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JOST, ONE OF THE SENIOR officers on staff, frowned. “Of course I’ll follow any directives that come down, but frankly, I think body cameras are a ploy used by people who don’t trust the police and want to catch them doing something wrong.”
Redstone hid behind his coffee mug before speaking. “In light of what’s happening in the country as a whole, I can see where they might serve a purpose. Cops fear for their lives every time they make what they hope is a routine traffic stop. Many of them are sick of the way the public sees them. Having documentation might be a good thing. I agree with Jost, that Mapleton’s a whole different story. I’d say we don’t have the kind of crime that justifies the equipment.”
“Makes sense.” Gordon hoped including the officers in what could be a policy-forming discussion helped show them he valued their input. He pushed away from the table. “I’ll let you finish your break.”
“One question, Sir,” Redstone said. “Everyone knows the budget is tight, but that the mayor accepted a few increases after you were injured. Were body cameras part of the equipment requests?”
“No, they weren’t,” Gordon said. “As I mentioned, this is a data-gathering step for my report.”
“Well, I think Tasers would be a better use of available funding,” Redstone added. “I believe the public is leaning toward less-lethal suspect control methods.”
“We need new patrol units,” Jost said. “Mine has over a hundred thousand miles on it, and couldn’t catch a guy out for a run with his dog.”
“Duly noted,” Gordon said. “Thanks to both of you for your answers.”
In his office, Gordon finished his apple and sipped from his coffee mug as he once again looked at his budget spreadsheets. His wish list, as always, was far greater than the monies the town council had approved for the department. Even the increased revenues from parking violations now that the civilian patrol was able to write tickets didn’t add enough to the pot. Where did body cameras fit on Gordon’s priority list? Not at the top.
The mayor had approved three new officers, Rafe Perez being the first. The mayor’s verbal statement implied the budget would be adjusted to include the requisite equipment, training, and whatever Gordon deemed necessary. The loophole was that the mayor’s requisite equipment and training was worded so it referred to the three new hires, not the department as a whole.
You couldn’t give the new officer a better weapon than the rest of the staff carried. Training one officer didn’t help the department—not without the obvious alienation of the senior officers—when a rookie tried to share knowledge.
Gordon’s arguments with the mayor had—not unexpectedly—been met with roadblock after roadblock. McKenna, after turning down some of Gordon’s requests as falling outside the scope of what he’d meant in his original statement, was putting forth a proposal that might impact the entire department. No way could the mayor give body cams exclusively to the new hires. If Gordon accepted the proposal, would that open the door to more department-wide upgrades?
Or, would Mayor McKenna want body cameras so much that he’d pay for them out of his budget? Jost’s comment about outdated patrol units was spot on.
Again, Gordon set the budget and body camera research aside. He needed to think about something else. Like, had Solomon found out anything about Yvonne Budweitz’s death?
Gordon shook off his curiosity. Solomon would keep him in the loop, and Gordon wouldn’t nudge.
Unless he had something to add.
He picked up the phone. “Solomon. One thing I neglected to mention. Budweitz said he couldn’t bear to go back to their house in Centennial since his wife moved out. So, what was she doing there?”
“If that’s your way of trying to find out what I’ve already taken care of, I’ll say smoothly done. If you’re asking to be part of the investigation—you’re the chief.”
“Is that a way of saying I should be doing Chief Stuff, or because I’m chief, I get to make myself part of any investigation the department is handling?”
Gordon kept his tone light, and Solomon’s guffaw said the officer didn’t consider Gordon was trying to disrupt the hierarchy of the investigation.
“For the record,” Gordon continued, “I’m caught up on Chief Stuff, at least for the moment. You seem to have deflected the mayor’s constant pushing me to include him in the loop, and I’m delighted.”
“I have no idea why he’s put me in the role of liaison,” Solomon said, “but so far, he hasn’t made any unreasonable demands. I expected at least an email asking what was up with the autopsy results this morning, but he seems to trust me to fill him in as soon as I know. Either that, or he isn’t in his office yet.”
“Monday morning? I’m sure he’s in. Let’s consider his current behavior a gift horse but not look it in the mouth.”
“Works for me,” Solomon said.
“They have cause of death yet?”
“Blunt force trauma is the preliminary assessment. Blow to the back of the head.”
Gordon let that roll around his brain for a moment. “Makes me think her assailant was male. Whacking someone in the head isn’t the norm for a female killer. And Budweitz is a big man.”
“You think he did it?” Solomon asked.
“Not going to make any assumptions at this point. Anything else you can share?” Gordon asked.
“Centennial reports that lividity patterns show Mrs. Budweitz’s body wasn’t moved, that time of death was sometime between twenty-three hundred hours Saturday and zero eight hundred Sunday.”
Gordon considered that. “So, she was alive when Bud showed up at Finnegan’s. And dead before he picked up his vehicle Sunday.”
“Doesn’t rule him out,” Solomon said. “Lots of ways he could have gone to the house. Cab, Uber, had a friend drop him off. There’s a shopping mall half a mile from the house. Could have gotten a ride there, then hoofed it to the house. Yes, he had anger issues. We could sit here and speculate all day, and since it’s not our case, that’s all it would be. Speculation.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it. The puzzle’s out there, but you have none of the responsibility.”
“I get it,” Solomon said. “There’s no justification for spending time on the puzzle. Let me relay what you’ve just told me to Centennial, see how much they’ll be willing to share in exchange.”
“Fair enough.” Gordon hung up, trying to remember how many times he’d wished there were more hours in a day, because he couldn’t get on top of his workload.
And, he told himself, today’s downtime was the perfect opportunity to do what he’d vowed to do when he’d accepted the job as Chief of Police, which was not sit behind a desk all day every day. He was still a Mapleton police officer.
He decided summer break from school had him in a funk. Those moments every day when he was out among the people with his crossing guard duty made him feel in touch.
He checked in with Dispatch. “I’m going to patrol for an hour or so. Is there a cruiser available? I’d rather not be recognized as Chief of Police.”