Bellows Falls

Chapter 21

By the time I left Brian Padget the next morning, he’d showered, shaved, eaten a light breakfast, and made an appointment with a local counseling service. Given the condition I’d found him in, I wasn’t begrudging a poor night’s sleep.

It was perhaps that developing hopefulness that made me turn again toward the Bellows Falls police station instead of continuing home.

Emile Latour was in his awkwardly laid out office, sitting at his desk, staring into space.

He looked up when I tapped lightly on the door frame. “Hi, Joe. Come on in.”

“I just spent the night babysitting Brian Padget. You been to see him since all this hit the fan?”

He frowned. “Babysitting him? Why?”

“Greg Davis called me. He’s been dropping in on Padget, seeing how he’s doing. He found him blind drunk and sick, feeling sorry for himself. He’s better now.” I sat in one of the guest chairs and studied him, watching a series of thoughts pass like shadows behind his eyes.

He seemed to absorb what I told him in slow motion, gradually lifting his hand to rub absent-mindedly at his temple. Finally, he said, “I didn’t realize.”

I kept my voice neutral. “He’s a kid-and an idealist. He hasn’t acquired what we’ve got to fall back on.”

“But what about the urinalysis?”

“I can’t prove it yet, but I think the dope was put into him somehow. It doesn’t match the stuff we found in the toilet tank, which is what the snitch told the paper they’d both been using.”

Latour’s gaze returned to his untouched paperwork.

“How’re the others holding up, with Padget heading for arraignment?” I asked.

He sat back in his chair, his shoulders slumped. “The whole department’s in a mess. I get, ‘Yes, Chief,’ ‘No, Chief,’ and ‘Will you sign this, Chief?’ And that’s about it. I stuck my foot in it saying what I did at that news conference. I lost them.”

“You disappointed them. That’s different.”

He looked slightly irritated. “The end result’s the same. They won’t talk to me. I don’t know what to say to them. Half of them think Brian’s dirty and Emily’s in it with him. The other half have gone totally nuts, saying Shippee, me, Norm Bouch, the village trustees, and all the dirtbags in town have ganged up to screw them.” He waved a hand feebly across his desk. “Coming to work is like going to a funeral every day.”

“What about Shippee?” I asked. “What’s his role?”

Latour’s face darkened. “That son of a bitch. He doesn’t give a good goddamn. He wants it solved, period. He sees this new group in town trying to make things better, and his contribution is to tell me to fire any troublemakers I find in my department. To him it’s all whitewash and flowers-cater to the do-gooders, buy yourself some political mileage, and then watch them disappear in six months, wiped out by their own disappointment-just like before.”

I was impressed by his anger and tried stoking it a little. “You told me earlier you thought they had more on the ball than that.”

“They do. I know it started with flowers and name changes, but they’ve moved beyond that. They’re talking about taking care of the kids that just hang around the streets now. They invited them to their meetings and asked them for suggestions, for crying out loud. You don’t see Shippee at those. For the first time, there’s a sense these folks aren’t going to be happy till something improves. I looked around the room at their last get-together, and I saw people who can’t stand each other trying to find some middle ground. It was amazing.”

“They approach you yet?” I asked.

He blinked, as if coming out of a daydream. “Sure they have, with the usual complaints-loitering kids, open drinking, cars speeding, too many drugs… I’m two guys down and the rest are in the dumps. I’m really going to hold my breath, keep my fingers crossed, and make everything better.”

I got up and headed for the door, not wanting to feed his bitterness. “You’re not in a position to do that, which may be part of your problem. You ever think you might’ve outgrown your job, Emile-that you could do more if you weren’t Chief of Police? Maybe you’re more frustrated than burned out.”

I half expected an angry comeback, but as I looked over my shoulder, he was merely staring into space again. I thought I saw a difference, though-an intensity in his expression, as if in reviewing his own words-or mine-he might have found something deserving a second look.

“I’ll see you around,” I said in parting. He didn’t respond.

Gail called me at the office shortly before noon. I’d been going over our double homicide and finding little of use. Nothing new had surfaced concerning Jasper Morgan, and we still hadn’t put a name to the little guy in the adjoining grave. Willy had spent hours trying to trace the parents, but without success.

“Jan just got her visit from SRS,” Gail reported.

“What did they find?” I asked.

“Not enough to warrant any action by them, but they didn’t tell her that, and the effect was what we were after. If you want to chat with her before hubby comes home from work, now’s the time.”

“I’m on my way,” I told her. “But before I go, did you find out where Norm and she were married?”

“Anne thought it was Bellows Falls, but she wasn’t sure. I had our clerk check it out, and she couldn’t find any record of it, so Anne must’ve been wrong. They probably went to Vegas or somewhere-that sounds like Norm’s style. Why did you want to know, anyhow?”

I answered vaguely. “Legal question-trying to sort out any potential husband-wife problems we might run into. I’ll let you know how I fare. Thanks for setting it up.”

I dialed Brian Padget’s house immediately after hanging up.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end wasn’t chipper, but it didn’t sound drunk, either.

“It’s Joe Gunther. How’re you doing?”

“I went to the shrink, if that’s what you mean.”

“It wasn’t, but how did it go?”

“All right, I guess. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“That’s probably good. Digging into yourself should hurt a little. I got a question for you-some legal paperwork I’m trying to clear up. Where were Jan and Norm married?”

“Here,” he said immediately and then corrected himself. “I mean Bellows Falls. She told me one night they had a church wedding-white dress, tux, one of the kids as ring-bearer, the whole shootin’ match.”

“They didn’t do a Vegas number?”

“I don’t think so. She told me she’s never been more than ten miles outside town her whole life.”

“Thanks. Keep away from the bottle, and keep my phone number and Greg’s handy, okay? You hit the sauce again, I’ll wring your neck.”

His laugh was short and halfhearted, but reassuring anyway. “Okay, Lieutenant.”

I made two more phone calls before dialing Kathy Bartlett.

“You find anything hopeful down there?” she asked after we’d exchanged greetings. “I just hung up on Jonathon, and he’s got nothing good to say.”

“Could be. The SA’s office here sicced SRS on Jan Bouch this morning. They didn’t find anything, but she’s biting her nails. I’m about to see if I can turn up the heat with a private visit of my own. How fast do you think you could pull an inquest together so you can really make her sweat?”

She had enough experience to quickly grasp what I was up to, and apparently enough trust in me not to play twenty questions, at least not at this point. “I’ll have to call around-see what court or judge might be willing to play. You might have a problem, though.”

“I know,” I quoted, “ ‘the privilege of communications made within a marriage.’ I don’t think they are married. A records check in Bellows Falls revealed nothing. Jan’s talked about a big church wedding to Brian, but I called the preacher and he knows nothing about it. I also found out Jan’s suffering from a psychiatric dependency disorder. My guess is she made up the marriage to feel closer to Norm, and he played along because he didn’t care either way.”

“We’re going to look pretty stupid if he whips out a marriage certificate at the last minute.”

“Could be that fear is what he’s counting on. We’ll never know unless we call his bluff.”

She only paused a moment. “Granted, but we’re not there yet. You have your interview, and I’ll make those calls. Talk to you later.”

Jan Bouch looked at me as if I were a ghost, standing on her front stoop. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling. “My husband’s not here.”

I made no effort to smile but spoke politely. “I know that. I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

She glanced around nervously. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not such a great idea.”

“You spoke to SRS this morning.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you here about that?”

“I think you know why I’m here, Mrs. Bouch.”

She bit her lower lip, her eyes glistening. “Am I going to lose my kids?”

For an instant, I almost faltered, thinking of how I was about to become the latest of this woman’s abusers. “That’s pretty much up to you.”

Her resistance weakening, she kneaded the doorknob and shifted her weight uncertainly, her distress paradoxically stiffening my resolve.

“Mrs. Bouch,” I persisted. “Last time we talked, in the chief’s office at the police department, I suggested you seek help. You decided otherwise. Do you really want to turn me away again?”

She backed up quickly, opening the door wider, suddenly afraid we might be caught in the open. “Okay. Come in.”

I stepped inside, saw a few pieces of furniture placed haphazardly around the messy room off the hallway, and headed toward them, arranging two chairs so they faced each other. “Have a seat.”

She followed me in, looking at the walls and ceiling like a tourist on her first visit. Hesitantly, she did as I asked, sitting on the chair’s edge with her hands clenched in her lap.

“Mrs. Bouch, you must know things aren’t going well for you. You’ve been having an affair with a man facing a drug charge, you’re living with another against whom drug trafficking allegations have been made, the police department has a record of your chronic involvement in domestic abuse calls, you have an admitted history of repeated drug use, you’re receiving mental counseling, and you’ve just been visited by SRS. Do you have any idea what all that looks like?”

Tears were flowing down her face. “I try my best. I really do.”

“I know you do. Wasn’t I the one who offered you help?”

She nodded silently.

“What did I tell you?”

“That I should leave Norm. But I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

She gave me a pleading look.

I leaned forward, suddenly deciding to gamble on pure intuition. “I know you’re in pain, but despite what you think, you still have some options. Do you feel that inside you-the desire not to be pushed around so much?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did it feel when Norm ordered you to have an affair with Brian?”

Her eyes widened. “How did…?”

“Or when he told you Brian was going to be hung out to dry-after you’d discovered you’d actually fallen in love with him?”

She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know.”

“Jan,” I said, using her Christian name for the first time, “when you and Norm were at the police station, telling us the sexual harassment charges were false, and that you’d actually been having an affair with Brian, do you remember how you felt when you were asked whether Brian was ever in uniform when the two of you were together?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Norm opened his mouth to answer, and you beat him to it. Remember?”

Her face cleared suddenly. “I said, ‘No.’ I knew otherwise it would get Brian into trouble.”

I matched her enthusiasm with my own. “That’s right. You said, ‘No.’ But you did more than that. Why did you say it so fast, so clearly?”

She looked like she was concentrating for a final exam. “Because Norm was about to say, ‘Yes’?”

“Don’t ask me, Jan. Tell me. Was that the way it was?”

“Yes, it was. I didn’t want him to do that.”

“You stood up for yourself,” I said, “and you helped a friend. You may’ve caught hell later, but it felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” but her voice had lost some of its edge.

“Would you like to stop using drugs?”

She perked back up. “Oh yes, I would.”

“Or live peacefully with your children, happy and in control and without fear?”

“I’d like that.”

“What’s the biggest barrier between you and those goals?”

Her eyes widened at the possibility of a single simple solution. “The drugs?”

“That’s pretty big,” I agreed. “But what brought them into your life?”

“Norm?” she asked in a whisper.

I leaned forward. “What would change if he were out of the picture?”

“I could get my life back,” she suggested, almost to herself.

I wasn’t sure how great she’d actually find that to be, but I wasn’t about to quibble. While I was blatantly manipulating her with my own self-interest, there was also no way I didn’t think Jan Bouch could stand an improvement in her life.

“Here’s another one-what do you think will happen if you let things continue the way they’re going?”

The tears began flowing again. “They’ll take my kids away?”

I kept quiet, cautious about saying too much. Instead, I got to my feet and began walking around the room, dominating it with my presence, occasionally passing behind her to heighten her insecurity.

“Mrs. Bouch, I don’t need to tell you that forces are at work right now that are bigger than anything you can do to fight them. You’ve gotten used to being pushed around by Norm, but that’s nothing compared to this. There is a silver lining in that, though. You know what it is?”

I was behind her when I said this and paused long enough to force her to ask, “What?”

“It’s that those larger forces are on your side. They want you to succeed, to live with your kids, to have a normal, happy life. They want to make sure Norm doesn’t hurt any more people than he already has… Like he’s hurt you.”

Predictably, she wavered there. “He’s not a bad man.”

“You asked him for a favor when you first got together and began having children, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice lowered, my head just behind hers. “You asked him for something that wouldn’t have cost him a thing, but which meant everything to you-and to those same children.”

Her head bent forward and her weeping increased.

“He forced you to live a lie because he wouldn’t make this simple dream come true, didn’t he?”

Her entire body was shaking by now, bent over almost double. I tried to use that grief to temper the adrenaline I felt coursing through me, but I couldn’t resist seeing it as a measure of my success. The gap between me and Norm-at least regarding this one pathetic soul-had grown immeasurably close. His victim had become mine.

“He wouldn’t even marry you, would he, Jan?” I ended in a whisper.

“No,” she wailed. “I wanted my kids to be different from me, but he wouldn’t do it. That’s why I lied about being married.”

At last, I put both my hands on her shoulders, bridging the gap I’d so cynically created. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You did it for good reason. You tried your best. And if Norm hadn’t kept pushing, it might’ve worked.”

I circled around to face her, crouching low so I could see her eyes. “It’s fallen apart, and you know who’s to blame. I know it’s scary, and that you don’t want to do it, but for your children, you’re going to have to make some choices. You won’t be alone this time. People will be there to help you, but you’ll have to help them, too. Do you understand?”

She nodded dumbly. I knew she had no idea what I was talking about. That would come later, and at the hands of others-others, I comforted myself, who really would have her best interests at heart.

“Some people are going to want to talk to you about Norm,” I resumed. “Ask you questions about his business dealings. You may not think you know anything, but your helping them in any way will be crucial. It’ll be at a special meeting called an inquest, and the only people there will be a judge and a prosecutor-a friend of mine named Kathy. Are you willing to be a part of that?”

Again, she nodded.

“All right. I think it might be better if Norm doesn’t find out about this. Remember the women I mentioned in the chief’s office a few days ago, who take care of people like you and your kids?”

“The shelter?”

“Right. I can have all of you taken there right now, where Norm can’t find you, so you can be safe until Kathy and the judge ask you those questions. Are you agreeable to that?”

“Okay,” she said simply.

I straightened up, the tension draining out of me. The frustration I’d felt losing Lenny Markham to the legal system was finally dissipating in the face of new expectations.

“You stay here,” I said to her. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”