a busy man. He just wants to ensure he didn’t miss anything.”
“Still, I’m surprised he didn’t mention you.”
“He’s had some difficult news and—”
“Yes, dear, he told me.” Charlotte smiled. “But I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”
Jake looked at Lillian, then back at Charlotte. “Yes, Mrs. White, we are. The discovery of his sister’s body has thrown him.”
“Yes, I could tell.”
“We just want to be certain he hasn’t found out anything that might lead him off the rails.”
“I knew his father well. Earl Jewell, a hot-blooded man with a furious temper. He tried his best to get to the truth, but sometimes, the truth just isn’t there, and sometimes you can cause more harm than good looking for it. You’re both here because Gabriel Jewell is just like his father, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Jake said. “I suspect he is.”
“And when dealing with a dangerous man, you could do with all the help you can get, so come in, and I’ll get you both an iced tea.”
A year or so back, Gabriel had thrown a young man by the name of Nile Waters into the tank for public intoxication. Nile was diagnosed with ADHD and had a bottle of instant-release Adderall on his person It clearly didn’t mix well with alcohol—at least it didn’t for Nile—so Gabriel had confiscated it before slamming the cell door. Nile had never asked for it back, so Gabriel had thrown it into his bedside drawer at home.
After spending a sleepless night glued to his father’s file on the murders of Bobby White and Henry Clark, Gabriel had reached into the bedside drawer for some caffeine tables and had rediscovered the Adderall instead.
It woke him right up.
And then some.
During his meeting with Charlotte White, he’d worked hard not to grit his teeth and pace her living room. And had mostly failed. He must have looked a right state. Hopefully, she’d written off his peculiar behavior to his shock seeing Collette’s body on the banks of the Skweda rather than drugs.
Anyway, the uppers were worth it. He had clarity like never before. And he didn’t just feel focused, but he felt hungry for information, and every morsel Charlotte had provided had been nourishing.
So, after leaving the elderly woman, he’d popped two more Adderall and filled his mouth with gum. Now, he stared over the road at the old building and waited for the chemical to explode within him.
When the tingling began, he clenched his fists, and, with his teeth grinding gum, he marched across the road. The hammering of his heart and his fast, shallow breathing could, on another occasion, cause him great anxiety; however, now he felt unstoppable. The truth was at his fingertips, and he felt the strength to tear it loose. He barged through the door.
The bastard stared at him, wide-eyed.
This is for you, Dad, and for you, my dear Collette.
Darting forward, he reached for the monster’s neck.
Charlotte White was prepared to discuss that day in 1975 with Jake and Collette, and she did so without shedding a tear. Jake was impressed; most people would have struggled to maintain composure when discussing a tragedy of this nature. Charlotte relayed the story of the grisly deliveries, then discussed the subsequent investigation. On a few occasions, her voice wavered, and she looked as if she might finally break, but she retained control.
“Half a century ago,” she concluded, “and anything else about that time is so distant … so hazy … apart from those months. Everything is still as clear as if it happened yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lillian said. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it since taking her seat on a sofa opposite Charlotte White.
Charlotte had opted for a rather solid-looking rocking chair. “If I sat on that sofa with my arthritis, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.”
“I’m in awe of you, Mrs. White,” Lillian said. “The way you rebuilt your life.”
“Thank you, dear. But you don’t really have a choice in the matter, and you feel ever so guilty about it at the time, as if you’re giving up on them. We had support with our grief, and we met others experiencing loss. One couple we met had to deal with a missing child. I remember thinking we were the lucky ones. Imagine not knowing if your child was alive or dead? How could you ever move on? At least, we had some closure. Some.” She looked down. “And that closure was the elusive out-of-towner who never struck again.”
“It doesn’t sound like you believed it,” Jake said.
“You’re not from around here, are you, Mr. Pettman? But Officer Sanborn will understand what I mean when I say you never know what to fucking believe in this place.”
Despite that Charlotte had lived twice as long as he had and so could have easily sworn twice as much as he had in her life, the sudden profanity still stunned him.
“I read through the investigation, Mrs. White,” Lillian said. “It seemed, on first look, very thorough. For the time. Forensic analysis wasn’t what it is now. What made you question the findings?”
“Well, the same reason you’re here questioning the conduct of Gabriel Jewell. Him and his father are cut from the same cloth. I won’t question Earl’s drive, not for a second. And, in a way, I am grateful to him for his compassion, but he was a hothead who led with his fists. Thought and rational behavior were an inconvenience to Chief Jewell.”
Jake and Lillian looked at each other.
“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” she said. “Like father, like son.”
“So, what was it you think Earl missed in the investigation?” Jake asked.
“Everything, Mr. Pettman. Right now, you sit in the wealthy heart of Blue Falls. Every property around you, including the assisted living facility across the road, house the great and the good of Blue Falls. These people are the people who run the town today, and the town of yesteryear. Nothing happens in Blue Falls without their involvement. Nothing. Without that understanding, without the subtlety in your approach to them, there are no truths to be learned. That is why they always keep someone like Earl or Gabriel in charge of the police department. They’re easy to predict and easier to control.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. White,” Jake said, “aren’t you one of these people?”
“I got lucky with my husband’s insurance when he passed. It’s funded this retirement. A few like-minded individuals are dotted around here. I don’t need many friends at this age.”
“So, you really believe the town had something to do with what happened to your son?” Jake asked.
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying any truths that fall outside their best interests do not exist. And it doesn’t make for a healthy investigation. It has taken forty-five years for us to learn the killer struck again. It’s hard not to be
surprised. Would you be surprised if there were more victims?”
Jake didn’t respond.
“You can be assured, Mrs. White, we have no time for their best interests,” Lillian said. “We’re here for the truth.”
“Yes. I sense that. It’s refreshing. Gabriel Jewell is also of the same mindset. He’s a loose cannon, but I told him everything. The fact of the matter is I’d tell anyone who is prepared to listen.” Charlotte White winced as she rose to her feet. Jake stood to help her, but she waved him away. “I’m convinced that if I accept help, I’ll just get weaker. I see it as exercise.”
Jake nodded and sat again.
Using her walking stick, Charlotte shambled to the mantlepiece to grab a photograph of a pale, smiling teenager with a mane of frizzy red hair. “You said before, Mr. Pettman, that I’m one of these people, and, to my great shame, I’m about to tell you that I am. I, like most of these bastards around here, have been economical with the truth. Nineteen seventy-five was a very different time, Mr. Pettman. A very different time. You see, my son was gay. And I genuinely believed the whole truth would do more harm than good. The look of surprise on Gabriel Jewell’s face when I told him and the way he flew around the room, gesticulating, showed me that I had been wrong. He left my home with such purpose and intent. I think he knows. I think he knows who killed my son and his sister.”
Jake leaned forward on the sofa so he was closer to Charlotte.
She stared smiling at her son’s picture. “I wasn’t embarrassed at what Bobby was. I could never be anything but proud of him. And now, these days, no one would even bat an eyelid … so stupid. I thought if I told the police he was gay, they would lose interest in the case. That Earl Jewell would lose interest in his case.”
“It was a very different time,” Jake said, trying to reassure her.
“And his father … his father, God rest his soul, never found out. He never needed to know. It would have broken him even more. How was I to know that what he was would have any part in what happened? I wanted people to care. I wanted people to be desperate to help find the killer, not turn up their nose in disgust when they read in the newspaper that he was gay and suggest it was in some way his fault.”
