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Pulling his government issued Ford Police Interceptor into his reserve parking spot in front of the Cape May Police Department Municipal building, Clyde Browning pulled the visor down over the steering wheel and stared at himself in the mirror. Chief of Police Browning removed a black plastic comb from his front pocket and threaded the black needle points of the comb through his thick hair, being careful not to have one hair misplaced as he pulled his colored hair back.
Not too bad looking a fellow, he thought. He may be the best sixty-year-old in New Jersey. Browning’s hair was artificially dyed black, but the coloring was not overly evident in his mind. His gut didn’t protrude over his belt yet and running three miles down the concrete boardwalk of Cape May on the beach after work four times a week also assisted in keeping his health in check. Staring at his pale blue eyes in the mirror, Browning began nodding at himself.
“Thirty more days. After Thanksgiving, it’s on to Key West permanently.” Browning said to himself out loud. He was a little surprised he was thinking of his pending retirement. A lifestyle change on the horizon filled with sun, booze, and marlin fishing. Giving up all he had known and worked for over the past thirty-five years. His pension and house sale would cover years of expenses even in an area as affluent as Key West.
Shutting the visor, Browning opened the car door and felt a gust of wind from the previous evening still flowing through the air messing with the masterpiece of hair design he had spent the last few minutes creating in the car. Pulling his cap on his head, Browning pushed forward over to the sidewalk and the brown brick municipal building and, using an excessive amount of force, pulled open the glass door against the wind. The glass door slammed shut behind him as he stepped through the vestibule of the Police department.
Browning was met with greetings and smiles from the few officers, dispatchers, and detectives already at work this morning. The Cape May Police Department consisted of twenty-two officers, four communication officers, and one civilian administrative assistant. The most considerable expenditure was the summertime hiring of twenty seasonal officers to assist with the more than small four-point three square miles of Cape May jurisdiction. An increase in residents from just over five thousand to over ten thousand was not uncommon for the summer months, in addition to the number of visitors numbering the hundreds of thousands.
But in late October, the seasonal officers were already gone, as were the extra vacationers or shoebie’s as the residents at the New Jersey shore still called their guests. The term shoebie was an early nineteen-twenties expression used to describe day trippers from Philadelphia or New York to the Jersey shore who often brought their lunch with them in their shoe box.
Before entering his office, Clyde stopped mid-gait before turning and approaching the desk of his secretary Carrie Stewart. Stewart had been the secretary for his predecessor in the department and, with any luck, would outlast the incoming Chief of Police as well.
“Anything going on?” Browning asked as he picked up the mail and began rifling through the inscriptions of the incoming letters and brown manila envelopes of departmental correspondence.
Covering the handheld telephone line receiver with her hand, “The new Chief of Police is in your office. He’s been waiting for about a half hour.” Carrie whispered.
“He’s here earlier than I thought he would be,” Browning answered, placing the mail under his right armpit.
“I brought him some coffee, black, no sugar. Also, do you need me to tell you about what happened to Billy last night while on patrol? ”
“What did the idiot do now? He didn’t shoot anyone did he?”
“Finally, a piece of information you don’t have. A near-naked woman with amnesia appeared from over the Cape May Bridge. She had nearly frozen to death. Billy transported her to Cape Regional Medical Center. Last I heard, she was still there under observation.” Carrie gossiped, still covering the phone with her wrinkled right hand and wrist of fake pearls dangling from the loose skin.
“Thanks, Carrie.”
“Do you want me to assign a detective to interview her?” She asked.
“No. I think I’ll go out there and talk to the amnesic woman myself. Maybe I’ll take the new Chief with me and get to know him.”
“She’s a pretty girl, from what I understand.” Carrie winked her right eye, reading what was on the Chief’s mind.
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CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND him as he entered his office, the new Chief of Police sat with his back to the door facing the front of the cherry oak desk. Pictures and certificates of achievement lined the faded white walls of the office, which hadn’t been painted in the last fifteen years. Browning entered the office, the man who would replace him turned his head upon hearing the door shut behind him and rose to his feet, turning and extending out his right hand.
“Chief Browning, I’m John McNamara. I’ll be taking over for you at the end of next month.” McNamara said, shaking Browning’s hand. His grip was firm, and he was well dressed in navy blue pants with a white shirt. The nameplate on his breast pocket embroidered in gold with black lettering read Chief John J. McNamara.
“You are younger than I thought you’d be. I pictured someone short with grey, white hair in their mid-fifties taking my place.” Browning said sternly, moving past the still-standing McNamara to the opposite side of the cherry-stained wood desk, placing the departmental mail on top of the keyboard.
“If you doubt my expertise, you could raise the issue with the town council who hired me,” McNamara replied.
“No. That won’t be necessary. I wasn’t much older than you when I took over as Chief of Police here twenty years ago. Besides, it’s the town’s choice, not mine. So, tell me, why are you here a month early? Halloween is at the end of the week, and I don’t retire until after Thanksgiving. “
“I left my last duty assignment early, packed up, and came out here. It’s been my experience that a new supervisor learns best from watching what his predecessor did and not implementing any change immediately. People tend to hold things back when a new supervisor comes on board. Thirty days here, I should be ready to jump right in without missing a beat instead of playing catch-up with you gone.” McNamara explained.
“Well, I would offer you some tea or coffee, Ms. Stewart, the secretary makes an excellent cup of Joe, but I have other obligations to attend to this morning,” Browning added.
“I already have a cup, thanks.”
“Last night there was an amnesic woman who was found out by the Cape May Bridge by one of our officers, she was damn near naked from what I understand. I’m heading over to the Cape May Regional Medical Center by the Courthouse to see if she remembers anything. Maybe she’ll let me do a fingerprint check and DNA swab if necessary.” Browning said.
“Is it always standard protocol for the Chief to go on routine assignments and conduct fingerprint and DNA checks on amnesic patients?” McNamara asked.
“It’s the golden rule. He who wears the crown makes the rules. For the next thirty days, I am still wearing the crown, so it’s still my rules. If you want, you can stay here and answer the phone about the upcoming Halloween pageant held this weekend when it rings every half hour. Calls should start coming in about another fifteen minutes. But personally, I hear the dame they brought in last night was a knock-out, and I’d much rather talk to her than the shop owners on the other end of the phone.”
“I thought the golden rule applied to gold, not crowns,” McNamara inquired.
“Today, it applies to whatever the hell I say it should.” Browning retorted.
“Then I guess I should go and get the ink pad, fingerprint card, and DNA swab set,” McNamara answered.
“I thought you might see things my way,” Browning said with a grin as he sat down and opened his mail from that morning.
The two men traveled north on the Parkway. The Cape May Court House was attached to the Cape May Regional Hospital just under twelve miles from the shore town, past Stone Harbor but before the Cape May County Zoo. Where southern Cape May hosted antique shops, restaurants, bars, and two-bedroom, one-bath bungalows, just over the bridge was a desolate parkway with wildlife management reservations and woods mixed with wetlands before branching out to the shore towns of Ocean City and Avalon.
Browning drove while McNamara remained silent, taking the scenery from the passenger seat. The silence between the two men filled the vacuum of the ten-minute drive to the hospital without a word passing between them. Browning wondered what McNamara was thinking as he looked at the oncoming traffic in the opposite lane and the windowed shops with their large business banners and American flags blowing in the late October wind.
Arriving at the hospital lifted an unbearable weight to open his mouth and speak to his replacement. To be able to talk to the man like a person, not like his replacement. When the two men got out of the Interceptor, McNamara finally spoke.
“Are you going to miss it?”
“Miss what?” Browning asked, the two police officers walking side by side through the parking lot to the front vestibule of the hospital.
“Work. Cape May. The people. Any of it?” McNamara asked as the two uniformed officers checked in with security at the front desk and received a room number for their Jane Doe.
“Sometimes I worry I might. You’ll find most of your time is spent dealing with the storefront owner’s constant complaints about small mundane items during the business of the summer months. The town council will constantly badger you about overtime expenditures and coverage for every holiday event. Those are the reasons why I won’t miss this job.” Browning said, taking a breath as the two men got on the nearest elevator.
“So, what are the reasons you will miss this place?” McNamara asked.
“Only one. It’s my unshakeable belief that Cape May will fall apart without me being here. Silly and unrealistic, I know. The town will continue on day in and day out, no matter who is in charge. But, because Cape May will go on without me, I have my doubts about whether I have done any good serving here in the last thirty years. To be so easily replaced shows how insignificant I really am. You must think that’s naïve of me.” Browning explained as the elevator opened.
“No, I think your reflections have a poetic awareness to them,” McNamara conceded.
“Don’t get all artsy on me now, son,” Browning said with a smile. “Follow my lead here. We’ll get her to consent to do the fingerprints and DNA swabs but try not to say anything unnecessary. She’s been through enough.” Browning instructed as McNamara nodded in ascent, and the two men entered Jane Doe’s room.
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BROWNING ENTERED THE room of Jane Doe and was slightly taken aback. The blonde amnesic woman was prettier than he imagined she would be. She was in her early to mid-thirties, sitting upright in the bed and being spoken to by a doctor asking her to follow his pen light with her eyes back and forth. The woman and the doctor looked at the visitors entering the room before resuming the eye test. Browning and McNamara crowded the doorway as the doctor turned his pen light off and began scribbling on his clipboard. Browning tried to look over the shoulder of the Doctor whose nameplate read B. Stannis to see what he was writing but couldn’t read the sloppy handwriting.
“Now, I am going to ask you some basic questions. Don’t think too hard about the answers. Just respond with the first thought you have, alright?” Dr. Stannis instructed.
“Ok.” Jane Doe nodded.
“What year is it?”
“2022”
“Where are you at currently?”
“The hospital.” She replied.
“What state are you in?”
“New Jersey.” She smiled, answering without missing a beat.
“Where do you live?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What is your name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What is your mother’s first name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What was your favorite television show growing up?”
“Bugs Bunny,” Jane giggled with a smile.
“Thank you. I think you are going to be just fine. These gentlemen behind me are Police Officers. Maybe they can help fill in some of the blanks.” Dr. Stannis said.
“Doctor, will my memory return?” Jane Doe asked.
“Oh yes, I think it definitely will.” Dr. Stannis said before wedging past McNamara and Browning to leave the room.
“Ma’am. My name is Chief Clyde Browning, and this is Chief John McNamara. We understand you had a rough night, but we need to know if you have any loved ones who need to be contacted. A husband, brothers, father, mother, friends?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Jane Doe answered with her bright brown eyes looking at both men.
“It’s fine. There may be a way to help you. With your permission, Chief McNamara would like to fingerprint you and run a swab with his Q-tip on the inner part of your cheek for DNA. It’s possible we might identify you through our national registration system or national DNA database. Would that be acceptable?”
The blonde woman sitting on the bed nodded her consent, and Browning nodded to McNamara, who placed plastic gloves on his hands before approaching the bed.
“If you could, relax your fingers and allow me to press them onto the white index card one at a time.” McNamara placed one finger at a time, rolling the inked fingers onto the card, careful not to smudge them. Then taking all five fingers together and move them in ink before pressing them together on the card. With the fingerprints completed, McNamara handed the index card to Browning.
When McNamara produced the Q-tip vial, Jane Doe took a Kleenex tissue to her fingers to remove the ink from her hands.
“This is a DNA swab. It won’t hurt, but I will ask you to open your mouth as I lightly brush the inside of your cheek for a sample and put it back in the vial. Is that alright with you?”
“Yes.” Jane Doe said, opening her mouth as McNamara removed the Q-tip and swabbed the inside of the cheek for saliva, replacing the Q-tip back into the vial.
“There. All done.” McNamara said, smiling.
“So, how long will it take for you to find out if there’s a match in the system for me?” Jane Doe asked.
McNamara looked to Browning, who nodded.
“If I can get the samples to the State Police this afternoon, it may take a day or two on the fingerprints. If we rely on DNA, and it’s not in the State database, they will refer it to the National Database, which could take a few more days.”
“A few days?” Jane Doe asked.
“No longer than a few days at best,” McNamara answered.
“Can’t we just take my picture and place it on the internet or the news asking people to come forward if they know who I am?”
“That’s never a good idea,” Browning interjected. “There have been issues in the past with men who arrive at the hospital with a fake story claiming to know a female, which later turns out to be false. We would rather be certain to send you home with your family.”
“I understand.”
“Please be patient. We’ll find out who you are soon enough. Just take it easy and relax.” Browning said with a smile before both men turned and left as McNamara followed Browning out of the room.
Browning and McNamara stood waiting in the hallway for the elevator when Dr. Stannis, who was examining their Jane Doe, walked past them, and Browning stopped him.
“Excuse me, Doctor, can I have a minute of your time?” Browning asked.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Doctor Stannis answered.
“What can you tell us about the onset of Jane Doe’s amnesia?” Browning asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what could have caused it? Was it a bump on the head?”
“Oh, of course...there is nothing physically wrong with that young woman in there. No bumps on the head, scans all returned negative, cognition and reflexes are excellent.”
“So, she’s faking?” Browning asked.
“Not necessarily. I believe there may have been a mental break, an underlying psychological episode which caused that young woman’s memory to shatter.”
“I am not following you, Doctor Stannis.”
“Look, I am not a psychologist, so it is only my opinion, but when I asked her general questions, where are you? What year is it? What was your favorite cartoon growing up? She was able to answer those questions with no problems. But if you ask a personal question about her identity, she draws a blank. It leads me to believe she may have suffered a psychological trauma which led to the amnesia she suffers from.”
“What would you recommend?” Browning asked.
“I have the number of a good psychologist, a friend of mine. Dr. McDonough, I would recommend she see him for a consult. Maybe talking about the issues will bring back some of the memories.”
“Thanks, Doctor. I’ll call you later for that reference. This is our elevator.” Browning said as the elevator dinged open.