3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Nick
The Zoom call took thirty-eight minutes.
I knew because I watched the clock the entire time.
This call was from the State Fire Marshal to all the chiefs in the state concerning us checking the schools' fire extinguishers and detectors.
We already did this. Every single year on the same day, just like we always have.
Why he thought he needed to call and remind every fire chief in the state was beyond me.
I was certain we all had other things to do.
At least I did, and because of that damn call, I'd pawned off that attractive Brandy Wilson on Jo.
Damn call could and should have been an email.
I put the papers back in the school folder, picked it up, and tapped the edge a couple of times. Then set it back down and pressed the intercom button on my phone.
“Jo, could I see you in my office, please?”
“Ohhh, you're in trouble now, Jo,” I heard Scott tease from the hallway.
“How'd the tour go?” I asked when she sauntered into my office and took a seat across from me. I kept my tone casual and informal. Not wanting to give off any vibes. Because this was purely out of professional interest. Nothing else.
“Fine,” she said.
“Just fine?”
“Yep.”
“Did she have any questions or concerns?” I eyed Jo.
“Nope.”
“Did Cap behave himself?”
“Loved her.”
I looked back at my report. “Of course he did.”
Jo didn't move.
“Did the crew treat her alright?” I asked, still casual but getting the feeling there was something Jo wasn’t telling me.
“Sure did.” She smiled for the first time during this conversation. “Thompson invited her to chili.”
“What? He did?”
Jo nodded. “Have a problem with that?”
“No, no, not at all.” I sat back in my chair. “She probably won't come anyway.”
“We'll see.” Jo smiled. Just slightly.
“Good.” I looked at my desk, then back at Jo. “Did she seem—” I stopped. I wanted to choose the next word carefully. “Competent?”
Jo looked at me for a moment with the expression of a woman who had worked with me for long enough that she could hear every word I wasn't saying.
“Yeah, Chief,” she said. “She seemed very competent.”
“Good. That's... good.” I nodded at my report. “That'll be all.”
Jo stood and turned toward the door before pivoting around to face me.
“She's a nice lady. Very friendly. So much so that I invited her to dinner tonight.”
I looked up.
“She's new to town,” Jo said, with absolute innocence, the sort that someone who wasn’t innocent at all would use. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”
I looked back at my report. “Fine.”
“Ruthie's making lasagna.”
“I'll expect leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
“You got it.”
Jo left, and I listened to her footsteps go down the hall.
Cap walked in and sat next to me.
“Hi,” I said. “Did you make a friend today?”
He put his chin on my knee.
I took his head in my hands. “Of course you did.”
Twenty minutes later, I was looking over a budget report when I saw Cap get up from his bed and bound out of the office. Which was a sure-tell sign that someone he liked was approaching.
“Who should be a police dog?”
I heard him talk to Cap before I saw him. Hank McAllister, Denture's chief of police, walked in carrying his own coffee cup and wearing the expression of a man who owned whatever room he walked into.
He looked around my office.
“This damn office is so sterile,” he said. This was an observation he made approximately once a month. “You need a plant. Or a fish.”
Hank sat down in the chair across from my desk and stretched his legs out.
“I have a dog.”
“I know. The poor guy.” Hank was petting Cap. “It's grim in here, boy, isn't it? I have an SUV you’d fit great in.”
“You'd put him in jail instead of walking him.”
Cap looked at Hank with his ears raised and his head cocked to one side, like that was the worst thing he'd ever heard and he needed confirmation it wasn't true.
“I wouldn't do that to you,” he said, rubbing Cap's head. “No, I’d have a cadet walk you.”
Cap placed his head on Hank's armrest and left it there. Happy to be his friend again now that he knew he would be walked and not arrested.
“To what do I owe this visit?” I said, leaning back into my chair.
“Heard you had a visitor this morning.”
I looked up. “News travels.”
“The three sisters saw her when the shuttle dropped them off.” He shrugged. “Who was she?”
I set down my pen. “Of course, those three told you. Nothing happens in this town without the senior sect knowing about it.”
“You know how it works.” He drank his coffee. “So?”
“So what?”
“So, who was the” — Hank air-quoted — “nice-looking lady for someone her age if she wasn't wearing those God-awful hooker heels?”
I rolled my eyes. “Is that what they said?”
Hank nodded.
“Brandy Wilson, the new Community Ambassador.” I said it a bit too defensively, so I quickly added, “She came by for a tour.”
Hank nodded slowly. “Huh.” He looked at the ceiling for a moment. “We didn't get a visit.”
“She just started. Maybe she’s been warned of the kind of establishment you run.” I teased him.
“And you were first on her list to see, huh?” he said, meaning he thought there was more to this than there was. “So, what's she like?”
Meaning, is she cute, stacked, with a nice ass? I steepled my fingers. “She seemed fine.”
“Seemed fine?”
“Professional. Organized.” I thought about the notebook. The way she'd had it open before she'd even sat down. “Prepared.”
“Uh huh.” Hank was looking at me with the particular expression he used when he thought something was funny but respected me enough not to say so. Usually. “You sound like you're describing a meeting with an accountant. Lord, is she that bad?”
A pause that was approximately one second too long.
“Honestly, I had a call with the Fire Marshal, so I hardly talked to her. Jo took her around, and by the time I got off the call, she was gone.”
“And yet you spent enough time with her to figure out she was professional, organized, and prepared?” He raised an eyebrow.
“That’s what Jo said and what I got from how she looked.”
“I'm not sure you would know how a woman looked if one bit you.”
“Well,” I put my elbows on the desk, “if one bites me, be assured I'll make a mental note of what she looks like and fill you in.”
Hank snorted or laughed, maybe both.
“How long did Cap bark at her?”
“He didn't,” I said. “Cap likes everyone.”
“Lies! Cap does not like everyone.” Hank pointed at me with his coffee cup. “Cap barked for twenty minutes when the equipment inspector came through in March.”
“The equipment inspector had an attitude.”
“Besides, we have to bring him treats when we come over.” Hank smiled into his coffee.
I wanted to thank him for the kitchen incident, but I let it go because the alternative was having a conversation I had no interest in having, and I had a maintenance report to finish. Plus, I knew Hank, and all he wanted was to gloat.
“What exactly does the Community Ambassador do?” Hank said after a moment.
“You got me. When the city council asked the mayor, in true Steven’s style, he talked in circles long enough for them to vote yes just to get him to shut up.”
“You're not curious?”
“No.” I eyed him. “Whatever it is, I doubt it has anything to do with my department. And way more to do with yours.”
Hank considered this with a slightly optimistic expression, but he wasn't going to say so.
“Hey,” I said, changing the subject. “I saw them pulling the Christmas decorations from storage. Are you playing Santa again this year?”
“Hell yeah, I am. No one plays Santa but me.” He raised his mug. “I am Santa.”
Cap barked.
“See? Even the beasts know it to be true.”
“I think the phrase is, 'I am Batman.'“
Hank shrugged. “Same thing.”
Hank McAllister, Chief of Police, a thirty-year veteran and a man who had faced things that would make most people reconsider their bad choices.
The man who, at his age, still had a mouth like a sailor and the body of a battleship.
It surprised me every time that this man loved to play Santa for the charity Christmas in July event held every year at the community center.
He dressed up and played the role perfectly.
The thought of playing Santa gave me waves of nausea. No, thank you.
Hank stood up, finished his coffee, and set the cup on the edge of my desk the way he always did, which drove me insane, which he knew, and was why he kept doing it.
Friends.
“Burger tonight?” he said. “After shift? Six at Pins and Grins?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
He knocked twice on the doorframe on his way out — his version of a goodbye — and I listened to his footsteps fading.
“Come on, boy, walk me out,” he called back to Cap, who looked at me, then took off out the door.
Traitor.