Chief Anderson flung the morning paper into his office trash can and dropped two Alka-Seltzers into a plastic cup. He glanced up from his desk at Lieutenant Beal who he had summoned to his office but hadn’t invited to sit down.
The trailer fire had made the front page, and the chief’s Monday had started with a six a.m. call from Channel Six News. A weekend hunting trip with a Board Supervisor had prevented him from personally getting a handle on things before the media started to swarm. Nor did a brief news conference by the Deputy Chief do much to stop the wave of e-mails and phone calls flooding the chief’s office.
“This case is beyond sloppy. It’s a goddamn mess!” the chief said. “Who the hell told that IRS agent she could ride along on the arrest!” He gulped from the cup and winced as the seltzer fizzled in his throat. “I want Detectives Winston and Rowland on desk duty until further notice, and neither one is to have any contact with the IRS. Am I clear?”
“Clear, sir,” Lieutenant Beal said as she stood at attention.
“You need to notify Special Agent Jeffries that she should direct any case related matters to you and not to your detectives. I also want the name of the young man who claimed the agent ran him over. He’ll probably blab to some reporter and sue the damn Department!”
“Sir, it’s not as bad as it looks. They found a meth trailer--”
Chief Anderson held his hand up. “Lieutenant, I’m not in the mood for excuses. This case has dragged on for months and caused the most property damage this department has seen in years. I’ve had enough!” He slapped his hand down on the desk and turned toward his computer. “You’ll get an e-mail with additional instructions,” he said.
Lieutenant Beal had also had enough. Of Chief Anderson. She knew his blow ups were more about Olivia than about the professional conduct of her detectives. She nodded and left his office without another word.
She passed through the squad room where she saw both Olivia and Marcus on the phones. She knew it was time to make a phone call herself--a call to a friend in Internal Affairs who could dig up an old file for her. She first delivered the chief’s orders to two of her best detectives who stared back at her as if she had two heads.
***
Maureen turned the volume up on the conference phone as her co-workers dove into a box of mixed donuts. The chocolate éclairs were disappearing fast.
“Maureen, do you know if Ronald Henry has a bail hearing scheduled?” her supervisor asked from the other end of the line.
“Carol checked this morning, and the Atlanta DA’s office said the hearing is set for Wednesday. The DA plans to ask the Court to deny bail. She thinks Henry is a flight risk based on his brother already being a fugitive.”
“Are we second in line at getting our hands on this guy?”
“Right now, we may be third.” Maureen opened the Lewis file and browsed her notes.“Atlanta PD and the FBI think he’s involved in a car cloning operation. The stolen car the police caught him in is registered to a dealership known for selling luxury cars with fake DMV papers and VIN numbers copied from other cars. Also, the owner of the dealership has been on the FBI’s radar for a chop shop that ships parts and cars out of the country. So we’ve got plenty of company when it comes to prosecuting Mr. Henry.”
“Regardless, I still want a crack at him. We haven’t done all this work for nothing. Maureen, we’ll conference again next week.” The supervisor disconnected from the call. She was a day into her two-week Thanksgiving vacation.
Maureen grabbed the last éclair and headed back to her office.
“You know you’re making everybody fat around here,” she said to Carol as she passed her desk. “I’ll have to run an extra mile tonight.”
“I’m only giving people what they want. I can’t help it if they don’t have any will power.” Carol followed Maureen into her office. “Check your e-mail for your flight and hotel reservations, and here’s a new file.” Carol placed the folder on Maureen’s desk.
“What time is my flight tomorrow?”
“Eight fifteen with a return next Tuesday. Your insurance agent called. He said your car will be ready this afternoon.” Carol turned to leave and took her usual pose in the doorway.
“What?” Maureen asked.
“Nothing, it’s just good to see you’re safe after a crazy weekend…and happy.”
“Stop it before you make me blush,” Maureen said and smiled. “By the way, I already picked out your Christmas present, so don’t go shopping for anything that plays music.”
“Ahh, that was nice of you. I’ll bring more donuts next week.”
***
The Sun dipped behind the horizon as Maureen ran another lap around the park. She was trying to run off the urge to punch something. Lieutenant Beal’s call explaining why she was now the point of contact instead of Olivia was subtle. But Maureen could read between the lines. Olivia had ticked off somebody.
As she circled the park one more time, Maureen spotted Olivia getting out of her truck. Maureen stopped and sat on the ground underneath a tree as Olivia approached.
“What are you doing here, Olivia?” she asked.
“I’m taking a customer service survey for your insurance company. They want to know if you’re satisfied with the new window.” Olivia sat and took out a handkerchief and wiped sweat from Maureen’s forehead.
Maureen grabbed her hand and held it. “Olivia, this is serious. You could get reprimanded or worse.”
“Maureen, I’m not a child. I can take care of my career, and I’m not going to be told who I can talk to or see.”
Maureen released Olivia’s hand and used her head bandana to wipe the sweat from her face. “This is the wrong time to act like a brash rookie trying to buck the system,” she said. “We can see each other after your case is over.”
“You’re missing my point, Maureen,” Olivia said as she stood up. “This stupid order came from my chief who acts like a bully and can’t stand the fact that I have a better relationship with his son than he does.”
“It doesn’t matter, Olivia. I’m not going to let you do anything to your career that you’ll regret later.” Maureen stood and tucked the bandana into the waistband of her sweats. “Neither of our cases is worth that.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?”
“It means there’re more important things right now than us seeing each other.”
“Like what?”
Maureen sighed. “Like your job.”
“Maureen, if you don’t want to see me anymore, just say so. Don’t make this about my job.”
“What are you talking about! That’s not what I said, and this is about your job. I’m saying--” Maureen paused as another jogger passed by. “I’m saying we can live to fight another day. Right now, you should listen to your lieutenant.”
“I’m sorry, but I think I deserve a little more respect from the county’s head police officer--if not as his son’s friend, at least as a detective. First he asks my lieutenant about my personal life, and then he actually thinks he has the right to interfere in it!”
“You think going against his direct order is a fight you can win?”
Olivia huffed. “No way I’m letting that pain in the ass have his way on this!”
“You’re taking this the wrong way, Olivia. Calm down and let’s just--”
“Let’s just what?! Pretend that everything is okay?! Maybe I should quit now and save him the trouble of firing me!”
Maureen pulled at her hair in frustration and said, “Damn, you’re stubborn! Why did I ever…”
“Ever what?! Say you love me?!” Olivia balled up her handkerchief and threw it on the ground. “Sorry to disappoint you,” she sniped and quickly walked away.
“Olivia! Don’t leave like that!” Maureen followed her to her truck and blocked the driver’s side door. “What is wrong with you?! I’m in love with you, and that won’t change just because we have to deal with your chief’s ego trip. Be patient and use your head.”
Olivia hung her head and said, “It’s been a long day. I’m tired and…just tired.” She slowly reached around Maureen for the door handle.
Maureen, shocked and confused, quietly stepped aside and watched as Olivia sped off. She walked home, painfully feeling she was a single woman again.
***
Pat closed the twins’ bedroom door and walked back to the kitchen. She took a carton of ice cream out of the freezer and put two scoops in a bowl then placed it in front of Olivia at the kitchen table.
“Thank goodness the boys sleep like rocks,” she said as she sat across from Olivia. “I’d never get them back to sleep if they knew you were here.”
“Sorry again for coming by so late. I couldn’t sleep.” Olivia poked her spoon into the chocolate fudge scoops.
“You know she’s right, Ollie. You are stubborn. You hate taking ‘No’ for an answer when you think you’re doing the right thing.” Pat got up to pour a glass of milk and get two oatmeal cookies from a jar on the kitchen counter. “And you know Roy Anderson has been a jackass for years. That’s why Cliff moved away. So why are you letting him get under your skin this time?”
“Because he’s wrong, Pat,” Olivia said. “And I’m fed up.”
“Ollie, even if he does know you’re dating Maureen, defying ‘Mad Max’ Anderson’s order is wrong. It’ll only hurt you and prove whatever stupid point he’s trying to make.”
“I’m still pissed and tempted to tell him off.” Olivia poked at the frozen scoops again.
Pat could read her best friend like the back of her hand. This wasn’t just about Chief Anderson. This was about Maureen.
“I haven’t seen you this mad since Kendra broke up with you,” she said.
“Don’t go there, Pat!”
“I went there, Ollie!”
Olivia slammed the spoon down on the table and got up.
“Where’re you going?!”
“To check on my godsons,” Olivia said and walked down the hall. She really needed a minute to wipe the tears that dangled at the corner of her eyes. Pat had hit a nerve, and she was right. Olivia had been longing for years to find a woman who could help her forgive Kendra and move on. She thought Maureen could be the one.
She looked in on Jesse and Jaylon who were tucked into their black and white bunk beds. Soccer gear and comic books littered the floor and dresser tops. She watched and recalled when she bought the boys their first soccer ball. They were just big enough to pick it up and run with it into a goalie net that her dad had built for them. She then thought about Maureen and their conversation about having kids. She hated herself for losing her temper and speaking to Maureen the way she did. She never realized just how deeply the hurt from her first love had cut.
She went back to the kitchen where Pat was stirring chocolate syrup into the glass of milk.
“This stuff is seriously good,” Pat said. “I put some on your ice cream.”
Olivia sat back at the table. “Have I ever told you you’re as smart as you look?”
“Only a million times,” Pat said and bit a cookie. “What are you going to do about Maureen?”
Olivia groaned. “What can I do? I’m not allowed to call her, so I can’t even apologize.” Olivia pushed away the bowl of ice cream.
“Clutch your pearls, girl!” Pat said. “Olivia Ann Winston rejected a bowl of ice cream.” She offered Olivia one of the cookies.
Olivia shook her head.
“C’mon, take it,” Pat said. “Junk food is the cure for a crappy mood.”
Olivia took the cookie, dipped it into her ice cream, and bit it.
Pat laughed. “That’s the Ollie I know.”
“It’s not a cure, but it helps for now.” Olivia dipped it again. “I wish it could tell me how to talk to Maureen without getting fired.”
“She probably thinks this whole situation is nutty anyway. I know I do. Be patient like she told you.”
Olivia sighed. “Patient. But hopefully not single again.”
***
Keith bit his nails and leaned against the bar inside a private Atlanta nightclub. He was having a stiff drink after spending hours looking for an attorney who wouldn’t ask too many questions. He had hired legal counsel for Ronnie and was feeling burned by the high retainer. He dialed his close friend to get an update.
“Hey, man, did your girl see him?” Keith asked.
“She saw him before they moved him to a permanent cell this morning. She said he looked scared. I guess yo’ boy ain’t used to being on the inside.”
“Be serious, man. What about the bail hearing? Is she sure it’s in two days?”
“Yeah, she knows the clerk who sets the schedule.”
And the dealership?”
“The cops went through the front doors this morning.”
“All right. Later, man.”
Keith shoved his phone into his pocket. “Damn, this gets worse and worse.” He bucked his shot of vodka and ordered another one as he tried to forget about the unwanted guest occupying the couch back at his place. He thought his loyalty to Ronnie was strong, but either his conscience or the vodka shots were telling him he’d better have an exit plan. With no return.