5.
Dylan.
~ "That guy was a dick." Norma said irritably cutting up vegetables.
"What guy? Romero?" Dylan asked watching his mother butcher carrots and potatoes as if they'd insulted her. The large kitchen knife making a sharp slapping sound as she chopped away on the cutting board.
"No. Not him." She said throwing her son an annoyed look. "That Lee... what's his name, the counsel guy. He told me the city is putting a ramp by this other motel in town and there isn't anything they can do." She waved the large kitchen knife at Dylan who leaned away from her. His mother could be very intimidating at times and it didn't help when she had a weapon in her hand.
"He even said we can't sue because we should have known better." She told him. "Where's your brother?"
Dylan nodded upstairs.
"Doing his homework, I guess." He said. He thought it was best not to mention the pretty blonde girl who'd come by the house early last night to see if Norman was home. It was enough she was finally giving him more freedom and Dylan didn't want to spoil it for him. If he kept Norma distracted with the motel and running it, she'd be too busy to even think about Norman.
That was a good thing. Let Norman run a little wild and chase pretty girls. The less Norma knew about it, the better.
"Well, so what do you wanna do?" Dylan asked. "We can try to sell."
"I don't want to sell." Norma said in a cranky voice. "We got this whole place at a steal. We have no mortgage and if we fix everything up..." she looked angry again.
"I know." Dylan said.
"I wanted to have a good business." she said softly. "Something for you and Norman to inherit after I'm gone. Something easy."
"This might not be a terrible thing." Dylan said. "We have plenty of notice and we don't know what the on season is like here. We can take the overflow from the town's only motel. Let's go out there tomorrow and have a look around. Who knows? Maybe it's a dump. Then people will come to us. We can be the nice motel."
Norma still looked heartbroken.
"I wanted to build extra cabins and eventually have a pool." She told him.
"No body wants a pool this far up north." Dylan told her.
Norma slowed her chopping. He knew exactly what she was thinking. She always thought like this when things got too hard. She was quick to want to move and just start over. Never mind the toll it took on her sons.
"It's not fair to make Norman move again." Dylan pointed out. "He's just now getting settled into school. After we fix up the motel, I can get a job if business is slow."
"I need you here." Norma said fitfully.
"I'll still be here." Dylan promised easily. "I'll be here to toss out the riff-raff. Let's just see where we are with the town. Like I said."
His mother looked annoyed but nodded.
"Did you do your laundry?" She asked suddenly changing the subject.
Dylan rolled his eyes.
"You left it in a big pile on the floor. Didn't you?" She accused in a sour voice. "No woman is going to ever want to marry you if you don't learn to wash your own clothes."
They were interrupted by the door bell ringing. That old fashioned ding-dong that had a lonely echo through the house.
"Who the hell is that?" Dylan asked.
"Don't swear." Norma scolded and swiftly marched past him to the front door.
"Mom, stop. I'll get it." Dylan chastised. "What if it's that guy again? That creep Romero arrested."
"He's still in jail." Norma argued.
"One of his buddies then. Let me get the door." He said shoving her out of the way just as she gave him a hard pinch to the arm.
Their visitor wasn't Keith Summers or one of his friends come to enact an unseemly revenge. Instead it was a small, teenage girl who carried oxygen on a small dolly.
"Is Norman here?" She asked sweetly as Norman and Dylan stared at her. "I'm Emma Decody. I'm doing a project with him for class."
Norma.
~ "You think she has to wear that thing when they make out?" Dylan hissed in her ear.
Norman and his new friend were happily cloistered in the dinning room. The pair of them giggling and talking about whatever this project was. Norma was about to bring out snacks and pink lemonade for them. It had always been hard for Norman to make friends and suddenly now, he was doing it so effortlessly.
"Shh." Norma hissed at him to be quite.
"First a blonde and now a brunette." Dylan mused helping himself to one of the sandwiches she'd fixed. "All the girls are coming for him in this town."
"What blonde?" Norma asked casting a suspicious eye on this Emma girl. She looked nice enough. Simple clothing that wasn't overly stylish but practical for the weather. She looked like a good match for Norman, except for whatever was wrong with her. Something had to be wrong with her or else she wouldn't need the oxygen like that. Was she dying? Would they have allowed her back in school if she was? Was it some kind of cancer? Norma wasn't sure she wanted Norman getting attached to a girl who was dying. He so seldom came out of his shell, although he'd been a lot more outgoing since Sam died.
'Sam.'
Dylan had been unusually quite.
"What blonde?" She asked whirling around to scold her oldest. Dylan looked confused. His eyes going wide and innocent.
"What do you mean?" He asked.
"You said first a blonde and now a brunette." Norma reminded him in a whisper. "What blonde, Dylan?"
Romero.
~ Keith Summers was always a bad 'houseguest'. That was how the drunks in the drunk tanks were referred to. 'Houseguests'. White Pine Bay was too progressive to punish anyone with an arrest for public intoxication. Especially not when the wealthy people moved in in the late 90's. No. To avoid an arrest record and embarrassment, it was better for everyone that a harmless person, who's only crime was public intoxication, was kept overnight as a 'houseguest' of the Sheriff's department. Give a clean bed, kept out of trouble and the wife called to say he was safe and would stay overnight in the comfortable accommodations offered by the county.
Most people were perfectly respectful 'houseguests'. They were embarrassed by their stay and were quick to leave in the morning before anyone found out. It was a policy that worked well. Except for repeat offenders like Keith Summers. The Sheriff's office had long ago given up any delicacy with Summers. His arrest record was so legendary now he might as well have an entire wing of the drunk tank named after him. He was more trouble than he was worth and Keith Summers was as worthless as they came.
He would purposefully piss outside of the toilet, scream himself to exhaustion, fight with others 'houseguests' and once even stripped naked just to scare his cell mate. Hence, Romero ordered him in solitary as soon as he was brought in.
It was customary, protocol, for suicide watch for overnight stays. White Pine Bay had never had a suicide in the jail cells as far back as anyone could remember. Still, leave it to Keith Summers to inconvenience everyone on his way out the door one last time.
~ Alex sucked in his breath at the smell. Keith Summers was hanging by his belt from the bars of his isolated cell. His eyes bulged out. His lips blue and his skin already gray.
"The coroner is on his way." Deputy Jenkins said softly. "He has to legally declare him dead."
"He had his belt." Alex said numbly. He recognized the belt Keith Summers had done himself in with. He'd been in the same shop class as Keith all those years ago. They had learned to make leather belts for Father's Day. Romero must have seen that belt a dozen times when Keith was being taken in and then released. They always took a belt in case such a thing might happen. People do terrible things if they feel their lives are over.
Alex wondered vaguely if old Mr. Summers had ever worn that belt. If he'd treasured it until he passed away and that was why Keith Summers kept it on him at all times.
"He had his belt." Romero said coldly. "Who- who checked him in and didn't confiscate his belt?"
He could feel his voice stammer slightly.
"You know who, Sheriff." Jenkins said.
Alex could feel his head spinning. He was going to have to go before a judge now. Answer at an inquest as to why and how a prisoner died in his custody. It would forever be a black mark on his record. Not to mention the call he would have to make to Maggie; Keith's sister and only living relative.
"Did anyone call Maggie?" Alex demanded. His breathing coming short.
"No, Sheriff. I know you grew up with them. Thought you would want to do it." Jenkins said.
"Fine." Alex nodded. "Tell the coroner to take him to Harris funeral home... um... after. They owe me a favor and will do everything at cost. I don't think Maggie can afford this right now."
"Lewis is next on the rotation of funeral homes." Jenkins said.
"Just do it." Alex barked. "I will call Maggie and tell her. When is Shelby due in?"
"In about an hour." Jenkins said.
"Send him to me. Don't tell him what's happened. Call Judge Wesley and tell him to come for a statement. I want this all done today." Alex said feeling sick as he marched out of the cell block.
~ "Oh." Was all Maggie said when Alex phoned her and told her how very sorry he was. How sorry he was to tell her Keith had passed away and it looked like suicide.
"Oh." She said again. "He's... he'd been having trouble lately. The house being foreclosed on. Sold."
"I know." Alex said gently. He remembered Maggie Summers as she'd been in high school. A quite girl who no one would be friends with. She wore sweatshirts her mother bought for her at goodwill with large glittery cats on them. She wore those sweatshirts still. She always looked slightly disheveled and messy in appearance. The only thing that was ever neat and clean about her was her penmanship. Maggie Summers always had the neatest penmanship. All the teachers said so as they scolded everyone else in class, including Alex, about how sloppily they would write things.
"We had to arrest him last night, Maggie." Alex explained. "He was harassing the new owner of the motel. Coming onto the property at night to bother them."
"Keith and I haven't talked in some time. He wanted money from me a few months ago." Maggie said with a shaky voice. "Some kind of... I don't know, deal he had going. You know how he was. He always had 'deals' in the works. Said he needed the motel and... that... I don't know."
"I'm so sorry, Maggie." Alex said.
"How did he do it?" She asked.
"Don't think about that." Alex said remembering his training. "Don't focus on that. I'm having him shipped to Harris' after the autopsy and they will do the funeral at cost."
"I don't want a funeral." Maggie said numbly. "Who would show up?"
"I would." Alex said quickly. There had been a time when he and Keith had been friends. A lifetime ago now.
"No." Maggie said. Her voice shaking. "Thank you, Alex, but I just want to get him buried and... move on. You know how hard he made things for me since mom died."
Alex knew. He knew once Mrs. Summers went into the ground, Keith had control of the motel and ran it like a frat house. The old family house and motel were mortgaged and then foreclosed on decades after they had been bought and paid for. In just a few years, Keith Summers had gone from relative financial security to having nothing.
"I'm sorry, Maggie." He said again.
He heard the phone click off just as Judge Wesley let himself into his office.
"Catch you at a bad time, Alex?" Wesley asked coldly.
"Coffee's fresh. I just made it." Alex grumbled putting the receiver back in the phone cradle.
"Jenkins told me what happened. We all knew Keith Summers would end this way. Let's just be thankful he wasn't driving drunk and didn't kill someone while killing himself.
"Deputy Shelby didn't check his belt." Alex said coldly. His mind was still on Maggie Summers. He should have been a better friend to her. He had years to be kinder to her, but never reached out.
"Well, that's not good." Judge Wesley said bitterly. "Shelby is young. He can find another job."
Alex spotted Norma Bates' paperwork from this morning. The large loopy swirls were distinctly feminine. Why did women write so differently than men? Maggie Summers with her impeccable penmanship. Norma Bates with her girlish swirls. The whole thing irritated him now.
"I had Keith Summers arrested for trespassing last night." Alex explained. "He was up at the family's old motel. Had threatened the new owner's sons a few days before."
"Shelby brought him in?" the judge asked. Wesley could care less about Keith Summers, Shelby, Norma Bates or Alex. He wanted to just dot the i's and cross the t's and move on.
"Yes. I stayed behind at the motel with the new owner. Did a walk through. See if there was damage." Alex explained.
"This new owner of Summers old place, he press charges?" Wesley asked looking at his now empty coffee mug.
"She did." Alex said handing him the forms Norma Bates filled out. "Was planning to file a restraining order. Then this happened."
"Well, sounds like you did everything right. Shelby is the fuck up." Wesley said. "It happens. You have is discharge papers?"
Alex's phone rang sharply. The front desk.
"Yes." He grumbled into the mouth piece.
"Shelby is here." Regina said from her desk out front.
"Send him in." Alex said.
"Let's get this over with." Wesley said. That same tone of unfeeling he'd always had was ever present. It's what made him a good judge. Not caring what happened to anyone or about anyone. "I've got to pick up my grandkids after school."