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Levesque

            Levesque was having a hard time making things out. Everything was blurry. He had no idea where they were going.

He’d watched Tommy take six Buds out of the Chanti’s cooler and stuff them into a backpack. Tommy’d poured two shots of Cuervo. He dropped a twenty on the bar. Then he nudged Levesque’s glass with his own, and threw it back. Levesque had followed suit, and the world had started to spin.

His eyes had hurt, and he’d thrown an arm up against the sun as they emerged from the dark interior of the Chanti. Once out the door, Tommy had taken his keys from him, and navigated Levesque to the passenger side door of the F-150.

Now, they were headed up Oak Street towards the college, he thought. All he could see was Reilly’s face; the surprised look as the first bullet ripped into him, followed by the life leaving his eyes as the second bullet tore through him.

Levesque had planned on killing him. At least he didn’t think he had. If he hadn’t, then why had he gone to the store to get the Bible? He hadn’t thought he was going to kill Reilly. He was afraid. It was that simple. The police had his guns, he needed the one in the Bible for protection. What if the guys who knocked over the store came for him. Reilly was with them. Had he figured that out or had he imagined it? It didn’t matter, he needed the gun.

But that wasn’t true either. He had a second Walther in a case under the passenger’s seat of the F-150. He also had a shotgun in the basement safe in his office at home and his hunting rifle.

He was getting confused. This happened to him with more and more frequency. He took a deep breath, aware of Tommy’s eyes on him.

If he was being honest with himself, he had grabbed the Bible because he knew the .38 in it was clean. Clean as in the serial numbers were filed off. Tommy had given it to him, just in case. What had he said, “in case of emergency.” Well, this sure felt like it.

The cops thought he had something to do with robbing the store, and killing Davis. Had he? He hadn’t been that loaded when the giant had shown up at the door. It was still early in the day. But again, he’d been losing time. What if he had killed him?

Whether he or not he did kill him, he didn’t want the police coming down on him if he was forced to shoot one of the people who robbed his store, if those people came after him. That’s why he’d grabbed the .38. Sure it would be self-defense, but he didn’t want the police looking too close.

His head was spinning from the drink and the confusion of thoughts tumbling through his head. He felt like he was going to vomit, right as Tommy pulled the F-150 to the side of the road on an incline next to the Hill.

He and Tommy had brought their sleds here as kids and spent hours racing down at breakneck speeds. Tommy’d always wanted to climb higher so they’d go faster. He’d always been scared of the height and resulting speed. He’d also been afraid of appearing scared in front of Tommy, so he’d let him take them further up the Hill to the point where the trees thinned out, just below the rocky top.

Tommy would push them off from the ledge and send them hurtling down the Hill. They would scream with joy, and fear, as they flew through the curses of parent’s with small children on the lower inclines. They would end further out in the field below than any of the other sleds, laughing at the craziness of what they had just accomplished.

Levesque vomited in the grass at the thought of the speed.

Today they wouldn’t be sledding. They’d be climbing to the top for a couple of beers overlooking the city, a high school pastime of theirs.

They started the climb. The Hill wasn’t tall, maybe 200 feet to the top, but as kids it had felt like a great adventure to climb through the trees to the top. Now, with his vision blurred by the alcohol, it was an intense struggle.

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” chided Tommy, who was having no trouble dodging the roots and rocks that dotted their path, as Levesque went to a knee for a fourth time.

“Go fuck yourself,” wheezed Levesque righting himself, only to stumble over a small stump with his next step.

Tommy laughed and moved on ahead. Levesque couldn’t hear Tommy’s footsteps over the sound of his labored breathing. He kept trying to dodge trees only to end up bouncing from trunk to trunk.

When the trees gave out, he put a hand out against the rocky face of the hilltop to keep his balance. Taking small, careful steps, he managed to make it to the top where he found Tommy sitting facing west, backpack at his feet, watching the sun arc downwards, a Bud already in his hands.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Fuck you, you haven’t been drinking like me today,” Levesque said, dropping in a heap next to Tommy.

“There are drunks who haven’t been drinking like you today. If I’d had what you’ve had today, the chances are good I’d be dead.”

“You didn’t have the day I had,” Levesque wheezed.

“Well, we’re not going to know about that until you tell me about your day.”

“The cops are on to me for the robbery.”

“What do you mean they’re ‘on to you?’”

“I mean, they came by this morning asking a lot of questions about what happened. They told me about firearms tests they’d run and brought up how it was ten years to the day from when my old man disappeared.”

“No shit, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Of all the days,” said Tommy, letting the words hang there, as he finished off his Bud, reaching into his bag, he took out another.

“Fuckin’ a right.”

“So what did you tell them.”

“I told them I had nothing to do with it.”

“Who were the cops?”

“You know Chamberlain?”

“Yeah, he’s a weird guy, but smart. Sneaky smart. I don’t like how he operates. If he’s on it, that must mean Reilly, too. Reilly’s not as smart or as cagey as Chamberlain. He’s more of a blunt instrument, but still, not stupid.”

“Yeah, well, Reilly’s not on it anymore.”

“How’s that?”

“He was pushing me hard, planted the seed for Chamberlain that I was involved.”

“So what?”

“So, I shot him,” frenzied excitement flashed across Levesque’s face.

“The hell you say, you did not.”

“Yeah, I did. Give me one of those,” Levesque nodded towards the bag.

Tommy pulled out a bud, twisting the cap off, he handed it to Levesque.

Levesque took a long pull from the bottle.

“Yeah, they stopped by the store this morning. Reilly pushed me hard. Chamberlain sent him away on account of his leaning on me. After I got away from Chamberlain, I drove around the city for a while, just trying to get things right in my head.

“Well, I was driving down outer Main Street, and I noticed a gray Buick a ways behind me. I didn’t think much of it until I made a couple of different turns and the car was still following me. It looks a lot like the car the cops were in at the store.

“I slowed down a bit, and he caught up to me. I looked in my rearview mirror, and saw it was Reilly. I think he must have realized he was too close, so he backed off a bit.

“I figured if he was tailing me after being told to stay away, he must be one of the guys coming to get me after the robbery, so I headed out to the ball fields. You know how they’re all quiet, set in there down amongst the trees.

“Well, I made it down to the minors field and backed in. He came down not too long after and pulled in next to me. Told me he was convinced I’d killed Davis and been a part of the robbery, so he demanded a cut of the take from me. I denied I was in on it, but he persisted, so I shot him,” tears were streaming from Levesque’s eyes.

Tommy’s face was etched with disbelief as he pulled another beer from his bag, “alright, so you shot him, for real?”

“Yeah, I was confused. I was scared. It’s okay though, it’s not going to come back on me,” Levesque said through his tears.

“How’s that?”

“I used the .38 you gave me.”

“You used the fucking .38?”

“Yeah, I’d gone into the store this morning to get the book it was in. That’s why I ran into the cops.

“Anyway, they had the two guns I carry, and I felt like something bad was going to happen. You ever just get a feeling? Well, you told me it was for use ‘only in case of emergency’ and so that’s what I did. This was an emergency. Wasn’t it? What did I do wrong Tommy?”

“Nothing bud, nothing. You just shot a fucking cop.”

Levesque’s tears were running full force again, “I didn’t know what I was doing. It just happened. He was pushing me. You know what happens when I get pushed.”

“Why didn’t you come to me earlier?” Tommy opened another beer, passed it to Levesque, then twisted the cap off the final one for himself.

“I should have talked to you, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t even think of you.”

“That’s obvious.”

“So what should I do now?”

“Just keep your fucking mouth shut for a minute. Let me think.”

They sat, watching the sun sink over the city. Levesque snuck glances at Tommy between quiet sniffles, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but his face was impassive. He was elsewhere, lost in thought.

The sun dipped below the horizon. Its fiery red coloring of the clouds promising a lot of uncomfortable heat tomorrow.

 

Tommy

            He watched the Stoli as it trickled over the ice cubes. He didn’t lift the bottle up in the air to make the pour look longer. He didn’t like that bullshit all the bartenders the world over did in an effort to make the person on the other side of the bar thin they were getting anything more than they really were. That shit was stupid. Just give the people what they ordered without the queer little dance.

He lifted the hose and pressed the button for cranberry. He shot a quick red stream into a shot glass. He lifted the pint of vodka and the cranberry shooter and moved them to the end of the bar where Levesque sat, furthest away from the windows and the afternoon sun.

“A nice round half-dozen and it’s not even 5 o’clock. Not bad, even for you on a Friday afternoon.”

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere, and fuck you.”

“Jesus boy, I do love it when you are riled up. You wanna let me in on this little thing that has you so bent out of shape?” He’d been trying to get Levesque to talk to him since he slouched into the Chanticleer around 2pm. He’d been pale, forehead covered in sweat. He’d ordered the usual, and been putting them down at a rate of one per half hour ever since.

“I know you can’t be that broken up about the store being robbed. It’s got to be more than that dumb shit Davis getting shot up in front of your eyes. Fuck that asshole anyway. Got what he deserved after all these years of screwin’ Beth, you know?”

“It’s not that. It’s not all about that. It’s just a bad day.”

“Fair, but with you, every day is a bad day, which is how you justify tippin’ ‘em back the way you do, but this seems excessive. Also, you haven’t said more’n ‘I’ll have another’ since you walked in the door. The fuck is that all about?”

“Can’t talk about it here.” The Chanti had been filling up over the last half hour. The regulars were lined up along the bar, but the ranks of college students were beginning to swell at the tables and booths behind them. They ordered pitchers of PBR and watered down well drinks in an effort to get primed for the evening’s house parties. Tommy hated them. At the same time, they were some of his best clientele.

This was the final half-hour of Tommy’s shift. He’d opened the bar at 8am for the locals looking for the hair of the dog, or those getting off the graveyard shift at the Distribution Center. He wanted nothing more than to leave here at 5pm, go home and put his feet up, crack a couple Buds and watch the Sox. Then Levesque had walked in looking like a ghost, and he knew his perfect evening wasn’t going to happen.

“Alright, when I get off we’ll get a sixer of Buds and head to the hill. I’ll even do the not so right thing and drive your truck.

“Sure thing,” Levesque replied, ignoring the fact, as Tommy knew he would, that Tommy’s license had been suspended earlier in the year after multiple speeding violations.

The rest of Tommy’s shift went by in a rush of pitchers of PBR, pints of Bud, shots of Jack and Stoli and Sprites. The closing shift showed up right on time at 5:03pm, an hour and three minutes late, as per usual. He poured himself a Bud and headed downstairs with his tips and till to cash out for the night.

He thought about Levesque. Whatever had happened to him, Tommy was sure it wasn’t going to be good. He took down half his Bud and began counting his drawer.

Chamberlain

            “Lieutenant,” said the young officer, “it doesn’t look good.”

Chamberlain didn’t reply. He kept moving through the fading light toward the circle of men around the gray Buick. The same gray Buick he and Reilly had taken out that morning.

He’d been furious when he returned to the station and Reilly wasn’t there. He’d wanted to get out and question the girl from Levesque’s. Something didn’t feel right. Levesque wasn’t telling the truth. He wasn’t lying either, but he wasn’t putting it all out there.

At noon he had dispatch put in a call to his car. There was no response. He’d called Reilly’s cell phone a dozen times. He told the dispatcher to keep trying for the next hour. If he did get Reilly, the message was to have Reilly return to the station.

Reilly was a headstrong kid given to spouting off a bit at the mouth, being a little more interested in his appearance than might otherwise be deemed necessary, and there were rumors of connections to a Montreal-based crime syndicate, but he was still a good cop. Chamberlain hadn’t found anything at fault with his methods, or anything corrupt.

Had he been too hard on him at Levesque’s? Reilly had been out of line. Combative even. It was a “good cop, bad cop” routine, but like something from a movie.

No, he’d been right to send the kid away. He’d wanted Levesque to feel comfortable, not angry. He might let something slip if he were comfortable; something that might help shed some light on the case. Still, maybe he’d been too harsh?

He had dug into a couple of B & Es they had been working on earlier in the week. The resulting phone calls and paperwork took up the rest of his afternoon.

He’d called Reilly at various points in the afternoon with limited results. When he still hadn’t appeared by the end of their shift, his anger at the kid had turned to worry. Seven hours out of touch was well outside the ordinary.

He had dispatch check the GPS on the car. It showed Reilly out at the Little League fields. Reilly didn’t have any children or any family in the area, at least not to the best of Chamberlain’s knowledge. Why would he be at the ball fields?

He had the dispatcher try to raise the car, while he tried his cell phone. When both came up empty, Chamberlain determined to go out to the fields himself.

Just as he was requisitioning a vehicle, the call came in. A man in a gray Buick had appeared to be asleep in his car. When a passerby heard his cell phone go unanswered, they went closer to see if he was all right. They’d seen a large red stain in the center of his chest.

Which is what Chamberlain found when he arrived at the fields. Looking inside the Buick, he saw his partner leaning forward against his seatbelt. The wine stain was a jagged gash down the middle of his always-immaculate white shirt. A look of surprise was spread across his face.

“What do you have, Brooks?” Chamberlain asked the balding man in clean-pressed khakis and denim blue shirt snapping photographs of the body through the passenger side window.

The head forensics analyst looked up from his camera, “hey Guy, sorry about this,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Yeah, that makes two of us. What do you know so far?”

“It looks like he was double-tapped. Looks semi-professional with the closeness of the grouping. Whoever shot him stood above him. The exit wounds are at a downward angle.”

“So someone just walked up to him with a gun and shot him without him having time to react?”

“I don’t know that. All I’m saying is they fired from above. How they got there is still up for debate.”

“Time of death?”

“Based on the blood, I’d say some time between noon and one, but you’re going to need the coroner for an absolute answer.”

“Alright Brooks, that’s fine. Thanks.”

“Yeah Guy, like I said, I’m sorry.”

Chamberlain nodded and moved away from the car to the woods next to the ball field. He felt nothing. He stared into the woods, looking for something. What were you doing out here on our own, kid? You wouldn’t have followed up some lead without me, would you? Is this my fault? I sent you away. Why is this happening again?

“Guy,” a hard voice snapped him from his reverie, “Guy, I’m sorry.”

He turned and saw Captain Theriault approaching.

“Captain.”

“Guy, I’m sorry. I can’t believe it.”

Chamberlain shook the offered hand, “yeah Captain, it’s terrible,” he said from behind clouded eyes.

“He was a good kid. A little headstrong, but a good kid none the less.”

“He was at that, sir.”

“What were you guys working on?”

“We were looking into Levesque’s this morning.”

“And that brought him out here?”

“I was wondering that myself. He disappeared on me this morning, wasn’t answering the radio or his phone. He was badgering a witness, so I’d told him to beat it off the scene.”

“Levesque Jr.?”

“Yeah, he was all over him. Was hell-bent the guy was in on knocking over his own store.”

“What was your take on that?”

“At first, I didn’t think it held a lot of water. Having talked with Levesque today, I’m not so sure. Something isn’t right there,” he hitched his pants up, “the store gets knocked over on the ten-year anniversary of Levesque Sr.’s disappearance? Something feels off.

“Levesque the younger had zero emotion about his father. Well, nothing beyond anger. Not sure if it was real or not. He smelled like a distillery. Not sure if the anger at his father was just a hangover or for real. Also, not sure what had driven him to drink so much.”

“Unless he was broken up about the old man, and/or events?”

“Like I said, something doesn’t feel right.”

“Is the kid anything like the old man?”

“I didn’t know the man personally, but from what I heard second-hand, I’d say, ‘no.’”

“I thought the old man was a prick. Tough as nails, but fair. He pumped a lot of money into the community.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the ‘hard but fair’ line.”

“Well, that case is cold, and doesn’t’ help us answer what the hell Reilly was doing out here this afternoon. Any thoughts?”

“None. I have no idea what would have brought him out here in the middle of the day.”

“The Levesque kid?”

“I’m not sure how we’re going to tie him in.”

“Another coincidence?”

“I’ll see if I can find a connection.”

“No, you won’t. I’m not putting you on it.”

Disbelief flashed across Chamberlain’s face, “why not?”

“Before you start in giving me a ration of shit, think about it. You know you’re too close to this to be impartial. Christ, we all are, but you were his partner. The Chief’s not going to let you anywhere near it. That’s going to be the last word on the topic.”

“You know I’m the best you’ve got.”

“Yeah, I know you are, and I told the Chief as much, but he’s concerned about the publicity.”

“The publicity? What publicity? It’s not that big a town.”

“Well, the Chief seems to think, after how your last case was closed, it might be best to not put you on one where your ability to be impartial might be called into question.”

“That’s not fair. One mistake in forty years –“

“I know, but it’s out of my hands. At the same time, keep digging on the Levesque case. Who knows? There might be a connection. You’ve found thinner ones before.”

“Who are you putting on Reilly?”

“Johnson and Ouellette. If you find anything, you can connect with them. I’ve also told them to keep you in the loop on anything they find. If you do find a connection, I expect you to share the information with them and not go off on your own. None of your lone wolf, cowboy bullshit on either of these cases. You’ve got a nice retirement coming to you. I don’t want to see it tarnished by a final black mark.”

“I appreciate it sir.”

“We’re going to find whoever did this Guy.”

 

Chamberlain left the ball fields in the dark. His headlights cut through the night as he guided the car through the familiar twists and turns on his way home.

At least that’s where he thought he was going. Home to a late dinner and unload the day’s events with Mary. She’d always been supportive of him. It wasn’t easy being a cop’s wife. She’d done it these last 40 years without complaint. She’d listen to the stories of this horrible day, as she had all the other horrible days, and offer him sound advice and a sympathetic ear.

After his last case, she’d been the one who told him to keep going. She’d convinced him to keep going. She’d convinced him he was doing good work and that it would be a shame to end his career on a sour note.

When he and Captain Theriault said last case, they both meant last “big” case. It had been two years ago now. He’d stayed on, waiting for the next “big” one, to cleanse him of the stink.

He’d solved a handful of smaller cases over the past two years, continued to do good work, but he could feel Mary’s impatience. Of late, she’d been asking him more and more when he was going to hand in his papers.

He’d been putting her off, but the thought had been in the back of his mind, more and more: maybe there wasn’t one last big case for him to solve. Maybe he was too old. The game had passed him by and he’d have to live with his record.

Forty years was a long time. This winter had been one of the toughest in Maine’s history, breaking all kinds of records for temperature and snowfall. His bones ached every day when he climbed out of bed.

He’d intended to put his papers in at the end of April, but had reneged. Now Reilly was dead, and this Levesque robbery was giving him a strange itch. After these were both put to bed, he would rest. Mary wasn’t going to be happy.

So he did what he always did when a case gave him trouble: he drove through the night, hoping to shine some light on the problem of the case.