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didn’t interrupt, sensing Cochran might have more to offer. A minute later, he said, “I’d say ’bout the only problem I ever had with Norm was that he was always talking it up with everybody and anybody, especially the kids.”
    “Kids?” I asked, struck once again at children being linked to Norm Bouch.
    “Yeah. Kids love Norm—teenagers. Maybe he gives ’em stuff their folks would kill him for—I don’t know. I never had any trouble that way. My two always walked straight, but Bellows Falls does have its fair share who don’t—I’ll give it that. Anyhow, so many of ’em started hanging around, it got to be a problem. One of ’em almost got killed three, four years ago—ran in front of a dozer and slipped. Come to think of it, he was from Brattleboro. Still, I told Norm he had to keep ’em away after that. I didn’t need a lawsuit on top of everything else.”
    “Do you remember that kid’s name?” I asked.
    “Oh, sure. I made him sign a waiver at the bottom of the accident report. I wanted my butt covered on that one, I guess ’cause I didn’t like him much. His name was Jasper Morgan.”

Chapter 5
    GAIL LOOKED UP FROM THE pot she was stirring as I entered the kitchen from the back door. “How was Bellows Falls? You didn’t have dinner yet, did you?”
    I crossed over and kissed her. “Weird and nope.”
    “Good. It’s spaghetti. You want to make a salad?”
    Salad was one of the things she’d discovered I actually could prepare that didn’t entail opening cans or boxes. My philosophy was that meals shouldn’t take longer to make than they take to eat. Gail was a lacto vegetarian who loved to build from scratch. Food wasn’t something we talked much about.
    “How weird is ‘weird’?” she asked, breaking out a skillet from the cabinet at her knee.
    “I don’t know… The whole town’s suffering from an identity crisis—can’t decide if it’s an unsalvageable dump, stuck in the past and dependent on government handouts, or if it’s balanced on the edge of a comeback, depending on just the right gimmick. I heard everything from drowning the place with flowers, so it looks like a Swiss village, to renaming it Great Falls. From what I saw, it’ll take a lot more than that.”
    “How ’bout the case? Did you get it wrapped up?”
    “Not even close.” I began cutting up vegetables and tossing them into a bowl. “I haven’t even talked to the principal players yet.”
    “It was sexual harassment, right? Isn’t that what you told me on the phone?”
    “Supposedly. I’ve since found out the harasser and the harassee were probably having an affair, and that the woman’s husband, who’s pressing the charges, may be dealing drugs. I doubt this is going to be something they’ll be able to pat on the butt and see the last of.”
    “It still doesn’t sound too bad—maybe an unprofessional conduct ruling against the officer, and a little bad publicity. Do you smell something else going on?”
    I smiled at her mild tone, thinking back to earlier days, when we lived apart and Gail was a Realtor and a selectman here in Brattleboro. Then, she’d been very much the citizen advocate, distrustful of the legal system, and often taking the underdog’s side in debates with me. Now, her sympathies had broadened and become less doctrinaire. I would have been more pleased if a violent rape hadn’t been the catalyst behind this transition. But she had adapted well, and I was happy with the end result and with her obvious satisfaction with her new life.
    “I do as of an hour ago,” I said in answer to her question. “You know that kid we chased through the bowels of the Retreat a few weeks ago? Jasper Morgan?”
    “I remember the chase. I don’t know anything about him.”
    “We’ve known him from when he was in his mid-teens. His parents used to beat the hell out of one another, and he tried running a protection racket at the high school, with predictable results. Later, he