Reversal. Chapter three.

Reversal

Chapter Three

Leyton Falls, Monday morning July 2nd

Michael Paslowski, or Mitch, to all who knew him well enough, finally fell asleep after being awake for most of the night with a severe bout of indigestion. No doubt brought on by all the pastries he’d eaten at the town fair the previous afternoon, during his so-called, “Pie tasting duties”, but only a man of Mick’s girth could eat as many as eleven pieces, and, thankfully, at the age of fifty-four, he wasn’t too bothered about his waist size.

All in all, he and the rest of the residents of Leyton Falls were having a terrific time at the fair up until 11.38, when six-year-old Elizabeth Ferris was discovered face-down in the narrow brook running through the town. Elizabeth had been found in no more than two-inches of water, the brook itself being only four-feet wide and two-feet in depth, with a water level governed by the weather, which hadn’t produced rain in almost three weeks.

It’s thought Elizabeth may have been trying to retrieve her favourite doll, which lay in the brook beside her lifeless body. Although, beside her lifeless body wasn’t entirely accurate. The doll, a hideous looking three-foot clown, was in fact found in a sitting position on the back of Elizabeth’s neck, as though pinning her there. But in the commotion of getting her from the brook, no one noticed this. No one except the school teacher, Anne Morris, the person who’d found Elizabeth, and the person who’d wittingly pushed the doll from her.

Mitch jolted awake with the clattering of a tin garbage can being kicked around inside his head. In the dark of his bedroom he reached out trying to knock his alarm clock from the bedside cabinet in a bid to silence it. Instead, knocking off his indigestion tablets, his half glass of water, and the telephone that actually woke him.

‘Goddamnit,’ he drawled. His voice, dry, raspy. ‘This better be a Goddamn murder or I’m gonna shoot somebody,’ he said, immediately feeling the acid burn of indigestion. ‘Hello?’ he snapped, focussing on the LED clock. The only thing he hadn’t managed to knock from the cabinet. It said, 00:17.

‘Sheriff Paslowski? Can you hear me, sheriff?’

He knew straight off who the voice belonged to. ‘Hello, Mrs Winkle, what in the name of Jehovah are you doin up at this unearthly hour?’

Mrs Winkle, amongst other traits, was the town gossip, if a story hit the headline of the local rag, you could guarantee she knew about it before they did.

‘Sheriff,’ she bellowed. ‘Now you know I’m not one to complain, or gossip, or pry into other peoples business now, don’t ya?’

Holding the receiver in one hand, and rubbing hard at his stubbled face with the other, he said, ‘Carry on, Mrs Winkle, I’m listenin’.’

‘It’s the Ferris’; they’re makin a hell of a racket down here. Theres’ shoutin, and screamin, and if I ain’t mistaken, I think I heard gunfire too!’

The Ferris’ lived in the house directly facing Mrs Winkle’s on the eastern side of town, a house known locally as, “The old Evans place”.

‘Now, Dorothy, forgive me for asking, but are you sure about this? I mean, are you really, really, sure?’

Another of her traits was being the oldest drunk in town; she had her own still in her back yard, and, thankfully, only she got to drink the stuff. She’d probably been on the juice since returning from the fair yesterday afternoon, and now Mitch felt sure he heard a slur twisting her words.

‘Ya mean about the ruckus they’re Makin’? Damn right I’m sure. The gunfire …? Well, I think so.’

‘And are you fully aware of what happened at the fair yesterday afternoon? To young Elizabeth I mean?’

‘Of course I am, Sheriff. I was there too, ya know!’

‘Okay, Mrs Winkle, you stay in your house and I’ll be over right away. Don’t go out now, just wait for me to get there.’ He then hung up.

Cursing his own choice of career, Mitch pulled his uniform from the closet along with a clean shirt, before leaving for Mrs Winkle’s; he rang his deputy, Danny Walker.

‘Hello?’

‘Hey, it’s me.’

‘Mitch?’

‘Listen, I’ve had old Moonshine Winkle on the phone, somethin about a row over at the Ferris place.’

‘The Ferris place?’

‘Yeah, said she heard gunfire over there. She probably heard one of them Howler boys pissin’ about with that motorcycle o’ theirs. Anyways, I said we’d take a look-see, so be ready in ten.’

‘Sure, Mitch.’

Mitch grabbed himself a quick black coffee and downed three indigestion tablets before leaving. It took only five minutes to reach his deputy’s house, and as he pulled the patrol car up outside, Danny left through his side door and climbed in.

‘Is this some kind of joke, Mitch?’ he said. ‘I mean … the Ferris place? After what happened yesterday?’ Danny couldn’t have sounded more incredulous if he'd tried.

‘If it is a joke, Danny, I for one ain’t gonna be all that pleased about it.’

‘And if it ain’t?’

Mitch turned to face Danny; the look he gave him was enough to answer that question.