Look. I’m like a lot of women with a little wear on them. I’m not interested in picking up some guy’s jockey shorts again. I don’t want to say there aren’t any good men out there. But you know, Ricky is taken.”
Rik gets quite a laugh from that. We are back in our cramped conference room with its harsh overhead lighting and no windows. The Chief has finally returned, but only after Rik called a number of times. We are less than two weeks from the hearing, which is when trial prep always gets super serious.
“I wish I was joking,” the Chief says. “But at my age, the guys that are unattached? Losers. Most of them. Way more than most. They get nasty after a couple of pops. Or they’re deadbeats. Or drunks. Or lazy. Or just pricks. These guys are the leftovers.”
“No relationships?” Rik asks.
“Oh, sure,” she says. “Now and then. And not every man turns out to be a jerk. But at this age, you know, there’s not a lot of flexibility. You are who you are. I have a potty mouth? Yeah, I do. I can try for a few less f-bombs, and definitely mind my manners around your children, but you need to give up this shit about how your sainted mom acted around your father. So long-term? I’ve stopped believing in fairy tales. If he looks like a frog and croaks like a frog, don’t expect a prince just because you kiss him.
“But that doesn’t mean I have to take a vow of chastity. I like sex. Who doesn’t? Well, that’s a stupid question because from what I hear, there’s a lot who lose interest, and not just women either. But I’m not one of them. So once or twice a month I get the itch and go sit on a barstool. If I come across a guy who has just a little idea of what he’s doing and isn’t going to bat me around, then I don’t worry about who is taking advantage of who. There are a lot of men who are nice enough when you and them want the same thing.”
The Chief lets her bluntness settle in for a second.
“These guys?” says Rik. He drops his index finger on the case file, referring to the three complainants. “Ever?” He has been willing to listen for a while, but sooner or later we have to know what the hell we are defending.
“Ever?” the Chief asks. “Long story or short?”
“Short to start.”
“Short? Okay. One word answer: Yeah. That’s short. Two of them, Cornish and DeGrassi. Third guy, Blanco? That’s pure fantasy. I’ll tell you right now Ritz got to him.” She points at me, meaning my job is to figure out how.
“Okay,” says Rik, trying hard to act unruffled now that we’ve got the facts. It’s not like we didn’t know this was coming.
The Chief, naturally, wants to defend herself.
“Escucha, okay. I’m the Chief of Police in this pueblito. That’s not like a great way to have a personal life, okay? Think about it. Twenty-four seven, this thing”—she lifts her cell phone—“that’s never off. If I sleep through the night, I’m ready to set off fireworks. And where do I go if I want to relax? Have an adult beverage? We got residency requirements. I have to live here in Highland Isle. Am I going to get behind the wheel when I’m half crocked? I don’t think so. So my choice of establishments is limited to where I can walk.”
“You could bike,” I say. Rik and the Chief both stare. That’s the kind of shit I say. It makes perfect sense to me until it comes out of my mouth.
“There is rideshare,” Rik finally offers.
“Uber and that? Sometimes I need to get. I can’t stand around on a corner for ten minutes if two dudes are throwing punches. I go to the places I know. I’m not some kid who gets a thrill waiting behind a velvet rope for two hours. There’s three or four spots I like. Me and a lot of other coppers. Because we all live in the center of town, since that’s what we can afford.
“Not asking anybody to feel sorry for me, but I don’t have a lot of choices. What should I do? I’m not walking around a bar with a name tag and shaking hands, waiting for some guy to ask if he can call me sometime. I’m not looking for a new adventure. Think I should go online, so every dude who’s got a case pending in HI can shoot me a hot text? ‘Mamacita. You look so good.’ I know how I look. So if I go out for a drink, I talk to the guys I know. What I’m after, frankly, goes better when there’s some familiarity, so I can relax and not worry about whether he’s a serial killer. And on their side, those guys understand they don’t need to buy me six rounds and make small talk. Everybody gets what they want. Six months later, I can’t remember who was who.”
Rik is a little impatient and gives her the side-eye.
“Are you saying you don’t remember whether you were with these men?”
“No, I remember. But it was nothing like they’re saying.”
“Is the timing right, though, as far as you remember? DeGrassi in early 2019, Cornish about a year later?”
“You know, this isn’t junior high. I don’t write down who kissed me, but yeah, in those years? Answer is yes.”
“And you never saw a problem bringing home guys who were under your command?”
“Problem? I don’t know. Not if I’m drunk enough. And we’re off the clock.” She smiles as if Rik might think she was funny. He doesn’t.
“Besides,” she says. “Check the departmental regs. You see any rules against ‘fraternization’ as they call it? The FOP won’t let you fire a cop for kicking the stuffing out of his wife or kids, or for having twelve citizen complaints in his jacket as a hitter, because each one is supposedly uncorroborated. So you think the union is gonna let a cop get disciplined cause of who he sleeps with? In this department, like most departments, there are no rules against personnel having a good time with one another when neither party is working.”
“Even for the Chief?” Rik asks. “Aren’t you management?”
“You mean it’s okay for them and not for me? Call me narrow-minded, but rules are rules. Either it’s right or it’s wrong. I’m not saying I think P&F is gonna give me a medal. I mean, the commission can make up some lesser charge, I suppose. ‘Conduct detrimental to morale and discipline.’ If they want to shake a finger at me and give me thirty days, we can talk about that. But I’m not turning in my star. I followed the rules as I understood them. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Trading sex for promotions is a crime, Lucy,” Rik says.
“And it damn well oughta be. But that never happened. Read their statements,” the Chief says, “these three characters. Lying or not, not one of them claims I said or did anything to force them.”
“They applied to be promoted,” Rik says, “and you came on to them. That’s what they say. That’s not a good pattern.”
“That isn’t even close to true. But you need some context here. You know, you’re a woman in charge, a little of that ‘boss’ stuff goes a long way. Cornish and Primo, these guys are my age. They were veteran cops when I got there, and you know, I was ‘Sarge’ on the job, but that never meant a lot, except I was the person to read their reports, pretty much like I was helping them with their homework in high school. With me, I walk into the tavern, I’ve always been ‘Lucy.’ We’re on even ground. And you know cops. It’s still thirty years ago. PC never happened. These guys were pinching my ass when it was half the size it is now, and they never stopped. And at a certain age, a woman’s learned a few tricks. Maybe I’m not gonna model for the workout videos, but nobody ever went home saying it wasn’t a good time. I didn’t have to force nobody, and I didn’t have to make the first move either.”
“Two of these guys are married, Lucy.”
“Not to me.”
Rik frowns. “Well, you know Reverend Dalrymple better than I do,” he says, referring to the minister who is chair of the Police and Fire Commission. “But the last I looked, adultery was still in the Ten Commandments.”
“The Rev’s a pretty realistic guy,” she answers. “He knows the difference between the big sins and the little ones. And look, I’m not Jezebel. Yeah, I didn’t ask anybody for his hall pass, but every married guy who shows up in your bed will tell you more than you ever wanna hear about the freaking troubles in his marriage. What’s the legal thing? ‘It speaks for itself?’ These guys are out on the prowl every Friday night. You really believe it when the missus says, ‘I didn’t know a thing?’ He’s got a hard job, and once a week he’s on his own. They’ve made their peace. We all have. Life, Rik, it’s not quite ideal.”
Rik goes on to question her closely about what she remembers occurring with DeGrassi and Cornish. As she claimed, her story is different than theirs on several key points, but this is what they mean by ‘he said/she said.’ It’s up to me, of course, to find evidence to support the Chief’s version of events, now that I actually know it, but I truly have no idea where to start. For a second I sit there feeling bad for both of us.