Bellows Falls

Chapter 10

SAMMIE MARTENS LOOKED UP AS I approached her desk the following morning. “You look terrible.”

“You should be a doctor. What did you find out about the towns Amy Sorvino mentioned? Any Oliver Twist-style teenage gangs on the loose?”

“Burlington is a definite hit, and Kunkle’s been snooping around our own backyard, trying to find out what Jasper Morgan might’ve been up to. You ought to talk to him. Barre I got a lukewarm-there’re kids into drugs, but the PD had no sense they were more organized than usual.”

“Tell me about Burlington.”

“I contacted Audrey McGowen-we went to the Academy together. She checked with the juvie crime squad, who said that in general, they haven’t seen any changes. There are a tiny number of kids that seem vaguely interconnected, but it’s fluid, they come and go like hourly workers at a fast-food joint. And when they do bust one on possession, they can’t find where the drugs came from or where they’re headed-the kids pick it up and drop it off but don’t make contact with buyer or seller. That’s the structured part the PD noticed, ’cause it’s so consistent. Surveillance might crack it open, but who’s got the money, especially with so little to go on? And if all they get is a bunch of kids, the busts won’t justify the overhead.”

“Which Bouch knew from the start,” I said softly.

Sammie nodded. “He also knows to keep it small. The numbers Audrey gave me didn’t come to more’n six kids, max. ’Course, who knows? And the profit margin’s huge. She told me a ten-dollar bag of coke in New York’ll bring you thirty-five in Burlington. They’re hungry up there.”

“Did she know Norm Bouch by name?”

Sammie smiled broadly. “Yeah, and it’s from an interesting angle. They’ve got a special unit up there-some sort of multi-jurisdictional thing… ”

“CUSI,” I said. “Chittenden Unit for Special Investigations. I thought that was mostly sex-related crimes.”

“Exactly. That’s where Bouch’s name popped up on her screen. It’s a little dated now-a few years at least. But his interest in minors made him a natural for them. They never caught him abusing kids or anything, but they talked to juvies who knew him well-like you were telling us about those Bellows Falls kids, he was a Pied Piper. Keep in mind, though,” she emphasized, “I got the clear impression Audrey wasn’t blown away by any of this. Bouch is small potatoes-one name out of thousands they have on file, and an old one at that.”

I rose to my feet. “I don’t mind that. I’d just as soon have this whole thing run low-key. The fewer people get interested in it, the more likely it is we get the nod to run the case for the AG. If Norm Bouch was seen as a big deal, we’d have DEA, the task force, and everybody else wanting to grab some of the action. We’ll probably get a little of that anyhow. Drug busts make for happy voters and keep the grant money flowing.”

Sammie stopped me as I was about to leave. “That reminds me-I got something else you might like. You must’ve tickled Phil Marchese’s fancy, ’cause he did some poking around after you left Lawrence. Norm Bouch’s NCIC records I think you already know about… ” she quickly checked her notes. “DWI, check fraud, two misdemeanor possessions, and a first-degree unlawful dealing with a child, for selling beer to a bunch of minors. What doesn’t appear, ’cause it was supposed to stay off the books, was that Bouch participated in a special program the Lawrence PD and the local parole board had going under a short-term federal grant. It wasn’t therapy, so there’s no patient confidentiality to worry about, but it involved psychologists trying to find out what makes the bad guys tick when they’re out on the street, instead of when they’re in jail. It was like a big brother program of sorts-or big sister in this case. It folded fast, of course-you can pick your reasons why-but Marchese found a woman named Molly Bremmer who dealt with Bouch for several months. He said she’d be willing to talk to you.” She gave me Bremmer’s name and number on a slip of paper.

I looked at it appreciatively. “Nice work, Sam.” I hesitated a moment before adding, “Do me another favor, would you? This is off the record, so be discreet, but I’d like to find out about a Bellows Falls policewoman named Emily Doyle-as much personal information as you can find. She wasn’t too thrilled to talk to me when I asked her about Padget, and I found out last night she was in a position to plant that dope at his place. I have no reason to suspect her of anything, but I am curious. When I talk to her, I’d like to know more about her than she thinks I do.”

Sammie wasn’t too thrilled but nodded her assent.

Harriet Fritter handed me the newspaper as I walked toward my office. “Front page,” she said. “You’ll find it interesting.”

I took the paper and sat down at my desk. “Bellows Falls Police Officer Suspended on Drug Charge,” read the headline. In smaller type underneath it continued, “Chief promises thorough investigation.”

I sighed deeply. It hadn’t taken long for the carnival to begin. The only good news was that since I was hearing of it just now, apparently no one had given the paper my name. I began to read carefully, hoping I was correct.

For most of its length, the article toed the line, outlining how police, acting on a tip given them through the Reformer, had secured a search warrant for the home of Officer Brian Padget, of the BFPD, and had discovered “several” grams of what was believed to be cocaine. Padget, who had earlier tested positive for drugs in a urine analysis, was unavailable for comment and was said to be on paid suspension while awaiting arraignment. That much was pretty mundane, although I wondered at the speed with which the paper had secured its information. The answer to that was supplied on the last page, where the article concluded, “Holding a brief press conference with Town Manager Eric Shippee, Bellows Falls Police Chief Emile Latour told reporters last night, ‘We will nip this thing in the bud. There will be no dirty cops tolerated on the force. The public can expect a full and speedy accounting for this whole sorry affair.’”

I reached for the phone and called Greg Davis at his home, knowing his shift didn’t start until the afternoon.

“Davis,” he answered on the first ring.

“It’s Joe Gunther. How’re the troops holding up?”

He didn’t hesitate, which I hoped was a sign of trust. “Considering our fearless leader has just tried and convicted one of our own without a jury, I guess they’re doing okay.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Can you blame them?” he asked. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

“The press conference? No way. You know I led the search, though.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe this.”

“How’s Emily Doyle taking it?” I asked.

There was a cautious silence at the other end.

“I know she likes him,” I added as explanation. “She was madder than hell at me for doing the internal.”

“She’s taking it hard,” he said simply. “But she’s not alone. You might’ve seen Brian as Latour’s pet, but everybody liked him. He was one of the guys. The double whammy of his maybe being dirty and the Old Man throwing him to the wolves so fast has everyone pretty confused.”

“And angry?”

“Yeah,” Davis admitted. “And beginning to split into pro-Brians and anti-Brians, with the antis winning. That’s the dark side to Brian’s good standing with the chief-if Latour throws him out, the troops will too. You better know there’s a lot of anti-Joe Gunther in there, too.”

That came as no surprise. “What was Shippee’s role in calling the press conference?”

“I don’t know-he couldn’t’ve found out about the dope that quick unless Latour made a beeline to his office. I don’t much care about that part, to be honest. I’m standing between Captain Bligh and a seriously pissed-off crew all of a sudden. So I just wish to hell they’d both kept their mouths shut.”

We chatted a few minutes longer, mostly to allow him to vent some more steam. I sympathized with his position. A police organization is heavily hierarchical and leans on the conservative notion that rank begets fealty-Davis’s constant reference to Latour as the Old Man was an example of that. To have a father figure turn his back at the slightest show of adversity was serious cause for the jitters. Cops were isolated enough in society without being sabotaged from within.

It was that very isolation, however, that brought me back to something I’d sensed lurking in the background. “I hate to ask, Greg, but was there ever anything between Emily and Brian?”

“Yeah,” he conceded reluctantly. “They had a thing early on. Puppy love in uniform was how I described it to my wife. It’s pretty common, especially with more women joining up-you think you have so much in common just because you’re both throwing drunks into jail. It didn’t last long and she took it pretty hard.”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, hell. Six months, more or less. She hadn’t been with us for long. I suppose you’re going to be asking a lot of questions like that, aren’t you?”

“If I end up in charge of the case. I’ll try to wear kid gloves, but if I’m going to start with the presumption of innocence, it means I’ll be looking to pin the tail on some other donkey. With all your boys and girls wondering what flag to rally around, they better keep that in mind.”

“I hear you,” he said. “I’ll try to prepare them for the rough spots.”