Chapter 17

Revelations

Ben stared through the thick pane of bullet-proof glass that separated him from Hatchet. He studied his opponent as casually as a patient angler studies the water, waiting for a nibble on his lure. The metaphor was an apt one, he admitted to himself. Like the fisherman, he was waiting for a nibble to signal that the main interrogation was to begin. He had been marinating in fear and uncertainty for over an hour. More than enough time for him to wonder what was going to happen to him. Hatchet had to know that the charges against him were serious. Possession of illegal firearms and cocaine were serious offences, more than enough to put him behind bars. Add the attempted shooting of police officers, and his life took a lengthy detour through prison. Armed with that knowledge, Ben intended to soak every morsel of intelligence from Hatchet before putting him out in the cold. A slight twitch in the room caught his attention, and he smiled grimly. Perfect.

Hatchet felt as if he was sweating bullets. He had fired on a friggin' cop! That was bad, real bad. The word was that the Chief had a real burr up his ass lately, and had been coming down hard on the dealers. Several were gone already, sent to the state prison it was rumored. His palms became clammy as he remembered his one stint there, a couple of years back. It had been sheer torment from the big city thugs, murders and rapists there. He had made it by hanging tough and fighting, plus becoming handy with a hand-made hatchet that had earned him his nickname. He had survived, but he had promised himself that he would never go back. Now, that promise was gone, and he had no clue as to get out of this mess.

Hatchet jumped as the door slammed open and the snarling figure of the chief strode into the room with a folder in his hand. Slamming the document on the table hard enough to make them bounce, he took the seat opposite Hatchet and sat down.

"Whoa. Hold on, where's my lawyer?" Hatchet asked, fearfully eyeing the chief. He struggled to keep his face calm.

"He's coming. He'll be here soon enough. I just thought we'd have a friendly little chat before he got here. Just between us." The terrible smile upon his face made Hatchet want to scoot his chair back, preferably through the wall and away from that little room. Gulping nervously, he tried to meet that face with a calm he didn't feel. The chief seemed to see through the disguise, however, for his smile broadened a little.

"Let's see here. Twelve counts of possession of illegal substances, four counts possession of illegal firearms, two attempted murders, and obstructing an officer in the course of his duties." He glanced up from the folder. "Any one of these is good for a spell in the pen. But all of these together?" he shook his head. "you'll be lucky to escape the chair."

Hatchet gave a nervous twitch as he imagined the pain of electricity arcing through is body before the black came from him. Calm, though, he must maintain calm. "So what? You were trespassing without a warrant. My lawyer will make mincemeat out of the charges against me."

The chief simply grinned. "True. He would, except that you fired on officers in the course of their duties. That's the charge you have to beat, and the evidence is stacked against you." He began ticking points off his fingers while Hatchet watched his life disappear. "First, there's the witnesses who saw you, myself and Officer McCallahan. Second, there's the physical evidence of bullets and a loaded 9 mm ruger that has your fingerprints all over it. Third, your partner in crime survived his injuries and has already sold you out in return for mitigation of the shooting." The chief looked up. "I don't think the DA will need anything else to put you away for life. Unless…" He let that word taper off thoughtfully.

Hatchet, seeing a way out of this mess, pounced on it. "Unless what?" He asked.

The chief slowly smiled. "Unless you tell me where you got the dope and who supplied it to you. If you cooperate with us, I think we can make the bigger charges go away. And then, like you said, a competent lawyer will make mincemeat out of the other charges." The Chief's smile widened.

Hatchet thought for a moment, but really there was no other choice. He told him.

Ben strode out of the interrogation room feeling at once smug and disappointed. Hatchet, it turned out, had gotten the dope from the circus. Unfortunately, it appeared to be one of the handlers that had passed it to him in a suitcase and not Nightshade himself. Feeling disappointed, he immediately phoned Officers Nielson and Fox to bring in the handler for questioning.

Slamming into his chair, he stared at the ceiling with a vague feeling of defeat. It wasn't Nightshade that had dropped the drugs, but perhaps he was still the man behind the ring. With luck, he could lean on the handler a little and get the man to hand in a confession stating Nightshade as the boss. Ben could arrest him and run the rest of the circus out of town. The mayor wouldn't have to pay the insurance money, and the girls would be much safer with him behind bars. Ben was sure that he had plans for them, but wasn't sure how he could protect them while they remained…as they were.

Shifting his gaze to the cabinet, he let the churning emotions sweep over him. Fear for the girls' safety, terror of what the town faced if he bungled in any way, grim determination to see this through. All of it came and went, leaving him spent. He shakily got up from his desk and grabbed his coat. Nielson wouldn't be able to bring in that handler for another twenty minutes. He would catch a cup of joe at Flo's Diner and try to figure out what to do next.

By the time that Ben got back from Flo's, the handler was already set up in the interrogation room. To Ben's lack of surprise, Nightshade was in there as well. "I'm sorry Chief." Nielson apologized, a slightly stricken look on his face. "Mr. Nightshade found out that I was arresting his handler, and insisted on coming along as his representative."

"It's all right Nielson." Ben put up a forestalling hand. "I guess I half-expected Nightshade to come. I just wasn't sure if he was ballsy enough to actually do it though." He strode past the grateful cop and leisurely entered the interrogation room. I have to maintain the upper hand. I slip just once, and it's over. He thought. Well, the best way to maintain the upper hand was to be aggressive, and ben couldn't wait to make the handler and Nightshade squirm. Pulling the chair over, he sat facing them and opened the manila folder he was carrying. Picking up his pencil, he began scribbling some notes on the paper within. It was an old technique that was supposed to make the interviewee nervous and on guard. It seemed to be working on the handler, he licked his lips as his eyes followed the pencils movements. Nightshade however…The bastard was simply sitting there as if he hadn't a care in the world, a slight half-smile playing at the edges of his lips. The brass buttons on his stylishly cut coat gleamed in the light. Irritated that his ploy wasn't working on his intended target, he decided to get down to business.

"Mr. Martin, have you been informed of your rights during your arrest?" Ben asked by rote, looking up at the handler. The question was meant to be perfunctory, a way of keeping thing legal. But Nightshade surprised him.

"Mr. Brodrick, I haven't been informed of any rights here." His voice was calmer than a lake and his voice warm with amusement. If ben hadn't looked right at him, he could have sworn he was laughing.

"That would be because you are not currently under arrest." Ben said, looking at him. At least, not yet. "The man who is under arrest, Mr. Martin, has to have been informed of his rights."

The man in question gulped nervously and glanced towards Nightshade. At the latter's nod, he quickly agreed. "Yes, they did inform me of my rights." He squeaked.

Ben hid a smile. This one was going to be fun to get to break. With luck, he could have his confession and get Nightshade implicated while he was sitting here! The opportunity was too good to pass up. "Very well." Another scribble in the folder. "Are you aware that possession with intent to sell of certain substances is illegal, Mr. Martin?" Ben asked, giving the handler his iron stare.

The stare had its affect, and the man answered without looking at Nightshade. "O-of course. But I never had anything like that anywhere. You can ask my wife!"

Oho! This man had a wife to vouch for him eh? That could make things interesting. "I'm sure I will. Just to be clear, your wife works for the circus as well?"

"Y-yes, she works as a laundress for the circus." The man was sweating now. Nightshade seemed calm as ever.

Another note was made. "Still, is it not true when things are, shall we say, a bit tight," he emphasized the word, "We do things that we might not share with our spouses."

Nighshade suddenly leaned forward. "Are you suggesting Mr. Brodrick, that I do not pay my people the best in my show?"

Ben glanced at him. "Not at all Mr. Nightshade. However, things happen, expensive things, and sometimes even the bad paths seem like salvation, is that not correct Mr. Martin?"

"W-what do you mean?" Martin twitched.

Got you. "Well, it seems that you have overextended yourself, Mr. Martin. You've got a nice pickup truck, it says here that you took a trip to Romania for a week, and here a weekend getaway with your wife to the Rocky Mountains. And just recently, you were able to pay for your sister's cancer treatments. I'm just curious to know where you got the money to pay for all of that. I can't imagine a handler makes all that much. Especially for a small-time operation like a circus." He glanced at Nightshade and bared his teeth. "No offense."

Nightshade's smile was a trifle brittle as he replied, "None taken."

Mr. Martin gulped and opened his mouth. "I can explain all that…" he started when Nightshade interrupted him.

"I believe I can answer the questions for you Mr. Martin." He broke in smoothly. Turning to Ben, he spread his hands and gestured grandly. "You are quite correct in that a handler is not as well a paid employee as my performers Mr. Brodrick. The requirements of an actor often exceed that of a handler. However, often a handler is as indispensable to a show as a rodeo clown or tightrope walker. A handler keeps all our animals' healthy, puts up the tents and takes tickets. Any odd job that is needed they do. So, when one of them has a problem, I try to help them with that. In the case of Mr. Martin, I was aware of the situation with the cancer treatments. It was child's play for me to use some of last year's excess cash to help him out. I put it to a vote, and everyone said yes. The trip to Romania was paid for by me so that he could investigate the opportunity to open my show there. An advance scout if you will. Granted, it was farther abroad then I normally send my scouts, but business has been down lately and I wanted to make my show international. The weekend trip was a honeymoon gift that he had been saving for, and I let him have the weekend."

Ben wrote a few more notes in the file. "I see. And the car?"

Nightshade spread his hands indulgently. "An accident in the circus deprived Mr. Martin of his truck. Because it was an accident and no one was injured, I let him buy a new one on an expense account rather than go through the courts."

Ben cocked an eyebrow at Nightshade. "Most generous of you Mr. Nightshade. Do you treat all your employees in this manner?

It was Nightshade's turn to cock an eyebrow. "Of course. I do not pretend to play favorites in my show, Mr. Brodrick. It's bad for business."

"Business. Well, circuses must be making far more than I thought, if you can afford to spend this much on one employee." Ben found his irritation rising. What would it take to get this man to flinch?

Nightshade waved his hands airily. "Oh, I really don't spend all that much on my employees. Like I said, the only thing I really did was pay for his sister's cancer treatments. Mr. Martin will be working off that debt to me of course. The rest of the stuff was explained I believe, and had nothing more than purely business reasons."

Ben glanced back down to his folder. "Well then, Mr. Nightshade, it might surprise you to find out that Mr. Martin has been ratted out by one of our townsfolk for selling cocaine."

Nightshade leaned back in false astonishment. "Surely that cannot be correct. No one in my organization deals with illegal substances, Mr. Brodrick. Of that I can assure you."

Got you. Ben let a predatory smile slide across his face. "Well then, I think you are going to be in for a shock. This afternoon a local drug dealer, who goes by the moniker of "Hatchet" was arrested for possession. Interestingly enough, he gave the name of your circus and this handler as a new supplier in town. Needless to say we were quite interested in this information."

Nightshade sneered in disgust. "A low-level criminal gives the name of my show as his new supplier? It sounds to me as if he is trying to keep you guessing Sherriff."

"That's Chief." Corrected Ben a touch testily.

Nightshade smiled back. "No offense. Still…Chief…people often give my name to the authorities. We face prejudice and condemnation no matter where we set up. If someone steals a pocketwatch, then we are automatically prime suspects. After all, we are outsiders, travelers. We come and go with the wind. Surely we are all scum and thieves, otherwise why would we move around so much? Even you have to admit Sherriff, that traveling shows have a bad reputation that is vastly overrated."

"That's Chief and yes, I'm aware of the stories and myths surrounding traveling shows. I also happen to know when someone is peddling new stuff on my streets. Interestingly, it coincides with your arrival."

"Clearly someone is trying to discredit us, or use us as scapegoats." Nightshade said coolly.

At this Ben snorted so loudly that Mr. Martin jumped. "Please," he said when he got his sniggers under control, "you expect me to believe that someone is trying to discredit a circus?!" The mere thought was enough to make him want to break out laughing. Nightshade had an overinflated opinion of himself, that's for sure!

Nightshade remained unruffled. "It might surprise you to learn that the circuit is rather competitive. With many travelling shows and circuses competing for the same dollars, a certain…rivalry is to be expected. Some of my competitors have taken it to some rather extreme cases, such as running the opponent out of town. It would not surprise me a bit that with a bit more…careful examination these charges can be proven false."

That got him bristling! "Are you saying my department and myself do shoddy work Mr. Nighshade?"

Nightshade smiled toothily. "Not at all Sherriff. I am just saying that when a solution presents itself, particularly one that we want desperately to be the right one, we jump on it and deny any evidence or possibility that conflicts with the view that we want."

Ben sat back amid a welter of chaotic emotions. He had been pursuing this one line of investigation single-mindedly. Is it possible that he was wrong…? But NO! It was simply another method of misdirection. Nightshade wanted him doubting himself. Well, he was not going to play that game!

Ben suspected that this might be turning into a waste of time. Like Nightshade said, he was basically going on the word of Hatchet that this handler was the perp that had sold him the coke. It might be good cause for a search, but Ben doubted that anything would be found. Nightshade was just too careful an operator to allow anything that could be found. "Well, we are pretty much done here. However, I would appreciate a search of Mr. Martin's home premises and work area. Just in case." He said. Inside he was feeling dejected. He had had a golden opportunity, and it had slipped away from him. The trouble of it was, he wasn't sure what he could have done differently.

Nightshade shrugged eloquently. "Of course. As his employer, I can assure you of our complete cooperation in this matter. Although I would ask that we do so immediately. The show has a schedule to keep, and I intend to stick to it." And with Mr. Martin in tow, Nightshade strode out of the office, leaving Ben fuming.

That bastard! How did he do it. Ben thought for sure he had a solid case against the handler, and Nightshade managed to smooth talk him out of trouble. Well, at least he could hound the man a little. He would have tech look for the money transfers from Nightshade's accounts. See if he could catch the worm in a lie or something. Wait a moment, schedule? His head came up with a frown. What day was it anyway?

Running to his desk, he looked at his schedule. There it was, Tuesday, the 7th. Nightshade was scheduled to leave on the thirteenth. Not soon enough, ben thought, what with his chokehold on the town leadership and his flaunting. Still, he would soon leave, and he would be out of Ben's hair and he could concentrate on this Roland. He shuddered as he wondered what else was going to happen in his town.

"Look mommy! A mermaid!" came the young voice as it crept closer to the water.

"That's nice sweetheart. Why don't you stay away from the water so you don't fall in. It's going to be cold." Was the slightly harassed reply.

"Sure mommy!"