my pocket, laid it on the smooth surface between us, and, as they settled into seats opposite, I pushed the
Record
button.
“Police officers Latour and Gunther interviewing Jan and Norman Bouch in the Bellows Falls Police Department, the latter two people being here of their own free will.” I checked my watch and added the time and date of the meeting.
I clasped the fingers of both hands before me and rested them lightly on the tabletop, watching our guests closely. Jan looked terrible—wan, tired, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, her hair dirty and uncombed. She sat slumped in her chair, staring into space. Norm, by contrast, was predictably pleased with himself, his head tilted back, a small smile working hard to lie still.
“It’s my understanding you are here for an official retraction of allegations you previously made against Officer Brian Padget of this department. Is that correct?” I asked.
Norm unleashed his smile now—failing at a look of embarrassed guilt. “Yeah. Jan and I feel terrible about what we done. I got mad at Brian and got my wife to say things that didn’t happen.”
I ignored the obvious bait. “So there was no conversation between Officer Padget and your wife in which Officer Padget made disparaging comments of a sexual nature?”
“Right—nothing happened. At least not that way. Brian’s been screwing around with my wife, but I guess that’s our problem, and we’re doing our best to sort it out. We shouldn’t have done what we did, and we’re real sorry we put Brian in a pickle.”
I sat back and crossed my arms, knowing my face was several shades redder than it had been moments earlier. Latour sat awkwardly still as a long silence filled the room, knowing the spotlight had unexpectedly put him on center stage.
Norm Bouch had made his move. He’d ended a cock-and-bull story he’d hoped would get Padget fired but which was falling apart fast, and had rendered moot the internal investigation that had put me in his face. With the same stroke, by seemingly letting slip what he had about Jan and Brian Padget, he’d also opened a can of worms which Latour, Padget, Shippee, and others would be forced to deal with in full public scrutiny.
And there was an additional bonus to this new strategy—if open humiliation seemed a step down from getting Padget fired, there was always that anonymous phone call the paper had asked Emile about.
Latour cleared his throat after a pause. “Mrs. Bouch, is this true, what your husband just said about you and Brian Padget?”
Still staring off into space, she barely nodded without comment.
“Speak up,” I ordered roughly. “We need this on tape.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“What is the nature of your relationship with Officer Padget?” Latour continued, sounding as if he’d be far happier in a dentist’s chair.
“We were… Are lovers.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of months maybe.”
“And your husband was aware of it all that time?” I asked, hoping to dampen Norm’s moment of glory.
“I found out just before I accused Padget of harassment,” he said quickly, cutting off his wife as she opened her mouth.
“Why did you invent the harassment story?” I persisted, more for the record now.
“I wanted to hurt Padget for ruining my marriage. I thought that would do it. I know it was wrong, but I was real mad. Later, I realized what I’d done.”
“Because we were about to prove you’d made the whole thing up?”
“No, no. Because it was wrong. I’m an emotional guy, and I can fly off the handle. You seen me do that. I’m not proud of it, but that’s why we’re here—to set things right.”
Which brought Latour back to a concern of his from the start—and a major factor in determining Padget’s fate. “Mrs. Bouch, when you and Brian Padget were together, was he ever in uniform?”
I gave her that much. Jan Bouch knew the relevance of the question, just as her husband did, and she beat him to the
Record
button.
“Police officers Latour and Gunther interviewing Jan and Norman Bouch in the Bellows Falls Police Department, the latter two people being here of their own free will.” I checked my watch and added the time and date of the meeting.
I clasped the fingers of both hands before me and rested them lightly on the tabletop, watching our guests closely. Jan looked terrible—wan, tired, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, her hair dirty and uncombed. She sat slumped in her chair, staring into space. Norm, by contrast, was predictably pleased with himself, his head tilted back, a small smile working hard to lie still.
“It’s my understanding you are here for an official retraction of allegations you previously made against Officer Brian Padget of this department. Is that correct?” I asked.
Norm unleashed his smile now—failing at a look of embarrassed guilt. “Yeah. Jan and I feel terrible about what we done. I got mad at Brian and got my wife to say things that didn’t happen.”
I ignored the obvious bait. “So there was no conversation between Officer Padget and your wife in which Officer Padget made disparaging comments of a sexual nature?”
“Right—nothing happened. At least not that way. Brian’s been screwing around with my wife, but I guess that’s our problem, and we’re doing our best to sort it out. We shouldn’t have done what we did, and we’re real sorry we put Brian in a pickle.”
I sat back and crossed my arms, knowing my face was several shades redder than it had been moments earlier. Latour sat awkwardly still as a long silence filled the room, knowing the spotlight had unexpectedly put him on center stage.
Norm Bouch had made his move. He’d ended a cock-and-bull story he’d hoped would get Padget fired but which was falling apart fast, and had rendered moot the internal investigation that had put me in his face. With the same stroke, by seemingly letting slip what he had about Jan and Brian Padget, he’d also opened a can of worms which Latour, Padget, Shippee, and others would be forced to deal with in full public scrutiny.
And there was an additional bonus to this new strategy—if open humiliation seemed a step down from getting Padget fired, there was always that anonymous phone call the paper had asked Emile about.
Latour cleared his throat after a pause. “Mrs. Bouch, is this true, what your husband just said about you and Brian Padget?”
Still staring off into space, she barely nodded without comment.
“Speak up,” I ordered roughly. “We need this on tape.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“What is the nature of your relationship with Officer Padget?” Latour continued, sounding as if he’d be far happier in a dentist’s chair.
“We were… Are lovers.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of months maybe.”
“And your husband was aware of it all that time?” I asked, hoping to dampen Norm’s moment of glory.
“I found out just before I accused Padget of harassment,” he said quickly, cutting off his wife as she opened her mouth.
“Why did you invent the harassment story?” I persisted, more for the record now.
“I wanted to hurt Padget for ruining my marriage. I thought that would do it. I know it was wrong, but I was real mad. Later, I realized what I’d done.”
“Because we were about to prove you’d made the whole thing up?”
“No, no. Because it was wrong. I’m an emotional guy, and I can fly off the handle. You seen me do that. I’m not proud of it, but that’s why we’re here—to set things right.”
Which brought Latour back to a concern of his from the start—and a major factor in determining Padget’s fate. “Mrs. Bouch, when you and Brian Padget were together, was he ever in uniform?”
I gave her that much. Jan Bouch knew the relevance of the question, just as her husband did, and she beat him to the
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