Paul Cleave - The Laughterhouse

The second thing Schroder seems to realize is that he has no authority. He’s on suspension, he can’t make an arrest, and the question is whether or not anybody else here knows that.

It’s a question that isn’t posed for long.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been suspended, mate,” Jonas says, “and therefore I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Is this true?” one of the reporters yells, and upon hearing it the others all follow suit.

“Detective, can you comment on the actions of a department who would continue to have a drunk detective run a very important-” “Are you drunk now, Detective?” “How long has this drinking problem been-” “Is everybody drunk?”

Jonas holds his hands up and all the reporters go silent, staring at him as though he is about to do a magic trick, or receive a message from God. “Please, everybody, we’re here to save the girl,” he says, bringing the attention back to him, which is where he likes it the best. “This is where she is, isn’t it?”

“This is bullshit,” Schroder says. “You’re here to sell your books. If you thought she was here you’d have called it in.”

“First of all you never take my calls,” Jonas says, “and second of all if you’re already here, then the girl must be here too. Although. . now I’m here, I’m sensing that like your job, she’s gone.”

“Is that correct, Detectives?” a reporter asks. “Was Jonas’s vision accurate? Did you find Octavia Stanton here? What is her condition?”

Then the questions start coming again. “Is she still alive?” “Was she molested?” “Was Melanie molested too?” “Is there any hope of finding Caleb Cole before he kills again?” “Is Octavia Stanton dead?”

“I sense she’s alive,” Jonas says.

“Is that true, Detectives? Did you find her alive?”

I sense by the end of the night Jonas isn’t going to be able to use his legs anymore.

“Is her father here too?” “Just what did you find here at the scene?”

Schroder is looking mad and uncomfortable. His face is turning red and there’s a vein near the middle of his forehead that’s standing out like a worm buried just beneath the skin. He looks like he’s about to have a stroke. If he holds the handcuffs any tighter he may actually bend them. I want to reach over, punch Jones in the mouth, get into the nearest car, and speed to see my wife.

“You need to clear out of here,” Schroder says, keeping his voice low, unable to hide the anger in it. “All of you,” he says. He sounds like he’s wondering if he has enough bullets to put an end to their questions. “This is an ongoing police investigation, you need to leave,” he says, but it’s too late. He knows it. Somehow I think Jonas knows it too. The camera crew keep filming. Large microphones fill our vision.

“We don’t have to do any such thing.” “The public has the right to know if Octavia Stanton is safe.” “Are you saying you’re still part of this police investigation?”

“She was here, though, wasn’t she,” Jonas says. “That much we know for sure, thanks to Jessica Cole. She told me.”

“Then why doesn’t she tell you where her father is?” I ask.

“She doesn’t want him caught, that’s why,” Jonas says. “She just wants the girls returned safely.”

“Then where is Katy?” I ask.

“Only Katy? Not Octavia too?” Jonas asks, and I realize my mistake, and it confirms to everybody that we have another of the girls back.

“Fuck this,” Schroder says, and he reclaims the step between him and Jonas. I head toward the cameras, ready to put my hands in front of the lenses in case Schroder wants to take a swing, but there are so many lenses I’d need hands the size of a couch. Kent is by my side, figuring out the same thing.

“You slimy son of a bitch,” Schroder says, leaning in toward Jonas. “How did you know? Who told you?”

“Jessica Cole told me,” he says. “I talk to the dead.”

“Turn around,” Schroder says.

“What?”

“Turn around. You’re under arrest.”

“What for?”

“Yes, Detective, what are you arresting him for?” one of the reporters asks. “And can you arrest him? You have no power.”

“I said turn around, Jones,” Schroder says, ignoring everybody.

“No. You have no authority to arrest me.”

“Turn around, dipshit,” Detective Kent says, pulling out her own set of handcuffs. Jones stares blankly at her, then a small grin touches the sides of his lips. He could never buy this publicity. Kent sticks the handcuffs on him, and as they click into place I think she realizes the same moment that I do that this is exactly what Jonas wanted.

“You have no right,” Jonas says, looking at the cameras when he says it and flashing a whole lot of white teeth. “No right at all.”

“We have every right,” Schroder says, “and nobody here is buying the act. You’re loving every second of this.”

“What grounds are you taking him into custody on?” “What is the condition of Octavia Stanton?” “How many of you have been suspended?”

“Only somebody working with the killer could have known where Octavia was being kept,” Schroder says. “That gives us the right to take him into custody.”

“So you don’t believe in Jonas’s psychic abilities?” “Is that the police department’s official stand on psychics?” “Are you charging Jonas Jones as a suspect?” “Where is Katy Stanton?” “Where is Octavia?”

“I believe it wasn’t hard for him to predict you would all show up to give him everything he’s after,” Schroder says to them all.

I want to put my hand on Schroder’s shoulder and lead him away. I want him to shut up.

“Jessica told me,” Jonas says, looking into the camera. He sounds calm. “She told me that Octavia would be fine.”

“Is she fine, Detective?”

“No comment,” I say for Schroder as his mouth starts to open, and he knows it’s time to accept defeat. We turn Jonas away from the cameras. Kent and Schroder walk on each side of him, marching him toward the house. I follow a few steps behind. The cameras follow us right up to the door.

“You’re on TV,” Hutton says as we step inside, the TV switched on in the lounge showing the live broadcast of the house, zooming in on the windows of the living room and on the now shut front door. The officers who were here are still out there, trying to push everybody back.

Kent throws Jonas onto the couch.

Schroder stares at him. “You piece of shit,” he says. “You blew it, you blew our chance to get him.”

Jonas lands on his side, his arms pinned behind him. He looks unsure of himself. He’s noticing for the first time that he’s in a room with four extremely pissed off people and nobody to verify he didn’t walk into a door fifteen times. “Get who? Cole? He’s already been here. He’s been and gone.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?” Schroder asks.

“Jessica told me,” he says.

“I hear your new book is doing badly,” Schroder says. “It seems people don’t believe in you, Jonas, and I’m one of those people. Coming here tonight, this was just a stunt for you, wasn’t it? You’re just trying to drum up business. This is fantastic publicity for you, isn’t it? Only a real bottom-feeder would use kidnapped girls to sell his books.”

“You knew we were here,” I say. “There was no surprise on your face at all. You wanted to get arrested.”

“You selfish bastard,” Schroder says. “You fucked our best chance of saving these people.”

“If we don’t get them back alive, that’s on you,” Kent tells him.

“No it’s not. I’m trying to help,” Jonas says.

“How’d you know we were here?” Schroder asks.