Paranormal: The Hollystone Chronicles

Chapter 3

Gilbert hesitated, he fidgeted with the empty Styrofoam cup in his hand, the last few drops of coffee swirling around in the bottom. "Well, there's no easy way to put this." he paused for emphasis. "I think a witch or other magical entity is the culprit on all these witch murders." He looked up from the coffee cup to meet the Chief's gaze. She had an eyebrow raised. "Is that all?" She asked incredulously, her gaze on Gilbert unwavering. "I... uh yes?" Gilbert replied, hopeful that his answer would be acceptable. 

"I see." the chief sighed, and flexed her fingers, still keeping her hands crossed. "Gilbert... I understand you probably have a good reason for that thought. But there is not enough evidence to suggest such. And while your hunches like this have proven effective in previous cases, this case effects the whole of Salem." She paused, her body language giving away that she was thinking of how to phrase her next thought. 

"Mother please, all the evidence points toward it. The Cromwell house wasn't broken into at all. The wards were still in place. And last week, Gail Bluebonnet's apartment? Same deal, nothing broken, wards in place. All of the other murders fit the same pattern, a witch was working with us on something, winds up dead at home, with no signs of anything being amiss." Gilbert replied quickly, using his mother's pause to get a word in edgewise. 

"Gilbert!" The Chief yelled. "There could be a million and one reasons why those killings could be similar. You know the old witch families do this from time to time. Send in some assassin to kill off a witch or two here and there to tie up loose ends or eliminate a rival. This strikes me as nothing out of the ordinary." The Chief wasn't going to back down on this, Gilbert knew that, but he pressed his luck anyways. 

"This isn't one or two witches. This is several in 4 months. This is a pattern. You taught me detective work basics. Surely you can see that." Gilbert started.

"That's enough Mr. Hollystone." The Chief roared at him. "I will discuss this matter no further today. Attempting to argue your point further will be taken as insubordination, and I will take you off this case in the event that happens. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am. Crystal clear." Gilbert responded weakly. "I'll be at my desk ma'am." He said, standing and turning to leave. The Chief spoke as his hand touched the door knob.

"Gilbert, I understand your desire to see this mess resolved. Truly I do. But a silly notion such as a serial killer, with no concrete proof for such a theory, has me seriously concerned for your mental well being. Take the rest of the day off. I am aware the amount of hours you've been putting in lately, you need to take a break." She finished with a deep exhale. 

"Sure thing." Gilbert said, opening the door and exiting her office. He returned to his desk, tossing the cup into his waste bin, his hand was shaking, and the cup he'd balled up nearly missed, but circled the rim and fell in at the last second. He sat down at his desk and sighed. Was he too overworked? Maybe a break would do him good. He packed his things, shut off his workstation, and headed for the door. He had made a mental plan, he'd drop his bag and jacket at home, and then go out and piddle around town until noon, Babs's opened at noon, he'd inquire for more info there, and maybe follow up on a lead or two if they materialized. If not, he'd head home to rest as ordered. 

A few hours, and a trip by the bank later Gilbert was walking into Babs's Bar and Grill, he gave Carl, the bouncer a high five on his way in. Carl however was a troll, and Gilbert's hand was stinging as he took a seat at the bar.  He crossed his arms and leaned on the counter, waiting to be served. 

"Oh hey Gil. You want the usual?" The squeaky voice of the bar's owner came out from behind the bar. The noise of furniture being slid across the floor was heard, and a few seconds later, Babs's round gnome face was in Gilbert's view. He nodded affirmatively. "Okie dokie smokey. Comin' right up!" the little woman replied enthusiastically. A minute later a glass slid across the bar top into Gilbert's hand. He picked the glass up and took a sip. He frowned. "Jim Beam Babs? Really?" He said, turning his stare to the gnomish woman. She chuckled in response.