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.
