screaming in the vicinity of Rancor Wood, 2.1 miles from town post. Chief Burke and Deputy Gruber responded. Turned out to be a group of boys playing war, armed with popguns and a squirt bottle of ketchup. Chief Burke declared an immediate truce and escorted the soldiers—alive, dead and wounded—home.
4:58 P.M. Report of disturbance on Moose. Chief Burke and Deputy Notti responded. An argument between a sixteen-year-old female and a sixteen-year-old male involving an alleged flirtation with another sixteen-year-old male was settled. No charges filed.
5:18 P .M. Sixteen-year-old male ticketed for reckless driving and excessive horn blowing up and down Moose.
7:12 P.M. Responding to various requests, Chief Burke removed Michael Sullivan from the curb at the corner of Lunacy and Moose where he was singing a loud and reportedly off-key rendition of "Whiskey in the Jar." Sullivan spent the night in jail for his own safety. No charges filed.
Nate read over the single day, then the rest of his second week in The Lunatic. He'd waited for the complaints when the first issue that included the police log had come out. But there'd been none. Apparently people didn't mind having their names printed, even if it was in conjunction with their indiscretions.
He slipped the newspaper into a desk drawer, with the first issue. Two weeks down, he thought.
Still here.
SARRIE PARKER LEANED on the counter in The Corner Store. She'd shed her bunny boots and parka at the door, then plucked a pack of Black Jack gum from the point-of-purchase display.
She was there to gossip, not to shop, and the gum was the cheapest excuse at hand. She gave Cecil, Deb's King Charles spaniel, a little pat on the head. He lounged, as he did every day, in his cushioned basket on the counter. "Don't see much of Chief Burke down at The Lodge."
Deb continued to shelve packs of smokes and chewing tobacco. Her store was a clearinghouse for town news. If she didn't know about it, it hadn't happened yet.
"Doesn't come around here much, either. Keeps to himself."
"Has breakfast there every day with Rose's boy and takes his dinner there most nights. Not much of an appetite, you ask me."
Since she had the pack of gum in her hand anyway, Sarrie opened it. "I pick up his room every morning, not that there's much to pick up. Man doesn't have anything but his clothes and shaving gear. Not a picture, not a book."
Since she did the majority of the housekeeping at The Lodge, Sarrie considered herself an expert on human behavior.
"Maybe he's having stuff sent."
"Don't think I didn't ask." Sarrie wagged a stick of gum before fold
ing it into her mouth. "Made it a point to. I said to him, 'So, Chief Burke, you got the rest of your things coming up from the Lower 48?' And he says to me, 'I brought everything with me.' Doesn't make any phone calls either, at least not from his room. Or get any. Far as I can see, the only thing he does up there is sleep."
Though there was no one else in the store at the moment, Sarrie dropped her voice, leaned in. "And despite Charlene's throwing herself at him, he's sleeping alone." She gave a sharp nod. "You change a man's sheets, you know what he's up to in the night."
"Maybe they do it in the shower or on the floor." Deb had the pleasure of seeing Sarrie's chipmunk-cheeked face register shock. "No law says you've got to do your screwing in bed."
Being a professional on the gossip circuit, Sarrie recovered quickly. "Charlene was getting any, she wouldn't still be chasing after him like a hound after a rabbit, would she?"
Pausing to scratch Cecil behind his silky ears, Deb had to concede the point. "Probably not."
"Man comes up here, hardly more than the clothes on his back, holes up hours on end in his room, steps around a willing woman and barely says more than boo unless you corner him, well, there's something strange about that man. If you ask me."
"He'd hardly be the first of that type to show up
4:58 P.M. Report of disturbance on Moose. Chief Burke and Deputy Notti responded. An argument between a sixteen-year-old female and a sixteen-year-old male involving an alleged flirtation with another sixteen-year-old male was settled. No charges filed.
5:18 P .M. Sixteen-year-old male ticketed for reckless driving and excessive horn blowing up and down Moose.
7:12 P.M. Responding to various requests, Chief Burke removed Michael Sullivan from the curb at the corner of Lunacy and Moose where he was singing a loud and reportedly off-key rendition of "Whiskey in the Jar." Sullivan spent the night in jail for his own safety. No charges filed.
Nate read over the single day, then the rest of his second week in The Lunatic. He'd waited for the complaints when the first issue that included the police log had come out. But there'd been none. Apparently people didn't mind having their names printed, even if it was in conjunction with their indiscretions.
He slipped the newspaper into a desk drawer, with the first issue. Two weeks down, he thought.
Still here.
SARRIE PARKER LEANED on the counter in The Corner Store. She'd shed her bunny boots and parka at the door, then plucked a pack of Black Jack gum from the point-of-purchase display.
She was there to gossip, not to shop, and the gum was the cheapest excuse at hand. She gave Cecil, Deb's King Charles spaniel, a little pat on the head. He lounged, as he did every day, in his cushioned basket on the counter. "Don't see much of Chief Burke down at The Lodge."
Deb continued to shelve packs of smokes and chewing tobacco. Her store was a clearinghouse for town news. If she didn't know about it, it hadn't happened yet.
"Doesn't come around here much, either. Keeps to himself."
"Has breakfast there every day with Rose's boy and takes his dinner there most nights. Not much of an appetite, you ask me."
Since she had the pack of gum in her hand anyway, Sarrie opened it. "I pick up his room every morning, not that there's much to pick up. Man doesn't have anything but his clothes and shaving gear. Not a picture, not a book."
Since she did the majority of the housekeeping at The Lodge, Sarrie considered herself an expert on human behavior.
"Maybe he's having stuff sent."
"Don't think I didn't ask." Sarrie wagged a stick of gum before fold
ing it into her mouth. "Made it a point to. I said to him, 'So, Chief Burke, you got the rest of your things coming up from the Lower 48?' And he says to me, 'I brought everything with me.' Doesn't make any phone calls either, at least not from his room. Or get any. Far as I can see, the only thing he does up there is sleep."
Though there was no one else in the store at the moment, Sarrie dropped her voice, leaned in. "And despite Charlene's throwing herself at him, he's sleeping alone." She gave a sharp nod. "You change a man's sheets, you know what he's up to in the night."
"Maybe they do it in the shower or on the floor." Deb had the pleasure of seeing Sarrie's chipmunk-cheeked face register shock. "No law says you've got to do your screwing in bed."
Being a professional on the gossip circuit, Sarrie recovered quickly. "Charlene was getting any, she wouldn't still be chasing after him like a hound after a rabbit, would she?"
Pausing to scratch Cecil behind his silky ears, Deb had to concede the point. "Probably not."
"Man comes up here, hardly more than the clothes on his back, holes up hours on end in his room, steps around a willing woman and barely says more than boo unless you corner him, well, there's something strange about that man. If you ask me."
"He'd hardly be the first of that type to show up
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