by Stuart Woods
Then the terrain became less crowded and after another minute or two she saw a sign for Riverview Park on her right. She turned into the gates, swinging wide to allow the silver trailer behind her to pass in without uprooting a gatepost, and stopped in front of a small structure with a sign outside reading OWNER & MANAGER. She pulled over, switched off the engine, got out of her dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee and went into the building. A plump man in his sixties looked up from behind a desk and smiled.
“Bet I know who you are,” he said, rising and extending his hand. “I’m Johnny Malone, I own the place.”
“I’m Holly Barker,” she said, shaking the hand.
“Sure you are. Chet Marley told me to expect you, and I got your check and the contract in the mail. Come on, follow me; I’ve got a real nice spot picked out for you.” He walked out of the building, hopped into a golf cart and beckoned her to follow.
Holly drove slowly behind the cart, checking out her new neighbors. The trailers and double-wides were all well kept and were often surrounded by flowers and shrubs. Riverside Park looked like a happy place. They drove through a patch of woods, leaving the other tenants behind, and emerged onto a flat piece of ground at the edge of the Indian River, which Holly had learned was what that part of the Inland Waterway was called. Following Malone’s hand signals, she backed the Airstream trailer into its space, then got out and unhitched it from her car. In a few minutes Malone had made the water, sewer, telephone and electrical connections for her, and she had the trailer leveled and braced.
“We got cable TV, if you want it,” Malone said.
“I’ve got one of those little dishes,” Holly said.
“More and more folks do,” he replied. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Not right now,” she replied. “I’m sure I’ll have some questions tomorrow.”
Malone handed her his card. “Here’s my number, and Chet Marley’s home number is on the back. He said you should call him as soon as you get in.”
“I’ll do that,” Holly replied.
Malone drove away in his golf cart, and Holly went into her trailer, switched on some lights and began tidying the things that had shifted during the drive. She was hungry, but she wanted to talk to Marley before dinner. They had talked a number of times during the five weeks it had taken her to retire from the military. She dialed his number.
“Hello?” He sounded rushed.
“Chet? It’s Holly. I just got in.”
“Oh, good. Everything all right for you at Riverview?”
“Sure is. I’ve even got a river view.”
“Boy, am I glad you’re here. I wanted to buy you dinner tonight, Holly, but something’s come up, and I have to meet with somebody.”
“That’s all right. I’m kind of tired, anyway.”
“It’s about that internal problem I told you about.”
“Anything new on that?”
“A whole lot. I’m getting close, now, and after my meeting tonight, I’m going to be ready to start knocking some heads together. Looks like there’s not going to be as much for you to do as I thought.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve got a handle on it,” she replied. “I know you’ve been worried.”
“I sure have. Listen, you show up at the station at nine tomorrow morning, and I’ll bring you up to date and get you started. I’ve got a boxful of uniforms for you, and we’ll get you a badge and ID and a weapon issued. There’s going to be a lot to do, even without the internal problem, because we’re going to be a little shorthanded after I’m finished.”
“That’s fine,” she said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
They hung up. Holly went to the kitchen and found a steak and a bottle of cabernet, then she got out the stainless steel grill, set it up outside and hooked up the gas bottle, which, she noticed, seemed almost empty. She started the grill, then unstrapped her lawn furniture from the rack on the trailer, poured herself a glass of wine, put the steak on the fire and sat down to watch the sun set over the river. The water had turned purple and gold, and the sun made a big red ball as it sank through the haze. She turned the steak, sipped the wine and took it all in. Her new home was on a small inlet leading from the main river, surrounded by acres of marsh, with a little dock a few feet away. Maybe she’d buy a boat. She’d taken the money she’d saved, plus her part of the insurance money from her mother, who had died three years before, paid off the loan on the trailer, traded in her car and put the rest into treasury bills and a mutual fund. She drank her wine and took stock.
She was thirty-eight years old, with exactly twenty years in the military behind her. She’d enlisted at seventeen, been assigned to the MPs at nineteen, gotten her bachelor’s degree through the University of Maryland program that operated on military bases all over the world, gone to Officer Candidate School at twenty-two and worked her way up to major and command of a company of MPs. That was when Colonel Bruno had taken a liking to her, and nothing had been the same since. What had started as a simple pass, rebuffed, had turned into a yearlong campaign of would-be seduction that had ended in a nearly successful attempt to rape her. That was when she could take it no longer and had pressed charges.
Holly had known that prosecuting him would be an uphill battle, but when the young lieutenant had walked into her office and told her own story of Bruno’s abuse, she had thought the corroboration of another officer would put the man in prison, or at least get him out of the military. It still stung to know how wrong she had been.
She fixed herself a salad and ate the steak absently, reflecting on the life that had brought her to Orchid Beach. What had she done wrong? Why had this happened to her? She had made a real career for herself in the army, with consistently outstanding evaluations by her superiors. She’d have made lieutenant colonel in another six months and retired after thirty years as a full colonel. As it was, she’d have only the twenty-year pension as a major, which, while it wasn’t bad, wasn’t what she had planned on. With a little luck, she might even have made it to brigadier general, which would have made Ham proud enough to pop—her mother, too, if she could look down from where she surely was.
She sat until well past dark, trying to limit herself to half the bottle of wine and failing, then she picked up her dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. She put a rubber cork into what was left of the bottle and pumped the air out, keeping it fresh for another time.
She took one more look out the door at the river. The moon had risen and the resulting streak of light across the water came nearly to her feet. An army brat her whole life, right now she was a civilian for the first time. Tomorrow she’d be a cop. She’d get in a run early, to work off the effects of the wine; then she’d be at her new job on the dot.
She undressed and got into bed, naked, and began to drift off. The crickets in the swamp lulled her to sleep. Chet Marley had made a good decision, she thought. She’d do him proud.
CHAPTER
3
H olly found the municipal building half a block off the beach, parked her car in the public lot, went into the building and consulted the directory. Everything seemed neatly packaged in one four-story structure—city manager’s office, council offices, tax office, city attorney, water authority and the other municipal departments, all on the upper floors. Directly ahead on the ground floor, behind a set of glass doors, was the Orchid Beach Police Department. She walked in.
A uniformed officer in what appeared to be his early twenties sat behind a broad desk, a high stool bringing him to her eye level. “Good morning,” she said, “my name is Barker; I have an appointment with Chief Marley.”
He blinked at her, but didn’t move for a moment. “Just a minute,” he said finally, then got up and walked down a row of small offices and disappeared into one. A moment later he returned, followed by an older uniformed officer.
“Morning,” the officer said. He was a little over six feet, of slim build, with glossy black hair cut short. “Can I help you?”<
br />
“I have an appointment with Chief Marley,” she said again.
He nodded and opened a gate in the railing that separated the public area from the squad room, where half a dozen desks sat, most of them empty. “Follow me,” he said.
Holly followed the officer to the rear wall of the squad room, and into a large glass-fronted office. He sat down behind the desk and indicated with a silent gesture that she should sit opposite.
“The chief’s not in,” he said. “Can I help you with something?” His attitude was blank, noncommittal, not impolite.
“Chief Marley is expecting me,” she said. “I’ll wait.”
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“My name is Holly Barker.” She waited for a response but got none. “Who are you?” She kept her voice at the same level as his.
“Lieutenant Wallace,” the man replied. “What did you want to see the chief about?”
Holly was a little surprised that her name didn’t ring a bell with Wallace, but perhaps Chet Marley had his reasons for not spreading the word that she was coming to work that day. “I think I’d better wait for the chief and take it up with him,” she said.
“Chief Marley won’t be in today,” Wallace said. “I’m acting chief. Maybe you’d better take it up with me.”
“Acting chief?” Holly said, wrinkling her brow. “I don’t understand; the chief asked me to be here at nine this morning. Why isn’t he coming in?”
“That’s an official matter,” Wallace said.
“So is my appointment with the chief,” she replied evenly.
“Do you know the chief?” Wallace asked.
“Yes.”
“When did you last speak with him?”
“Last night around seven-thirty.”
“In person?”
“On the phone.”
“Do you know where he was at the time?”
“He was at home. I called him there.”
“How long did you talk?”
“Only a couple of minutes. He asked me to come in this morning.”
“For what purpose?”
“I’d rather the chief told you about that.”
“The chief’s not going to be able to do that.”
Now Holly was growing alarmed. “What do you mean?”
“The chief took a bullet in the head last night.”
Holly sat up straight. “Is he dead?”
“Not yet.”
At that moment, a handsome middle-aged woman bustled breathlessly into the room, startling Holly. “Are you Miss Barker?” she asked.
“Yes,” Holly replied.
“I’m so sorry to be late,” the woman said. “I was at the hospital.” She turned to Wallace. “Hurd, did you tell her?”
“Yeah, just now.”
“I’ve just come from the hospital,” the woman said. “I’ve been there since midnight.”
“How is the chief?” Holly asked.
“He was in surgery most of the night; he’s in the recovery room now.”
“Any prognosis?”
“The doctors won’t say anything, but they looked pretty grim. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Jane Grey, the chief’s assistant.” She offered her hand.
Holly stood up and shook it. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
“I don’t think so, but you and I have some things to go over. Why don’t you come with me?” She turned to Wallace. “Hurd, I don’t think you ought to be in the chief’s office.” She produced a bunch of keys, waited while Wallace left, then locked the office and beckoned to Holly.
Holly followed her to another office down the hall, as big as the chief’s but crowded with filing cabinets, boxes and storage cabinets.
“Have a seat,” Jane said. “This is where I live, if you can call it that.”
“Tell me how the chief got shot,” Holly said.
“Nobody knows exactly, but it looks like he might have tried to question somebody in a car, who pulled a gun on him. A motorist found him beside A1A around eleven last night. He was lying in front of his car, lit by the headlights. The man called nine-one-one on his car phone, and an ambulance was there in under ten minutes. A woman I know who works in the emergency room called me, and by the time I got there he was already in surgery.”
“I’d like to go and see him as soon as I can,” Holly said.
“They promised they’d call me when they had some idea of how he’s doing,” Jane said. She seemed almost about to cry, but squared her shoulders and sat up straight. “I think the best thing you and I can do right now is get you processed and on the job.” She unlocked a desk drawer and pulled out a file. “I’ve got all your paperwork right here; the chief signed everything before he went home last night. I do need to get some information for your ID.” She turned to the computer terminal on her desk and punched a few keys.
“What would you like to know?”
“Date of birth?”
Holly told her.
“Height?”
“Five feet, eight inches.”
“Weight?”
“A hundred and thirty-five pounds.”
“Color of hair?”
“Light brown.”
“Okay.” Jane typed a command and a printer spat out a sheet of paper. “I’ll need your social security number and next of kin.”
Holly recited the number and gave her Ham’s name and address.
“That’s right, they were in the army together, weren’t they?” Jane said.
“Yes, more than ten years ago. They kept in touch.”
“There’s another of their old army buddies living here, too—Hank Doherty. You’ll have to meet him.”
“My father mentioned him—he’s the one with the dogs, isn’t he?”
“Well…yes, I guess, but he’s not as active in the dog-training business as he once was. Hank’s…well, we can go into that later.”
“All right.”
“Okay, now documents.” She began handing Holly documents to sign—health insurance, group life insurance, federal and state tax forms. “Good,” Jane said, when Holly had signed everything. “You’re on the payroll. Now let’s get your ID done. Oh, we’d better get you in uniform for your photograph.” She got up and closed the venetian blinds on the glass front of her office, then set a large cardboard box on her desk. “These are the uniforms we ordered for you, according to the sizes you gave us.” She produced a khaki shirt. “Can you slip into this? I’ll leave you alone, if you like.”
“No, that’s all right,” Holly said. She slipped out of her slacks and shirt and into a uniform. Jane produced a badge from her desk drawer and pinned it on.
“Now, let’s get your picture taken.” She pulled down a home movie screen on one wall and produced a Polaroid camera from her bottomless desk drawers. “Just stand right there and look nice,” she said, then snapped the picture. A moment later she had stuck the photograph to the computer printout and was laminating it in a desktop machine. “There,” she said, looking satisfied with her work. She took a leather wallet from her desk, inserted the ID card and handed it to Holly. A gold shield was affixed to the wallet.
“Thank you, Jane.”
“Now you’re officially Deputy Chief Holly Barker, and nobody can do a damn thing about it. Your contract is for five years, after all.”
“Might somebody want to do something about it?” Holly asked.
“You never know. Oh, one more thing,” Jane said. She unlocked a heavy steel cabinet and took out a pistol with a holster and belt, a box of ammunition and an envelope. “Here’s your weapon, a nine-millimeter Beretta automatic, and fifty rounds of ammunition. Sign right here.” Holly signed. “You can have another weapon of your own, if you want to, but you’ll need to register the serial number with me and fire a round for our ballistics records.”
“Okay.”
Jane opened the envelope and shook out a pair of handcuffs and two keys, then clipped them onto the pistol belt. “The chief likes eve
rybody to have a spare handcuff key in their pocket, in case, God forbid, anybody should ever cuff you with your own handcuffs.”
“Good idea.”
Jane took a thick, ring-bound document from a shelf and handed it to Holly. “This is our bible,” she said. “The chief has been working on it for a long time. It outlines our standard operating procedures for all personnel.”
“The chief sent me a copy,” Holly said. “I’ve read it, and I’m very impressed.”
“He said he thought you might make some suggestions for revisions,” Jane said.
“Not right away—maybe later.”
Jane handed her a sheet of paper. “Here’s a personnel roster with everybody’s rank and assigned duties.”
“I’ve seen this, too,” Holly said. “I’m not sure I’ve memorized it yet, though.”
“I believe you’re all set,” Jane said. “We’ve got an office ready for you next door. Let me show you.” She led Holly into an office nearly as big as the chief’s. It seemed well equipped and comfortable. “Here’s the combination to your safe and your keys to your office and the building,” she said, handing Holly a slip of paper and some keys. “I expect you should use the chief’s car until…he’s back at work. It’s the blue, unmarked car in space one in the lot. Here are the keys.”
“Thanks.”
“There’s a watch change at ten o’clock; we can officially introduce you then.”
“Sounds good. I take it nobody but you and the chief knew I was coming?”
“That’s the way the chief wanted it,” she said.
“Jane, a minute ago, you said something about nobody being able to do anything about my being here. If people had known I was coming, might somebody have tried to do something about it?”
“Well,” Jane said, “you never know, do you?”
“I guess not. I think I’d better see Lieutenant Wallace before the others. Will you ask him to come in here?” Holly settled herself behind her new desk and waited.
CHAPTER
4
