Lucy dressed quickly, throwing on her usual jeans and sweater. She combed and scrunched her damp hair, grabbed her shoes and socks, and hurried downstairs barefoot. In the kitchen, she dumped some kibble into Libby’s bowl, poured some cereal into her own favorite bowl, and poured out the last of the morning coffee into a mug.
The headline in the morning paper, the Press Herald, wasn’t encouraging. REGION TOPS IN OPIOID DEATHS. A quick read revealed that Massachusetts had the most overdoses, but Maine and the other New England states weren’t far behind. And no wonder, she thought, tossing the paper aside with a snort, since the cops were letting the dealers operate in broad daylight.
When she arrived at the Pennysaver office, she wasted no time telling Ted what she had seen earlier that morning. “I couldn’t believe it, Ted,” she declared as she shrugged out of her barn coat and hung it on the coat rack. “There was a little BMW in the parking lot, idling there, and other cars came and went, stopping only for a minute. Sometimes they drove off together. It was creepy and scary. They’re dealing drugs practically in my backyard.”
“Right out in the open, at the pond?” asked Phyllis, furrowing her brows over the harlequin reading glasses perched on her nose. Today she was wearing a brightly colored floral print jersey topped with a magenta cardigan that closely matched the color of her dyed hair.
“Are you sure it was drug deals?” asked Ted in a doubtful tone. “Maybe they were sales reps, getting samples or price lists or something like that.”
“No,” said Lucy, shaking her head. “It was all very fast and furtive. They hardly spoke a word to each other, not chatty like colleagues would be.”
“I guess you better give Chief Kirwan a call. Ask him if he’s aware of the situation.”
“And if not, why not? And if he is, why isn’t he doing anything to stop it?” said Phyllis with a sharp nod that made the wattles under her chin quiver. “Especially since that poor little Alison Franklin died there. She probably got the drugs that killed her from that guy.”
“I’m on it,” said Lucy, seating herself at her desk and booting up her PC. While she waited for the ancient machine to rouse itself, she worked out what she would say to Jim Kirwan. This was a delicate situation and she didn’t want to put him on the defensive. If she was going to get any information out of him, she needed to make it very clear that she wasn’t criticizing the department or his management.
“Good morning, Chief,” she began. “How are you?”
“Just fine, and you?” he replied.
“Fine. In fact, I went for a run this morning. I’m training for the Turkey Trot.”
“Good for you, Lucy, but I don’t think you called to ask my advice on training regimes, did you?”
“Well, actually, I sort of am,” answered Lucy, quick to seize the opening. “My usual route takes me past Blueberry Pond and I saw some activity in the parking lot that made me wonder if it was a safe place to be.”
“What did you see?”
“A car was kind of lurking there. A black BMW with a man inside.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him. We know all about him.”
Lucy was shocked and troubled by the chief’s comment and continued questioning him, determined to get to the bottom of this strange turn of events. “I’m not sure, but I think he’s a drug dealer. And maybe he sold the drugs that killed Alison Franklin.”
She heard the chief sigh. “First off, Lucy, the autopsy report isn’t complete and we don’t know what killed Alison Franklin. And second, I’m going off the record now, understand?”
“Off the record,” said Lucy, eager to hear more.
“Okay, this discovery of yours isn’t news to me or anyone in the department. We patrol the Blueberry Pond area regularly and keep an eye on the situation, but we don’t interfere for a number of reasons. One is that we have quite a few people here in town who are struggling with dependency and we know who this dealer is—”
Lucy was quick to interrupt. “Who is he?” she demanded.
“He’s responsible and his drugs are clean,” continued the chief, ignoring her question. “If we cut off this supply, they’ll end up going to riskier dealers, getting tainted stuff and dying.”
“But wouldn’t it be better if they went into rehab and got clean?” asked Lucy, shocked at what she was hearing.
“Sure, but this is the real world we’re living in. I’m not saying this is a perfect solution. Personally I don’t like it, but I have limited options. And I’ve got meager resources. I don’t have all the officers I need and I don’t have the budget I need to handle other priorities like domestic violence, highway safety, alcohol abuse, even animal control. We’re strapped. That’s the honest truth. We have to leave narcotics enforcement to the state police drug task force. They’ve got the knowledge and expertise and they focus on the big dealers.”
“But those drug task force investigations take months,” protested Lucy.
“Exactly.” He paused. “That’s because it’s very difficult to prosecute these cases. Every i has to be dotted and every t crossed. These task force members know what they’re doing and they do it well.”
“Have you passed on information about this dealer?” asked Lucy.
“Yes, we have,” he replied. “And now, I have other matters on my desk.”
“Right,” said Lucy, taking the hint. “And thanks.”
Ted was all over her as soon as she ended the call. “Off the record? Did you agree to go off the record?” he demanded.
“I had to or I wouldn’t have gotten anything out of him. It’s a bad business. They know about the dealer. They know who he is, but the chief said all they’re doing is ‘keeping an eye on the situation. ’ ”
“Are you kidding me?” asked Ted, looking puzzled.
“No. That’s what he said. They have passed on his
