Chiefs

by Stuart Woods

  He indicated the piece of ground between the firehouse and the back door of city hall. “I thought this would be a good place to build. The city owns a few feet more frontage on this side than on the other. Will Henry, have you given any thought to what you’re going to need here?”

  “I’ve got one or two ideas, but I think we ought to ask Skeeter what he thinks about it. He’s the only man I know with his own jail.”

  Skeeter grinned. “You got a real smart Chief here, Hugh; knows when to ask the advice of his sheriff. That won’t last long, though. He’ll know it all before long.”

  “Well, Skeeter,” said Will Henry, “I guess we better get our money’s worth out of you while we can. You’ll be back up in Greenville tomorrow, sleeping next to that potbellied stove, and we won’t see you in Delano again until next election.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, boy, after I give you the benefit of my experience. I’m going to let you take care of the trash down here.” He pointed to the rear of the new building. “Hugh, I’d make the jail just as deep as the firehouse, but maybe not as wide. Will Henry don’t have to get a fire engine in it. I’d put four cells back there at the back, about eight by eight apiece. That may sound like a lot, but the first rowdy Saturday night you have you’ll wish you had more. Now, you want a flush toilet and a sink in every one of them, for two reasons. First of all, you don’t want to put your brand new Chief to work carrying slop jars right off, and second, if you get anybody mean in there, and you will ‘ventually, you don’t want to have to open the cell door any more than you have to. That’s basic security. Once you got ‘em in there, keep ‘em in there. Now, some of these things might sound like they’re extravagant, Hugh, but they’re not. Once you build this jailhouse, nobody is going to want to hear about doing anything to it until it falls down all by itself. If you do it right the first time, it’ll last you a long time. You do it wrong, and you’ll have people busting out of it, and you’ll have some ladies’ group or other down on you for conditions. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Holmes nodded. “I see your point, Skeeter. What else?”

  “Well you’re going to need a window in every cell, ‘cause in about a month after it’s built this jailhouse is going to smell just exactly like every other jailhouse in the United States, and it’s going to need air. Remember, your officers spend just about as much time here as your prisoners. You’re going to need a drain in every cell, so washing down the floors will be easy, and I’d put two double-decker bunks in every cell.”

  “You’d put four men in an eight-by-eight cell, Skeeter?” Will Henry was surprised.

  “I’m talking about the minimum, Will Henry. If you want to, you can make ‘em bigger. Two of ‘em anyway. Your prisoners are only going to be short-timers, fellows waiting to be tried or sent to Greenville or the county camp. You don’t have to pamper ‘em. Something else, though. I’d partition one of the cells off from the others, because sooner or later you’re going to get a woman or two in here, and you’ll even get a white woman now and then. If you want to keep the place quiet, you have to be able to keep ‘em separate from the men.” He moved to the front of the lot. “Now you’ll need a kind of office, and you better make it pretty big, ‘cause you’ll have to work and keep records in there. I’d make it as wide as the building, except for room for a corridor back to the cells. Then you’ll need a waiting room up front that’s as wide as the building. Somebody is always waiting in a jailhouse, and you don’t want ‘em in your working area, where you’ve got files and records and weapons around. You need some benches in there, but don’t make it too comfortable. You don’t want folks waiting around too long.”

  “That’s roughly what I thought would do, Skeeter,” said Will Henry, “but bigger. I think you’re right, though. I’d like to have a sort of window with a counter between the office and the waiting room.”

  “Good idea. I’ve found it’s better to have something, a desk or a counter or something, between you and the public. Makes things a little more official. Might be a good idea to have a little window in the wall between you and the firehouse, too. You’re both going to be shorthanded, and you can cover each other’s phones that way. Make sure, too, Hugh, that you have separate numbers for the two things. Nothing worse for folks than having a busy telephone when they want to get through to you.”

  “I think that window would be good for the city,” said Holmes. “And Idus Bray will like the idea of two phones. I think we can get this general plan approved on the wave of enthusiasm over our Chief’s first day in office.”

  “Another thing, Hugh,” said Skeeter. “You ought to pass some sort of motion giving Will Henry the authority to deputize. He’s by himself here, and he’s going to need help from time to time.” He turned to the new Chief. “Will Henry, I’m going to deputize you as a deputy sheriff, the way I have the other Chiefs at Warm Springs and Manchester and the rest. That way you won’t have to get me out of bed if you want to chase somebody past the city limits. But be careful how you use the authority. Keep it within the limits of official investigations of crimes committed inside the city limits. Otherwise you’re crossing onto my territory. Raise your right hand. Do you promise to uphold the laws of Meriwether County and the State of Georgia and to do your duty and to wash your face and hands every day and behind your ears where you’re still wet and to be a good boy in general?” Will Henry started to speak. “Good. You’re a deputy. Holmes is a witness.”

  “Has your wife made the speech yet?” Will Henry and Skeeter were alone at the jail site. Holmes had returned to the bank.

  “What speech?”

  “The one about being careful and not getting killed.”

  “Oh, well, yes.”

  “She’s right, Will Henry. You can get killed real easy in your job, and you can get hurt bad even easier.” Skeeter squinted off into the distance. “I’ve been sheriff of Meriwether County for eight years, and I’ve had one deputy killed and one nearly ‘bout killed, beat up so bad he’ll never do a man’s work again. But nobody’s ever laid a hand on me, personally. You want to know why?”

  Will Henry nodded. Skeeter was standing with his considerable weight on his left foot, the one nearest Will Henry, his hands on his hips. Will Henry was standing with his legs apart and his hands shoved into his hip pockets. Skeeter pivoted on his left foot and drove his right forearm hard into the upper part of Will Henry’s abdomen. Will Henry emitted a loud grunt and sat down, hard, on the grass. He sat there, dazed, gasping for breath. Skeeter squatted in front of him and peered into his face concernedly. “That hurt, didn’t it?” Will Henry nodded, still trying for breath. “Now, right now, at this particular moment, you don’t feel like getting up and doing that to me, do you?” Will Henry shook his head. “In a minute or two you will, but right now all you want to do is hold your belly and get your breath.” Will Henry weighed 180 pounds, but Skeeter reached under his arms and lifted him to his feet like a child.

  “I’m sorry I had to do that, Will Henry, but I could explain that to you for a week, and you wouldn’t get it. There’s two things: first, you’ve got to always be ready for somebody to try to do that to you, or worse, and somebody will try, believe me. Let’s say you stop a fellow for speeding. He might be the nicest, friendliest fellow you ever saw when you walk up to him, but you don’t know what he’s got in that car. He might have a trunk full of white lightning or a back seat full of some bank’s money. If you don’t know him, watch him. If you expect a fellow to hit you or shoot you, chances are he won’t get to. Second point is, don’t ever take no crap from anybody, and if you have to hit a man, hit him hard enough so you only have to do it once. Don’t you ever, ever let yourself get in a fight with a man. Your job is to stop fights, not get in ‘em. The way to stop a man fighting is to fix him so he can’t fight. After you’ve stopped one or two fights that way you’ll be able to stop a lot of ‘em just by speaking to ‘em. If you’re going to get in that position you
have to keep an edge all the time.” He reached behind him and pulled out a small blackjack. “This is an edge. It’s got lead inside and leather on the outside, and you can hit a man on the head with it almost anywhere except the temples, hit him hard and not do him any permanent damage. And for a minute or two you can put the cuffs on him or get him in a car or a cell without any problem.”

  Skeeter set Will Henry, who was still having trouble breathing, on a nail keg and pulled one up for himself. “I know it seems unfair to hit a man with a blackjack when he isn’t holding anything himself, but you’ve got to get a new idea of what being fair is. I’ve got a reputation in this county for being tough and fair. It gets me reelected every four years, and believe me, if I wasn’t tough I’d never get a chance to be fair. Do you understand me, Will Henry?”

  “Yes,” said Will Henry, finally drawing enough breath to speak.

  “Another thing. Don’t ever threaten anybody. Don’t ever say to a man, ‘You come with me, or I’ll hit you with this blackjack.’ If he’s a problem, hit him, and he’ll come with you. If you’re always ready to hit a man first, then you’ll almost never have to draw a pistol, let alone use it. Now, I’ve heard some peace officers say that you shouldn’t draw your gun unless you’re going to use it. Well, that sounds tough, but it’s stupid. You can threaten a man with a gun, that’s common sense. You pull it out and you point it at his head and you cock it, and he’ll do pretty much what you tell him. Something else about the blackjack; it’s official. If you pick up a two-by-four and hit a nigger with it, he’ll hold a grudge and be a problem to you forever. But if you hit him with a blackjack—when he deserves it—well, that’s official to a nigger; he figures you’re just doing a job.”

  Skeeter paused for a moment. “Now, about guns. I’ve pulled my gun a dozen or fifteen times in eight years, and I’ve fired it at a man twice. Killed ‘em both. One of ‘em was about to try to kill me with a pistol, and I didn’t bat an eye; I just shot him. The other one was running from me, and I told him to halt, and he wouldn’t, and I shot him. I didn’t mean to kill the second one, just bring him down. I was aiming at the seat of his pants, but I hit him in the small of his back and cut his spine.” He looked away. “I didn’t lose any sleep over the first one; it was me or him. The second one hadn’t done much, though, just stole some tires from a filling station, but he was trying to escape and would have if I hadn’t shot him. I guess I didn’t feel too good about either one of them. I can’t give you much advice about when to shoot at a man, Will Henry, unless he’s trying to kill you. You’ll have to work that out by yourself. But I’ll tell you this, you’d better work it out in your mind right now, ‘cause when the time comes you won’t have time to think about it.”

  Will Henry’s breath was coming more easily now; he stood up and filled his lungs. “Well, thanks for the advice, Skeeter. If I ever recover my health enough to use it, it ought to come in real handy.”

  “I’m just giving you the little lecture I give when I get a new deputy. You’d be surprised the way some of ‘em act as soon as they get a badge on. I have to pick ‘em real careful.” Skeeter traced some obscure pattern in the dirt with a toe. “I wouldn’t have picked you, Will Henry. If Holmes had asked my advice I’d of told him to find somebody else.”

  Will Henry was stung. “You think I’d push people around?”

  “Oh, no, no, no. That’s not why I wouldn’t of picked you. Just the reverse. I don’t know if you’ve got it in you to be hard enough. I think you’re likely to hesitate when the time comes. That’ll breed disrespect, and word’ll get around. You won’t be able to keep things straight. And when that happens, Carrie’s going to have good reason to worry. Somebody’ll kill you, Will Henry, as sure as you’re standing there.”

  They were both silent for a moment. It occurred to Will Henry that this must be one of the most solemn moments of his life. Skeeter Willis, with patent sincerity, was giving him the most earnest possible advice, based on knowledge and experience. The man was trying the very best he knew how to help him survive the work he had chosen to do. Will Henry was moved.

  “Skeeter, I understand you, and I’ll try to remember what you’ve told me. I reckon if I don’t die in bed it won’t be your fault. Thank you.”

  Skeeter heaved a deep sigh and nodded. He patted Will Henry’s shoulder heavily a couple of times, gave him a small smile, and walked away toward his car.

  Will Henry stopped in front of the house and looked at it. Although chilled from the walk home, he felt compelled to pause and reflect. The night was clear and very cold, even though it was not much past six. The rising moon gave the white frame house a luminous quality. It looked secure and inviting. He still felt somewhat disoriented. Only the day before he had left the house he was born in, left a country life, changed irrevocably his existence. The farm was receding into the past at an astonishing rate; it surprised him to feel, standing in front of this strange house, that he had arrived home. Inside, his wife was preparing a supper she had not grown or picked or plucked. His children would get up tomorrow morning and walk a short distance to school, and afterwards would play with other children who lived only a few yards away. Tomorrow, his work would allow him to walk on pavement in shoes he normally wore only on Sundays. People would seek him out with their problems, or simply pass the time of day. People. He would see more people in a day than he normally saw in ten. He had a place, a position in other people’s lives, for the first time. He would not disappoint them.

  In one short day he had singlehandedly captured two armed bank robbers in a manner that, if anyone other than Frank Mudter ever found out about it, he would never live down; he had almost seen his son kill his daughter with a pistol he himself had left loaded and within reach; and he had been knocked on his ass by the sheriff of Meriwether County. It was less than an auspicious beginning, but it was, by God, a new beginning.

  He climbed the steps and went inside.

  8

  HOLMES closed the front door and carefully hung his coat in the hall closet.

  “Hugh?” The call came from upstairs. “Is that you?” “Yes, Ginny, I’m home.” He heard her start for the stairs, and he waited in the entrance hall for her. He kissed her on the lips as she reached him, and they went into the small sitting room together. They had only recently completed the red-brick colonial house, and already they gravitated toward the “den,” as Virginia called it, instead of the more formal living room, which was kept for occasions when company called. The den was oak-paneled and leathery, and in winter Virginia always had a fire going in the little fireplace by the time he arrived home. Here, too, was kept their dark secret. In a cupboard which was part of a bookcase, concealed by a door onto which was glued a row of book spines, rested a bottle of bourbon whiskey, one of Scotch, one of very good cognac, and a bottle of very dry sherry. Holmes had made the cupboard himself after the builders had departed. Neither he nor Virginia ever touched the whiskey or brandy. Those were kept for civilized and trusted visitors, none of whom had as yet appeared. But Holmes knew that, surely, the day would come when he would want to offer a man a drink, and he would be ready.

  The cupboard was the only receptacle in a Meriwether County home which had been consciously constructed for the storage of alcoholic beverages, secret spirits usually residing in a cellar or out-of-the-way kitchen cupboard. Alcohol was a religious issue in Delano, and there were many people who held the belief that a man could not both drink whiskey and call himself a Christian. Although he had been brought up in an abstemious home, Holmes could see no logic in this viewpoint. He and Virginia had traveled widely in the United States and seen respectable people imbibing in hotels and restaurants without debauchery. The summer before, in London, on their first trip abroad, they had gone to Rule’s, the famous restaurant in Covent Garden, and Holmes had impulsively asked the wine waiter to recommend a good half-bottle of wine. He had also accepted a recommendation of sherry before the meal. He and Virginia had returned to Brown’
s Hotel slightly tipsy, had had the best night in bed of their eight-year marriage, and had smuggled a bottle of sherry home.

  Although the Eighteenth Amendment would not be declared officially ratified until later that same month and would not go into effect for another year, a man in Holmes’s position did not buy liquor openly. Instead, once a month, a small, extremely well-dressed young man in a large Pierce Arrow called at the Holmes residence after dark, filled a modest order, accepted cash in payment, and continued on his merciful rounds.

  Holmes poured them both a sherry and sank into the leather sofa. He did not come home for “dinner,” as most men did. He had a sandwich at his desk and worked. Virginia prepared a three-course meal for the evening—they had dinner later than other people—and they shared half a bottle of wine with it. When he arrived home at night, the day’s news was fresh between them, and they always had plenty to talk about.

  “You heard about the bank robbery and the arrest.”

  “Yes, in great detail, at least four times this afternoon.”

  “I swear, Ginny, it was the best thing that could possibly have happened right at this time.”

  “You mean you’re glad the bank was robbed?”

  “Oh, no, not that, although it will teach us to be a little more prepared for that sort of thing. What it’s done is made this whole Chief-of-police situation so much easier to handle. We got a motion to build a police station through the council just like that, and I think we’ll get a police car through next meeting.”

  “Even Idus Bray went along?”

  “Went along! He was leading the charge! I’ve never seen him so excited about anything! Will Henry handled the thing real well, too. Naturally, he was surprised, and I could tell he was nervous, but he stopped that car and arrested those two boys just as cool as you please. You know, I probably wouldn’t have wanted Will Henry to have that job if there had been any kind of real choice, if there had been an experienced man available. Skeeter Willis still has a lot of reservations about him, I think, but he handled this thing real well, and he’s anxious to get Skeeter’s advice about everything. He may not know much about being a policeman yet, but at least he knows he doesn’t know much. Thank the Lord for that. Can you imagine what somebody like Foxy Funderburke would be like in that job?”