“Be there in a jiffy!” Melody hears a man’s voice inside respond to her knock. She wonders if she is in the right place. The police officer’s “station” looks more like a home. “Right then, I was just finishing plating my dinner,” he says, standing at the door with a sheepish look. “How can I help you?”
“Um...well, this may take a while. Maybe I can come back another time Officer Higgins?”
“Nonsense! Have you had dinner yet?” Melody hesitates to answer, fearing she might impose. “Right then, that settles it. I’ll get you a plate.” He opens the door all the way and ushers her in. “Come on in.” Then with a pleasant, bubbly accent that Melody can’t quite place yet, he says as he chuckles, “It’s bangers and mash I’m afraid – the Scottish mashed potatoes and sausage.”
Melody sits down at one of only two chairs in the room. It’s a studio apartment that has cleverly been organized into a part office, part kitchen and part bedroom. The space is small, but efficiently decorated. From where Melody sits, her chair faces a desk with a laptop and printer on it, it is also home to the second chair in the room. Next to the desk, near the window is a small, brown box TV that looks more like an antique collector’s item. She realizes she must be sitting in the living room. Almost hidden under a set of stairs to the loft is a single-size bed tucked away in a tight space that looks more like a designer’s after-thought. Then to the side of the bed is a thin partition separating the kitchen from the bedroom.
A delicious scent of freshly baked meat escapes the kitchen and reminds Melody that she is famished. She cautiously rubs her belly, careful to not extend any of her extremities into another “room”.
“I hope it’s to your fancy. I’m not confident with my Scottish dishes yet.” He hands her a sunset-themed, mosaic designed plate with mashed potatoes, sausage, green beans and gravy on the side.
“You’re English.” Melody says, now pinpointing his accent.
Officer Higgins, who has a satiny, smooth, dirty blond hair, thinning in some areas, brushes his fringe out of his face. “Born and bred in the South. I came here two years ago. It’s always been my dream to live somewhere among the Scottish highlands and isles. So, here I am!”
Now seeing the beautifully plated food, her stomach quietly rumbles. As she reacts, she almost knocks over a table on her side. “I’m sorry, I...”
“Don’t mention it. Space is something to be desired here. I’ve had several budget cuts.” Officer Higgins says as he sits at the desk chair.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for one thing I’m the only police officer. Look around, this is the police station. There used to be an entire station, fully staffed and fully functional. Now, I’m a little more than a glorified town babysitter.” He explains between bites.
“But why would they cut your budget?”
“Crime is low on the island, I’ve been told. But that depends on who you ask.”
“Let me guess, the Deacons told you.” Melody says, understanding beginning to form on her face.
For the first time since Melody walked in, the officer flashes her a fearful look. Seriousness weighing on his voice, he leans in and warns, “Be careful who you talk about around here Miss.” Then he leans back and lightly says, “So, I had to downsize to working from home.” He chuckles, then continues eating.
But Melody is not prepared to leave the matter. She came looking for answers and she is confident she has a good lead from what Brad shared with her. She is no longer satisfied with people being afraid to talk about the Deacons, but she will have to tread carefully. “Can you tell me about them?” She brings out a piece of paper with notes from what Brad told her. “I know that you investigated them a year ago. Officer Higgins, I need to know what happened to their father.”
He lays his food on the desk, “Why do you want to know?”
“It’s part of my research on Deacon Island. Anything you can share with me will be very helpful.” Seeing that Officer Higgins is less tense about her inquiry, she adds, “Look. I found this article on the case. It says you were the officer investigating the family.”
“Ah, this. I know it well. Listen, Miss, you have nothing to worry about. They were not involved.”
“But there was a woman who came forward and said that the sons were involved in something shady. Are you sure you looked into it enough?”
“I did. She claimed she was seeing him. Apart from a picture standing next to him in a crowd, she had no clear evidence they were ever an item. The woman was a quack and so was the reporter who shared her story. She claimed the sons killed him, but the sons said he was on vacation. In the end, her intel didn’t match up with the timing of when the father was reported missing so I had to dismiss it. I tried to find her again, to verify a couple of loose ends for my reports, but she had done a runner. If you ask me, she was probably after their money. Men like the Deacons do not get where they are without making a few enemies or scathing a few bystanders.”
It’s odd to Melody that Officer Higgins thought the Deacons may have had enemies. Could one of them have come after their father? Worse yet, was her father considered an enemy? She wonders.
“I asked the Mainland P.D. to do a search on the dad’s phone
