Deadly Waters Pt. 06

It was Sean's last day covering for Danny. Tomorrow Officer Brady would be off suspension and then he could work his own damn eleven to seven shifts. Sean had forgotten how much he hated working rotating shifts, especially when he was working the graveyard. It screwed up his sleep and made him testy. Still, he'd gotten through it, and if nothing else, his officers now knew he could be a hard ass when he needed to be.

It was just after midnight, and already the creeping sleepies were starting to affect him. He pulled to a stop in a church parking lot, flipped on the interior lights, and picked up the Thacker file. Since he'd started working the graveyard shift, the folder had stayed in the car so he could look at it occasionally, hoping inspiration would strike. It had now been nearly four weeks since Boyd had been murdered, and they were no closer to solving the crime than the day it happened. He was almost certain the culprit was either Harbaugh or Locoste, but he couldn't find a shred of evidence on either one of them.

Harbaugh had a motive, if you squinted really hard, and opportunity to dump the body, not to mention access to tools that could produce the type of skull damage Thacker had suffered. Taken together, that made Harbaugh his lead suspect. The problem was, while he had the opportunity to dump the body, the opportunity to kill Thacker was more problematic. He would've had to clock Thacker on the head during business hours, and that was a hard thing for him to wrap his mind around. Part of the day he was with other maintenance techs, but even when he wasn't, they could track his movements to some degree as he went about his duties. Unless someone dropped Boyd off at the lift station Harbaugh was working on right before lunch, it was a tough sell. After all, Thacker's truck, with boat trailer still attached, was found well away from anyplace Harbaugh had been, not to mention Harbaugh parking his truck in front of the admin building over lunch.

Pinning the deed on Locoste had its own problems. He also had opportunity to dump the body, but no motive he could find, and like Harbaugh, no opportunity to kill Thacker. Fish had talked to a few people at LoCoste Adhesives during his initial investigation. He'd found that Locoste had loaded up and driven to the plant just like normal. The guy who loaded the tanker hadn't seen a dead body, so unless Locoste stopped on the side of the road and killed Thacker, he couldn't have done it either. Even if he was willing to go with that idea, like with Harbaugh, how had Thacker ended up so far from his truck? Unless Locoste had driven well out of his way, the normal route from LoCoste Adhesives to the wastewater plant didn't pass anywhere near where Thacker's truck had been found.

Sean flipped through the papers, reading his and Fish's notes. There simply was nothing there. His lips thinning in annoyance, he closed the folder and tossed it back into the passenger seat. His first case as the new chief of police, and it was looking more and more like the murderer was going to get away with it. He flipped off the interior lights and put the Dodge in gear before he crept out of the parking lot and prowled down the street.

While Boston never slept, the same couldn't be said about Brunswick. After about eleven p.m. on weeknights, and one or so on Friday and Saturday, there was nothing going on. He almost prayed for a barking dog call just to give him something to do. He turned into Brunswick City Park for a change of pace. The park was closed, but there was nothing to prevent people from driving in. As he idled down the road, the headlights of his cruiser reflected off several trucks sitting in the recreation center parking lot. As he approached, he saw the group of eight to ten teenagers quickly hiding something.

"You realize the park is closed?" he asked as he eased to a stop behind their trucks and rolled his window down.

"Yes officer," one of the boys said.

There were eight teenagers, four boys and four girls, and he could tell they were guilty as hell of something. "You been drinking?" he asked.

"No, officer," a girl replied.

"Mind if I look in the back of the truck?"

"It was just a few beers," another of the girls said. "We're not hurting anyone."

"How old are you?"

She swallowed hard, obviously not wanting to answer the question. "Sixteen."

He put the car in park, flipped on his strobes, and stepped out of the car. "Time to be straight with me boys and girls. Who else here is under twenty-one?" The only two who raised their hands were the girl who admitted she was sixteen and the girl that said she hadn't been drinking. "Okay, let me put it another way. I'm going to ask the question again, and if I think anyone is lying, I'm going to ask for ID. If you're lying, I'm going to arrest you for underage drinking. Now, who here is under the age of twenty-one?" This time all the hands went up. "That's what I thought. Anyone here not drinking?" The first girl who spoke, the one that said she wasn't drinking, raised her hand. "Come over here. What's your name?"

"Teresa Merrill," she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Okay, Teresa, how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"You haven't been drinking?"

"No, sir. I don't like beer."

He couldn't smell beer on her breath and her voice was clear and strong.

"You have a driver's license?"

"Yes, sir."

"One of these trucks yours?"

"No, sir."

"Whose vehicles are these?" he asked the group. The four boys raised their hands. "One of them your boyfriend?" he asked Teresa.

"Brenan," she said, pointing out one of the boys.

"Give her your keys." When he did, he continued. "Take him home. He isn't to drive, understand me?" When she nodded, Sean turned his attention to Brenan. "You can get your truck at Teresa's house tomorrow. You okay with that?"

"Yes, officer."

"Which one is yours?"

"The red Ford, on the end."

"Okay, step over there a minute." Sean sat in his car, one foot still on the ground. "Dispatch, I need another officer to my location, the rec center in BCP."

"On my way to your twenty... fifteen minutes," Derrick's voice came over the radio.

"Take your time," Sean replied before returning the mic to its holder. Without shutting the door, his left foot dragging along the ground, he backed his car up so Teresa and Brenan could leave, and then tucked the Thacker file between the seat and console. "You're free to go," he said when he stepped out of his car again. "Don't let me catch you doing this again, understand?"

Both of them smiled. "Yes, officer. Thank you!"

"What are you going to do with the rest of us?" another of the girls asked as Teresa slowly drove away.

"Officer Tilden and I are going to take you home. Get your personal items out of the trucks."

"I'm not leaving my truck here overnight! No way!"

Sean hardened his face. "Fine. The moment the wheels turn on it, I'll bust you for DUI and impound the vehicle. Or maybe you'd prefer me to arrest you for underage possession and consumption of alcohol right now? Your choice."

"I'm not over!" the boy protested.

"You're the new chief, right?" another boy asked.

"That's right."

"My dad is on the city council. He's not going to like you hassling us."

"Who's your dad?"

"Steven Locoste."

"Well, Mr. Locoste, I really don't care if your father is on the city council or not. Sorry to disappoint you." Sean stepped over and shined a light into the back of the three trucks. In the back of one there was an open cooler with three unopened and fifteen empties on ice. "Where'd you get the beer?" he asked the group.

"Found it," Locoste sneered.

Sean nodded. "Is that so? You do realize you have to be twenty-one to possess alcohol, right? Next time, Mr. Locoste, I recommend you leave it where you found it and not share it with your under-age friends. It'll save you a lot of trouble."

"My dad is going to kill me," one of the girls said, visibly worried.

One of the boys put his arm around her waist and held her. Sean almost felt sorry for them... almost. A moment later, he saw the strobes on Derrick's car as he passed on the street.

"Divide up into two groups of three. I don't care how," Sean ordered. By the time Derrick pulled to a stop behind his cruiser, the kids had split into two groups. "All underage. Caught them drinking and decided it would be best if they didn't drive home. No charges. And Derrick... go easy," he said after Derrick rolled his window down.

Derrick nodded. "Got it."

"Do you have everything out of the trucks? Are they locked?" When everyone nodded, Sean continued, jerking his chin at one of the two groups. "You three, you're going with Officer Tilden. Mr. Locoste, your group is with me."

Derrick stepped out of his cruiser and began to get the kids into his car, protecting their heads with his hand. Sean reached into the back of the Dodge truck, sat out the beer, lifted out the cooler, and dumped the ice.

"Whose cooler?" he asked, holding it up by the handle.

"Mine," one of the kids with Derrick said.

"Make sure he gets his cooler," Sean said as he handed the insulated plastic container to Derrick. "The beer, however, is confiscated."

"Just like a cop to steal someone's beer," Locoste sneered.

Sean saw Derrick go hard and he put his hand on his officer's shoulder. "Let it go. He's just being mouthy." While Derrick tossed the cooler into the trunk of his car, Sean turned his attention back to the three kids still standing. "Mr. Locoste, you get to ride up front with me," he said as he put the three unopened beers into the trunk of his car, pitching his voice to make it sound like it was a privilege. After everyone was in the car, Sean turned to his passenger. "Where do you live?"

"Under a bridge."

Sean nodded and smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Fine. I'll take you to the station and your parents can pick you up there," he said as he put the car in gear.

"Ryan! Stop being an asshole!" the lone girl said from the back seat. "He lives on Turkey Trot. I don't know the number."

"I'm still learning my way around. How do I get there?"

"Fucking stupid," Ryan muttered under his breath.

"One more word out of you, Mr. Locoste, and you're going to the station," Sean said, his voice steel hard.

"Ryan! Shut... up! Make a left out of the park, and then a right at the light," the girl supplied.

"Thank you," Sean said as he turned off the strobes.

Sean had his hand on Ryan's shoulder as he rang the doorbell. It was almost two and the Locoste house was dark. He waited thirty seconds then rang the bell again. He was reaching to push it a third time when a light appeared in the window. Finally, the door opened to reveal a sleepy looking Steve Locoste standing in a robe.

"Chief? What?"

"Sorry to disturb you so late, but Ryan and a few of his friends were having a little too much fun in the park. I found beer in the back of one of the trucks and I didn't think it would be a good idea for them to drive home."

"Dad, I can explain."

Steve stood blinking a moment. "Thank you, chief. We'll handle it from here."

Sean nodded. "Again, sorry to bother you."

"Get your ass in this house! What have I--" The rest of what Steve said was lost when the door closed.

Sean walked back to his car and opened the rear door so the girl could get out. He could tell she'd been crying. "Up front," he said, placing his hand between her head and the car as she slid into the seat. "What's your name?"

"Mandy Lewis."

"Where do you live, Ms. Lewis?"

"421 Possum Walk."

"How do I get there?"

"It's just around the corner, to the right."

He drove to the corner, made a right, and stopped at the curb. "If I let you out here, can I trust you to go straight into the house and stay there the rest of the night?" She looked at him, her eyes wide as she nodded enthusiastically. "Go on then. I'll wait here until you get inside. Be sure to lock the door."

"Thank you, officer! Thank you so much!"

"This is a one-time courtesy. If I catch you out drinking again, I'll deliver you to your parents personally. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you!"

"Go on. Get out." Mandy opened the door and hurried to her house, looking back at the car before slowly opening the door and slipping inside. As soon as the door shut, Sean stepped out and opened the rear door. "Up front."

"Why didn't you walk her to the door like you did Ryan?" the boy asked as he slid into the front seat, Sean's hand again between his head and the roof of the car.

"Because she wasn't giving me a bunch of lip. What's your name?"

"Will, uh, William Levess. Uh, 304 Oak Street. You have to go back out and turn right on the road we came in on." They rode in silence, Will's directions the only conversation, until they pulled to a stop in front of Will's house. "Go on. Same deal I gave Ms. Lewis. Clear?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, and... thank you."

Sean gave him a nod, and then smiled as Will slid out and shut the door. He waited until Will entered his house, and then pulled away from the curb. Four potential drunk drivers off the roads, and no arrests. The boys may have a little trouble explaining why their trucks were left at the park, but that was a much better conversation than having to explain why they were wrecked. He smiled again. Not bad for an evening's work.

Sean was dragging. It was seven-thirty in the morning and he'd just come off patrol. He was going to try put in a full day in the office, so he didn't go home and fall asleep, and then turn in early tonight. He stopped at the coffee machine, closing his eyes as he breathed in the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

"Nights suck, don't they?" Paul said with exaggerated enthusiasm as he stepped up beside Sean, a spill-proof cup in his hand.

"I knew there was a reason I went to school for computers. This week reminded me of what it was."

Paul chuckled as he filled his cup. "I heard there was some excitement last night."

"Just a bunch of kids drinking beer."

Paul clucked in disgust and then grinned as he returned the pot to the burner. "I don't know what to make of kids these days. They're doing it all wrong. When I was their age, I only drank beer underage during the summer." He shrugged. "I guess your ice lasts longer in March than it does August, though."

Sean smiled, yawned, and then took the carafe and filled his own mug. "Yeah. Maybe you were doing it wrong."

"Nah," Paul said, his grin growing wider. "In the summer, beer leads to skinny-dipping."

Sean chuckled. "No, you're right, they're doing it wrong."

Paul shook his head in sorrow as he pivoted from the coffee machine. "Kids are so stupid these days."

Sean grinned and turned away, taking a sip from his cup. He wandered into his office and started checking and signing off on the hours his officers worked. Despite the coffee, by the time he was finished he could feel himself nodding.

He had to get moving, or he'd have to suspend himself for sleeping on the job. He left his jacket in his office, rinsed his cup, and then headed for the lobby. "I'm going for a walk."

"Why don't you go home and get some sleep? You look terrible."

"Why thank you, Kim," he said with a teasing grin. "You always know just what to say to make a guy feel good about himself."

She smiled. "It's a gift. Paul is still here. He can run you home."

"I will, later. I want to sleep good tonight and the fresh air will perk me up. Do you mother all the officers like this, or just me?"

She flashed him a quick smile. "Just the ones who need it."

He chuckled and waved at her through the glass before stepping out. It was brisk, in the mid to upper thirties, and the bite of the cold felt great. He normally walked during lunchtime, when the downtown area was active and all the businesses were open, but he couldn't wait that long today. He walked the two blocks to Main Street, and then turned left and strolled to the end of the business district before he crossed the street and started back. He was still sleepy, but he didn't feel like he was thirty seconds from waking up in a puddle of his own drool anymore. He'd already crossed the street again, and was almost back to where he would make his turn for the station, when his phone rang. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

He'd been expecting this call. "Good morning, mayor."

"Sean, why? Don't you have enough trouble without looking for more?"

"Why don't I stop by your office later. In fact, why don't you invite your good buddy Locoste to join us too. To be honest with you, mayor, I've about had it with your constant questioning of me and my department. I'll be there about ten."

He ended the call before Rudy could respond and dropped the phone back into his pocket.

Sean stepped into Rudy's office. Steve was sitting in a guest chair and it didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep last night either. He shut the door and then stopped in front of Rudy's desk. "Mayor. You wanted to talk to me?"

"Please sit down. Help me understand."

"What is there to understand?" Sean asked, settling into a chair.

"Why are you harassing the Locoste family?"

"How is what I did harassing the Locoste family? I could have Ryan Locoste in jail right now for distribution of alcohol to a minor. Only one person there last night didn't appear to be drinking, and all of them were underage. Secondly, in my estimation, Ryan was in no condition to be driving. Fifteen beers had been consumed by seven people. If I'd wanted to make trouble, there would have been a hell of a lot more trouble than simply taking the kids home. Why don't you tell me what this is really about?"

"Sharon," Rudy said. "She called me this morning raising hell."

"Who's Sharon?"

"My wife," Steve said.

"She thinks you have some kind of vendetta for Steve and you're targeting him and her family," Rudy continued.

"Why would she think that?" Sean asked. "As I said, I could have arrested every person there last night if I wanted to."

"Steve is one of the suspects in the murder of Boyd Thacker," Rudy began, ticking off his fingers. "You've questioned Steve twice more after your officer questioned him, once at the plant in front of his employees. You stated in front of us both that he'd be the first person you'd arrest for questioning. Now you bring Ryan home in the back of a police car. Yeah, I can see where she might get that idea."

"Let me explain some things to you. One. Consumption of alcoholic beverages in the park is prohibited unless they had a permit. Somehow, I don't think that was likely. Two. The park was closed, therefore they were trespassing. Three. Ryan admitted to providing the beer to minors and was himself underage. That carries possible jail time. Four. Ryan was clearly in no condition to drive. What if he'd been involved in a collision? You want to explain to someone why the Brunswick PD overlooked underage drinking because one of them happened to be the son of a city councilman? Or perhaps I should have arrested everyone but Ryan? Five. Questioning people who were seen at the scene of a crime is standard police procedure. Are you saying I shouldn't question Steve just because he's a member of the city council? And lastly, as I recall, it was you, mayor, that was pushing me to arrest someone for questioning."

"Sean, I know you're in a difficult spot," Rudy said. "But you can't go around being so heavy handed."

"Heavy handed? So quietly taking the kids home is being heavy handed?"

Rudy sighed in clear exasperation. "All I'm saying is, you don't have to go out looking for trouble. The kids were just out having a few beers. Ryan only had one. He--"