CEDAR CREEK, MICHIGAN
CHAPTER 27
A MATTER FOR THE POLICE

Hank wanted to go home and lock his door, but he still pulled into the lot. The media had dispersed, and only the WQIP van sat idling.

“Evening, Bud,” he said.

“’Hullo,” Hawes replied. “Use the back door, sir.”

Deputies Bill Shrope and Frank Fowler were in his office. He ignored them for the moment. Steve was busy cleaning his holster with saddle soap at Sheila’s desk. His weapon had been taken from the scene by the crime lab, along with Hank’s revolver.

Hallie sat on the bench in the lobby. Fly’s comics lay next to her, unread. She was rummaging in her bag for something and didn’t look up. Hank headed for Barney’s office.

The smell of death still lingered. Three chalk outlines splayed across the floor made his heart ache. Barney’s silhouette looked almost fetal, as if he had left the world in the same position he entered it.

Fly’s chalk portrait sprawled from the left, leaving only a trace of his carefree, foolish life. Reverend Carrington’s shape resembled a crucifixion—a final blasphemous gesture.

The bodies had been taken to the morgue, but Hank could still see Barney in his final repose. His final whispered words echoed in the air. ‘A cad’ he’d called himself. Hank didn’t understand that at all. Barney Deters didn’t have a disloyal bone in his body, never had.

He sat in Barney’s chair and summoned him. The room felt empty, as if Barney’s spirit had never infused the objects on the desk with his spirit.

Hank looked at the calendar that was turned to the wrong page. Barney’s calendar was rarely on the correct date. He flipped it forward.

Tell Hank about the academy. Steve wasn’t part of the original picture.

Steve Brooks never attended Michigan Police Academy. It was obvious. Hank felt the urge to grab a bottle of correction fluid and erase the entry.

Did anybody see this? Is that why Fowler and Shrope are arguing in my office? Too many questions and not enough answers. That’s just how police work goes. Barney’s note stuck in his mind, briefly distracting him from his grief.

He didn’t say he was a cad. He was trying to tell me. He said, ‘no pick’, he said, ‘a cad of me.’ Hank ran it together in his mind.

“Academy,” he said aloud.

“You okay, Hank?”

“Yeah, Hallie. I’m fine. Just thinking things through.”

“Okay,” she left him alone.

He appreciated that. A woman who knows when to leave is a rare find.

Then it hit him like a brick upside the head. In his final moments, when Barney Deters could have said anything—anything to Lola, his children, or Hank—he chose to keep working, a cop right to the very end.

Out in the lobby, Hallie called WQIP. This was an easy call; the next one to her mother would be a walk off the plank. Rita Ruben was no way to end a bad day, but she had to check on the girls or they’d think their mom would abandon them with a crazed hypochondriac grandmother.

“It’s Ruben.”

“Finally. We’re waiting for your lead.”

“I’m not going to file a story.”

“Lance Strong has a breaking story coming through . . .”

“I don’t give a damn. That son of a bitch killed four people.”

“Listen, Ruben. You’ve got five minutes to get to the news van. Jennifer Chambers is right outside the station. Now, hurry up.”

“I’m not going to do it,” Hallie insisted. She glanced at Steve; he was lost in some personal hell.

“I’ll give you Chambers’ job.”

“She can have it—I wouldn’t take that job if it was the last one on Earth. I quit.”

Before the producer could speak, she slammed the phone down and then dialed her parents’ number.

“Hey, Mom, it’s me.”

Rita Ruben was in rare form. “I’m going to send a posse. Your children, they’re orphans. They have no mother anymore.”

“Mom, I’ve gotten involved in something terrible. I thought I’d be able to move up the ranks at the station after covering this story. But then . . .”

“Hallie, listen to me. If you married Roberta Clapperstein’s son, you wouldn’t have to work.”

“He’s an insane hunchback!”

“He’s not a hunchback, God forbid. I’m having pain in my chest. You’re killing your mother. He just has a small spinal deformity.”

“Mother, I’m accepting a job here in Cedar Creek. It’s a charming little town. The girls will love it.”

“Your Uncle Melvin took a job at a cereal plant. He didn’t fit in, and he ended up taking his own life. Please, my head hurts. I’ve probably got a tumor. You’ll have to look after your father when I’m gone.”

“Please, Mom. Listen, just this once. I’m accepting a job with the Cedar Creek Police Department. It’s kind of a mix of secretary, dispatcher, receptionist, and janitor. Mom, there are only three employees here. There used to be four… I’d really like to tell you what happened today. It was so awful . . .”

“How many times have I told you? Don’t go looking for trouble. That’s why you always end up alone. My cousin, Frieda, now there’s a case. She ran off with a colored fellow . . .”

“Bye, Ma. Damn, I can still hear her,” Hallie muttered. Her cell phone was now tucked deep into her bag. As she stood up, she could hear it ringing. Rita was calling back. She didn’t answer, leaving her dirty tissues and hairbrush to take a message.

“Hallie, your handbag is ringing.” Hank looked terrible, like a dead man walking.

“It’s my mother. Listen, I believe Steve’s about to fall into trouble over there.”

“How many people have been in Barney’s office?” Hank seemed more distraught now than when he’d come in.

“Just that medical examiner’s team,” she said. “They said you’d handle the scene.” She knew he had heard her, but he turned to Steve. His mind was a hundred miles away.

“Go home, Steve. We’re finished for today. I’ll see you in the morning. The Sheriff’s department will cover our turf.”

“I should have acted right away. I might have saved both.”

“Second-guessing comes with the job. You did the right thing. The bad guy was the Right Reverend Carrington. Don’t forget that. Go home and get some rest. I’ll stop by later to check on you.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, ma’am.”

“Oh Steve, it’s one of those days you never forget,” Hallie’s tears flowed again. “It was awful. I’m sure I have some recuperating to do, but it was far worse for you guys. You both should go home and rest.”

“Yeah,” Steve wandered out the back door.

“Shock is like that,” Hank said. “It’s like a pile driver when it hits. They always do that, get all wobbly. Could you possibly answer the phones? I hate to ask because you look like the train that just ran over your mother, figuratively speaking.”

“Obviously, you’ve never met my mother. Rita Ruben is a freight train herself, and she ran me over five minutes ago. What do you need me to do? I quit my job at WQIP.”

She could have sworn she saw a tear in those steely eyes. Then he hugged her tightly and sincerely. Not a romantic hug — she would have liked that. It was a thankful hug, and she welcomed it.

“Thanks, we really could use your help,” he said. “I’ve got to follow up on a lead Barney left.” He wandered toward his office. There was an undercurrent to his words she didn’t like.

Something had happened since Hank Bradford came through the back door and entered Barney’s office. Something that took his mind off grief and gave him a purpose. She heard him speaking to Shrope and Fowler.

With a long, deep sigh of frustration, she shuffled through papers beside the telephone. There was an itemized list of tasks in Barney’s handwriting. It must have been for Sheila.

The phone rang. Hallie stuck the first of what would be a flood of pink messages on the spindle.

Hank pulled up a chair and searched his desk drawer for a cigarette.

“Sorry.” Deputy Bill Shrope shifted in his chair, uneasy with any display of emotion.

“Yeah, it’s a real bitch,” Fowler added his two cents.

“I appreciate that. I can’t think about it right now.” He lit a cigarette, then stared at it as if it were a smoking turd. He abandoned it in the ashtray.

“Did you hear what happened to Gene Walker?” Fowler asked.

“No, what?”

“Walker was involved in a hit-and-run on the hospital driveway. It happened late last night.”

“No! Is he okay?”

“No, he’s road pizza. He flew airborne all the way to Toledo, and the skid on landing took his face clean off,” Frank added. “Knocked him right out of his shoes. In fact, that’s how we identified him.”

“I can’t believe this crap.”

Hallie showed up with a pink memo slip and then went back to her spot. Hank read the message.

“Richard Underhill’s our prime suspect in the Underhill case. He’s got a prior in Canton Township for flashing—deferred sentence. That’s not the clincher. Ten years ago, he was arrested for Criminal Sexual Conduct. His victim was a four-year-old neighbor. We have a kiddy rapist whose own kid just happens to turn up dead in a field.”

“How much time did he serve?” Fowler snarled.

“None. He pled to it–got time served and probation,” Hank said. “You know how that story goes. Rape an adult woman and you get packed off for life. Rape a kid and it’s a free trip to Disney World.”

“That makes the case a done deal, eh?” Shrope said. Hank didn’t like a cop who was comfortable with his facts.

“I can’t rule out O’Bryan,” Hank admitted. “The body was found on his land. He claims he was asleep at home that night. Ester VanderLaan disagrees. Mike’s wife is confused, and O’Bryan remains evasive.”

“It’s a poser, Hank.” Shrope took a sip of cold coffee. “You’ve got yourself a dead guy who only says, ‘Hi Fly’, a heavy-drinking dairy farmer, or a father who’s a known child molester.”

“Steve apprehended Underhill on a domestic violence charge. That’ll hold him until we can book him on something more serious, like murder one. A little jail time should have softened him up by now.”

“There’s nothing like busting a pedophile’s chops to clear the air,” Fowler said sympathetically. “You need help with this, just holler.”

The men left Hank sitting in his office. It was eerily quiet. He looked out his office window, thinking about Steve Brooks. Dell’s Shop-N-Save had closed. The parking lot lights cast long shadows through the trees.

Barney Deters trudged through the open lot, carrying a grape soda and a bag of cheese curls. He smiled brightly at Hank. He waved. Hank blinked. The lot was empty.

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