playing hooky and spent the rest of the morning in Brattleboro with my squad, suggesting we contact the towns Amy Sorvino had mentioned, to see if Norman Bouch or Oliver Twist-style teenage gangs rang any bells. I had been planning to grill the Bouches later in the day, in far more detail than the day before, but around lunchtime a phone call from Emile Latour turned that idea inside out.
“The Bouches want to come in at two o’clock and make a clean breast about Brian.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“Norm called me and said Brian was the innocent victim of a marital spat. He wants to make a formal statement to you and put the whole thing to rest.”
“Did he say the marital spat was because his wife and Brian were fooling around?”
“No—just that Brian had nothing to do with it.”
I frowned at the phone. “Making Norm the only guy in town not to know?”
Latour didn’t answer.
“How’s Brian feel about it?”
There was a telling pause at the other end of the line, from which I assumed Brian had not been informed. “If they do as they claim, we’re not going to pursue it.”
His tone of voice reminded me of when we’d both been in the town manager’s office.
“What’s going on?” I asked, irritated by the memory. “It’s not necessarily ‘we’ who have anything to say in this. If Brian wants to go after them civilly, that’s his right.”
“We’ve got another situation with Brian right now.”
He didn’t elaborate, but I could tell it wasn’t good. “What?”
“I got a call from your newspaper down there. They had a tip Brian is dirty—he’s been dealing and using drugs.”
I scowled at the phone. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. But they wouldn’t identify who tipped them, right?”
“No.”
“Come on, Emile. You use a paper to smear someone, because you know they won’t reveal their source. You’re not actually moving on this, are you? Give the kid a break.”
“I don’t have any choice. If I ignore it, they’ll start yelling about a cover-up. Besides, I think I got it licked. I told Brian about it, and he volunteered for a urine test and a polygraph, then and there. He’s already in Waterbury, doing both at the state lab. They said they’d let me know by late this afternoon, maybe sooner. With that in my hand, I can tell the paper to piss off, no pun intended.”
It was a hopefulness I distrusted. I didn’t believe for a moment that Norm Bouch’s conversion and Brian Padget’s latest hurdle weren’t connected, and I was tempted to call the paper myself to see if a little personal pressure might not yield better results. Using the press to bolster the us-versus-them mania Emily Doyle had demonstrated earlier made me furious. I didn’t know Brian Padget, but I knew for a certainty that if he wasn’t showing some of Emily’s attitude by now, he was missing some major vital functions.
I kept such thoughts to myself, however, and told Latour I’d be at his building at two.
· · ·
I opted to use the Bellows Falls Police Department’s cramped, sterile interrogation room to interview the Bouches rather than Latour’s more spacious office, to help drive home my dissatisfaction with the latest turn of events. Not that my opinion carried any weight, of course. If the Bouches officially withdrew their accusation, my job was over, and since the insult was against the PD, they and Padget became the injured parties, and it was up to them to file the appropriate charges. But I was angry, and I wanted to show it the only way I was officially allowed. I didn’t believe in Norm’s contrition. His and Jan’s appearance today was to be another act, and his pretending not to know about her and Brian’s affair was at the heart of it. Unfortunately, I was now a bystander—a spectator to Norm’s next move.
Latour and I were already seated at the interrogation room’s bare table when an officer escorted in Jan and Norm Bouch. Unsmiling, I removed my recorder from
“The Bouches want to come in at two o’clock and make a clean breast about Brian.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“Norm called me and said Brian was the innocent victim of a marital spat. He wants to make a formal statement to you and put the whole thing to rest.”
“Did he say the marital spat was because his wife and Brian were fooling around?”
“No—just that Brian had nothing to do with it.”
I frowned at the phone. “Making Norm the only guy in town not to know?”
Latour didn’t answer.
“How’s Brian feel about it?”
There was a telling pause at the other end of the line, from which I assumed Brian had not been informed. “If they do as they claim, we’re not going to pursue it.”
His tone of voice reminded me of when we’d both been in the town manager’s office.
“What’s going on?” I asked, irritated by the memory. “It’s not necessarily ‘we’ who have anything to say in this. If Brian wants to go after them civilly, that’s his right.”
“We’ve got another situation with Brian right now.”
He didn’t elaborate, but I could tell it wasn’t good. “What?”
“I got a call from your newspaper down there. They had a tip Brian is dirty—he’s been dealing and using drugs.”
I scowled at the phone. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. But they wouldn’t identify who tipped them, right?”
“No.”
“Come on, Emile. You use a paper to smear someone, because you know they won’t reveal their source. You’re not actually moving on this, are you? Give the kid a break.”
“I don’t have any choice. If I ignore it, they’ll start yelling about a cover-up. Besides, I think I got it licked. I told Brian about it, and he volunteered for a urine test and a polygraph, then and there. He’s already in Waterbury, doing both at the state lab. They said they’d let me know by late this afternoon, maybe sooner. With that in my hand, I can tell the paper to piss off, no pun intended.”
It was a hopefulness I distrusted. I didn’t believe for a moment that Norm Bouch’s conversion and Brian Padget’s latest hurdle weren’t connected, and I was tempted to call the paper myself to see if a little personal pressure might not yield better results. Using the press to bolster the us-versus-them mania Emily Doyle had demonstrated earlier made me furious. I didn’t know Brian Padget, but I knew for a certainty that if he wasn’t showing some of Emily’s attitude by now, he was missing some major vital functions.
I kept such thoughts to myself, however, and told Latour I’d be at his building at two.
· · ·
I opted to use the Bellows Falls Police Department’s cramped, sterile interrogation room to interview the Bouches rather than Latour’s more spacious office, to help drive home my dissatisfaction with the latest turn of events. Not that my opinion carried any weight, of course. If the Bouches officially withdrew their accusation, my job was over, and since the insult was against the PD, they and Padget became the injured parties, and it was up to them to file the appropriate charges. But I was angry, and I wanted to show it the only way I was officially allowed. I didn’t believe in Norm’s contrition. His and Jan’s appearance today was to be another act, and his pretending not to know about her and Brian’s affair was at the heart of it. Unfortunately, I was now a bystander—a spectator to Norm’s next move.
Latour and I were already seated at the interrogation room’s bare table when an officer escorted in Jan and Norm Bouch. Unsmiling, I removed my recorder from
Similar Books
