Loonies (27 page)

Brian wasn’t sure they’d get it here.

Brian looked around the crowd. He spotted Beverly Crump, Rolfe Krimmer, Father Scrimsher, Mrs. Picklesmeir, and Nyle Potash. There was also the woman who owned Wigland, wearing long, auburn locks. To begin the meeting, Eldon Winch spoke a few words about Leo Wibbels, then called on Father Scrimsher, who led a brief prayer and moment of silence for the fallen citizen.

The rest of the meeting was eventless, per usual selectmen meetings. Brian rarely got more than a dozen inches in the paper out of one of these affairs. It was hardly worth his effort, but he had to attend every one, along with each school- and planning-board meeting. Brian jotted down the brief notes as the three selectmen went through the agenda, starting with how much money the Dump Festival had made and ending with a reading of the proposal to request Historic Building status for the old train station.

Since Ruth Snethen’s murder, there was probably less enthusiasm for that project than before. Brian actually shivered as the image of her hooded face rose up before him. No, most people in town now thought it best to tear that eyesore down. The sooner it was forgotten, the better. Only Rolfe Krimmer stood and spoke out in favor of saving the depot. He cited his many years riding the rails and the importance of trains linking communities, and argued that the town shouldn’t lose such a cherished landmark.

Once Krimmer finished, the floor was open for general comments. Everyone was silent. Brian looked at the crowd seated behind him. No one offered to come forward. It was like a flock willing to sit quietly and let their leader speak. They might be too stunned to say anything.

After a moment, the panel moved to the final item of the night. Selectman Burton Slane stood and began to talk about Eldon Winch. It was mostly what Brian had heard from Winch the day before, about how he had run for selectman as a young man with a desire to serve the community. Slane talked about the many achievements Winch had made, all for the betterment of Smokey Hollow. When he was finished, he presented Winch with a plaque.

Brian stood and moved forward to take a photograph. He focused as a smiling Eldon Winch accepted the honor from Selectman Slane. Brian viewed the two men through the camera view finder, snapping a couple of pictures. He had zoomed in for a close-up of Winch when he heard a commotion behind him—the chamber door opening and footsteps approaching. A murmur swept through the crowd.

Brian never moved his eye from the view finder and thus saw the smile fade from Winch’s face, to be replaced by a frown. A lone bead of sweat dropped from his forehead and trailed down the left side of his face. Brian turned to look behind him.

Capt. Steem, Sgt. Wickwire, Police Chief Treece, and a couple of uniformed State Police officers were approaching the council podium.

“What is the meaning of this?” Winch said.

Steem held up a piece of paper in the air. “Sorry for the interruption,” the captain said, though he didn’t really sound sorry. In fact, Brian thought he detected a hint of delight in Steem’s voice. “I have an arrest warrant.”

“For whom?” Burton Slane asked as the noise in the crowd increased with the captain’s announcement.

“It’s an arrest warrant for Eldon Winch,” Steem said, and the crowd gasped. “On a charge of homicide.”

“This whole town’s gone nuts,” Brian said to himself in his office the next day. He had spent most of the night after the meeting in Chief Treece’s office. Chairman Winch’s arrest had sent shockwaves through everybody, and Brian could tell it even stunned Noah. Steem wasn’t able (or willing, more likely) to release any information on the arrest, so Brian went to see Chief Treece to find out what he could glean from him.

Brian could hear Winch in the holding cells, hollering about speaking to his lawyer and how outrageously he was being treated. He kept yelling, “But I’m the chairman!” Brian didn’t think that would get him far. The State Police eventually escorted him from the station to the county jail. Only when that was taken care of did Brian get some answers from the chief.

“Unbelievable,” he had said to an obviously exhausted Noah Treece, who was slumped in his chair behind his desk.

“Just when I think things can’t get any weirder,” Noah said.

“What do they have, Noah? You have to give me something. I’ve got one shot tomorrow to get something in this week’s edition. I can’t wait for Steem to dance around things.”

Noah released a sigh of exhaustion or capitulation, it was hard to tell which. “We have a witness who said Eldon went to see Leo before the market closed for the night.”

“A witness?”

“I can’t, or shouldn’t, divulge who.”

Brian thought for a moment. “The clerk? Nyle Potash?”

Noah nodded. “He and Leo were about to lock up when Eldon arrived. Nyle said there was an argument in Leo’s office. He didn’t hear any particulars, but Leo came out for a moment and sent Nyle home, said he’d take care of locking up.”

“So, he didn’t really see anything?” Didn’t sound like too much of an eyewitness.

“No, but that left Eldon as the last known person to be seen with Leo. So the State Police ran some prints found on the crowbar. Eldon’s prints were on it. An exact match.”

“Why are Eldon’s prints on file? Does he have a record.”

“No,” Noah said. “All town employees are fingerprinted. Standard policy.”

That made sense. Darcie had been fingerprinted when she worked as a school teacher. “Did the State Police talk to Eldon about being at the market?”

“Steem and Wickwire interviewed him. They didn’t disclose to me what he said, but something must have sounded off, or maybe he just acted suspiciously. But once the prints matched, they requested a warrant.”

“What was their rush?” It wasn’t like Winch was going anywhere. He was one of the most prominent men in town. It would have been easy to keep an eye on him. He certainly wasn’t inconspicuous.

“This was the first big break in the case,” Noah said, shrugging. “I don’t think they wanted to waste time. People have been scared these past couple of weeks. They wanted results.”

Brian leaned forward in his chair. “They’re only charging Winch with Wibbels’ murder, right?”

“That’s all for now,” Noah said. “That will give them time to look at the others from a different perspective.”

“Do they think Winch is The Pillowcase?”

Noah sat upright in his chair. “You’re the only one I know who thinks The Pillowcase committed these murders. I don’t think Steem is even considering that possibility.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s highly unlikely a serial killer would start up again after forty-something years.”

“Unless he’s been living a respectable life as a town selectman for all that time. Or unless he’s been locked up in the Mustard House all those years until he escaped the night of the fire.”

“So what are you saying?”

Brian thought for a moment. What the hell was he saying? “I don’t know. Maybe Winch killed Wibbels, but what if he had nothing to do with the other murders? After all, there was no pillowcase on Leo’s head. It wasn’t like the other murders.”

Noah rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Well, that’s what the State Police will have to find out.”

By the time Brian got home that night, it was so late he decided to crash on the couch. He was only going to sleep for a few hours anyway. No sense disturbing Darcie. He wanted to get up early and into the office as soon as possible. It was going to be a busy day, readying the new developments before this week’s edition went to press later in the day. And to think that a few days ago he was wondering what his lead story would be. It was funny how things turned out. And he didn’t have to worry about where he covered the Dump Festival in the paper. Neither Eldon Winch nor Leo Wibbels could complain.

Darcie was put off that he hadn’t come to bed.

“I don’t care what’s going on in your world,” she said before he left. “I always want you there beside me.”

She simmered down once he told her what that had happened.

“Oh my god,” she said, her face pale. Then a look of relief came over her face. “Does this mean it’s over?”

Brian shook his head. “I really don’t think so.” And he didn’t. There were too many unknowns.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain. And I really have to run to the office and redo my front page.”

As he was heading out the door, he turned to her. “Oh, I have a chimney sweep coming over later this afternoon.”

She put her hands on her hips. “And when were you going to tell me?”

“Right now,” he said with a smile. “I just made the appointment yesterday. But I want to be here before he leaves, so call me when he gets here.”

“Okay.”

At the office, Brian tried to piece the front page together, chugging cups of coffee as he sorted everything out. As expected, he hadn’t gotten much new from Capt. Steem, only that Winch was charged in Wibbels’ murder. The captain wouldn’t even go out on a limb as to whether Winch was under consideration as a person of interest in the other murders.

Brian kept the duck killings and the theft of the pot of bones separate from his murder package. He still wasn’t sure there was any connection. Once he had those pieces laid out on his front page, he was able to still make a pretty good layout from the Dump Festival article and photos. He couldn’t imagine who would be remotely interested in reading about that with all the other goings-on on the front page, but maybe Winch would get a chance to read a copy in his cell.

Once everything was done and sent to the printer, Brian felt an immense sense of satisfaction. The last two days had been exhilarating. He stepped out the rear door to have a cigarette and relax. It wasn’t long before Beverly Crump came out to tell him Darcie was on the phone.

“Hello, honey,” he said, once he was back in his office.

“That chimney sweep guy is here,” his wife said. “He’s all dressed up in a vintage black coat and tails, and he’s wearing a top hat.”

He could sense her delight and was glad. He didn’t think he had left her feeling too reassured this morning, and he worried about that. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be honest with her.

“I know,” he told her. “That’s his regular get-up for the job. He’s supposed to look like those old-fashioned chimney sweeps, you know, like in that kids movie, what’s it called?” He could never remember the names of things like that, but she knew what he was talking about.

“I think it’s cute,” she said. “Are you going to be home soon?”

“Yes. I’m all wrapped up here. I need to make one last call to the printer, double check that they got the last couple pages okay, and then I’ll be home.”

When he did arrive home, the chimney sweep’s van was parked by the curb. Up on the roof, the man straddled the peak near the chimney, the long handle of his brush thrust down its throat. Brian waved, but the man was preoccupied.

As he entered the house, Darcie was heading out.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m running over to Gwen Husk’s place. I shouldn’t be long.”

“But what about dinner?” He was famished.

“You can find yourself something or wait till I get back. Promise I’ll be quick.”

And just like that she was off.

He wasn’t too disappointed. He was glad to be alone. As he crossed through the living room toward the kitchen, he could hear brushing sounds from the fireplace and shifting footsteps on the roof above. In the kitchen, Brian went out through the back door. An aluminum extension ladder leaned against the side of the house.

Brian looked at the dying maple in the middle of the yard. He had time for at least one cigarette before Darcie returned. He approached the tree, reaching into the hole and feeling for his stash.

His fingers touched something else—something flat and stiff.

He grasped and pulled his hand out of the opening. His first thought was that Darcie had discovered his secret hiding spot; this was going to be an angry note telling him she knew what he had been up to. His heart sank.

Once he saw the white envelope, however, he knew what it was.

He looked around, even to the house behind his. Its backyard was empty, as were all the others around his house. He studied the envelope and the black ink lettering on it, wondering how long the note had been hidden in the tree and trying to remember the last time he had reached into the hole for his cigarettes. Just the other day, he thought.

He forgot about the cigarettes and took the note to the back steps, sitting down and opening it. The note reminded him of the first one he had received, only it went further:

Have you figured out the secret of Smokey Hollow?

The Silhouette

This time, though, the paper was folded in half, and as he unfolded it, The Silhouette answered his own question:

They’re all Loonies

He stared at the message, at first feeling insulted because the Silhouette obviously didn’t expect Brian to figure out the answer for himself. But when he saw a black smudge at the bottom, like the ones he had mistaken for ink smears on previous notes and one other place, he was pleased that he had at least figured out one thing without any assistance.

Brian put the piece of paper in his pocket and stood, speaking before he even turned around.

“Can we drop the charade and talk face to face now?” He turned around to see the chimney sweep on the edge of the roof, looking down at him.

Corwin Dudle lived on Horseshoe Lane, a U-shaped road connecting with Cricket Lane, in a small, red-brick Colonial with black shutters. Unlocking the front door and leading Brian inside, he flicked a few light switches, illuminating a tidy room. There wasn’t a lot of clutter on the walls, and the furniture was sparse.

“How does one become a chimney sweep?” Brian asked.

“In my case,” Dudle said, “I inherited it from my pop. I don’t think I ever had any other career opportunities.” He removed his top hat and black coat, hanging them on a coat rack. “I started young, assisting him while I was in high school, and just continued from there. I think my pop just assumed I’d take over the family business. And I was his only son.”