The Chairwoman gaveled the regular Wednesday Board meeting to order as security closed the auditorium doors. It was a full house as residents crowded in to give their opinion on a proposed referendum to increase the county sales tax. The Board would use the money to build two elementary schools.
Chief Anderson sat in the front row in clear view of everyone. He wanted to appear more accessible in light of the Lewis assault and the car chase. Back at his office was a list of reporters expecting a return call about the incident and a memo from Risk Management calculating the total in property damages. The thought of both gave him a headache.
The Board’s clerk read several announcements that didn’t seem to interest anyone other than a government watchdog group that attended and recorded every meeting. A local news cameraman was still setting up a camera aimed at the audience.
The first significant order of business concerned a proposed change to the county’s refuse service. Garbage collectors would only pick up trash that was in county issued containers that were placed no more than four feet from the curb or ally entranceway. There were some groans but no objections after the clerk announced the containers were free.
Then the meeting moved on to the sales tax which got everyone’s attention including Chief Anderson. Prior to the meeting, a Board member had informed him that part of the increased tax revenues could be allocated toward the new emergency response center. However, some members wanted to direct the funds toward upgrading the county’s IT department and implementing the long awaited cyber-based crimes division. Chief Anderson worried that his dream of Goslyn being a major law enforcement hub would be delayed if not scrapped altogether.
A line quickly formed at the front podium and flowed back to the main entrance. The first speaker set the tone for the evening.
“Always good to see you, Madame Chairwoman,” a tall man in overalls said. He adjusted the microphone mount to his height. “My name is Harold Brooks, and I’m a longtime resident of Goslyn. As a senior citizen on a fixed income, I oppose any tax increase.”
The crowd gave a healthy applause, and a woman in the watchdog group angled her camcorder to get a better view of Harold.
Harold said, “In fact, the school budget should have a surplus according to an audit the Board issued two years ago.” He held up a booklet with the County Seal on the front. “So it doesn’t make sense to me why the county would ask us to pay more in taxes to raise money it should already have.”
Another round of applause followed, louder than the first.
Harold glanced at the timer on the podium that showed a minute remaining. “I also think the Board’s got its priorities wrong. Instead of having a meeting about raising taxes, this meeting should be about the crime that’s taking place in this community. I have friends on the force, and I respect what they do. But there was a time when we didn’t need a neighborhood watch sign posted in every neighborhood. The Board should be concerned about that instead of trying to take more money out of our pockets.”
The applause was louder a third time as Harold put the booklet in the front pocket of his overalls. The watchdog camcorder pointed toward the chief as he tried to appear professional and unmoved.
The next dozen speakers echoed Harold’s comments, and the proposed referendum started to take a backseat to a discussion on community safety.
Chief Anderson felt like his department was on trial, and that he was in enemy territory. He held his composure and tried to ignore the blinking red light on the camcorder aimed at him again.
A Board member intervened before the next speaker approached the microphone.
“Madame Chairwoman,” Supervisor Cleo Jacobs said, “in light of the concerns being expressed, I think we should give Chief Anderson the opportunity to speak.”
The Chairwoman agreed, and Chief Anderson stood and adjusted his uniform. He told himself not to raise his voice or pound on the podium as he approached.
“Thank you, Madame Chairwoman. As Chief of the Goslyn Police Department, I would like to reassure everyone that my department is fully committed to servicing and protecting this community each and every day. However, challenges do exist, and the main challenge is keeping pace with the county’s growth.” The chief hated his response. He thought it sounded like a politician reading from a teleprompter. “Of course, Goslyn PD is doing everything possible to attract the best and the brightest police officers. The Board is providing the resources necessary to help accomplish that. But we’ve got stiff competition from Richmond and surrounding counties. Still, our presence will be felt in every neighborhood. And I, along with my staff, are open to any and all suggestions as to how we keep Goslyn as one of the best places to live in the Commonwealth.” He mentally rolled his eyes. God, I feel like an official ass-kisser.
“Thank you, Chief Anderson,” the Chairwoman said. “The floor is still open for the next speaker.”
Chief Anderson sat and listened as the meeting got back on track. No one was in favor of the tax hike, and the Supervisors mumbled among themselves whether it was worth putting it as a referendum on the next voter ballot.
The chief could see the funding for his response center slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it. He was tired and stifled a yawn that he didn’t want replayed over and over again on the late news.
The Chairwoman called a ten minute recess after the next speaker approached the podium wearing a ‘Death Before Taxes’ T-shirt and insisted on reciting parts of the State’s Constitution. Chief Anderson followed a crowd out a side door that led to the public restrooms and a soda machine. He was tempted to walk out the main exit and head off to a private gin rummy game hosted by friends from the Rotary Club. But given how things had gone so far, he thought a reporter would probably follow him.
He was right. Just as he turned toward the soda machine, someone called out his name.
“Chief Anderson! I have a quick question for you!” It was the woman from the watchdog group. With her camcorder.
The chief cringed. “Damn it.” He turned with a smile and offered a handshake.
The woman had a strong grip coupled with a sharp question. “Chief Anderson, are you aware of the Board secretly talking to Homeland Security about using taxpayer funds to build an overpriced and unnecessary emergency response center?”
“Uh…excuse me?” The chief fumbled around in his pocket for change to put in the soda machine. He hated sodas but was stalling for time. “What do you mean by secret, ma’am?” He put quarters in the coin slot and randomly made a selection. The machine buzzed as he pressed the button again. Nothing came out.
“I’m referring to a memo we obtained under the Freedom of Information Act,” the woman said as she pushed her sliding black rimmed glasses back up on her sun-tanned nose.
“A memo…uh…” The chief pressed every button until finally a bottle dropped. “I’m not aware of any memo from Homeland Security, ma’am.” He picked up the ice-cold bottle and clenched it firmly with both hands.
The woman stepped closer until she nearly had him backed against the machine. “I can show you a copy right now.” Camcorder in one hand, she held up an iPhone in her other.
Chief Anderson didn’t look at the phone’s screen. He looked for an escape route instead. His hands were wet from the cold bottle sweat, and he suddenly had to use the bathroom.
Sorry, I don’t have my reading glasses,” he said. “Why don’t you forward a copy to my office, and I’ll have my staff contact you. Excuse me.”
He maneuvered around the woman who didn’t give any ground. He pushed open the men’s room door and immediately threw the bottle into an old, tin wastebasket sitting underneath a paper towel dispenser. The bottle made a loud thud and shook the basket. “Nosey woman,” he growled as he snatched a towel from the dispenser and dried his hands. As he turned and walked to a stall, another stall door opened and a familiar but unwelcome face appeared.
“Tough crowd tonight,” Harold said as he went to the sink and washed his hands.
Chief Anderson was tempted to hurl a sarcastic response but held his tongue. He and Harold were no strangers. Olivia had introduced them at a community picnic when she and Clifford Anderson were still partners. The picnic was where the two men had their first cordial disagreement about county politics. They had a few more encounters at other events--each ending with the chief thinking Harold was a relic of the old Goslyn when people were naïve enough to leave their doors unlocked or put a spare key under a flower pot.
“Tough crowds come with the job,” Chief Anderson said and brushed his mustache. He was still flustered by the reporter but didn’t want it to show. Instead of going into the stall, he turned to the sink and mirror and adjusted the badge pinned to his uniform jacket. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
Harold dried his hands and opened the door. “I’ll see you in there for the next round, Chief. Say ‘hello’ to your son for me.”
Chief Anderson took the last comment as a cheap shot. He knew that Harold, thanks to Olivia, not only knew about his strained relationship with Clifford but also knew the sordid details behind Clifford leaving the force.
“Old buzzard,” he groaned to himself. He used the rest room and checked his uniform in the mirror again. “All right, let’s get this over with.” He opened the door and looked around the corner. Coast is clear. The second he stepped back into the auditorium, however, the blinking red light on the woman’s camcorder greeted him. He returned to his front row seat and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a short line of speakers waiting at the podium. Maybe he would make it to the gin rummy game after all.