Characters in Danny Coughlin’s Bad Dream

The room, equipped with audio-visual recording equipment, is crowded. In addition to Jalbert and Davis, there’s a tubby bald guy named Albert Heller and a suit-wearing beefcake named Vernon Ramsey. Heller is the Wilder County Attorney. Ramsey is a detective from Oklahoma City.

If he’d been shooting a larger caliber gun the bullets would have gone right through. But it was a .32.” “Kid,” he manages. “Albert Wicker,” Ball says. “Yvonne Wicker’s brother.” I knew that, Danny tries to say. “Fired three or four times, dropped the gun, walked right past me.

The next bullet goes through the open window and buzzes past Danny’s right ear. He sees the kid’s cheeks are wet with tears. He sees Althea Dumfries standing on the top step of her trailer—fanciest one in the park, Danny thinks, crazy what goes through your head when you’re shot.

Jalbert accepts that. Did Andrew Iverson kill two other girls, one in Illinois and the other in Missouri? He accepts that, too. Did Andrew Iverson have two of the charms from poor Miss Yvonne’s bracelet in his kill-sack? All right, say he did. And say Danny Coughlin put them there.

Just until the cops clear him of the Wicker thing, as of course they will. “But see, here’s the thing, Danny. Andy’s talking about going back to court and suing me... or whatever they call it... for custody of Darla Jean.

Davis goes to Oak Grove and starts knocking on doors, although not on Danny Coughlin’s; after their conversation at the Coffee Hut, she’s not ready to talk with him again. Becky Richardson is home but on her way out, telling Davis she has to do a favor for a friend.

Once you’re well enough to do it.” “Good to know,” Danny says. He has no intention of staying. Someone threw a brick at his trailer. Someone put shit in his mailbox. Bill Dumfries basically told him, on behalf of the good people of Oak Grove, to get out of Dodge.

“Are you going away?” “I have to. I don’t have a job and most people don’t want me here anymore.” “I want you! What if Ma decides she wants Bobby for a boyfriend again? He can’t fix the car if it busts!

To this he adds his service weapon. 64 At quarter of two in the morning, Charles Beeson, an orderly on the third floor of Regional Hospital, is playing Fruit Ninja on his phone. “Chuck? Chuck!” He turns and is startled to see Danny Coughlin limping toward him.

“Not from us,” she says. “We don’t talk about our cases until they’re made.” But Becky will, Danny thinks. And once she tells Cynthia Babson, it’ll go viral. “We’d like to have a peek at your phone,” Davis says. “Just a matter of routine. Would that be okay?”

I’m not investigating the Yvonne Wicker murder but I’ve seen the reports. Your readers might like to know the man who discovered the body is Daniel M. Coughlin. He’s a janitor at Wilder High School. He lives in the Oak Grove Trailer Park—” “I never printed the address,” Andersson says.

He opens his trailer door shortly after noon and stops on the top step. Darla Jean Richardson has set up her dollhouse on the asphalt in the shade of the Oak Grove office building. It’s a big one, damn near a mansion.

He decides the last time he got into the high-tension stuff was fishing with Deke Mathers. The two of them were so loaded they didn’t find their way out to Route 327 until it was almost dark, by then both of them badly hungover and promising never again, never again.

It occurs to him that you can be damn careless about covering your tracks—literally—if you haven’t committed a crime. Davis nods. “Also, a farmer named Delroy Ferguson saw a white truck parked in front of that gas station. Same day you made that call from Thompson.

In this context it no longer matters whether he killed her or not. Here in this room all that matters is you telling me you’re going to write an email to Don Tishman saying you need to take a leave of absence for personal reasons and you’re planning to retire.”

There’s a pinch. Darkness follows. 55 When it goes away he sees lights sliding by above him. It’s like a shot in a movie. A loudspeaker calls for Dr. Broder. Doctor Broder, stat, it says.

Heller takes the lead, covering the same ground that was covered at Danny’s last interview. They sit facing each other, with Edgar Ball on Danny’s side of the table and Ella Davis on Heller’s. Ramsey leans against the wall, face impassive. Jalbert stands in the corner with his arms crossed.

The cop steps forward, holding out his hand. “Daniel Coughlin? I’m Inspector Franklin Jalbert, Kansas Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Inspector Ella Davis.” Jalbert’s hand is hard and his grip is hot, almost as if he’s running a fever. Danny gives it a token shake and lets go.

“Thank you for coming.” Ball switches his attention to the man in the black coat. “I’m Eddie Ball, Counselor at Law. And you, sir, are—?” “Inspector Franklin Jalbert, Kansas Bureau of Investigation.” He’s gazing across the mostly deserted Manitou Main Street, seeming not to see Ball’s outstretched hand.

It’s of a Tracfone in a plastic bag, which has been tagged with the date it was discovered and the name of the officer—G.S. Laing, KBI Forensics—who found it. “Did you buy this phone at a Dollar General store on the Byfield Road in the town of Thompson?” Davis asks.

But sometimes you can’t turn off the machine. He swings his legs out of bed, grabs his phone, and calls George Gibson, who’s been heading the KBI forensics unit for the last seven years.

Ain’t Kansas borin enough?” “You’re sure?” “Posi-lute,” Margie says, then tells him she thinks Hal—her new guy—is going to pop the question pretty soon. Would he come to the wedding? Danny says he would. She asks if he’s taking care of himself, meaning is he still off the booze.

After 20, he takes two, one out from his chair and one back. He’s up to 800 pieces, almost done, when his phone rings. He looks at the screen and sees H. Allard. Hank Allard is a friend of his, a captain in the Kansas Highway Patrol.

“Not necessary. Frank Jalbert, isn’t it?” “Yes.” He holds out his hand. The trooper shakes it three times, just right for a handshake. “What’s your name, Trooper?” “Henry Calten, sir. Are you investigating the dead girl?” “Miss Yvonne, yes.” Jalbert shakes his head. “Poor Miss Yvonne.

“So you believe such things are possible.” Reggie considers this. “Well, I don’t think Ida is a liar, but I’d believe it more if she’d told me about that dream before Horst had his heart attack. And it’s not like he wasn’t asking for one, fat as he is.

Like a dream that came true. “Not me, but my friend Ida dreamed Horst was going to have a heart attack, and two weeks later he did.” “Really?” “Yes!” “So you believe such things are possible.” Reggie considers this.

They talk about Nederland, where Stevie goes hiking on the weekends. They talk about a dance Stevie went to with his friend Janet and how they kissed three times after it was over, while they were walking home.

The good one, Jesse Jackson, is just punching in when Danny enters the supply room. There’s no sign of the other one—who, in Danny’s opinion, isn’t worth a hill of beans. Hill, he thinks. Hilltop Texaco. “Where’s Pat?” Jesse shrugs. He’s a Black kid, tall and slim, moves well.

66 When Chuck the orderly brings Danny his phone, it’s five per cent charged. That should be enough. “Listen to me, Chuck. I want you to get the night nurses—Karen and the other one, the blond, I can’t remember her name—and go down to the second floor.” “What? Why?”

Jesse! Your company’s here!” The little boy says, “I’m Luke. Is that an iPad Mini?” “Yes,” Laurie says. “I got it for my birthday.” “Radical!” “My name is Laurie Rose Davis. I’m eight.” “Me too,” Luke says. “Want to go on the swing?” Laurie looks at Davis. “Can I, Mommy?”

“Hi. I’m Inspector Davis, here to see Jesse?” “He’s just in the house. Jesse! Your company’s here!” The little boy says, “I’m Luke. Is that an iPad Mini?” “Yes,” Laurie says. “I got it for my birthday.” “Radical!” “My name is Laurie Rose Davis. I’m eight.” “Me too,” Luke says.

He expected her to make a visit to his trailer, but she never did; just took off her Covid mask and left. “Where’s your mom?” “She hadda take Marielle’s shift at the diner. Marielle’s got impetigo.” DJ says the word very carefully, syllable by syllable.

“I don’t kn—” “Arrest WHO?” a little girl bugles. Her name is Mary or Megan, Ella can’t remember which. “Arrest WHO?” “Nobody,” Regina says. “Mind your beeswax, Marin.” “I don’t know, Reg. That’s above my pay grade.”

Davis ignores this. “Just to be clear, you went to Wichita to visit your ex-wife, Marjorie Coughlin, on the 11th of June?” “Eleven,” Jalbert says, then says it again, as if to be sure of it. “Margie, yeah. But she’s gone back to her birth name. Gervais.”

“Who was that?” her sister asks. “Was it your case?” “Yes.” One dish of ice cream has already been spilled. Mitzi, Regina’s beagle, gets on that right away. “It wasn’t him, was it?” Regina asks, whispering. “Coughlin?” Then: “Use your fork, Olivia!” “No,” Davis lies.

“He will be let go as well,” Eggers says. “When you lock up on Friday, the keys should be returned to the school principal, Mr. Coates. He lives right there in Manitou, I believe.” “Does Jesse also get paid for July and the first week of August?”

The passcode the kids use blocks anything resembling porn, also access to social media. With Mrs. Golden’s you can go anywhere, not that Danny is planning on visiting Pornhub. He opens Firefox and types in Hilltop Texaco.

She’s almost ready to be angry at him. Bullshit, you’re angry at him already. “True,” she says. “What, Mommy?” “Nothing, Lore.” Mrs. Jackson is hanging out clothes. A little boy who looks to be Laurie’s age is on a swing set nearby, singing that awful “Baby Shark” song.

We can call it protective custody. Just let me sweat him. I’ll break him down. He’s ready. I know it. Protective custody from who? That was Tishman, the Director in Charge. Neville, the Assistant Director, sat next to him nodding like a puppet. The killer?

One dish of ice cream has already been spilled. Mitzi, Regina’s beagle, gets on that right away. “It wasn’t him, was it?” Regina asks, whispering. “Coughlin?” Then: “Use your fork, Olivia!” “No,” Davis lies. “When are you going to arrest him?” “I don’t kn—” “Arrest WHO?” a little girl bugles.

Like they’re just lying around in Wilder County. She picks up a paper on her desk, studies it, puts it down. “I believe you had another boy, Patrick Grady. His parents have lodged a complaint. They called Mr. Coates and told him the boy quit because you threatened him.”

Police are not saying if she was murdered, either, but given this isolated location...” She shrugs, as if to say what else? “Back to you, Pete.” She’ll be identified soon enough, Danny thinks. The important thing is he hasn’t been ID’d. He is just “an anonymous tipster.”

“I’m not on the stand. You don’t get to cross-examine me. Since you have nothing substantive, I’m going to end this c—” “Does the name Peter Andersson mean anything to you? That’s Andersson with two esses.” “Why would it?” “He’s a writer for a freebie newspaper called Plains Truth.

One dish of ice cream has already been spilled. Mitzi, Regina’s beagle, gets on that right away. “It wasn’t him, was it?” Regina asks, whispering. “Coughlin?” Then: “Use your fork, Olivia!” “No,” Davis lies. “When are you going to arrest him?” “I don’t kn—” “Arrest WHO?” a little girl bugles.

“Not the Telescope. Plains Truth.” Danny pushes away his cereal bowl. “You mean that free handout? The one that’s full of coupons? I never bother with it.” “The very one. Sarah, my assistant, called me about it so I picked one up with my morning doughnut.

He immediately calls Stevie in Boulder. His brother answers as he always does, sounding like a recorded voicemail message. “You have reached Steven Albert Coughlin.” “Hi, Stevie, it’s—” “I know, I know,” Stevie says, laughing. “Danny-Danny-bo-banny, banana-fanna-fo-fanny. How you doin, brother-man?”

It was because of rumors about a crime I didn’t commit and haven’t been charged with. Tell the goddam truth.” Susan Eggers clearly isn’t used to being talked to this way. Her cheeks flush and a vertical line grooves her previously smooth forehead. “Do you really want to go there?

In addition to Jalbert and Davis, there’s a tubby bald guy named Albert Heller and a suit-wearing beefcake named Vernon Ramsey. Heller is the Wilder County Attorney. Ramsey is a detective from Oklahoma City. With six people crowded in, the feel is downright claustrophobic.

He hasn’t managed more than a few light dozes since finding out a wandering plumber named Andrew Iverson has been arrested for the murder of Yvonne Wicker and two others. Who is the bad guy in all of this? Frank Jalbert! And who is the loser in all of this?