Jane was back in the police station, drawing attention, and not just because she was a stunning, leggy blonde whose outfit showcased her figure. She approached the desk sergeant, who looked like Norm from Cheers, except in uniform, and asked to see the blotter. Norm handed over a large black three-ring binder and resumed eating from a king-sized Almond Joy.
The first page always listed actual arrests made for that month, and there were none in the preceding two days. Jane still flipped through the rest of the binder back to the previous day just to see what the cops got up to and whether that might be worth a story.
On the fourth page, her eyes widened. Officer Sinclair had classified the Springfield P.D.’s response to Lilly’s address as a domestic disturbance. Jane recognized the address — not only was it next door to one she babysat in high school, it was the home of no less than the hospital’s chief medical officer. Was he actually beating his wife? Jane wondered.
“Norm,” she said to the desk sergeant — not his real name, actually, “is there any report to go along with this?” Norm nonchalantly went over to the desk of Carla, the department’s civilian clerk, and returned with Officer Sinclair’s report, which Carla hadn’t yet put in the burn box. He gave it to Jane.
Jane’s mouth hung open as she read what really went down. Oh my God, Allen?! she thought. The cute boy I once bathed and babysat? She read that he had been observed, nude and masturbating on the roof of his home. Now she could understand why there was no arrest, despite an actual assault.
The older woman actually slapped the psychiatrist. It wasn’t domestic violence, it was actual assault and battery between unrelated parties. Apparently, both were upset over Allen’s activities. Maybe one wanted to call the cops on Allen and the other didn’t? Jane thought. Officer Sinclair’s report was worded just vaguely enough to leave out that Maria was angry at Lilly for interrupting her enjoyment of Allen’s self-pleasure. And it obviously left out the part where Officer Sinclair sucked Allen's dick to calm down any further sexual activity.
“Norm, gimme a copy of this please,” she said, handing it back to the sergeant. He went over to the copier, ran two pages, and returned with it, munching on a Funyun. He left the original on Carla’s desk. Carla would put it in the burn box before she left that afternoon.
When Jane returned to the Sentinel, she found a note on her desk from Holly asking her to call Allen, whom she hadn’t talked to since she went off to college. That sent a jolt through Jane. This was officially a huge fucking problem. It was a hell of a story, it just involved the son of the goddamn publisher of the newspaper she worked for, and cops from the department whose married chief she was fucking daily, in his office and at The Sleepy Inn.
Jane went into the composing room and pretended to look over the galleys set out for the next day’s edition while she figured out what the hell to do. She decided the best way to extricate herself from this was to go over her editor's head to the publisher, and just let him know what went down and everyone was keeping it quiet. But mostly, Jane did not want to get caught participating in a cover-up, even if the incident was an embarrassing neighborhood controversy and not the goddamn Pentagon Papers. If this was to be covered up, that was going to be the publisher’s call.
