Chamberlain
His bedside clock read 1:23am when he scratched the itch.
He’d kept at his wife all through dinner having her try to help him to remember. She’d sat with her arms crossed, asking when he was going to retire; refusing to help. He’d tossed and turned all night, trying to get his mind around it.
It turned out it had been one of only a handful of cases he’d been a part of which hadn’t been closed.
This one hadn’t been his fault. He wasn’t the detective in charge. He had closed all the cases in which he’d been the lead detective.
He’d been in charge of the disappearance of Jean D. Levesque, Senior for a day, but had been moved off in favor of Captain Theriault. He’d been relegated to a support position, making phone calls and questioning neighbors.
Ten years ago today – yesterday now – Jean D. Levesque, Senior had disappeared from Central Falls without a trace.
Reports had been filed, bulletins had been posted, and neighborhoods had been canvased. It had all amounted to nothing.
The only interesting fact had been his withdrawal of all his holdings from the local bank the day before he had gone missing. It gave some credence to the whispers that surfaced about gambling debts.
Captain Theriault had laughed the connection off. He said how Levesque, Sr. had been a pillar of the community. One of its most charitable and most respected citizens. He would never be mixed up in any alleged wrongdoing. Why he was taking his money out of the Central Trust was his own business.
No matter, thought Chamberlain as he rolled over in bed, it didn’t effect my closure rate. I’m still perfect.
