In the Dark of Night – Part 19
One year ago, to the day, I started writing In the Dark of Night.
I hadn’t really expected it to last as long as it has. In all honesty it wasn’t really much more than an idea that I’d had which was better than most. I figured I’d get a good scene out of the idea, maybe two, then it would dry up and I would move on to the next idea with promise.
Here we are, 365 days later, and this story shows no signs of stopping. If anything, it’s just now starting to get to the good stuff.
I owe all of it to the wonderful Samantha. Her artwork is what graces every single new entry of this story. It will do so until the story has ended.
Every time I sit down to write, every single time I think I’ve hit a wall with plot or character development or both, I am reminded of that wonderful piece of another person’s life which was shared with me out of sheer joy and appreciation.
Then I find a way to keep on trucking.
I love being an author. I love making things. To have my work be both seen and appreciated?
I know of nothing on Earth so uniquely and delightfully motivating.
To another year of wonder and mayhem.
Story time.
In the Dark of Night – Part Nineteen
The hooded, haunted eyes of Officer Davis met mine for just an instant as he hauled me out of the back of his squad car. He hadn’t spoken one word from the time of his ill-fated question to our arrival at the police station.
He looked like he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes.
I felt sorry for him. Then he needlessly twisted my arm to drag me in the direction I was already walking. My small well of pity dried up pretty quick under the burning sensation of my wrists and shoulder.
He hadn’t even bothered to open the door for Anzi and Atomo. Both of them hovered behind us at a small distance: far enough away to see, close enough to act if needed. I grinned back at the pair of them as I was dragged along. You could take the wings off the angel, but no force on heaven nor earth can take the bird out of them.
I didn’t know what was waiting for me inside the police station, but at least I didn’t have to face it alone.
Our police station wasn’t all that large. As the city itself wasn’t more than four thousand people on a good day, there was no need to make it any larger either. It looked like exactly what it was: a building that had been built in the 70’s. It was all angles and awnings and art deco.
The interior was just as horrible as the exterior. The decor was brightly lit linoleum and worn office furniture in faded shades of yellow puke. Even with one shoulder hoisted to the breaking point as I stumbled along, I still let out a weak chuckle. I had, at long last, found the culprit who had committed the crime which passed for the Miller household’s interior design.
There was a small reception area, helmed by a desk too big for the space. There was a thin hall with two offices at the end of it and another small hallway with a pair of bathrooms at the end marked ‘cowboy’ and ‘cowgirl’.
At the reception desk I saw old Mrs. Van Deburg. She looked as she always did; like an bespectacled old owl in various shades of cardigan.
She craned her neck sideways, taking me in one eye at a time.
“Young miss Miller, is that you?”
With another twist of her head she seemed to answer her own question. Her nostrils flared as she absorbed the scene before her, the detached and inward gaze she so often wore vanishing as anger flushed her thin checks. Her face snapped to Officer Davis. She lifted her hand to the intercom panel on the right-hand portion of her desk and hovered a single finger over the large red button in the center. Officer Davis, who must’ve forgotten his original plan for me in his distress, began sweating again. He stammered out several weak attempts to make her stop.
With eyes full of murder, Mrs. Van Deburg’s finger struck.
There was a muted buzz, then the door at the end of the first hall opened. It was adorned with a single faded word in brass; ‘Chief’. Out came a bear. At that moment, all I could think of was Smokey the Bear wearing a well-worn police uniform. It, well he, was carrying a mug of coffee so big that even Jacqueline would have trouble finishing it.
Chief Ursa strode down the hallway to the reception desk. It took two strides. The hallway was a good three meters long. He loomed over the desk, the receptionist, Officer Davis, me, and the Anzi + Atomo pair waiting in the wings. With no small amount of fondness, he smiled down at Mrs. Van Deburg. She broke her gaze with Officer Davis and returned the smile with equal pleasure.
“Good morning Chief Waitley.”
To my complete surprise, however, not a single speck of the displeasure she had directed towards Officer Davis was present in her greeting to Chief Waitley.
Officer Davis then proceeded to do something very peculiar; he tried to shield me from view. Given his enormous profile, he probably could’ve gotten away with it. However, I was disinclined to acquiesce to his request. Despite the pain it caused me, I stubbornly refused to be relegated to the darkside of Officer Davis. I smiled my most winning smile at the towering form of Chief Waitley.
Chief Grizzlybear drank from the coffee mug in quiet contemplation of the scene before him: Me,smiling while struggling to be seen. Officer Davis, struggling in silence to keep me from being seen. Mrs. Van Deburg, who had resumed trying to drill holes through Officer Davis with her eyes and the sheer weight of her venom.
“Hnnn.”
A single finger, larger than any sausage served at Hanover House, shot out from the hand that bore it like a bullet leaving the chamber.
“Explain.”
Officer Davis, eyes haunted by whatever internal oversight had led to this moment, did his best to try and weasel his way out.
“You see, uh, Chief Waitley. I was checking on the explosion outside of Mrs. Van Deburg’s house and I found this young man in the area. He’s a known delinquent you see, and I didn’t want him to cause any further trouble, you see? So I brought him and his companions in to…”
A thin, heavily veined hand smacked the desk with titanic force. Everyone in the room jumped, including Chief Waytoobig. Mrs. Van Deburg stood, although this did nothing to change her height. Her whole body shook as every bit of blood she had left filled her face.
“I HAVEN’T HAD TO SHOVEL MY DRIVEWAY OR RAKE MY LEAVES OR CUT MY GRASS ONE TIME IN THE ENTIRE FIVE YEARS THAT MISS MILLER AND HER LOVELY FAMILY HAVE LIVED HERE! SHE HAS NEVER ASKED ME FOR ANYTHING MORE THAN A GLASS OF LEMONADE, EITHER!”
The unencumbered paw of Chief Waitley rested upon the shaking Mrs. Van Deburg very gently. No words were said, no force was used, but the rage slowly drained from her. She stood, thin chest heaving as she expelled the remainder of her tirade one breath at a time. Her face resumed its natural color, and with quiet dignity she gathered herself and sat back down.
Chief Waitley squeezed very gently before he lifted his hand.
My burgeoning respect for the man rose a bit higher as he carefully stacked paperwork to clear a spot on her desk for his coffee. He did not move like he was in a hurry. The silent organizing was ratcheting Officer Davis’s distress to new heights. Finally, mug and paperwork secure, he placed his hands upon his hips and turned the whole of his attention upon Officer Davis.
He did not look pleased. His face was not as animated as Mrs. Van Deburg’s had been, but quiet fury was etched into the corners of his dark brown visage.
“.. Chief Waitley, you see I…”
Officer Davis cut off as Chief Waitley shook his head, once, without breaking eye contact.
“When I arrived in this city, I took you in as a favor to your father. Your father was an extraordinary officer and a testament to what it means to be a warden of the public good.”
A frown appeared upon his face. It was not directed at me. I still looked away, shame at everything I’d ever done wrong rushing through me all at once. I caught sight of Anzi giving the ceiling tiles a thorough inspection. Atomo’s chest swelled with pride until I was certain the silver creature would burst.
“I’m afraid the apple has fallen far from the tree this time.”
Officer Davis attempted to interrupt. Chief Waitley did not shout, or gesticulate, or even move his head. I peeked through the hair which had fallen across my vision and immediately regretted my decision.
The frown had hardened into something cold and distant. Arms thicker than my waist crossed themselves across the mountain of his chest. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks that I wasn’t in the path of the avalanche that was about to come tumbling down that frosty peak.
Officer Davis, however, would not be so lucky.
To be continued…
Perennially,
The Unsheathed Quill
