M. Sellars - In the bleak midwinter

“I’m in early. I’m not scheduled for duty until five.”

“Yeah, so what? You’re here aren’t you?”

“True.”

“Well then don’t just stand around looking for more compliments. You just got your quota for the year and then some. Make yourself busy. Put on a fresh pot of coffee or something…”

Now that sounded more like what he had been expecting. Skip started to offer a quick, “right on it, boss,” but before he could speak the aforementioned instinct kicked in. In truth, it was really just a keen awareness of his surroundings combined with a good memory, but instinct was as good a word as any. The semantics weren’t all that important.

Skip cocked his head and announced, “Phone’s about to ring.”

A half-heartbeat later, the first pushbutton along the bottom of Clovis’s telephone began to flash, and then the loud mechanical ringer itself jangled for attention.

Even though she’d been warned, or perhaps because of that very fact, Clovis physically jumped in her seat at the first ping of the sound. She then shuddered as she started reaching toward the device. “Darn it, Skip! You know it creeps me out when you do that. Now I’m all jittery.”

He shrugged to punctuate the fact that he considered the feat to be wholly unremarkable. Jerking a thumb toward a nearby door he explained, “The junction box over here in the closet clicks twice just a couple of seconds before the phone rings. It always has.”

“Like I said,” Sheriff Morton offered. “Scary accurate.”

“And creepy,” Clovis announced again, snatching up the phone and then stabbing the winking button with her index finger just before the fourth ring had finished. Placing the handset against her ear she said, “Sheriff’s office, how can I help you?”

With her other hand she snapped the small ring box closed then held it out toward Skip, who took it from her with a quick flash of a smile. Then she switched the handset to her other ear and picked up a pen from the desk as she talked. “Sure, Hazel. What can we do for you this afternoon?”

Sheriff Morton nodded at the velvet-covered box in Carmichael’s hand and waved him toward the front reception counter. Once they were a few steps away from Clovis’s desk, he asked in a quiet tone, “So… You and Mack Higgins’ daughter finally taking the plunge?”

“That’s the plan,” Skip replied. “Guess I’ll find out for sure come Christmas Day when I ask her. She could still say no.”

“That she could,” the sheriff grunted, then inspected the inside of his empty coffee mug for a moment before adding, “Seems like just yesterday that you and Ron Connelly got all drunked up over at Happy’s Tavern and went to fighting over her.”

“It’s been a few years, actually, boss,” Skip replied.

Morton ignored him and continued. “Right out in the middle of the street, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, boss,” Skip conceded. “Never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope,” Morton replied.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. So… You tell her about the academy yet?”

Skip shook his head and held up the jewelry box, giving it a small shake. “I figured I’d tell her once this part was out of the way.”

“Take my advice, son. Tell her about it before you ask her to marry you. You owe her that. No matter how much you two might be in love right now, she has to be able to make an informed decision.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s a big damn difference between bein’ a city cop’s wife and a small town deputy’s wife.”

“You mean the risk.”

“For one,” Morton agreed with a nod. “But even more so, the stress. It can be hell on a relationship, son. Especially if you plan on starting a family.”

“Yeah… Guess you’re right.”

“Ain’t no guessin’ to it. Been there, got the divorce papers and the alimony payments to prove it,” he told him. After a short pause he snorted out a half chuckle. “Probably doesn’t matter either way though. If she’s smart, and with that fancy degree Mack paid for she oughta be, then she’ll run the opposite direction the minute you ask her.”

Skip grinned, taking the tension-breaking gibe in the good nature he knew it was intended. “Yeah, boss, th…”

“That was Hazel Parish down at Norris’s Market,” Clovis interrupted as she hung up the phone. “She says Elizabeth Callahan is down there pitching a holy fit. Apparently one of her girls went missing while she was shopping.”

“Well hell, if she’s at Norris’s the kid probably just wandered over to Bremerton’s Five-and-Dime to look at the toys,” Sheriff Morton huffed. “Hazel should know that. So should Elizabeth. They have a look for her over there?”

Clovis was nodding even as he spoke. “Seems that’s actually where the girl was when she went missing,” she explained. “Ruth Babbs was the last one to see her and her sister when they came in.”

“Both of ‘em missing?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Just the older of the two.”

“Could be she’s just hiding from her sister,” Skip offered. “I did that a few times myself when I was a kid. Younger siblings can be pretty annoying.”

Clovis shrugged. “They’re going through the store for the second time right now and trying to calm Elizabeth down while they’re at it. That’s why Hazel from Norris’s made the call instead of anyone from Bremerton’s. It sounds like things are a little out of control over there.”

“Yeah, sounds that way,” Sheriff Morton agreed. “Better get someone on over there. Where’s Carl?”

She reached out and wrapped her hand around the stem of the dispatch radio’s base microphone and pulled it closer. Keying it up she said, “Carl, this is Clovis, over…”

A burst of static popped from the speakers and seconds later a voice followed, “This is Carl, over.”

“What’s your twenty?”

“East end of town next to Butts’ Feed store. What’s up? Over.”

Clovis looked up at the sheriff.

Morton shook his head, gesturing toward Deputy Carmichael as he turned and headed back toward his office. “Tell him to stay put and send Sherlock on over instead. He needs somethin’ to do anyway. And do me a favor… Put on a fresh pot of coffee when you get a chance…”

OFFICIALLY, sunset was still around twenty minutes away. However, for all intents and purposes it had arrived well ahead of schedule. The overburdened clouds that were assembled in close formation overhead stretched from horizon to horizon, blotting out anything even remotely resembling sunlight. What Skip had imagined just fifteen minutes ago as a cosmic dimmer switch was now turned to the fully off position. Mother Nature had all but canceled dusk and was sending night in to take the stage early.

The dusk to dawn light over the parking lot had already flickered to life and was now casting a harsh, blue-white swath downward to highlight the hoary patterns of salt and cinder on the asphalt. Carmichael pushed the back door shut and headed for his patrol car at a slight jog. The odds were that the missing child would turn up well before he ever arrived at Bremerton’s, making the whole trip moot. But, by the same token Missus Babbs and the staff down there didn’t generally call unless they’d already looked high and low. Of course, none of that really mattered. Just because this was more than likely a nuisance call, that wasn’t a reason to be lackadaisical about response time.

Even though he wasn’t officially supposed to be on duty just yet, he didn’t mind taking this one. He was never really the type to avoid work, whether it was above and beyond his regular schedule or not. By his way of thinking, it would all even out at some point. It seemed like it always did if you were just patient and gave it long enough to do so.