Cedar Creek, Michigan
Chapter 4
Maggie

Detective Hank Bradford searched through a pile of misdemeanors and the occasional felony, looking for his electric bill. Not much was happening in Cedar Creek except for the chaos in the outer office.

“And you have to PUSH the dang button to use the intercom, Sheila. It doesn’t just come on by itself,” Barney Deters shouted. He was Cedar Creek’s beloved Police Chief, so he was forgiven for being a man just a bit too old for the job.

Sheila Crane, the new part-time dispatcher, muttered a response, but Hank couldn’t hear it from his office. He was just relieved because her voice had an irritating nasal quality that seemed to drill into his brain and drain gray matter out through his ear.

“See? Like that,” Barney wheezed, pushing his thinning white hair back. The on-the-job lessons weren’t making him feel better.

“Yes, I KNOW,” Sheila wailed. “I don’t see how I can push that, and then not let the other one pop up, and then the person on the line is gone and…”

The buzzer hidden under the doormat announced a visitor. Hank knew the commotion would be delayed until some unlucky citizen’s concerns were addressed. Still, he was hesitant to go to the reception desk.

Troy Hunsacker was at the counter. Before Sheila could greet him, Esther VanderLaan burst through the door and stood right behind Troy. Hunsacker had a bag of empty beer cans.

“No even-steven trades today, Troy,” Barney admonished. “You go right back to Dell’s and get your money for those danged cans. We speak only greenback here.”

“Man, I need my car,” Troy grumbled. “I was at the bowling alley last night, and Ernie’s Towing stole it. I wanna press charges, too.”

“Just pay the tow fee, Troy. You called them,” Hank hollered from his office doorway. “Don’t you remember? You called them because you’d locked your keys inside.”

“Oh,” Troy said. He looked down at his plastic bag. “You guys don’t have any empties, do you?”

“Hold on, son,” Barney said as he entered his office. When he stepped out a minute later, he was holding a twelve-pack of Zippy Soda cans. “Here. Ernie will be glad to get your heap out of his lot.”

“Thanks, Chief,” Troy said.

Esther pushed Troy aside with her cane. When he didn’t move quickly enough, she prodded him. She wasn’t gentle. Troy obeyed and stepped back.

“BARNEY DETERS.” Mrs. VanderLaan slammed her purple plastic purse onto the countertop.

The phone rang again, and Sheila turned her attention to the switchboard, making a quick escape. Barney stood like a snow-capped mountain—nowhere to hide, with no place to run.

“Why, hello there, Esther. How’s the old rheumatism treating you?”

“Stuff it, Deters. I’m a Christian and you know it,” Esther wailed. She was as deaf as a post.

“I come to tell you there was funny goings-on at the Reverend Carrington’s house last night.” Esther snapped her purse open and grabbed a fistful of tissues. “I swear there’s more comings and goings over there than a common bawdy house.”

“Now, Esther. You know the Reverend keeps a respectable home.” Barney edged toward his office. First chance he got, he’d make a run for it.

“My dog, Sunday, woke me up at the crack of dawn, sniffing and whining. I let her outside, and who do I see pedaling down the street on his bike?” Ester pounded on the counter for maximum effect.

Barney knew she was talking about the town’s most mentally challenged citizen, Fly Carrington. Who just happened to be the helpless child of the widower, Reverend Carrington. He played dumb. He wanted to say, “Hi, Fly.” But he held his tongue.

“Reverend Carrington riding a bicycle?”

“Not the preacher, you old windbag. Get the wool out of your ears.” Esther was shouting, and this wouldn’t seem so strange if she had teeth. As it was, she was barely intelligible with her lips flapping like window shades. Hank peeked out of the office, worried that Esther’s head might start spinning and fly clean off.

“Hey, Mrs. VanderLaan,” Hank said.

“I’m not paying for you to mow my lawn, sonny,” she shot back. “And then, after Fly Carrington came up the road, Mike O’Bryan pulled out of the driveway next to the church cemetery. Now I ask you, what are those two up to in the darn middle of the night?”

“Maybe it was a conspiracy,” Hank said, grinning. He was surprised she didn’t vault over the counter and bash his brains in with her cane.

“I was watching that Carrington boy, Barney Deters. Neat as you please, the little piss-ant opened the basement window and slipped down smoothly. You mark my words; he’s probably out raping and pillaging.” Esther patted her brow with the wad of tissues. “A person’s not safe in their own home ‘round here. Lord knows what that drunk, O’Bryan, was up to.”

“You know Fly’s harmless, Esther. He wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Barney reassured her. “And Mike may tip a few, but he’s got no record.”

“Well, I never. I said nothing at all about your fly, Barney Deters.” She grabbed her purse and slammed the door so hard that it made the calendar on the wall shift askew.

“Looney tunes old broad,” someone whispered.

“Uh, can I cut in here for a minute?” Sheila asked. Her headset hung crooked. Hank grabbed a cup of coffee from the ancient coffee maker.

“Steve’s on the phone.” Brooks was a rookie and the only road officer employed by the City of Cedar Creek.

“And? Well, what? Are you going to tell me, or is this a game of twenty questions?” Barney snarled slightly.

Hank interrupted. “What does Steve need, Sheila?”

“He’s at the O’Bryan place. It’s about that horsetail sticking out of the ground. Turns out there’s a dead body out there.”

“Great Grandma’s panties, can’t they tell the difference between a horse and a person?” Barney barked.

“Well, why don’t you just ask him yourself?” Sheila wished she were back at Thunderdog Lanes, handing out rented bowling shoes that reeked of foot gas.

Barney pressed the speaker button, and Hank came over to listen in.

“Yeah, Steve. Go ahead and tell us.”

“Sir, it’s a little redheaded girl. She’s buried up to the topknot,” Steve coughed nervously. “Sir, what should I do? Over.”

“Hold the fort, Brooks. Don’t let the civvies touch anything. Hank and I will be right out. And quit saying ‘over’. It makes you sound like some rookie jerk.” Barney looked at Hank, who was examining flotsam in his coffee.

“Some evil SOBs got to pull off a big city crime and dump it out here in the wilderness, like we don’t have enough problems,” Barney fished for his keys.

Hank’s mood was downcast.

“This is going to be terrible for the folks around here. We’d better get out there in a darn hurry and act like we know what we’re doing,” Hank said, itching for a cigarette. “We don’t have any missing kids around here, so it must be a kid from another county.”

“Or state. Like I said, if some maniac is dumping victims in our jurisdiction, it makes us look bad. God Almighty, a kid—that’s beyond evil. What’s this world coming to?”

“It’s Armageddon, Barn. Look, they have us surrounded like the Alamo,” Hank said as he stared out the front window. “It’s the scanner crowd. You’d think people would have better things to do than gather around those annoying squelching machines, waiting for the next human tragedy to be announced.”

“At least the press isn’t aware of it yet.” Barney grabbed a few items, including a couple of rolls of crime scene tape. “Hank?”

“Yeah, boss,” he replied.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of strange that O’Bryan was out late last night and a body was found on his farm?”

“I guess it is, Barney. But Fly Carrington bikes out that way all the time. He was out last night as well. Meet you in the car.”

Hank looked around his office and spotted his shotgun propped in the corner with a plastic grocery bag hanging from its sight. He grabbed the weapon, slipped a pack of hidden cigarettes from the drawer, and headed for the cruiser. He ignored the shouts from the scanner buzzards and looky-loos.

“Let’s go!” Hank muttered, slamming the door of the car.

Barney jerked the wheel quickly away from the curb and accelerated.

“Son of a bitch, Deters. You drive like an old man with a hat.”

Barney looked at his friend and grinned. He winked at Hank before letting out a deadly fart.

“Hear the horn?” Barney’s eyes twinkled. “It’s Gabriel calling your name!”

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