Bellows Falls

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MY DESK LAMP LIGHT BARELY REACHED the far corners of my small, glassed-in office, leaving the squad room beyond completely dark. The lighting shrouded the whole place with an uncharacteristic intimacy, enhancing the quiet isolation I enjoyed when working after hours. The phone’s sudden, electronic chirping came as a jarring intrusion.

“Gunther.”

“Lieutenant, this is Marshall Smith. Pierre and I are down at the Retreat. I think we’ve found someone you been wanting to talk to.”

“Who?”

“Jasper Morgan. One of the regulars started smashing chairs at a substance abuse meeting in the cafeteria, so they called us. When we were sorting things out, I saw Morgan trying to look invisible along the back wall.”

“He still there?” I asked.

“They all are. We figured the best way not to spook him was to keep everybody put. Pierre’s stalling for time right now-pretending to figure out who did what.”

“I’ll be right there.”

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