Coming Home: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  “Nice to meet you,” Mitch replied.

  “Only been here a few months. Didn’t get to know your dad much. Hear we’re lucky to have you. Make sure to work within your budget. We’re not FBI here.”

  Jesus, this man is wrapped too tight! “I grew up in this town,” Mitch said, holding Silas’ gaze until the other man dropped his eyes. “Think I know how to take care of the residents.”

  “Yes, well, the residents are one thing, but we need to make sure to do whatever we can to keep the vacationers coming.”

  Cocking his head, he was about to speak when Corwin jumped in. “Silas is a wonder with ideas to keep the money rolling into our little town.”

  Mitch noted as a glance passed between the two men but, while naturally good at reading people, he had no idea what just occurred. “Then I’ll leave the politics to you and make sure my department fulfills its responsibilities without compromising anyone’s special interests.

  The silence in the room was thunderous.

  “Right-e-o,” Corwin said and reached to the side of his desk. “Got some things, just for you, to look over. Police budget files mostly. City budget. City Council notes concerning the Police department.”

  Mitch’s patience plummeted as a stack of files were placed in front of him. Standing, he picked them up and said, “I’ll begin looking these over.”

  “My wife and I are planning a welcome party for you at the new restaurant in town. We’ll have some of the businessmen and women, as well as a few high-rollers from the golfing community, present. It’ll be a chance for you to meet some of the important people you’ll be protecting.”

  “I appreciate that, but I plan on getting out as soon as possible to start meeting as many people as I can on the streets. Residents as well as the business owners.”

  Bristling slightly, Corwin nodded, his jowls shaking with the motion. “Yes, of course. Mitch, I let your father run the Police department the way he wanted and he served us proud. I’m sure you’ll do the same.”

  “I plan on it, but I’m not my father. Can’t say I’ll be making too many changes, but with the ones I do make, I’ll expect your support.”

  A bit of blustering came from the older man as he ran his hand over his thinning hair. “I’m sure you’ll have all the support you need. Just remember, people ’round here don’t take to change too much.”

  Nodding, Mitch walked out, the stack of files in his arms. As soon as he stepped outside, he dodged the mayor’s secretary and stalked down the hall to the back entrance of the police station.

  Entering, he breathed a sigh of relief. This is more like it. Moving down the short hall, he passed two interview rooms on the right, a hall leading to the small holding cell area, and on the left, his office. Stepping inside to drop off the files, he halted. It suddenly hit him. This very room had been his grandfather’s office. I remember thinking it was the greatest thing on earth to be able to come visit grandpa here when I was a kid. Enthralled by the uniform, the respect others gave, and especially the gun his grandfather strapped to his side, made it a dream job to a little boy.

  Setting the files on the desk, he heaved a heavy sigh. The last time he had been here was when he visited his dad while home for the holidays. Closing his eyes, he could clearly envision his father sitting behind the desk—one of his rare times chained to the desk since his dad preferred to be out and about the town. If only I’d known then how close my dad would come to dying…I’d have stayed longer. His father was straining at the restraints of the convalescence, but Mitch’s mom was running a tight ship. A smile slipped out as he thought about his parents. A noise behind him startled him out of his musings.

  “Oh, sorry sir. I didn’t realize you were here yet.”

  Mitch turned around and viewed the man in the crisp uniform. He appeared to be in his early thirties, blond hair, and physically fit. Intelligent green eyes peered back at him, seeming to be sizing him up as well.

  “You must be Burt Tobber,” Mitch said, shaking the officer’s hand.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you last month when you came by. Good to see you now. We’re sorry to lose your dad but real glad to have you here with us.”

  Mitch measured the officer, finding his words sincere. Smiling back, he said, “I was just getting ready to head out front and see when we can schedule our first staff meeting.”

  “I think Mildred was already expecting that this morning so she’s got the officers all coming in at eight for you to meet with us.”

  Grinning, he said, “Efficient as ever.”

  Burt laughed as he nodded. “We won’t be as fancy as the FBI, sir, but I can’t imagine even they could compare to Mildred.”

  “I thought my ears were burning,” the spry woman declared as she popped around the corner into his office. Her smile greeted the two men as she stepped up to Mitch.

  “Good to see you again, Chief Evans. Lord have mercy,” she exclaimed. “You now make the third man I’ve served under and called Chief Evans!”

  “I’m glad to be here, Mrs. Score,” Mitch replied. “My dad and grandfather always spoke of you with the highest praise.” He watched her blush with pride and added, “I also remember your husband and all the extra runs me and my friends would have to do if we were late to practice.”

  Throwing her head back, her blue-gray curls shaking, she laughed. “Oh my, yes. Chester may have driven you hard, but he loved you boys like his own.” Her grey eyes twinkled as she looked him up and down speculatively. “You’ve grown up, like all the ones he coached. And look how well you’ve turned out. An FBI agent. My goodness. Well, Baytown is certainly pleased as punch to have you back with us.”

  Before Mitch had a chance to respond, she clapped her hands together and said, “Well, enough chit-chat. You’ve got things to get to and my job is to do what I can to make that easier. I’ve called a staff meeting to convene in fifteen minutes. There’s a Keurig in the staff room, but for your first day, I’ve had coffee and goodies delivered from your cousin’s coffee shop.” She stopped her dissertation and turned to leave, stopping at the door. Looking back, she grinned, “Welcome back home, Chief Evans.”

  As her sensible shoes squeaked down the hall, Mitch turned to Burt. “You’re right…she’s way more efficient than anything I had at the FBI.”

  Laughing, the two men headed to the staff room.

  *

  Sitting at the round table, Mitch viewed his staff, still munching on his cousin’s pastries. Ginny Spencer was his first officer. Smart, driven, efficient…but with a shadow in her eyes. She had been with the Army Military Police and served in Afghanistan. She was pretty, but Mitch could not help but think that she held men at an arm’s length to maintain professionalism. Her expression was eager and more than willing to make any changes he proposed, wanting to move the BPD forward.

  Sam Stubbis was the oldest officer. He had been hired almost twenty years prior by Mitch’s grandfather and was a native to the area. Well liked, Mitch appreciated the history and knowledge he could gain from Sam. Although…he seems to be a little willing to turn a blind eye to some things. Might be a little harder to get him to go along with any changes.

  Grant Wilder had been one of the Baytown Boys with Mitch. He was a year behind in high school, but they played ball together. He joined the Army after graduation. Mitch was pleased to find out that he had been with the Virginia Beach PD for several years before coming back home. Grant still has a flirtatious, eye-for-the-ladies manner about him…I may have to rein him in to maintain the professionalism of the force, but we’re damn lucky to have an officer like him here.

  Burt Tobber was not a native of Baytown, having only moved to the Eastern Shore about three years ago. Mid-thirties, he was a family man and involved in the community. He and his wife volunteered with the school, boy scouts, church activities, and the Baytown recreation center. Not able to discern any problems, Mitch was thrilled to have him on board as well.

  “Firs
t things, first,” Mitch declared, gaining the attention of the group. Seeing Mildred start to leave the room, he called out, “Mrs. Score, I’d like you to stay. While you might not be needed for all staff meetings, I feel that your presence is necessary today, since you are an integral part of the staff.”

  Accepting her appreciative smile as she took her seat, he continued. “I come to this job, having to fill very large shoes. My grandfather, and then recently, my father, were examples of exactly what a Chief should be…accessible to staff and public, civic minded, non-biased, and driven by a love of this town. I have no desire to walk in and completely change things, but I will want to upgrade the department where we can and work with the town council on our budget.”

  That gained him emphatic nods from the others gathered around the table, so he continued, “And, to begin with, I would like to be called Mitch by my staff. In the community, you can address me as Chief or Chief Evans. But in here…I’m Mitch.”

  The others smiled and quickly agreed to first names amongst themselves. And so the first staff meeting began.

  *

  Two hours later, as the meeting came to a close, Mitch looked around the table at his staff, pleased with how the meeting had progressed.

  He had quickly reviewed the budget items he wanted to address with the town, discussed the schedule and ways to make it more efficient. Flow charts of duty divisions were plotted and equipment needs were itemized.

  Not wanting to make grand changes, he wanted to institute certain new policies, which had been met with agreement from all.

  One of them dealt with uniforms. The officers wore the traditional police black pants and shirts, but with budget cuts, they were a line item that Mitch felt could be looked at. Putting it to the group, he asked for input.

  Grant asked, “What changes are you thinking about, Mitch? Gotta say, I’m not wedded to the black police uniform.”

  “I like uniforms, sir…uh…Mitch,” Ginny said. “I suppose I was used to the Army uniform and so having a uniform in civilian life was easy for me. It also makes us stand out in a crowd.”

  “Ever since the town said that we may have to start paying for our own uniforms, which have to be ordered from a catalog, it’s an expense I could do without,” Burt added. “With two little kids, every dime counts for me, so I’d be interested in what alternative you’re talking about.”

  Mitch nodded and said, “Many small communities are going with a more casual uniform. Easier to maintain, easier to pay for since you’re responsible for your own uniforms. Examples would be khaki pants and polos or shirts with the BPD logo clearly embroidered on them. You would still be responsible for the clothes, but you can buy your khakis anywhere as long as they meet certain requirements.”

  He observed them carefully as he added, “With the money saved to the town, I will go to them to add more equipment to our budget.”

  The immediate response was exactly what he had hoped he would garner. All four officers immediately began talking about the old equipment and what they would want to have.

  “Make a prioritized wish list of what you think this department needs to have and I’ll go through it before taking it to the Council,” Mitch said. “Next, I need you to bring me up to date on any on-going cases. I plan on spending as much time as I can out in the community. Communication is key in this job. Each of us need to know what all is going on.”

  It did not take long for the others to fill Mitch in on the cases that were still being investigated—graffiti on the golf course, a theft of women’s underwear on clotheslines throughout the town, and they had all been keeping their eye on the group of teens hanging around the basketball court after dark.

  “They’re not bad kids,” Sam began, but was interrupted by Grant.

  “Not yet, but I’m seeing drugs among the young and we’d be stupid to turn a blind eye to what could be right in our backyard.”

  Sam pursed his lips and Mitch wondered if the older officer was ignoring or not aware of what the youth might be doing.

  Just then, Mildred moved to answer the phone and then popped her head back in. “Got a call from Rupert Cramer. Seems some teens are using his back field as a drag race strip.”

  Ginny and Burt hopped up from the table, looking to Mitch to see if he had any other instructions.

  Smiling, he nodded and watched as they hustled out of the room. And the new job began.

  Chapter 4

  That afternoon, after work, Mitch stopped by Finn’s Pub, tired and hungry from a day of organization and not investigation. Desperate for one of their pub-burgers topped with crabmeat, he stepped into the old establishment. Never changing, the entrance held a dartboard to the right and an old fireplace and sofa on the left. The original building had been one of the early brick structures in the town. While renovated, it retained much of the original brickwork walls and floor from years gone by. The bar ran the length of the right side with tall, mismatched, padded bar chairs up against the counter. The left contained tables already full of patrons and the kitchens were in the back.

  “Hell boys, look who just showed up! If it ain’t the long arm of the law, straight from the fuckin’ F.B.I.!”

  Hauling himself up into an empty chair, nodding at the smiling faces of the others already there, Mitch looked over at Aiden MacFarlane, one of his oldest friends. Long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail was the look Aiden now sported, along with the tats on his arms. Before he could greet him, another man walked behind the bar, cuffing Aiden on the shoulder.

  “Shut the hell up, asshole. You ain’t gotta be yelling across the place. We got some kids here eatin’ dinner.”

  Actually blushing, Aiden looked over at the tables and yelled, “Sorry folks. Just got excited!”

  Brogan, almost identical to his brother, rolled his eyes, looking over at Mitch. “Good to have you back, bro. What can we get you?”

  Giving his order, Mitch enjoyed watching the two brothers bicker amongst themselves as they expertly handled the bar and grille. Their sister, Katelyn, came from the back a few minutes later bringing his food.

  “Well, this must be my lucky day,” she exclaimed jovially. “I get to serve you breakfast and dinner on the same day.”

  Laughing, Mitch dug into his burger. “Can’t do this everyday or I’d spend my whole paycheck on food…and not be able to fit inside my jeep.”

  It took a while for him to finish his food as numerous town patrons stopped by to say how glad they were he took over for his father. Taking the time to shake their hands and listen for a minute if they had a concern to share, he finally took the last bite of his fries.

  “So, how’d your first day go?” Aiden asked.

  Mitch pushed his plate back and settled in with his beer. “Not bad. Met with the staff. Reviewed some policies, brought some new ones up, and went over budget concerns.”

  “God, that sounds boring!” Aiden blurted.

  “Well, not every minute of every day is for fun and games,” Brogan said, walking over, throwing a dishtowel over his shoulder, his typical glower in place.

  Aiden, as usual not paying any attention to his brother’s mood, kept his gaze on Mitch. “I reckon Baytown is a step down from the FBI, but I sure as fuck hope you have better days than this one or you just might not want to stay.”

  At that statement, Mitch realized the three MacFarlane’s gazes were pinned on him. “Guys, I’m not looking for exciting days to keep me here. I’m here…I’m staying.” Inwardly pleased to see them visibly relax, he wondered how many other townspeople had the same thought.

  Before he had a chance to ponder that further, Aiden leaned forward, resting his tatted arm on the polished, worn bar, his eyes twinkling with mischief and said, “So, did you meet Celia?”

  A confused expression crossed Mitch’s face as he noticed Katelyn roll her eyes and the normally taciturn Brogan fight a smile. “Celia?”

  Aiden crowed, “The mayor’s new secretary? Hell, if that woman can type I’
ll eat that bar stool you’re sittin’ on!”

  Laughing, Mitch nodded. “Uh, yeah. I had the pleasure of untangling myself from her claws this morning.” As their laughter ended, he asked, “What’s the deal with her anyway?”

  “Rumor has it that Corwin’s wife is pissed about her husband’s new secretary but, since she holds the purse strings in the family, he’ll probably keep it in his pants,” Katelyn said. “I think he’s going through a mid-life crisis, ’cause the next thing we know, he’s hired a secretary just for himself and in waltzes Celia Ring. And,” she leaned forward, “gossip has it that the new town manager and her might be having a fling.”

  “As long as she stays on her side of the building, we’ll be fine,” Mitch pronounced, remembering how he feared for his manhood.

  As they laughed, a couple of older men approached Mitch, wanting to congratulate him on taking the police chief job.

  “Knew your grandpa and your dad,” one of them said. “Sure was glad to hear you were coming home.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mitch replied sincerely.

  “Heard you was in the Army,” another one said. The man looked at the brothers behind the bar and added, “And you?”

  The MacFarlane’s answered in unison, “Marines, sir,” as Mitch nodded.

  “Well, this might not be up the Police Chief’s alley, but this town’s got a need and it ain’t gonna happen with old fogies like us here.”

  “Sir?” Mitch asked, glancing first to his friends, but seeing their questioning gazes, focused his attention fully on the older men.

  “If we want to be part of a veteran’s organization, then we gotta go north and the American Legion’s building is gettin’ ready to be sold, so we need to find another one. Ain’t no reason why we can’t have a chapter here. We now got a bunch of you Baytown Boys back from serving in the military and we ought to have one too.”

  Mitch nodded slowly and confessed, “Well, sir, I haven’t given it any thought but I certainly will. And that’s not the Chief saying that…that comes from me, the former soldier.”