Chapter 12

Clancy Higgins liked his job. He was the Chief of Police in Granger, which meant he had very little to do, most of the time. He had a records clerk, who doubled as a secretary and booking clerk, three full time patrolmen, so that there could be somebody on duty all the time, and a cadre of four reserve officers, who were basically friends of his who volunteered to help out if it was needed. They’d been deputized, but only came to the city jail to do training on Thursday nights. Training consisted of poker, usually. On Thursday nights, during the poker games, Tom Wilkinson, a forty-five year old confirmed bachelor and full time patrolman, watched the town so the training session could include refreshments. That was beer.

Clancy, and Tom too, for that matter, spent the majority of their time trying to disrupt and discourage the flow of illegal beverages to the youth of Granger. They usually managed to confiscate enough beer that Thursday nights were covered, for the most part. Much of the discussion during training meetings was about the merits of one brand of beer over another, since they never knew what brand they’d be drinking.

The rest of their time was spent making the town a little money with the speed traps on either end of Granger. There was the occasional dust up between husband and wife that got enough out of control that a neighbor called. Usually all it took was Clancy or Tom’s arrival to settle things down. Once in a while somebody would get drunk at the bar on the edge of town, but that wasn’t a frequent situation. Alice Covington, who owned and operated the bar, liked things quiet in her place. She was also death on kids who tried to sneak in and customers who tried to sneak beer out to the kids. The state Alcohol Beverage Control officers weren’t anywhere near as accommodating as Clancy was and they could shut her down instantly.

So, to say the least, it was highly unusual to have a woman on the phone screaming about rape. Clancy had been in the office today, because Tom had let him spend Christmas with his family. So he was there when the call came in. He’d called Wilamina, his secretary, in to man the phones while he went out to see about this rape complaint. Clancy checked his gear, while Wilamina asked him if there was anything she should do.

“Might need you to collect evidence at the hospital,” he said softly. Clancy said everything softly. It was his style. He tried to cultivate a soft, deadly sounding voice, which he had been taught way back in the police academy when he was thirty years younger. He’d worked on the Granger force for twenty-five years and had been Chief for twenty of them. He knew what worked with his constituency and stuck with that. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Right, Chief!” said Wilamina. She fussed with papers on her desk and tried to look busy. She’d never been called in on a holiday like this and it had flustered her.

“Call Tom,” said Clancy. “Tell him to come on down. I might need him too.”

“That will mean overtime,” warned his financial secretary.

“I think the town fathers might not yell too much about that if this turns out to be the real thing,” he said.

Clancy left Millie’s house with more questions on his mind than answers. He knew Bobby Dalton, of course. He might run a low profile operation, but he had ears and people told him things. He’d heard all the rumors about the Dalton boy. Trouble was there had never been any complaints. In Clancy’s book, he didn’t care much what you did as long as nobody complained. The air-headed members of the state legislature were forever poking their noses where nobody wanted them and practically everybody who had ever been on the town council wanted people to know that an ordinance was in place because of their vigilant service to the community. That meant there were scads of laws on the books that were just plain stupid. And Clancy didn’t believe laws should be stupid. He firmly believed that a law should protect someone and, even then, it should only protect those who couldn’t fend for themselves. The blue laws were one of his prime examples of stupid laws. He went to church, and he’d read the Bible, and had never seen anything in there about keeping stores closed just because it was Sunday.

But he had a complainant this time. Or at least he had one in theory. Now all he had to do was find her.

It had taken him ten minutes to get Millie settled down enough to talk straight. Then, when he asked to talk to her sister, the girl was nowhere to be found. She seemed to have flown the coop. Not only that, her suitcase was gone with her. That got Millie going again about how her parents would never forgive her if her baby sister came to harm and about how he had to find her. He wasn’t sure if he was doing a rape investigation, or a missing persons investigation.

That there hadn’t ever been a rape complaint in Granger, at least in the time he’d been working there, didn’t mean that sex didn’t cause problems in town. There were always men and women who got together and raised an uproar when their husbands or wives found out about it. Adultery was a misdemeanor, punishable by both a fine and up to thirty days in jail, but things rarely got that far.

But in this case, adultery didn’t even apply. Neither the Dalton boy, nor Millie’s sister were married. Both were of age and if they wanted to get involved in some hanky panky, that was perfectly legal ... as long as nobody got forced.

Clancy reviewed his options as he drove away from the Vaughn place. Hanky panky seemed the more likely situation. While he had no idea where to look for the girl, he knew where Bobby Dalton lived.

He called in to Wilamina and told her to have Tom go back home, if he was there, and to call and cancel if he wasn’t. He said he’d be in touch after he did some more investigation.

Then he headed for the Dalton farm.

It was Betty who happened to see someone walking up the driveway to the house. She peered out the window, but all she could tell was that it was someone carrying a suitcase. She got her mother ... who could tell it was a woman carrying a suitcase ... and she got Bobby ... who groaned when he recognized the woman with the suitcase and went out to see what was going on.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as she trudged up to him.

“I need someplace to stay for a few days,” she said.

“She kicked you out?” he asked, incredulously.

“No she did not kick me out!” snapped Paula. “I left!“

“This is not going to work out well,” sighed Bobby.

“You’re telling me. I left while she was calling the fuzz.”

“What?” Bobby perked up.

“She thinks you raped me. She called the man about it. That’s when I decided to leave.”

“This can’t be happening,” moaned Bobby. “Why in hell did you come here?”

“Because I know you didn’t rape me and I need someplace to stay until my roommate picks me up on January sixth.”

Bobby stared at her.

“My roommate dropped me off on her way home for the holidays. She’s picking me up to take me back to school on Thursday.” Paula shifted the suitcase to her other hand.

“How’d you get here?” asked Bobby.

“I hitched,” she said. “I had to walk the last mile. I’m tired and it’s cold. Can I come in or not?”

“You are gonna get me in so much trouble!” moaned Bobby.

“No I’m not. I told you I know you didn’t rape me. I have money. I can pay to stay here. You said it was a bed and breakfast, right? That’s what the sign back there says too.” She lifted her empty hand and pointed her thumb over her shoulder.

“Come on in,” he sighed. He didn’t know what else to do.

Mirriam was waiting for them. She stopped them both in the utility room. The twins were hovering in the kitchen. When Mirriam heard the story she threw up her hands.

“Does Millie know where you are?” she asked.

“No,” said Paula.

“I’d better call her.”

“No!” said Paula. She didn’t quite yell. “I’m twenty-one. They treat me like I’m still a kid. I have money. I can pay and I can go where I want.”

“She called the police, child,” sighed Mirriam.

“Don’t you go calling me child!” said Paula, her chin jutting out.

“Well that’s what you’re acting like,” said Mirriam. “Running away from home!” she snorted.

“Can I stay or not?” asked Paula, doggedly.

“I have to call the police,” said Mirriam. “For all I know, they’re on their way here right now to arrest my son.”

“You can call them,” said Paula. “I’ll even talk to them. I’ll tell them it’s all a mistake, okay?”

There was the sound of tires on gravel outside, and Bobby turned to look through the window.

“Don’t have to call anybody,” he called. “They’re already here.”

All the women got upset, including the twins. Bobby figured that as long as Paula did what she said she’d do and said what she said she’d say, it would all blow over. He opened the door as Clancy got out of his squad car.

Clancy walked to the porch and peered inside.

“You wouldn’t, by chance, be named Paula, would you?” he asked, looking past Bobby to the only person he’d never seen before.