Moving violation, p.6
Moving Violation, page 6
“Yes, sir,” I snapped back, my voice stiffening even before my body.
“Relax, Boston. It’s a new day,” he reminded me with a smile that was nearly charming. “Let’s make it a good one.”
I found myself smiling back. Why was it that when he acted nice I had an urge to let him pat me on the head and tell me I was a good girl? What was that? I wondered. Some kind of weird Oedipus complex brought on by my dad being the chief when I was a kid?
Feeling the hand fall from my shoulder after giving it a last squeeze, I turned back and made my way into the small meeting room. Everyone was already in their usual seats, and I could see that Eddie from Traffic Services had a large pad of work orders he wanted to go over. Rather than raise a stink about Jeffrey being missing, I decided to hunker down in my seat and catch a few winks. But I was foiled in this attempt by the chief himself when he stepped to the podium and changing the order of business.
Was this a sign of things to come? Was the new chief actually going to talk to us second-class types like we mattered? Maybe he had taken my request for briefings to heart.
“Good morning, everyone,” the chief began. “If you will please take your seats so that I can call the meeting to order. I’m sorry to have to change the agenda at the last second, but I have an important announcement to make. As you all know, Alfred Cook, our volunteer who played Officer Bill, passed away last week.” There were plenty of aw’s throughout the room. Alfred, a retired life insurance salesman, had been well liked. “Yes, I’m sure we’ll all miss him and we hope that most of you can make the memorial picnic at Court House Park on Tuesday. In the meantime, we’ve been trying to find a replacement for Mr. Cook and have only just today identified that special person.”
Sliding back up in my seat, I grew wary at the mention of Alfred’s replacement. He had been a kindly old man who had simply reached the limit of his days. Now I was eager to hear about the next old codger to replace him. It took a really dedicated person to play Officer Bill, and a lot of old people could be pretty grumpy around screaming kids.
“This time, rather than recruiting a volunteer from outside for the role, we’ve decided to promote from within, you might say.” Everyone looked shocked at this announcement and not terribly pleased. My mouth went dry and my blood ran cold. I was having a very strong hunch about who the unlucky replacement was, and it filled me with foreboding. Then he said it. “Officer Boston, would you please step forward?”
But I was glued to my chair. I willed my body to move but all my legs would do is shake. It was horror. It was disbelief. I was cursed.
Remaining seated, I tried to reestablish communications with my limbs and control my body, beginning with my bladder, which suddenly felt that it needed a trip to the ladies’ room.
“Officer Boston, would you please step forward?” the chief repeated a little more firmly, craning around the body in front of me so we made eye contact.
Spinning in my seat I got my legs into proper position on planet Earth and pushed off into outer space with my hands. Before I could float off into the air, gravity kicked in and held me to the floor. I tried not to think too much more as I walked stiffly to the podium. I could hear the snickers begin the moment my ass left the seat.
“Officer Boston,” the chief continued. “We have an important function this afternoon at which Officer Bill is needed. You, being the only one small enough to fit in the suit, or so I’m told, have been selected to play Officer Bill at this function and at all subsequent functions, until a suitable replacement in the community can be found.” He added the last part when he got a look at my face. “Congratulations, Officer Boston.”
The meeting room burst into spontaneous applause and catcalls at the announcement. I couldn’t speak in the face of the jeers; in fact, I think I’d gone partly blind as well as mute. The chief raised his hands to regain control but found that he ultimately needed to raise his voice to make his will known.
“Calm down everyone. I’m sure you’re as excited as I am regarding Officer Boston’s new responsibilities, and that you’ll make yourselves available after the meeting to congratulate her properly.” Was the man completely insane? “Anyway, that is all for now. I now pass the meeting over to the officer of the day, Officer Bradley.” He made it sound as if he was assigning hall monitors at the grammar school, and I found that I again hated him.
Cold anger, my old friend, at last arrived. Finally, I regained my ability to speak.
“Chief Wallace, may I have a few words with you, in private?” I asked crisply. Chief Wallace looked like he’d prefer to run away. “Right now,” I added for emphasis. The chief stood his ground, but at last his willpower deflated and he led me to his office.
“Have a seat, Officer Boston,” he said as he inched behind the safety of his desk and reached for what was undoubtedly a tepid cup of coffee.
“I’d prefer to remain standing,” I replied, assuming I’d fight better from higher ground. “Chief Wallace, how can you assign me to a position like this without my input and without first consulting me in private?”
“Look, Boston,” the chief said, releasing a long sigh that he terminated by blowing into his hand. “I admit that the announcement ended up being a bit awkward, but the fact remains that you are the only officer who fits in the suit and the decision is made for us, at least for now. Case closed.”
“What do you mean case closed? The case was never open in the first place,” I argued passionately. “Playing Officer Bill is not in my job description and you can’t make me do it. Case open!”
I was surprised at the brashness of my statement but happy with the effect it seemed to have on the chief. Steepling his fingers before his face, he looked like he was actually considering my point. Could it be that I had won the argument so easily? Nope. He rocked forward on his chair and slid a photograph across the desk for me to look at.
“Then there’s this to consider,” he said casually.
It was a picture of Blue sitting in my patrol vehicle, looking up at the camera with a smile. The sight took the wind out of my sails.
“So, we’re not going to be best friends,” I muttered, knowing he’d hear me.
“You do realize, Officer Boston, that it’s against agency regulations to bring a pet with you on patrol?”
I picked up the picture and smiled. I couldn’t help it. That’s what happened whenever I saw Blue’s face. I looked the chief in the eyes and could see that he was serious about his threat. So, two days in and we were already horse-trading.
“So, if I wear the suit I get to keep Blue with me?”
“That’s the deal.”
I paused for a bit to seem as if I was giving it some thought. In reality the decision required no thought at all. There was no way that I could leave Blue at home to live out her remaining days alone.
“So, what time and where?”
“Hope Falls Elementary School. Twelve noon. I’ll assign someone to deliver the suit since I know you don’t have room in your patrol vehicle.”
“I’ll be there,” I concluded.
“I thought you might,” Chief Wallace said with a smug smile that made me want to snatch up the stapler and affix Blue’s picture to his head.
I thought about mentioning Jeffrey’s absence, but changed my mind immediately. No way was I putting my friend on the chief’s radar. He might end up doing something worse than playing Officer Bill as punishment.
Leaving his office, I was still stomping with fury. I went out the front door like a gunslinger on his way to a shootout. For once, no one harassed me.
Had someone accidentally let slip about Blue going on patrol with me, or had the chief simply found out about her on his own? After all, he was supposed to be an investigator of a sort, and I wasn’t being really sneaky about hiding her. More likely it was Gordon getting back at me for the drug dealer phone call. He was enough of a fink to rat on me.
As I unplugged my vehicle and helped Blue into her place on the floor, I couldn’t stop worrying about Jeffrey’s absence and resenting this new assignment that would keep me away from what I really wanted to do, which was go by Jeffrey’s house and yell at him for over-sleeping. It didn’t take much persuasion to talk myself into the rationalization that I had been a good enough girl that morning and that now it was time to be a little bad in the service of a friend. I am my father’s daughter.
Swinging out of the parking lot, I turned in the direction of Jeffrey’s place instead of my usual route. What the hell. It should only take fifteen minutes or so to find out if Jeffrey was at home in bed nursing a hangover. Or with the mystery woman from Harley’s. I’d remind him to call into work with a case of diphtheria or something.
I followed Bush Road to the outskirts of town. That’s where you’ll find the Sleepy Time Motor Park. I had been there several times for gatherings with Jeffrey’s hockey buddies to drink and barbeque sausages out front. I waved as I passed Mrs. Smith, out with her garden hat and sheers attacking her sprawling roses, and pulled up in front of Jeffrey’s place. I parked as far off the one-lane path as I could, making sure Blue had shade. She wasn’t happy staying in the cart, since she likes Jeffrey, but she did as I asked.
I saw no movement in either the trailer or the surrounding park as I approached the tilted porch. The morning was warm and somnolent and even the bees seemed drowsy. As I got closer I noticed that Jeffrey’s front door was slightly ajar. Goose bumps rose on my skin and the peaceful silence suddenly seemed sinister.
Pushing the door open, I called Jeffrey’s name. But there was no answer. Great. Now what? I considered my options for a moment, then stepped inside leaving the door open behind me. Better to be embarrassed than to wonder all day if I had left my friend injured or ill.
The place wasn’t exactly trashed but it was obvious that someone had ransacked it in a hurried fashion. In the corner a broken lamp lay on the floor and a space heater was also overturned. This I unplugged since it could be dangerous. I could see no sign of Jeffrey on or behind the disarranged sofa so I continued deeper into the trailer, calling his name. When I made it to the bedroom I found that things were worse there. Someone had emptied many of the drawers onto the floor, perhaps in a frantic attempt to find something. The bed was unmade, blankets and sheets on the floor.
I almost wet myself when I felt something brush softly against my leg. Looking down I found that an old gray cat was weaving between my legs, looking up at me and meowing. My best guess was that the cat was looking for food. I found this odd since I didn’t know that Jeffrey had a cat. At least he never talked about having one at work, and I had never seen one in his home. There was something in Jeffrey’s demeanor that suggested he was more of a dog person. The fact that there were no cat bowls on the floor in the bathroom or in the kitchen also pointed to the fact that this cat was from elsewhere. Perhaps the open door had been too great a lure for the curious animal and he had followed me inside.
If I’d needed to stop myself from peeing at the touch of a cat, I needed to stop myself from doing something worse when a flashlight was switched on and pointed at my face.
“Freeze,” someone ordered, so I froze. “I’m with the Hope Falls Police Department. Stay where you are.” I stayed where I was. “Wait a second. Is that you, Boston?” The flashlight went out. It was clearly bright enough within the small trailer to see that the man standing in the doorway was Officer Lawrence Bryce. Lawrence was one of the older cops who liked my dad and tended to treat me well.
“Of course it’s me,” I responded casually considering I’d almost soiled myself twice. “Who were you expecting? Jack the Ripper?”
“That would be a nice change,” he said, playing along. “So, where’s Little?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Not here by the looks of things.”
“It looks like the place has been ransacked,” Bryce observed. “Boston, you didn’t do this, did you?”
“Why would you think that even for a second?” I asked, aghast. “I mean really! How stupid and mean do you think I am?”
“Hey, Bryce. What’s goin’ on in there?” I heard someone call from outside the trailer. I knew who it was even before his thick body filled the doorway.
“Boston?” Officer Gordon said in surprise and with a notable absence of warmth. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Bryce didn’t roll his eyes, but I knew he wanted to.
“Looking for Jeffrey, the same as you,” I replied curtly.
“Geez. By the looks of things you’ve been messing with the scene of a crime,” Gordon said, taking in the disheveled condition of the trailer.
“The place is exactly how I found it,” I said, throwing up my hands to demonstrate my lack of culpability. “That includes the open door being open. I didn’t touch the knob.” But Gordon had and I knew Bryce saw it. “And I didn’t know it was a crime scene.”
“You still don’t know it, but maybe you ought to get out of here while the getting’s good,” Bryce suggested. He meant that he knew I was on the clock and off my route.
“Yeah, scram, Boston. We don’t need you or want you,” Gordon contributed, squeezing by Bryce to enter the trailer.
Seeing nothing more that I could accomplish, but at the same time wishing that I could have gotten ahold of Jeffrey’s answering machine tape, I slipped past the two men and made my way to my patrol vehicle. As usual, Blue was all smiles and tail wags when I got there. Patting her on the head, I checked inside my fanny pack and sure enough I found the matchbook I’d transferred out of my purse that morning.
I hated to take the next step because it seemed so officious and just plain nosy, bugging some woman I’d never met. But Jeffrey was going to be in big trouble if he didn’t call in soon. Opening the cover, I found my own crabbed writing inside surrounding an entry made by someone else. The stranger had written a number without a name: 555-1574.
This was something I should share with my fellow officers if they were really investigating, but Gordon would just blow me off and might even throw the matchbook away. Screw him. Flipping my cell phone open, I dialed the number, then waited for a response. The phone rang three times. On the fourth, an answering machine picked up.
“You have reached the residence of Rupert Sellers. Please leave a message at the beep….”
Stunned, I snapped the cell phone closed and climbed back into my patrol vehicle to do my rounds. I’m afraid that my mind wasn’t on the job though. What the hell was Jeffrey doing with Rupert Sellers’ phone number? Surely he couldn’t be the hot date he had picked up at Harley’s. Jeffrey was straight—had been married and had a kid. No way would he have switched over to the other team at this late date. For that matter, the late Sellers was married too.
So what the heck was going on?
Understand, we haven’t had a major crime in Hope Falls in a decade. The last murder that didn’t involve a fed-up wife grabbing a pair of scissors and sticking them in her husband’s head had happened back in ’68 when a neurotic podiatrist gave his equally insane neighbor an illegal autopsy on the disputed property line between their houses. The act was illegal on many levels (in our town you can’t do an autopsy unless you are a trained pathologist) but mainly because the neighbor had still been alive when he started the operation.
The next biggest crime had been in ’94 when someone set fire to the Baptist church. There had been momentary fervor about a possible hate crime, but it didn’t last twenty minutes. Some idiot kid, the son of an elder, had been playing with matches and got a baptism by fire hose that tossed him into a wall. He got three cracked ribs and six months in a program for juvenile firebugs. Neither case had required much in the way of detective work.
If there was a real mystery to either of these newest crimes—possible crimes, I reminded myself—I had doubts that the force was up to the challenge of solving them.
* * *
I was halfway through the third lap of my assigned circuit when I pulled to a stop at Hope Falls Elementary School. I was in plenty of time for the noontime event and was able to find shade and water for Blue.
Unsure where I should go, I headed to the administrative office and found out that’s exactly where I needed to be. Security was tighter these days and everyone who stepped foot on campus was supposed to register at the office.
The moment I stepped through the door I was greeted by—you guessed it—Officer Lardhead Gordon who had brought the outfit I would wear. The plan, as he outlined it, was simple really. Gordon was to talk about safety while I ambled around in the suit doing hand gestures in support of his monologue. All I had to do was strip myself of all self-respect before I donned the new uniform and remember not to call Gordon “Lardhead.” Easy peasy.
“Hey, Boston. This is another gold star day for you. Must be your reward for yesterday,” Gordon said in greeting. “I don’t think the new chief likes you.”
“Stuff it, Gordon. Why aren’t you at Jeffrey’s? They send you away so you wouldn’t mess up any more fingerprints?”
“None of your business, Boston.” The voice was ugly.
“He’s a friend. Of course it’s my business,” I replied calmly. I then shook hands with a rather shocked principal who was probably hoping that we wouldn’t have any acrimonious exchanges in front of the children. Walking through the busy offices, I came to an awkward halt when I stepped into a back room and came face-to-face with Officer Bill. Had his head always been this large?
The Officer Bill outfit consists of two parts. The most obvious is a large, bulbous, smiling head wearing a policeman’s hat. The other part is a felt uniform that you step into and have Velcroed across your back. This part of the uniform included bulging felt shoes that belonged on a clown. I thought the whole outfit looked rather scruffy and gave Officer Bill a seedy appearance. It had obviously never been cleaned.
“Let’s go, Boston. It’s time to climb into the suit, chickie,” Gordon said with a sneer. Mrs. Smith was right; he was a sexist as well as a bully.
