by Ted Wood
“Used to be.” Fred smiled at her, making the girl beam. “Right now I'm married to this handsome fellow, and he's going to be a policeman in town.”
That shut the girl down. “Oh,” she said and gave me a hard look.
She left and Fred frowned at me. “Looks like the cops are not the flavor of the month in this place.”
“That's why we're here,” I said. “Can you hang tough? It'll probably mean you don't make any friends here. But I'll try to get it all done as quickly as I can.”
“I played rep in a small town for three whole months once,” she said. “I can handle isolation.”
I patted her hand and said, “Okay, now I've got to go and see if I can get aboard. If they turn me down I promise we'll be out of town by noon.”
“Good luck.” She stood up and kissed me lightly. “I'll go for a walk and check the town out. See you back here.”
“I'll leave Sam with you. I don't want these guys to think he's my security blanket.” I signed the back of the bill for breakfast and went out to apply for work.
There was a civilian clerk at the desk when I got there, a sharp-featured woman who looked as if she'd come with the furniture in 1949. “Yes?” she asked, without coming to the counter.
“Good morning, my name's Reid Bennett. I have an appointment to see Chief Harding.”
“Wait there.” She got up and clicked down the corridor to the back of the station. Then she came back and unflapped the countertop. “Back there. No smoking,” she said.
I bobbed my head at her, the anxious job applicant currying favor, and walked through to the chief's office.
He was a lean man in his fifties, dressed in a tunic with two stars on the shoulders. He was reading something on his desk, and I had time to check the office before he looked up. A shelf of law books, a couple of photographs of the entire force, one with a ‘56 Chev behind them, three men, the other with three cruisers in the background and five men in front of them, him in the middle. There were also three pistol shooting trophies.
He looked up at last. “Bennett?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Sit down.” He waved to the chair opposite to him and I sat down, saying nothing.
He stared at me for almost a minute. Then he said, “Why do you want to work up here?”
“I'm sick of the place I'm in,” I said. “The pay is lousy and I don't get any respect. I've had some pretty big cases, dangerous, some of them, but instead of being pleased when I cracked them, the reeve gives me a hard time for being violent.”
He didn't answer, so I pushed on, trying harder. “Sure, I'm the chief, but I can't get any more advancement. I'd do better for myself and my family starting as a constable with your department.”
It was all close enough to the truth that I could say it without embarrassment.
He listened and then said, “I was intrigued by your background, Bennett. This is a tough town, a mining town. The people are good people, but they don't respect the law and making them understand it can be difficult.”
I waited while he opened the top drawer of his desk and took out my application. He flicked over the top sheet and looked at my CV. “Four years with the US Marines, two of them in Vietnam. Seven years with the Toronto department, got as high as acting detective. Then you quit. Why?”
“I got into a fight with some bikers. I killed two of them and the papers made life difficult.”
He had eyes the color of a northern sea. He looked at me steadily. “Yes, I read that. And then you had a number of cases in, where was it? Murphy's Harbour, which resulted in your killing more people.”
“In the line of duty, sir.”
“You're a bad apple,” he said, but his eyes were glittering. He was testing me.
“No sir. I'm a policeman who does what has to be done. Only in Murphy's Harbour they don't appreciate the way things have to be done sometimes.”
“Says you got shot, how long was it, six weeks ago?”
“It's healing nicely, sir. Doctor says I'll have a complete recovery in another month or so.”
“What will you do in the meantime?” He smiled thinly. “You can't expect some drunken miner to back off because your arm's not up to speed.”
“It's my left arm. I hold the stick in the right.” I grinned, disgusted at myself but playing the game the way I'd seen it the night before.
“We don't want any gratuitous violence.” He frowned. “I'm looking for a law enforcement officer, not a head-beater.”
“I tackle every situation the way it needs, Chief.” I tried to sound earnest. “I'm not a violent man, but I grew up in a mining town, Coppercliff, near Sudbury. I know you can't always cool things out with talk.”
He leaned back now, looking at me carefully. I figured he was a touch long-sighted but didn't like wearing glasses. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
I guessed he'd seen the report of my activity at the hotel and was looking for me to start talking it up. It might be the only chance I got to look good here. “One thing you might keep in mind, sir. There was a disturbance at the Headframe when I got into town last night. An officer was being assaulted by a couple of miners. I assisted the officer and got the situation under control.” He didn't say anything, and I pressed on urgently. “So please have a word with the officer. He'll tell you I can handle things pretty good.”
He nodded primly. “Yes, the sergeant mentioned it to me. Okay, go down to the hospital and see Dr. Frazer. He'll check you out. Then return to the motel and wait. I'll call you there.”
I nodded and left smartly as he turned back to his paperwork. The woman in the outer office didn't look up. I went back to my car and drove around to the hospital, a small brick building near the center of town.
I was too early for my appointment but the doctor saw me anyway. He was tall and young. He looked tired, as if he never got enough time away from the hospital. He didn't say much to me but looked my shoulder over and X-rayed it. Then he took my blood pressure and tapped my chest and the rest of the ritual and took his stethoscope out of his ears and said, “You're in good shape. You a runner?”
“Yes, doctor. Try to do three miles a day.”
“Won't be easy when winter comes,” he said. Not once had he mentioned the police department. I got the same feeling as I'd had about the waitress. The people of Elliot didn't like their police.
He scribbled on the form in front of him and then looked up. “I had a policeman in here last night, says a guy called Bennett helped him out in a fight at the hotel. Are you the guy?”
“Professional courtesy,” I said.
He grinned tightly. “You started on the right foot for this place,” he said.
He closed the file folder. “Okay, Mr. Bennett, I'll get my report back to the department. You can go now.”
He walked out of the room and I dressed and left. If I'd been hungry for the job I might have been anxious, but I didn't think they were weighed down with applications. Police work isn't everybody's choice, and these were busy times at the mine. A man could make a lot more money underground if he didn't mind putting in overtime. And when he went home he knew he wouldn't be called out again in the middle of the night.
Fred was back in the motel room, reading Crime and Punishment. Sam was lying on the rug next to the bed, panting in the heat of the room. Fred closed the book on her index finger and stood up to kiss me. “Did they clasp you to their bosom?”
“They're going to. In the meantime I've been told to stay here and wait for the call. I figure they'll keep me on ice until the afternoon anyway.”
“How will we pass the time?” she clowned and Dostoyevsky took a back seat for a while.
The call came as we were finishing lunch in the coffeeshop. The same waitress came over as we were eating pie and told me, “Telephone for Mr. Bennett. That's you, eh?”
“Yes, thanks.” I raised my eyebrows at Fred and went to the phone. It was the clerk at the police department.
“The chief will
see you at two o'clock, Mr. Bennett.”
“Thank you, ma'am. I'll be there,” I said, and she hung up.
This time I walked down there. I was five minutes early and the clerk kept me waiting until the dot of two before telling the chief I was there. When I went back in he stood up and offered his hand. “Welcome aboard,” he said.
“You mean I'm hired, chief?”
He nodded and sat down. “Yes, I checked your references and the doctor says you're in good shape. Can you start right away?”
“I surely can.”
“Good.” He sat forward, leaning one elbow on his desk and looking at me closely. “You've got police experience so we don't have to send you to the college, but there's a few things you need to know about Elliot.”
I waited and he went on. “This is a good department, Bennett. We're respected in town. I won't say everybody loves us, but they know that when they need us, we're there. We're tough but we're fair.”
“Right, Chief.” I nodded firmly.
“Now I've been talking to Sgt. Ferris and he tells me you did good work last night.” He paused and I said nothing. I could feel the other shoe about to drop. “However, he said that you questioned his judgment of how to handle the situation. Is that right?”
I hedged my answer. “Last night I wasn't a member of the department, chief. I know about discipline.”
“Good.” He nodded curtly. “Sgt. Ferris is a good man, an experienced man. When he says jump you jump. Understood?”
“Yessir. I was in the Marines, sir.”
“Right. Keep your nose clean, Bennett, and you'll do all right. Sgt. Ferris is in the guardroom behind the office. Go and see him and he'll give you your uniform and your instructions. Good luck.”
“Thank you sir.” I stood up and snapped to attention. Might as well polish the apple to a high gloss.
Ferris was expecting me. He was sitting at a desk in the corner of the guardroom. Aside from his desk with a manual typewriter and a telephone on it, there were a couple of file cabinets, a table where the guys ate their lunch, and half a dozen lockers.
He looked up when I came in and said, “Hi. Ready for work?” a neutral question. He was smiling except that it didn't reach to his eyes. He stood up and I studied him as I crossed the room. About fifty-five, a couple of inches under six feet tall, sandy fair hair and pale blue eyes. He was heavy, not fat, but chunky with muscle he had developed young but didn't work on anymore. His face looked almost jolly, except for those eyes.
“Sure am, sar'nt. I've been off a couple months with this shoulder. I guess the chief mentioned that.”
“Yeah. He told me. Got yourself shot. What happened to the other guy?”
“He's not around anymore,” I minimized.
“Good,” Ferris said. “Now you can't expect the other guys to carry you while you're mending. If you can't hack it, you're out. Got that?”
“Sure.” I nodded and he went over and opened one of the lockers. A constable's uniform was inside, still in the dry cleaner's plastic bag.
“Try this one,” he said. “Belonged to a guy who quit. Should fit.”
I wondered if he was going to play games, handing me something that looked like a clown suit, but he hadn't. The tunic was snug across the shoulders but not a bad fit. The pants seemed the right size as well. “Seems fine, sar'nt.” Using his rank all the time was clumsy, but I was moving carefully until I saw how formal the other guys were around him.
“Hang that up and I'll show you around,” he said. Nobody would have guessed we'd already met and that he might be harboring a grudge.
He took me out to the office first and introduced me to the clerk. “Marcie, this here's our new officer, Reid Bennett. Bennett, this is Mrs. Sheridan.”
I shook hands with her. It was like clutching a bird's claw.
“Nice to meet you, ma'am.”
“Likewise,” she said and turned back to her typing. Not the motherly type.
“See Marcie later and she'll give you the forms you have to fill in,” he said. “First, get the lay of the land. In here we got the teletype. We're gonna get a fax machine soon. These are all our files, criminal occurrences here, accidents here.” He slapped two of the file cabinets. “The blanks are in the file cabinet in the guardroom. You do your own paperwork, of course. Use the typewriter out back.” There was a large-scale map of the area on the wall and he went over to it. “This is our district. We cover the town and the township. Most of it's just bush, but the gold mine is inside the limits and we're responsible for it, too.”
I studied the map. The township extended about ten miles across, ten miles deep. The town itself sat in the southeast corner. There were only two roads outside of town, the one Fred and I had taken in, and one crossing road that led to the mine and then swung back through town to the west of us. There was a cluster of buildings at the end. I asked, “What's this place?”
“That's the old pulp mill. It's abandoned now but there's a few homes out there, retired couples mainly. We don't get trouble out there.”
He turned and pointed at the radio setup in the corner. “That's the radio. Marcie handles it through the day. At night we have one guy here or else we couple the phone lines to it so you get phone calls when you're in the car. The senior man will be in the station so you don't need to learn how to use this set for a while.”
“Looks like the set I had at Murphy's Harbour,” I said but he didn't answer. “Now, weapons,” he said and his voice had a grim pleasure in it. He liked guns. “I understand you've got your own pistol, right?”
“Right. It's a .38 Colt Police Special, six-inch barrel.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “We carry a Winchester pump in all the cars. We've also got tear gas equipment an’ rifles. They're out back.”
He led the way out of the office to the cells. There were four of them, all empty. The area smelled of carbolic.
“Generally full on Friday nights,” he said. “Two in each cell sometimes.”
“Miners love to drink,” I said.
“And fight.” He faced me and he had no trace of a smile now. “Those guys last night were out to kill Smith. Goddamn magistrate let them out on bail but they're going inside when they come to trial. And let me put you straight, Bennett. The only thing they respect is force. This isn't some candyass resort town. This is a tough place. We don't have a bunch of civil rights people lookin’ over our shoulders all the time. You act tough at all times. And I mean tough. I don’ want none of your bleeding-heart bullshit when I'm talking to a suspect. You got that?”
“Yes, Sergeant.” I got myself onside right away. “I know the rules, only my wife was in the car. She's from the city.”
“She'll have to learn or you'll have to go,” he said. “Do we understand one another?”
“Yes.” I nodded again and he matched me.
“Good. Now I'll show you the town.”
We went out to the cruiser and he drove back into town. He didn't say much, pointing out the sights I'd seen for myself on my run. “Do you have any trouble spots?” I prodded.
“Naah. Just the Headframe, Fridays, Saturdays. There's a lot of drinking at the legion but it's under control. We don't get trouble there, ‘less there's a dance an’ some of the rowdies come in.” He turned and grinned at me. “Guess you know how it is. Somebody gets the hots for somebody else's wife. Guy with a wife as pretty as yours, you'd see a lot of that.”
I said nothing. I already knew he was a creep.
He stopped at the Headframe Hotel. “This is action central,” he grinned. “There's a new guy running it. The last owner was a booze hound, got drunk and crashed his car. This guy's only been here a few months.”
We went in through the side door into a corridor that opened on one side to a storeroom filled with cases of beer and on through to the taproom. It was like a thousand others in small towns. The furniture was rudimentary, vinyl-covered tables and chairs, rough paneling on the walls and a few pictures, locally do
ne oil paintings of the mine and the bush, and a shuffleboard with burn marks all along the rim. The place smelled of old cigarette smoke and beer. The big color TV was playing soundlessly—some game show.
Ferris looked around and grinned. “It ain’ fancy, but I worked out one time he has to do twenty grand a week in here, easy. More when the hockey playoffs're on, or holidays.”
“Seems high,” I said.
“These miners drink,” Ferris said, “An’ I mean drink.”
The manager came out of his office. He was a pale, thin man in his forties. He smiled when he saw Ferris. It didn't look forced.
“Hi, sarge, nice to see you.”
“Hi, Bill.” Ferris walked over in his roosterish strut and shook hands. “Got a new guy for you to meet. Name's Bennett. He's one of us.”
He turned his smile my way. It was less enthusiastic, I thought. “Bill Berger,” he said. “An’ I've heard all the jokes.”
“Reid Bennett, Bill. Glad to know you.”
We shook hands and he let go quickly and turned his attention to Ferris. “Thanks for gettin’ here so quick last night, sarge. I'd a'ready called the station an’ I didn't go out. The guys generally take care of things with no trouble. Sorry to hear young Smith got himself beat up.”
“He'll survive,” Ferris said heartily. “Might've been different if Bennett hadn've come into town when he did. Young Willis took Smitty's gun away. He was gonna shoot him.”
“I heard about that, but not until later.” Berger looked anxious. “It happened outside, like I said. I called.”
“No sweat. You did the right thing. Just dropped by to introduce the rookie,” Ferris said.
Berger went back behind the bar and poured a double Canadian Club. He shoved it over to Ferris who nodded thanks and drank half of it down. “What's your pleasure?” Berger asked me. His smile had gone.
I hesitated. I couldn't refuse, not when Ferris had already broken the rules. “A Coke'd be good thanks. I'm on the wagon, doctor's orders.”
“Not the drink for a growing boy,” Ferris said. “How long're you on the wagon?”
“Till the shoulder mends.” I accepted the Coke and thanked Berger.
