When I first arrived in Clearview it was like something from a dream, somebody else’s dream.
It makes sense to introduce you right at the very start, I suppose. But I defy anyone to work out quite where this strange and offbeat affair actually begins. That is why the modest township of Clearview, serving as the all-seeing backdrop to this tale of tragic undertaking, ought to act as an adequate starting point as any.
On paper, Clearview was no different to most other backwater communities looking to waltz through life at the pace of a tired old pensioner. It served as everything you would likely expect from a quiet rural getaway; a place with nothing much to say, and nothing much to show for itself. Surrounded by an ancient green woodland on all four quarters of the longstanding principality, the town sat just south of the Big City, with those bustling monoliths and lofty skyscrapers twinkling ever-present on the horizon.
I wondered how Coburn must have felt when he arrived here. The day his tall, slim frame first cast its shadow on the all-seeing tiles of the town. Perhaps he was just another lonely sufferer like the rest of us, compelled to leave behind his former life for a totally new endeavour. The Big City could be a cruel mistress after all. All those discerning voices and self-serving opinions. All those demonising glances greeting him at every turn. Who could really blame the guy for wanting to throw in the towel and call it a day?
It would be enough to drive anybody insane…
...isn't that right?
*
“Wake up, Lucky. If that really is your name…”
“…”
“I said wake up, Lucky!”
The depressing state of this sorry town would seemingly amount to very little, when confronted by the non-negotiable tones of the hard-nosed Officer Dirkdale. I was encountering a voice that belonged to the designated Head of Police Operations here in Clearview. And it was a voice that certainly meant business. No doubt about that.
“Come on now, that’s an expensive chair Lucky. Lift your head up will ya!?”
There it was again. But what was going on? I took a moment to recall what exactly had taken place the previous evening. I remembered how they had dragged me out of Crosby’s Bar in the middle of the night. They had seized me midway through my conversation with Coburn’s sister, in-fact. A conversation that was just about getting somewhere....
In the end, the boys in blue hailed my ride home for the night. It was the kind that sped through town with flashing blue sirens fastened on the roof. The cops then proceeded to fix me up a spot down in the dingy dungeons of the Clearview Town Police Precinct. I slept on a mattress made of concrete and stone...alone, with an in-house toilet planted right next to my face, and a trio of angry drunks arguing with one another in the neighbouring cells.
It was a hazy ordeal. A real confused affair. The cuff-marks were still imprinted across my wrists by the time I awoke the following morning. Along with the considerablex figure of Clearview’s very own Officer Dirkdale bearing down on me from the interior of his office.
“Sorry…” I spoke, spluttering back into life.
“…you were dozing off again there. Bad night’s sleep was it?”
“You could say that…” I told him, recalling the cold floor of the holding cell, “…still, I’ve had worse.”
“Oh you have, have you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well then…” Dirkdale spoke again, meeting my gaze for the very first time, “…I’m gonna have to tell Officer Powell not to take it so easy on you next time, aren’t I?”
It felt like a threat. It probably was a threat...
“So that’s what you call him…” I began suddenly, “…the tall greaseball who arrested me?”
“His name is Officer Powell, yes. Damn fine police officer too.”
I waited for Dirkdale to take his last gulp of coffee before responding.
“…well, he’s a piece of shit if you ask me.”
The man in the big blue uniform simply smiled and took up a seat in his chair. Dirkdale was your classic law enforcement kind of guy, possessing mousy blonde hair, porky features, and mounting sweat patches poorly hidden beneath his arms and back. When he spoke his face trembled. And when he moved, his towering frame shook most of the room around him. For you see, Officer Dirkdale exuded a mighty presence that could not be understated. A presence that served to remind me that this was his home turf...
...and not mine.
We were conducting our not-so mild-mannered conversation within the upper-basement of the precinct. The flight of stairs behind us told me that, as did the small hatch window looking out onto street level from the very top of the ceiling. There was little else to lay my eyes upon among the four dull walls riddled with damp stains, in truth. Except for perhaps the small custom name plate perched on the edge of Drikdale's desk, reading; ‘Head of Police Operations’.
“Just who the hell do you think you are, Dirkdale?” I uttered abruptly, “…cocksure police officers...waltzing in wherever they please...arresting upstanding folk on mere whims and accusations…really? Is that what you’re all about down here!?”
The officer allowed me to finish my rant uninterrupted.
“…I’m going to need two things from you right now….” I continued, “…a lawyer, first, just so this whole thing is perfectly legal and all above board, and secondly…get me some pen and paper will you, Dirkdale? I’ll need that to write down all the ways I’m going to sue this police-force for its corrupt…debased…and downright crooked interpretation of what constitutes good legal practice!”
“Sit down will ya Lucky…”
“…a lawyer, a pen and some paper. That’s all I want.”
“That’s technically three things…”
“Doesn’t matter…” I bemoaned in the face of the smug police chief, “…you don’t have a shred of evidence on me right now! Tell me, in all your years of wisdom running rule in this town, what’s to stop me from walking out of this door right now, and telling all the local press officers what you guys are up to down here, eh?”
Dirkdale lent forward with his arms crossed.
“I’m sorry Lucky…” he began, “…there I said it. You were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Call it a case of…mistaken identity.”
“You can’t be serious!?”
“Besides…” the police chief proceeded, plainly ignoring my question, “…you never can be too careful these days. Not with everything that’s been going on recently…”
Around the office I noticed several framed images of the esteemed police officer and his equally smug-faced colleagues. There were photos of Officer Dirkdale on patrol. One of him receiving an award from someone rather official looking. And even a few of his very best fishing catches, all sported proudly across the mantel. I never did see any sign of a family among them, however...
...or that of a loving partner for that matter.
“Like I said…” Dirkdale posed, shaking his head and returning to the topic at hand, “…we have to be careful right now. That’s why you were brought in last night, Lucky. We heard whispers of someone new in town, asking strange questions wherever he went…”
“Well, that would be me. I’m working here as a private investigator.”
“Are you now…?” spoke Dirkdale with suspicion.
“Yes. Yes I am.”
“…well isn’t that something?”
“I guess so yes, I suppose it is something…
Officer Dirkdale moved closer, standing directly above the desk like some fired-up school principal awaiting their next buzz. His relatively relaxed guise had now been replaced with something far more forceful in nature…
“Let’s get one thing straight, detective…” he proceeded with authority, “…this isn’t the Big City, do you understand!? You may think you’re some kind of special hot-shot just because you’ve shown up here in Clearview. You probably think us lowly townies are nothing but overpaid beer-drinkers with our heads all buried in the sand! But you’d be wrong, oh yes...
...you’d be dead wrong detective.”
He calmed down slightly, sitting back in his chair for the second time.
“In any case…” the police chief motioned, “…if you wish to take your complaint any further, you are fresh out of luck, pal. None of your city-slicker buddies from the Big City have any jurisdiction with us. Here in Clearview, I am judge, jury, and…”
“…and executioner?”
“That’s right Lucky…” he spoke slowly, “…I want you to remember that.”
There was an unmistakable air of tension between us. So much so, that for the next few minutes, not another word was spoken in the room. The pause was a welcome one on my end. It gave me some much-needed time to reflect…
Although Dirkdale liked to throw his weight around, and bark in the faces of others when the laws of logic and due process ceased to go his way…this was a person not to be feared. In-fact, it was fear itself that was most likely governing the police chief in that very moment. Dirkdale was under a great deal of stress, clearly. And here I was, another pair of eyes sent in to witness everything that had gone wrong in this town...
...or perhaps I should say his town, as he would have no doubt liked to call it.
“So this was a warning, was it?” I countered confidently, as soon as the moment felt right, “…this whole schtick of you arresting me in the bar last night, getting your officers to put their grubby paws all over me…you’re trying to remind me who’s boss around here?”
Dirkdale raised an eyebrow and scowled, “…why don’t we just cut to the chase already. I know why you’re here, and you know why you’re here. So let’s just stop playing these silly little games…shall we?”
“Go on then Dirkdale…” I told him, “…what is an honest, upstanding private investigator like myself doing here in Clearview?”
“Well, that depends. We’ve had some strange rumours going around town recently. Some strange rumours indeed…”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah…” spoke Dirkdale, cautiously, “…that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
I looked the officer dead in the eye, with a certain kind of certainty that does not come around all too often. Dirkdale responded by seizing a local newspaper on his desk and hastily covering the front-page story with his coffee mug, prompting me to talk.
“I came here to find out what happened to the actor who went missing from this town…” I conceded, finally.
“…”
“…the actor, by the name of Clarke Coburn.”
That had taken Dirkdale by surprise.
The so-called Head of Police Operations observed me up and down with squinted eyes, scrutinising the skinny private investigator naively perched at the other end of the desk. He was looking for any subtle sign of foul play. Any little chink in my armour. Anything to suggest, even in the most minuscule or seemingly insignificant of ways...
...that I was up to no good.
“Coburn you say…?” he spoke somewhat curiously.
“Yes. Clarke Coburn, the actor who…”
Dirkdale scoffed abruptly, “…if you came here to find Coburn, detective, you’re about three months too late!”
“Well…” I continued, “…this whole case seems wide open to me. I want to go through it all again, piece by piece. With your help, and the help of the Clearview Police Department…I think we can find out what really happened to the missing performer…”
“I’ll tell you exactly what happened to Coburn…” he posed rather bluntly,“…that man is gone, far gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s outta here! What more is there to say?”
There was more to say, a lot more. Dirkdale would go on to reveal how his local police force searched high and low for the runaway actor; a man who had seemingly led a pretty nondescript life whilst living in Clearview. According to the proud police chief, Coburn hardly showed his face even at the best of times. He was a forgotten man apparently, living in a forgotten town. And Dirkdale seemed to think he liked it that way.
“What the actor does and where the actor goes, well that’s his business…” declared Dirkdale, “…if I went after every local drunk or runaway downer who went missing ‘round here, this town wouldn’t cope! Why should it be any different for Coburn?”
“But you did look for him, didn’t you?”
“Of course we did! What do you city-slickers take us for down here!?” the police chief snarled, “…we looked for him alright, we carried out our investigations in the same way we do for any other missing persons case. My team has carried out their work admirably, detective. You ought to remember who you’re talking to…”
“And the sister? Coburn’s sister. You spoke to her too, right?”
“Listen…” Dirkdale growled, “…I’ve spoken to the sister, personally. I’ve spoken to anybody who as much as looked at the guy whilst he was here in Clearview! There’s nothing to give, detective.”
“And you’re sure?”
“Positive.”
After weeks of probing, inquiring and investigating all the leads that were supposedly left open to them, the Clearview Police Department declared the actor’s disappearance an abiding act of free will. One no longer worthy of wasting the town’s time or resources on with so many other pressing matters to fulfil, such patrolling the same old dusty streets by day, and breaking up local bar fights at night. I found myself crossing one leg over the other, and then back the other way again, not knowing where next to take things.
“Tell you what…” Dirkdale spoke suddenly, taking to his feet for the final time, “…you know what I'm gonna do? I’m gonna throw you a bone.”
“…a bone?”
“That’s right, detective.”
What came next was totally unexpected, even for his standards. I watched Dirkdale shuffle his way past my chair and proceed towards the stairs. Several creaky strides later he was gone, leaving me alone in his office without further explanation.
In the meantime, several noises began emanating from the upper floor. The receptionist would have likely been opening up the counter by then, like a stop-in-shop for lowly convicts on the wrong end of the law. All the office pencil-pushers were probably filing away their daily paperwork. And soon, the local beat cops would surely be on their way back to base, ready to report their findings in the morning log after another all-nighter out with the boys.
But just as the claustrophobic setting of Dirkdale’s damp-stained office was starting to get the better of me, the no-nonsense police chief would soon re-emerged at the top of the stairs with a brand-new face presented by his side...
“Lucky, meet Mrs Diedrich here.”
“…Mrs who!?”
“Mrs Diedrich…” he confirmed, “…good ol' Mrs Diedrich. She will be joining you this morning…”
Dirkdale had procured not another working police officer from the floor above, as one would have perhaps anticipated. Neither had he sourced a young office intern or one of his off-duty veterans to aid with the investigation. No. The so-called ‘bone’ that Dirkdale had promised to throw my way, eventually came in the form of a quiet old lady. A tiny little woman who appeared as if she could have very well keeled over at any given second…
“I need you to drive Mrs Diedrich back to her room at Hotel Rouge today Lucky, she was reported missing over twenty-four hours ago…” the police chief instructed, “…she’s the reason I wasn’t here to deal with you last night, I'm afraid. We spent the whole evening looking for her…”
The miniature old lady said nothing, peering back at us beneath her violet head-scarf with a set of steely eyes and a silent glare. She was incredibly small in stature, like a circus performer, only with less make-up and brightly coloured latex on show.
The fact that she did not speak, however, was both eerie...
...and I dare say slightly concerning.
“Does this mean I'm no longer under arrest, then?” I began.
The police chief merely nodded his head.
“…what is this Dirkdale? You scratch my back, I scratch yours?”
He laughed openly this time, “…no Lucky, you’re free to go. Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re to take Mrs Diedrich back to Hotel Rouge.”
“And what’s so special about Hotel Rouge?”
Dirkdale subsequently peered back at me with another wretched smile, “…you are here to find out about Coburn’s disappearance, are you not?”
I nodded, “…that’s correct, yes.”
“Well then, surely you don’t need me to tell you the significance of Hotel Rouge…do you detective?”
“Try me…”
“Hotel Rouge…” spoke Dirkdale slowly, enjoying every second of this latest self-conceived power-trip, “…aside from being a lovely little spot to spend your summer here in Clearview, goes down as Clarke Coburn’s last known place of residence before he disappeared…”
“In other words…?”
“In other words Lucky…” he spoke again, watching me take to my feet and begin doing up the buttons on my coat, “…Coburn is gone, gone on his own accord if you want my opinion…but if you’re going to start your investigation somewhere, start it there…at Hotel Rouge.”
That was it, as far as Dirkdale was concerned.
Our opening meet-and-greet had already reached its natural conclusion, culminating in the local police chief slumping back in his chair and lighting up a cigarette. He observed Mrs Diedrich and I as we slowly ascended the staircase, lifting his empty coffee mug from atop the local newspaper before flipping the front-page headline back upon its face.
If I had taken the time to look more closely, to assess the finer details of Officer Dirkdale’s behaviour in just a little more detail, perhaps I would have noticed what the Clearview chief of police was so desperate to hide.…
“Oh and Lucky…” the police chief called out one last time.
“Yes…?” he heard me answer, with the silent Mrs Diedrich now safely under my wing.
“…you’ll do well to remember whose town this is, won’t you?”
I nodded and headed for the door. After all he had put me through so far...
...how could I forget?
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