Fine by me. I hadn’t taken a day off since I had been back from maternity leave and I was happy to have some extra time to spend with Mandy. I was also quite relieved that I didn’t get reamed out by the mayor. She turned out to be much more understanding than I have given her credit for.
I finished up my work and at four thirty, I packed up my desk, and told Bonnie I wouldn’t be in tomorrow.
I drove to my parents’ house and stayed for dinner as usual. I couldn’t cook like my parents did. In reality, it’s not that I couldn’t cook, it’s that I didn’t want to cook. Slaving over a hot stove would take away time that I wanted to spend with my daughter, so I gave up cooking. When Mandy became old enough to participate, then I’d start cooking again.
My mother didn’t work while I was growing up, so she had time to both cook and spend time with me. I remembered the days we would be rolling out dough and making cookies. I wished I had the luxury of being a stay-at-home mom so that I could share those experiences with my daughter daily. I never thought I would say that. I always loved to work and until recently, I loved my job. I still had a passion for being a municipal clerk, but I was feeling burnt out working in Crazy Crime Land with Mr. Crazy Eyes Red Tape bugging me for months. I was also missing Mandy. I knew I saw her every day, but it didn’t feel like it was enough.
My parents worried about me. It was their wish that I would have been married to a wonderful man. A man who would take care of me so they didn’t have to feel like I was still their responsibility. I wanted that for myself too, but life didn’t work out that way for me. I felt guilty leaning on them so much. They were my anchors and I was grateful that I had them both in my life. They were extremely attached to Mandy too, so it wasn’t all bad. I supposed I was feeling a little sorry for myself.
* * *
I went back to work feeling refreshed, even though it was a Friday and it was likely going to be tedious. There was a considerable amount of paperwork to complete because it was the deadline day for the council meeting agenda. Everyone submitted their requests at the last possible minute, as usual. Being out of the office yesterday didn’t help matters. My desk looked like a typhoon hit it. I had over twenty items left to prepare for next week’s meeting and I didn’t know how I was going to get it all done. I heard a man’s voice at the window.
“Chelsey Alton, please.”
Bonnie came in my office and informed me that a sheriff’s officer was asking for me. I walked up to the window.
“Hi, I’m Chelsey. May I help you?”
“Are you Chelsey Alton?”
“Yes.”
“You have been served.”
He handed me a package and asked me to sign a document certifying that I had received the lawsuit. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. It was the town getting sued, not me personally. Just another one of my many job duties–to receive service for the municipality. I tore open the envelope and chuckled. Mr. Triggers was suing the town.
“What is it?” Bonnie asked.
“A lawsuit from Mr. Triggers.”
“Regarding the dunes?”
“Yuppers.”
“Now you know what he was up to.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s why he hasn’t been around. He was busy preparing his legal briefs with his attorney.”
I scanned the document and forwarded it via email to Mr. Betts and our insurance carrier. I wasn’t sure which one of them would be the defense attorney. When it’s a bigger case, Mr. Betts typically handled it. For smaller cases and tort claims, it was typically the insurance company. I guessed they worked it out amongst themselves as to who would take on the case.
I shot an email over to the mayor and council as well, informing them that we had been served. I got back to work and finalized the agenda for approval by the mayor. Then I worked on drafting the remaining agenda items and waited on several customers in between.
“Hey, Bonnie, that last guy that came in paid with a one hundred-dollar bill. I’m going to run to the bank on my way home to get smaller bills.”
“All right, see you on Monday.”
I stayed late to finish everything and I noticed Officer Williams in the building when I left.
“I see they’ve stepped up patrols in this building like the mayor told me they would,” I said to him.
“Yup,” Officer Williams said as he quickly left.
I was beginning to think Bonnie was onto something with this guy, about how she said there was something about him she didn’t like. Some days he was friendly and outgoing. Other days he was short and cold with me. His personality seemed to change with whatever direction the wind was blowing. I was hoping I’d get to talk to him a little more, but I chalked it up to him having something of importance on his mind.
I left the municipal building and, without thinking, I turned in the wrong direction. I was dog-tired and momentarily forgot that I was heading to the bank, which was in the opposite direction. I swung onto Twelfth Street and headed up to Ocean Avenue to turn back toward the bank. As I drove toward Fourth Street, I saw a creepy man with a picket sign in the middle of the road. Cars were passing by, beeping at him.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said out loud to myself. It was Mr. Triggers walking back and forth in front of Bill Bradford’s house with a sign that said, “We want dunes! Give us dunes!”
I pulled out my cell and dialed the police non-emergency line.
“Sunshine Police, Dispatcher Forty-one,” could be heard through my car’s Bluetooth speakers.
“Hi. This is Chelsey Alton, the Town Clerk. I know people have a right to peacefully protest, but do they also have the right to block the middle of a street?” I asked.
“We’ll send someone right out.”
I gave the dispatcher the location and swerved around Mr. Triggers. A thought flashed across my mind—I could have run him over and put an end to one of my problems, but I wasn’t sure if anyone was looking out of their windows. Plus, I didn’t want any of his bloody body parts stuck to my bumper. I also knew the police were on their way and the last thing I needed was to go to jail over some loser.
I stopped at the bank, changed the hundred-dollar bill, then went on my way to my parents’ house to pick up Mandy. I opted to drive down Main Street and avoid the possible police scene and Mr. Triggers. Mandy was sound asleep when I got there.
“I have a chicken casserole in the oven,” my mother promptly announced.
I stayed for dinner and filled my parents in on the day’s antics of Mr. Triggers. Mom and Dad were good listeners. I think they enjoyed the drama. All of my recent work-related stories were nothing short of a soap opera.
We finished eating just as Mandy woke up, so I loaded her in the car and headed out for home. After I put her to bed, I headed out to the living room with a glass of white wine and a good book. Before I knew it, it was five o’clock in the morning and I realized I had fallen asleep on the couch.
Chapter 11
By
eight thirty on Monday morning, I was walking through the doors to the municipal building. Outside of my office were Tex, Officer Williams, Bonnie, and Rodney. I thought, Oh great! What is going on now? Another break-in?
“What’s up?” I asked. Officer Williams piped up, “Chelsey Alton, you are under arrest.”
“What?” I shouted. “For what?”
“Theft and embezzlement.”
I looked at Bonnie with a look of both confusion and shock. Bonnie was biting her nails and shaking a bit. “They said they saw you steal one hundred dollars out of the cash box. I told them you were only making change.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “The money is right in my purse; it’s all there in the bank envelope. I took a one hundred-dollar bill to the bank last night to get smaller bills.”
“Put your hands behind your back,” Officer Williams said as he put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “You have the right to remain silent…”
“Tex?” I sai
d with a tear in my eye.
“Chelsey, don’t worry, we will get this all straightened out,” he responded.
I noticed an audience in the hallway. Everyone had come out to see what the fuss was about. Officer Williams cuffed me. I started crying.
“Bonnie, please call my parents.”
I was beyond humiliated. With everyone I worked with watching, I was marched over to the police station in handcuffs, fingerprinted, and put in a locked cell. I could not stop the flow of tears streaming from my eyes. I didn’t understand. I had always made change when we had a large bill. I couldn’t fathom why there was an issue this time. It wasn’t like I had forgotten to bring the money back. This whole thing was ridiculous.
After a few hours, Tex finally came in to see me. My eyes were swollen and inflamed from all the crying.
“Chelsey, I can’t tell you what is going on exactly, I mean, this is a criminal investigation, so I’m limited as to what I can say. The only thing I can do is say don’t worry, this will all be taken care of.”
“Don’t worry? You want me not to worry? How can I not worry? I didn’t steal that money! I didn’t do anything wrong! I have a baby at home; how can I not worry?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then you are going to have to trust me on this one. It will all work out; everything will be fine. I’m on your side, but don’t talk to anyone from the town. You need to watch your back.”
I didn’t understand how he could have said that everything would be fine. He wasn’t the one locked up in a filthy two by four cage. He wasn’t the one who had to spend money on an attorney for no reason. And who was I watching my back from? Was someone out to get me?
“Do my parents know?” I asked him.
“They do and they are going to come get you.”
Five hours later, I heard the buzz of someone being let into the lock-down area. “Chelsey Alton, bail’s been posted.”
I felt slightly comforted, knowing I would be out of jail soon. I was escorted into the processing area, where I signed some papers, then I was moved into the lobby, where I saw my dad waiting. I started to cry again and he gave me a huge hug.
“We know you didn’t do this, Chelsey. Jose explained everything to us. I’m going to take you to your house to pick up the things you need, and you are staying with us tonight.”
“Thanks, Dad,” was all I could muster between the sobs.
Back at my house, I grabbed some clothes and toiletries, along with all the items Mandy needed for an overnight stay. My father drove me over to the municipal building to retrieve my car. Dinner was on the table at my parents’ house when we arrived, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. I learned that my parents had put their home up as collateral in order to bond me out. I felt sick to my stomach.
The next morning, I arrived at work, as usual, to be greeted by Rodney. “Chelsey, please come into my office,” he said. I walked down the hall into his office, where he closed the door.
“I’m really sorry to have to do this to you, Chelsey, but I have to put you on administrative leave.”
“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, but Officer Williams said he saw you taking the hundred dollars, and then you admitted to it being in your belongings.”
“This is ridiculous, Rodney. You know that I always take large bills to the bank to make change. You know that we can’t make change for the following day if I don’t break the large bills. I cannot believe this is happening. Is this paid or unpaid leave?”
He looked scared to tell me. After a few seconds, he responded, “Unpaid and yes, I know you make change, but Williams said you left work traveling in the opposite direction of the town’s bank.”
Great, I thought. Now I have no job and no income because of some giant misunderstanding. I wondered if it would make a difference if they knew I made a wrong turn.
“The fact that I phoned dispatch after I left work to tell them that Mr. Triggers was in the middle of the road with picket signs on Fourth Street should be an indication that I was in the vicinity of the bank last night.”
“You’ll have to tell that to the judge.”
“Fine,” I said and I got up and opened the door. There was Officer Williams, waiting for me. Great, just great. I turned back to Rodney, “What? You didn’t think I’d leave peacefully? Believe me, I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here.” And I left with Officer Williams at my heels.
“Chelsey, do you need anything from your office before you go?” he asked. He almost sounded like he felt sorry for me.
I gazed into his big blue eyes. “I know you’re only doing your job, but this is awful for me and I’d just like to go directly to my car.”
I certainly didn’t want to talk to him, the man accusing me of stealing money. Why wouldn’t he simply ask me about it instead of immediately arresting me? He walked me out to my car and I drove back to my parents’ house.
When I got there, I picked up the phone and called the Municipal Clerk’s Association of New Jersey. I was a member of the Association and luckily, I had been paying into their legal defense fund. I knew they would be able to help me out.
They recommended an attorney and said they would mail me forms to fill out for partial reimbursement of my attorney’s fees. I was thankful that they had offered such a service; otherwise, I didn’t think I would have been able to afford a decent attorney. I also didn’t know any attorneys who specialized in this sort of thing.
My next phone call was to the lawyer, Gary Schubert. Mr. Schubert’s secretary set up an appointment for me for the next day. Unfortunately, his office was located over an hour away in Hamilton Township. It was too difficult to find an attorney nearby that didn’t have ties to Sunshine and would be able to represent me without it being a conflict of interest.
When I finally got off the phone, my parents asked what happened. I burst into tears, sobbing hysterically. “I got fired,” I said.
“They can’t fire you,” my dad said. “You haven’t been found guilty of anything.”
“Okay, not fired; put on ‘administrative leave’ without pay. I might as well be fired.”
“Did you find a good attorney?”
“I have a meeting with one tomorrow.”
“We’ll watch Mandy for you tonight and tomorrow. You go home, take a nice hot bath, and have a few glasses of wine. You’ll feel better after speaking with the attorney.”
I put my and Mandy’s dirty clothes in a bag, threw my purse over my shoulder, then headed for home. I wanted to get out of Dodge because the thought of Sunshine made me too upset.
When I arrived home, I washed all the clothes, then headed to bed. I didn’t get much sleep. I was anxious to find out what the attorney was going to tell me.
* * *
Gary Schubert’s office was difficult to find. He didn’t have a sign out front. I drove past the building four times before I found it. It was in an older office building with beige stucco siding. I parked in the tiny lot and entered a small landing area with stairs going up and down. I read the sign, which indicated there were two offices upstairs housing a dentist and a realtor. There were three offices downstairs—an accountant, an acupuncturist, and Mr. Schubert.
I climbed down the stairs and pushed open the small wooden door at the end of the hallway, which said, “Gary Schubert, Esq.” The office was modest inside. A desk was situated facing the door. A closed interior office door was behind the desk area. No-frills is how I would describe this lawyer.
A chunky, middle-aged lady, wearing black vintage cat eyeglasses and her hair in a bun, asked if she could help me. “I have an appointment with Mr. Schubert,” I said softly.
“Have a seat; he’ll be right with you,” she said. She pointed toward the chairs to the left of the doorway. The wooden chairs looked as old as the building. I waited for ten minutes, then Mr. Schubert appeared from behind the closed doo
r.
“Sorry,” he said. “You must be Chelsey. I was on a conference call. Please come in and have a seat.”
I entered his office, which had barely enough room for a desk and two chairs. I pegged him to be around fifty years old. He had light brown hair and a small brown moustache. He was of average height and size. He wore brown pants and a three-button beige suit jacket. His clothes weren’t expensive, but he was neat and clean. He looked professional.
I sat across from him. I explained how I was arrested and put on administrative leave. I told him about how I always took money to the bank to make change and that none of this made sense since it was never a problem in the past. I informed him that I was told by the previous municipal clerk during my first week on the job that I would have to make bank runs for change.
He carefully wrote everything down. “What reason did they give for the arrest?” Mr. Schubert asked.
“Theft and embezzlement.”
“Interesting. There is no separate embezzlement law in New Jersey. The arresting officer said this to you?”
“Yes.”
“I will get copies of the arrest record and other documents I might need from the Town of Sunshine myself so that you don’t have to contact them.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“Here is the situation. Theft of one hundred dollars is a misdemeanor charge—a disorderly person’s offense. It holds a sentencing of restitution, a fine of up to one thousand dollars, and imprisonment up to six months. The major problem you would have with being found guilty is finding a job anywhere. You would have a criminal record for at least five years. This can certainly affect your life in a negative way.”
My stomach sank. “Six months in jail isn’t a major problem?”
Red Tape Page 9
