Norm returned and steered her toward one of the chairs near the table in the room’s center. “Sit down—the man’s got some questions.” His manner toward her wasn’t brutal or threatening—it had the same condescending gentility I might have used on a pet dog.
Jan Bouch had a lean, tired face framed in lank, unwashed blond hair. She looked much older than her eighteen years. Her movements were doll-like, her reactions slow and mechanical, and her eyes seemed unfocused. I had serious doubts her own breakfast had been chemical-free.
“Mr. Bouch,” I began, “I wonder if I might talk to your wife alone to begin with.”
She looked up at him, seeking guidance. He merely shook his head, the protective man of the family. “No. You got questions, you ask both of us.” He then cracked a broad smile, reminding me of the genial good-ol’-boy I’d been hearing about. “But no need to be uncomfortable. Take a seat. You want some coffee?”
I turned down the coffee, but I couldn’t argue about his presence. I pulled out a seat, wiped the milk off it with a stray napkin, and sat opposite Jan. I placed the recorder on the table between us.
“What’s that?” Norm asked, his voice flattening. “You tapin’ this?”
“Just so there’re no misunderstandings. We want everything aboveboard.”
He sat close to his wife, who immediately slipped her arm through his, a gesture he ignored. “Okay—that’s fair by me.”
“Mrs. Bouch,” I asked, “would you tell me in your own words the grievance you have against Officer Padget?”
Jan Bouch kept her eyes glued to the tabletop. “He’s been bothering me.”
“In what way?”
“He follows me when I go out, stares at me… ” Her voice trailed off.
“Would you say he’s stalking you?”
A small furrow appeared between her eyes. “I guess so.”
“Why do the allegations specify sexual harassment?”
“He
is
harassing me.”
“He’s been telling her to dump me,” Norm said sorrowfully. “Telling her she’s wasting her talents. That she’s got great tits, and that he’d really know how to give her a good time.”
I kept my eyes on Jan as he spoke. She looked like she was experiencing a physical pain, deep down. “When did he say this to you—exactly.”
“On the street, last week.”
“When last week, Mrs. Bouch? Did anyone else hear him address you?”
Again, she glanced furtively at her husband, who seemed stumped this time. “What does it matter?” he joked. “Do
you
run around with a pad, writing down when people say stuff to you?”
It dawned on me then why they’d chosen sexual harassment over stalking, a weightier allegation. Stalking takes time to establish, often a prior history of the two parties being involved, and it calls into play more times for which corroborating witnesses might be located. Sexual harassment, especially involving a cop, could be a one-shot deal, if all you wanted to do was get that cop into hot water.
“Maybe you can tell me what you were doing when this conversation occurred,” I persisted. “Or where you were at the time.”
Her face suddenly brightened, and she looked at me hopefully. “I was walking down the street, and he drove up next to me. He rolled the window down and that’s when he said it.”
“Where on the street?”
She faltered slightly. “Out front… Near Atkinson.”
“He was driving along this street, came up behind you, and addressed you just as you reached Atkinson, is that right?”
“Right.”
“No,” Norm said, too late.
“Which is it?” I asked, knowing Padget would have to have been driving the wrong way on a one-way street.
Jan looked totally confused.
“He was on Atkinson and met her on the corner,” Norm said, visibly struggling to maintain his composure. “She’s lousy with directions.”
“And roughly what time of day was this?”
Jan didn’t answer. Her husband let out a deep sigh, as if he’d just realized he was holding a losing hand of cards. He tried bluffing with another big smile. “Oh, I don’t know… Let’s see—about noon on Wednesday. Wouldn’t you say, honey?”
“Sure,” she whispered.
“Did Officer Padget approach you at any other time with similar comments?” I continued briskly.
Having been ambushed once, Norm headed me off with a small burst of bluster. “Once isn’t enough? How many times does he have to do it before you guys consider it wrong?”
I looked at him in silence for a few moments.
“He did it that one time,” he finally said.
“Mrs. Bouch, a few minutes ago you said Padget ‘follows me when I go out,’ to use your words, implying this has happened several times. If that’s true, we’d certainly like to know about it. If Officer Padget has acted improperly, he should be held accountable.”
Still looking at the tabletop, Jan merely shook her head, as if she’d lost her way. “The other times were too vague,” Norm said. “He didn’t do anything you could put your finger on.”
“How do you think Officer Padget came to focus on you in the first place, Mrs. Bouch? Did you know him prior to these incidents?”
She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, hard enough to leave small oval blanches behind. “I, uh… I don’t—”
“Of course we did,” Norm interrupted, his voice sharp now. “There’re only about six cops in the whole town. Everyone gets to know them sooner or later.” He laughed awkwardly. “And I won’t deny they been here a couple of times when we got a little rowdy.”
“Was Brian Padget ever among the officers who responded to those calls?”
A flash of irritation swept across Norm’s face. “I don’t know. You can look that up, can’t you?”
“Mrs. Bouch, let me rephrase this a different way. When was the first time you ever saw Officer Padget?”
She answered quickly, “Oh, it was a long—”
Again her husband stopped her, this time with a hand laid heavily on her forearm. I noticed that when she tried to move it away, she couldn’t.
“Who can tell, Lieutenant?” Norm answered with a smile. “You see a cop on the beat, you don’t pay attention. It wasn’t till he started coming on to her that we really noticed, and that was just recent. We reported it right off.”
“Have either of you had any contact with Officer Padget since the time he drove up next to you and said those things?”
“No,” Norm answered flatly, apparently tired of the game at last, and hoping to end it as soon as possible.
I decided to accommodate him. Turning off the recorder and slipping it into my pocket, I got to my feet. “I think that ought to do it for the moment. I want to thank you for your cooperation. I understand the stress you must both be under. We should be able to reach a determination on this matter within a few days. I hope you understand the process we have to follow, for the good of all involved.”
Ignoring a perfect opportunity to harp on how the system takes care of its own, Norm rose with me instead and merely muttered, “Sure, sure.”
I stuck my hand out to Jan. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Bouch. Thanks for your help.”
She looked at the hand reluctantly at first, but I forced her to take it by simply not moving. My persistence paid off—her hand was hot and damp with sweat, and trembling slightly. She was a nervous wreck, and I was pretty sure why.
She didn’t join us as Norm escorted me back through the house to the front door.
Norm was all smiles again but without the eagerness he’d shown earlier. “I sure appreciate your coming over, and I’m sorry about my wife. This thing has really shaken her up, you know? It’s kind of a shock when a police officer pulls something like that—I mean, you don’t expect it. You were really professional about it, though. That’ll help her a lot.”
I stepped out onto the porch and faced him. “We do what we can, Mr. Bouch. We also try to make people accountable for their actions, regardless of who they are.”
The smile didn’t falter, but the eyes and voice turned cold. “That’s good, Lieutenant. You have a good day.”
THE CONVENIENCE STORE
near the Bouch home had a small counter with a couple of stools near its front window. I sat there, watching the street, waiting for Jan Bouch to emerge.
She rewarded me three hours later, stepping out to the sidewalk and walking toward Atkinson—the same scenario she’d painted earlier with Padget as the fall guy. She walked like someone expecting a pail of cold water to drop on her at any moment, stiff-limbed and cringing.
I left the store and followed her from the opposite side of the street, not crossing until I’d passed her house, hoping Norm didn’t have his nose glued to the window.
“Mrs. Bouch,” I said gently as I walked up behind her.
She whirled around to face me, her eyes wide, her hand across her mouth. “What do you want?”
I gave her a reassuring smile, falling into place beside her. “Don’t be alarmed. There’re a lot of questions in a situation like this. It’s like packing a suitcase for a long trip. You have to think about what you need, and sometimes you have to backtrack because you forget something. It’s just part of the process. You feeling okay about what I was asking at your house?”
“Sure… I guess so.” She continued walking jerkily, all tensed up.
We reached the corner at Atkinson Street. I stopped and looked around. “This where Padget approached you?”
Her voice was almost lost in the passing traffic. “Yes… Norm should be here.”
The side street continued opposite, toward downtown. Across from us and catty-corner, were a Laundromat and a small store. “And it was about this time of day, wasn’t it?”
She didn’t answer. Her head was bowed and her elbows tucked in.
“Busy,” I mused. “Shouldn’t be hard to find several witnesses who saw an officer stop his cruiser to talk with you—kind of thing people notice. It’s also the kind of thing Brian might do—stop to have a chat. He’s friendly that way, isn’t he?”
She nodded distractedly. “And that’s something you would know, right, Jan? Because you know Brian pretty well, don’t you?”
Her eyes were fixed on the pavement, her chin pressed to her chest. She seemed wholly absorbed in disappearing within herself. The second nod she gave was barely a twitch.
“Still,” I continued, “all that notwithstanding, he didn’t actually stop here that day, did he?”
“
Jan
.”
We both turned at the fury contained in the shout, and saw Norm Bouch steaming down the street at us. His wife danced from one foot to the other, wringing her hands and moaning. As I waited for Bouch to reach us, I regretted not having steered her around the corner for our conversation.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bouch demanded, his face red, all pretense at civility gone.
“My job, Mr. Bouch.”
“You were waiting for her.”
“She seems to have some doubts about the story you told me this morning. That does make things a little confusing.”
Bouch raised his finger as if to stab me in the chest but then apparently thought better of it and pointed it in the air. “Listen, you son of a bitch. You’re covering for that bastard. He did something that’s against the law, and you’re trying to stick us with it.”
He grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her to his side. “I knew you fucking cops would pull some stunt. But it’s not going to work. He broke the law, and he’s going to get his butt canned.”
“If what you say is true,” I answered levelly, despite the blood surging through me, “then he will be disciplined. Your being abusive right now won’t affect that one way or the other. It might get
you
into trouble, though.”
His eyes narrowed, and his grip on his wife’s arm tightened to the point where she began to squirm. “Cut that out,” he snarled at her. He suddenly pushed her away. “Get your ass home.
Now
.”
He turned his attention back to me. “If you ever come near her again, I’ll sue you.”
“For what? Talking on a public sidewalk?”
It almost worked. I saw the muscles on his right arm bunch up, preparing to send me a roundhouse. But then he regained control. After a long, still moment, his body relaxed, the deceptive smile of that morning returned, and he stepped back. “No—you’re right. This thing’s made me crazy. You married?”
I didn’t respond.
“I don’t blame you—the way I came on. Look, I won’t deny I’m a jealous guy. My wife’s a beautiful woman—maybe not too bright—but a real eyeful. It drives me crazy when guys hit on her.”
I remained silent, watching his eyes.
“I’ll get out of your face,” he kept talking. “And I’m real sorry. I know you got your job… I just want what’s right.”
He’d begun backing away, and at that turned around and walked after his wife, who I could see had reached their house in a sleepwalker’s trance. I half wondered if the police department wouldn’t get a call in about ten minutes for sounds of a domestic dispute.
· · ·
Early that evening, I met with Emile Latour in his architecturally deformed office.
“Any luck?” he asked hopefully as I sat down across from him.
“I suppose that depends on your viewpoint. I met with the Bouches this morning, heard a cock-and-bull story about how Padget complimented her breasts from a cruiser on the corner of Atkinson and their street, and then spent the rest of the day checking it out with everybody I could find who lives, works, or frequents that corner. Nobody saw it happen.”
I leaned forward and slid a thin folder at him. “That’s my report so far. It also mentions that I have a witness who saw Padget and Jan Bouch making out like Romeo and Juliet in some back alley near her home a week or so ago.”
“He was in uniform?” Latour quickly asked. “No, but rumor has it that wasn’t the first time. Rumor also has it you knew about it early on, which is why I was called in so fast.”
Latour hadn’t touched the folder, but his eyes were fixed to it. “I had heard something,” he slowly admitted. “I guess I was hoping it would go away.”
I didn’t rub it in. My own dealings with this case weren’t entirely aboveboard. “Look, for what it’s worth, I think it will go away. I talked to Jan Bouch alone on the street, after she and her husband had finished their little tap dance, and she admitted she knew Padget pretty well. I was about to get her to roll over on her story when her hubby came charging down on us. But she’s weak, Emile, and I think if I’d done this right the first time, and brought them both into the station for questioning, we’d be done with this by now. My guess is Norm found out what everybody else knows and tried to get Brian fired. But they make a lousy pair of liars—I think if I squeeze them a bit more, maybe let them know the penalties for false accusation, I can get them to fold.”