The Chief of Police popped on his desk lamp and pulled out his chair. It was one of those great old companions—the chair that’s been around the seasons, watched the changing of the times, and it makes the sound of a great beast exhaling slowly when you sit. The Chief pulled himself into his desk. One hand reached down and opened a file drawer, out came the bottle. The glass was ready on the desktop, and the tawny booze filled it without a splash. Just as soon as the drink was at his lips, Sergeant Brooks hurried in.
“Chief.”
“Close the door.”
The blinds on the door rustled. The Chief motioned for Sergeant Brooks to take a seat.
“What do you have for me?”
“It’s done sir.”
“You sure about that?” the Chief asked.
The Sergeant nodded.
“It took a little longer than Wells had planned for, but no one will be looking any time soon.”
The Chief downed his drink and reached for the bottle. He held it out for a moment, invited the Sergeant to join him. Sergeant Brooks held his hand up.
“No, thanks. You mind?” as he pulled out a pack of non-filters.
The Chief pulled out an ashtray and placed it at Brooks’ side of the desk.
The glow of the lighter was brief, and it left a glare in each of their eyes. Brooks inhaled deep. The smoke drifted across the desk, trudging like a man in the desert who had lost his way.
The glass filled again. The Chief raised it and sipped. Outside his office phones rang at distant desks. Some were getting answered, some weren’t. The night was quieting down, but some of us don’t like to sleep.
“How did it happen?”
Brooks slowly inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled.
“Wells and I found him out near the overpass. He was just there. Once we saw him, well, we just knew it was him.”
The Chief leaned forward and crossed his fingers into each other.
“So, he was alone?”
“I didn’t know how he wasn’t aware of us. Last lead we had on him he slipped us.”
“But not this time.”
“Not this time, Chief.”
Brooks pulled on the cigarette until the cherry burnt into his fingers. He exhaled as he pushed it into the base of the ashtray.
“He had on this, bracelet . . .”
“Bracelet?”
“It must have belonged to one of the girls . . .”
The Chief shook his head. “Don’t tell me this was done on a public street.”
“Of course not. For the average passerby it would have appeared as a routine stop.”
“So, no eyewitnesses?”
“None, sir.”
“Good.”
The Chief leaned back.
“Where’d you do it?”
Brooks was at the cigarettes, put one in his mouth. He lit, inhaled, exhaled, spoke.
“Wells said he knew of this place, that it was quiet, there was no one inside a few miles. So we got him in the back of the car, took him there.”
“You understand Sergeant, that really doesn’t answer the question.”
Brooks exhaled. “Out west, past where old Meyers had that accident, there was this radio station. You know of it?”
The Chief nodded.
“A few years ago the radio station stopped broadcasting. Not enough listeners–just another victim of the digital age, can you believe it? Anyway, the building was stripped down. It had been abandoned since its last broadcast some years ago.”
“You weren’t followed by anyone?”
“No sir.”
“Good. Continue.”
“It took us about an hour to get there. All the windows were boarded, everything was frail–nothing around us but dirt and dust.”
He smoked. The Chief went for round three.
“We had him cuffed. I watched over him while Wells got us inside. He didn’t try to run. It was stale Chief, and the air inside was just as dead.”
He finished his cigarette and watched the smoke for a moment.
“Wells went at him for a while. It wasn’t the kind of thing I was expecting. You know how reserved he normally is.”
“What he use?”
“He laid into him with a Maglite until the bulb busted, the batteries even fell out. Then he brought out the razor . . .”
“What about you?”
Brooks head shook back and forth.
“I never laid a hand on him. Wells was . . .”
The Chief looked down at his desk and rubbed his eyes.
“You never really know a man until you see him in the threshold . . . Where is Wells right now?”
“After we were finished Wells went home. Said he needed a shower. I let him be. I didn’t want try anything rational. You wouldn’t have either after what I saw.”
“Understood.”
The Chief stood, walked to the window of his office. He looked outside for a moment before pacing behind his desk.
“Well Sergeant, if the two of you did this right, in my opinion, I believe you did this city a great service.” He turned to Brooks and said, “I sure hope you covered your tracks. The last thing we need is some sort of scandal.”
“You’ll be able to sleep on it.”
“I believe you. How did you dispose of him?”
“The old fashioned way.”
The Chief pulled back into his chair.
“There is something I need to know.”
“Yeah, Chief?”
He leaned over his desk and asked, “Did Chuck have a hand in it?”
Sergeant Brooks stared back at the Chief and said, “No, sir.”
“I don’t mean to imply anything.”
“No, it’s nothing Chief.”
“I mean, it was only less than a year ago . . . You saw how he was at her funeral. I trusted you and Wells with this because it wasn’t anything personal for the two of you.” He sipped the drink. “Does he know about this arrangement?”
“No. I haven’t seen him much since he and his wife suffered their loss.”
“You can imagine how many are in that same boat,” the Chief said. “Maybe, this way, some part of them will just, know…”
He stood again, moved toward Sergeant Brooks.
Brooks pocketed his smokes and stood.
“Go see Wells. Make sure he doesn’t try to leave town.”
“I will Chief.”
“And check in with me tomorrow. We’ll have to be careful for a while.”
The Sergeant approached the door opened it. This time the blinds didn’t rustle. The Chief watched as he left. Sergeant Brooks walked to his own desk, picked up a few file folders and an old coffee cup. He turned and moved toward the exit of the building.
The Chief closed the door. He found his way back to that old chair and opened another drawer. He reached inside and pulled out a picture frame. He poured another drink and stared at the photograph inside the frame. As he sipped from the glass a wash of peace came over him. Then the moment passed.
Author: Lawrence Goodwin
