"Dammit, Nichols! I told you to go home. You're on leave, remember? You can't shoot a man to death in your bedroom and then waltz into my station like nothing happened!" Chief of Police Headley roared.
"Sir! All due respect, I just found out that the man who broke into my house and was about to kill my wife is also close friends with Arthur Knob, same as Bartlebee Bean. I also have it on good authority that Knob is some kind of errand boy for Thomas Varner, who I told you yesterday I suspect is involved in the incident at Evan Smith's office. There are too many coincidences here to ignore, Chief!"
"Listen to me, you smart mouthed city slicker, I am the chief of police in this town and I will deride what is and is not ignored and I and I alone will determine who does the ignoring! Am I clear?" Headly bellowed.
Nichols couldn't keep his lips from curling into a snarl, but he nodded.
"Now you listen to me," Hedley growled menacingly. "Mr. Varner is a respected member of this community and a personal friend of the mayor so you leave him alone unless you get some concrete evidence that he’s involved in this cockamamie conspiracy theory you’ve cooked up!”
Nichols tried not to slam the door when he left the chief’s office. He was not successful.
+
Arthur had dropped Sam off at the bar and was happily working on his dimes when an angry knock interrupted him. “What now?” he asked himself as he went to open the door.
A very fit man in his late twenties or early thirties held a police badge under Arthur’s nose. He was wearing a sharp looking suit and an unhappy grimace. “I’m Detective Avery Nichols and I want to have a word with you about your associates Bartlebee Bean and James Duke.”
Arthur sighed. “Come in, Detective Nichols, I’ve been expecting you.”
“Expecting me?” Nichols asked. he looked around the kitchen suspiciously.
“It’s a small town, people talk. Have you gotten in contact with Bartlebee yet?” Arthur sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for the detective to do the same.
“No,” Nichols admitted reluctantly. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here. Who exactly tipped you off that I’d be coming to see you?”
Arthur laughed good naturedly. “The mayor’s brother’s girlfriend is a friend of mine. She bumped into me at the diner this morning and said the police were looking for me to find Bartlebee. He has a new girlfriend and they’ve been out God knows where, but he should be back home by now. I just wouldn’t hurry over there, if you know what I mean. The two of them were getting a little frisky as breakfast wound down.”
“I see,” Nichols said flatly. “And did the mayor’s brother’s girlfriend also tell you that Mr. Duke tried to kill my wife last night?”
Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “She did. I’m so sorry about that, Duke was never very bright and he always owed people money. He must have finally gotten in enough trouble to have to do something drastic. Not that that justifies trying to kill anyone, of course!” Arthur added hurriedly.
“And who in this town would he get into that kind of trouble with?” Nichols asked pointedly. He had a very piercing gaze that Arthur did not care for.
“I have no idea. I’m not exactly running in the most elite social circles.” Arthur gestured to his dilapidated living arrangements.
“Except for Thomas Varner. You’re pretty chummy with him and you don’t see anyone more elite than that in this town.” Nichols sharpened his gaze. Arthur had the feeling this was the topic Nichols had really come to his house to talk about.
“Everybody knows Mr. Varner,” Arthur explained. “He just seems to like me for whatever reason so he gives me odd jobs from time to time.”
“Odd jobs like arrange for your friend to ambush a cop who is asking too many questions?” Nichols asked with quiet determination.
“A-absolutely not!” Arthur stammered. He hadn’t expected Nichols to be so direct, in fact, he was taken aback entirely by this line of questioning. It had been Priscilla who hired Duke, hadn’t it? How had Nichols gotten hung up on Varner?
“We’ll see. I’m going to be watching you, Mr. Knob. You seem to be at the center of all the shady activity in this God-forsaken town and I intend to find out why.” Nichols stood and let himself out.
Grumbling to himself about everyone trying to ruin his life, Arthur returned to minting dimes. After a few hours he had enough to meet his obligations for the day and went on a delivery run. He made his last stop Varner’s grocery store so that he could once again deliver bad news along with his dimes.
“Mr. Knob, I didn’t expect to see you for quite some time after our last conversation. You seemed rattled when I left,” Varner said in greeting. “That must mean you have something important to tell me.”
“Yes, sir.” Arthur nodded.
“Good lad, I’m glad you learned your lesson. Now out with it,” Varner commanded brusquely.
“A police detective came to visit me today. He seems to think you were behind the attack on his wife last night,” Arthur explained.
“Ah, Detective Nichols. His adjustment to life in Port Haven is proving to be a cumbersome one. Unfortunately, the chief of police thought he was doing me a favor by warning Nichols to leave me alone, but to a man like that it only encourages him to dig deeper. That’s none of your concern however, Mr. Knob. Thank you for the information. You may go now.” Varner waved his hand in dismissal.
Arthur did not have to be told to leave twice. He nodded politely to Hank on the way out and was politely ignored by the strongman. He then headed for the bar. Detective Nichols was Varner’s problem now. He sat down, gave Sam a quick kiss in exchange for a tequila sunrise, and happily sipped his drink in peace.
That lasted all of two minutes.
“You’re a busy boy, Mr. Knob.” Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin when Detective Nichols materialized behind him.
“Jesus! A man could spill his drink. That’s a serious sin in this bar.” Arthur shook his head and took a long drink.
“What are you doing driving all over town delivering unmarked boxes?” Nichols asked.
“Working! And I don’t have to answer your questions. This is my regular bar, I don’t have to put up with your harassment.” As it always did, tequila made Arthur brave.
“And I should give a shit what you want why?” Nichols demanded.
Arthur smirked. “What I want? No reason at all, but my girlfriend will kick your ass if you piss her off.”
Nichols was not impressed. “Kid, I worked Chicago for nine years. I think I can handle some little redneck girl.”
“Famous last words,” Arthur warned.
“Listen up, you little shit! I-” Nichols’ speech was rudely interrupted by Sam whacking him over the head with a pool cue and sending him face first into the bar. He bounced off painfully and was unconscious when he hit the dirty floor.
“Told you,” Arthur gloated.
“Help me take his clothes off so we can leave him in the goat pastures outside of town,” Sam said excitedly as she yanked off Nichols’ fancy shoes.
Arthur started unbuttoning Nichols’ shirt. “Come on, Sam. His wife almost got murdered last night. We don’t want to worry her any more than she already is.”
“But we’re still stealing his clothes, right?” Sam pleaded.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously! Look at his socks, they’re probably more expensive than my best jacket. I am going to have the fanciest feet in town when I slip these babies on! I just wish he had a hat to steal. I’ve always wanted to get me a fancy hat.”
“Or...we could dress up one of the goats in his clothes and tie it up in his yard when we dump him on his porch,” Sam suggested.
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