Dead of Winter

The door opened and Ollie Wickshaw came in, carrying a bag. He was sprinkled with snow and he shook it off like a wet greyhound. Ollie greeted Edna, who gave him a grunt from behind the book, and he went to his desk.

Louis poured a second cup of coffee and took it over to Ollie. Ollie looked up, blinking his pale gray eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it.

“No problem.”

Ollie wriggled out of his jacket and as he did, a small prescription bottle tumbled to the floor. It rolled to a stop at Louis’s feet and he picked it up. He held it out to Ollie but couldn’t miss the label on the front: VALIUM.

Ollie mumbled a thanks, averted his eyes and slipped it back into his pocket. Then he reached down and pulled a bright new Hot Wheels bike from behind a desk. When he saw Louis looking at him, he smiled wanly.

“Grand kids.”

Louis nodded. “How many?”

Ollie pulled a bow from the drugstore bag and stuck it on the bike. “Three.”

“How old?” Louis asked.

“Five, three and two. This is for the two-year-old, Joshua.”

“Nice.”

“You got kids?”

Louis shook his head. “Need a wife first.”

Ollie looked at him blankly. “I guess that would help.”

Ollie picked up the paper bag and rose, going to the mailboxes on the wall. Louis watched as he reached in the bag and deposited little gifts, wrapped like candy kisses, in each officer’s mailbox. He came back and held one out to Louis.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

Louis hesitated then took the little package. “Hey, thanks, man,” he said, surprised.

Ollie nodded and moved back to his desk.

Louis unwrapped the gold foil paper. It was a rock. A pretty polished black rock with little white flecks, but still a rock. He looked up at Ollie, who was watching him.

“It’s a snowflake obsidian,” he said. When Louis didn’t reply, Ollie gave him a small smile. “You don’t believe in the power of crystals, do you?”

Louis shook his head. “Sorry.”

“The snowflake is the stone of purity. It balances the mind, body and spirit,” Ollie said. “It brings the wearer strength and protection.” He pulled a chain out of his shirt. “I’ve been wearing one for ten years.”

Louis rubbed the rock between his fingers. He watched, in mild amusement, as Ollie went about his routine of putting his desk items away for the night. He was about to stick a geode of lavender quartz in his drawer when Louis realized he had seen the same quartz in Stephanie Pryce’s home.

“Pryce had one of those,” he said.

Ollie looked up, holding the quartz. “Yes, I gave it to him. About a year or so ago.”

Odd, Louis thought, considering Pryce didn’t have friends in the department. “Christmas present?” he asked.

Ollie shook his head. “No. I thought it might help him.”

“With what?”

“With whatever was troubling him. Amethyst brings serenity, peace of mind, forgiveness.”

“You think Pryce was troubled?”

Ollie gave him a wry smile. “We all have demons, don’t we?”

Louis resisted the urge to say what he was thinking, that if the damn serenity crystal worked so well why was Ollie chucking down Valium?

Ollie gently placed the geode in the drawer, closed and locked it. He looked at Louis. “It’s all yours,” he said.

Louis nodded.

“Oops, forgot,” Ollie said. He opened the middle drawer, retrieved Louis’s reading glasses and placed them carefully on the pencil holder where Louis had left them hours ago. “I’m sorry I moved them,” Ollie said. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Louis walked over and picked up his glasses. “I thought Florence was the one who cleaned up my desk every night.”

“I’m something of a neat freak,” Ollie said, almost apologetically. “Hope you don’t mind me straightening your stuff. Pryce didn’t like it much.”

“Hey, knock yourself out, man.”

Louis went back to the desk where he had been working on the files. Jesse was hunched over, snoring lightly. Louis sat down and picked up another file. Moments later, he felt someone behind him and looked up to see Ollie.

“Lots of bad karma here,” Ollie said, nodding at the case files.

“But no murderers,” Louis said. “This town doesn’t seem to breed weirdos. Must be something in the water supply.”

Ollie smiled weakly.

“How long you been on the force, Ollie?” Louis asked.

“Twelve years,” Ollie replied. “Only eight years and forty-five days ‘til retirement. But who’s counting?”

“When’s the last time you had a homicide? Before Pryce and Lovejoy, I mean.”

Ollie’s wan face creased up in thought. “Ah, the Swope brothers…1973, no ’74. Got drunk and one stabbed the other.”

Louis shook his head, stacking a pile of folders. “But nobody pissed off at the local cops. Hard to believe.”

“Well, Jesse has had his run-ins. But I can’t think of anybody who would, I mean, to cause this kind of…retribution. It, this isn’t normal, it isn’t…” Ollie’s voice trailed off. He caught Louis’s eye and looked away. He went back to his desk.

Louis glanced at Jesse, envying his deep sleep. Man, he was tired. He was tired of thinking. His brain actually ached.

“Shit, this is nuts,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “We’re never going to find him this way.”

Ollie looked over. “Why not?”