Orchid Beach

CHAPTER

3

Holly found the municipal building half a block off the beach, parked her car in the public lot, went into the building and consulted the directory. Everything seemed neatly packaged in one four-story structure—city manager’s office, council offices, tax office, city attorney, water authority and the other municipal departments, all on the upper floors. Directly ahead on the ground floor, behind a set of glass doors, was the Orchid Beach Police Department. She walked in.

A uniformed officer in what appeared to be his early twenties sat behind a broad desk, a high stool bringing him to her eye level. “Good morning,” she said, “my name is Barker; I have an appointment with Chief Marley.”

He blinked at her, but didn’t move for a moment. “Just a minute,” he said finally, then got up and walked down a row of small offices and disappeared into one. A moment later he returned, followed by an older uniformed officer.

“Morning,” the officer said. He was a little over six feet, of slim build, with glossy black hair cut short. “Can I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Chief Marley,” she said again.

He nodded and opened a gate in the railing that separated the public area from the squad room, where half a dozen desks sat, most of them empty. “Follow me,” he said.

Holly followed the officer to the rear wall of the squad room, and into a large glass-fronted office. He sat down behind the desk and indicated with a silent gesture that she should sit opposite.

“The chief’s not in,” he said. “Can I help you with something?” His attitude was blank, noncommittal, not impolite.

“Chief Marley is expecting me,” she said. “I’ll wait.”

“Who are you?” the man asked.

“My name is Holly Barker.” She waited for a response but got none. “Who are you?” She kept her voice at the same level as his.

“Lieutenant Wallace,” the man replied. “What did you want to see the chief about?”

Holly was a little surprised that her name didn’t ring a bell with Wallace, but perhaps Chet Marley had his reasons for not spreading the word that she was coming to work that day. “I think I’d better wait for the chief and take it up with him,” she said.

“Chief Marley won’t be in today,” Wallace said. “I’m acting chief. Maybe you’d better take it up with me.”

“Acting chief?” Holly said, wrinkling her brow. “I don’t understand; the chief asked me to be here at nine this morning. Why isn’t he coming in?”

“That’s an official matter,” Wallace said.

“So is my appointment with the chief,” she replied evenly.

“Do you know the chief?” Wallace asked.

“Yes.”

“When did you last speak with him?”

“Last night around seven-thirty.”

“In person?”

“On the phone.”

“Do you know where he was at the time?”

“He was at home. I called him there.”

“How long did you talk?”

“Only a couple of minutes. He asked me to come in this morning.”

“For what purpose?”

“I’d rather the chief told you about that.”

“The chief’s not going to be able to do that.”

Now Holly was growing alarmed. “What do you mean?”

“The chief took a bullet in the head last night.”

Holly sat up straight. “Is he dead?”

“Not yet.”

At that moment, a handsome middle-aged woman bustled breathlessly into the room, startling Holly. “Are you Miss Barker?” she asked.

“Yes,” Holly replied.

“I’m so sorry to be late,” the woman said. “I was at the hospital.” She turned to Wallace. “Hurd, did you tell her?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I’ve just come from the hospital,” the woman said. “I’ve been there since midnight.”

“How is the chief?” Holly asked.

“He was in surgery most of the night; he’s in the recovery room now.”

“Any prognosis?”

“The doctors won’t say anything, but they looked pretty grim. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Jane Grey, the chief’s assistant.” She offered her hand.

Holly stood up and shook it. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“I don’t think so, but you and I have some things to go over. Why don’t you come with me?” She turned to Wallace. “Hurd, I don’t think you ought to be in the chief’s office.” She produced a bunch of keys, waited while Wallace left, then locked the office and beckoned to Holly.

Holly followed her to another office down the hall, as big as the chief’s but crowded with filing cabinets, boxes and storage cabinets.

“Have a seat,” Jane said. “This is where I live, if you can call it that.”

“Tell me how the chief got shot,” Holly said.

“Nobody knows exactly, but it looks like he might have tried to question somebody in a car, who pulled a gun on him. A motorist found him beside A1A around eleven last night. He was lying in front of his car, lit by the headlights. The man called nine-one-one on his car phone, and an ambulance was there in under ten minutes. A woman I know who works in the emergency room called me, and by the time I got there he was already in surgery.”

“I’d like to go and see him as soon as I can,” Holly said.

“They promised they’d call me when they had some idea of how he’s doing,” Jane said. She seemed almost about to cry, but squared her shoulders and sat up straight. “I think the best thing you and I can do right now is get you processed and on the job.” She unlocked a desk drawer and pulled out a file. “I’ve got all your paperwork right here; the chief signed everything before he went home last night. I do need to get some information for your ID.” She turned to the computer terminal on her desk and punched a few keys.

“What would you like to know?”

“Date of birth?”

Holly told her.

“Height?”

“Five feet, eight inches.”

“Weight?”

“A hundred and thirty-five pounds.”

“Color of hair?”

“Light brown.”

“Okay.” Jane typed a command and a printer spat out a sheet of paper. “I’ll need your social security number and next of kin.”

Holly recited the number and gave her Ham’s name and address.

“That’s right, they were in the army together, weren’t they?” Jane said.

“Yes, more than ten years ago. They kept in touch.”

“There’s another of their old army buddies living here, too—Hank Doherty. You’ll have to meet him.”

“My father mentioned him—he’s the one with the dogs, isn’t he?”

“Well…yes, I guess, but he’s not as active in the dog-training business as he once was. Hank’s…well, we can go into that later.”

“All right.”

“Okay, now documents.” She began handing Holly documents to sign—health insurance, group life insurance, federal and state tax forms. “Good,” Jane said, when Holly had signed everything. “You’re on the payroll. Now let’s get your ID done. Oh, we’d better get you in uniform for your photograph.” She got up and closed the venetian blinds on the glass front of her office, then set a large cardboard box on her desk. “These are the uniforms we ordered for you, according to the sizes you gave us.” She produced a khaki shirt. “Can you slip into this? I’ll leave you alone, if you like.”

“No, that’s all right,” Holly said. She slipped out of her slacks and shirt and into a uniform. Jane produced a badge from her desk drawer and pinned it on.

“Now, let’s get your picture taken.” She pulled down a home movie screen on one wall and produced a Polaroid camera from her bottomless desk drawers. “Just stand right there and look nice,” she said, then snapped the picture. A moment later she had stuck the photograph to the computer printout and was laminating it in a desktop machine. “There,” she said, looking satisfied with her work. She took a leather wallet from her desk, inserted the ID card and handed it to Holly. A gold shield was affixed to the wallet.

“Thank you, Jane.”

“Now you’re officially Deputy Chief Holly Barker, and nobody can do a damn thing about it. Your contract is for five years, after all.”

“Might somebody want to do something about it?” Holly asked.

“You never know. Oh, one more thing,” Jane said. She unlocked a heavy steel cabinet and took out a pistol with a holster and belt, a box of ammunition and an envelope. “Here’s your weapon, a nine-millimeter Beretta automatic, and fifty rounds of ammunition. Sign right here.” Holly signed. “You can have another weapon of your own, if you want to, but you’ll need to register the serial number with me and fire a round for our ballistics records.”

“Okay.”

Jane opened the envelope and shook out a pair of handcuffs and two keys, then clipped them onto the pistol belt. “The chief likes everybody to have a spare handcuff key in their pocket, in case, God forbid, anybody should ever cuff you with your own handcuffs.”

“Good idea.”

Jane took a thick, ring-bound document from a shelf and handed it to Holly. “This is our bible,” she said. “The chief has been working on it for a long time. It outlines our standard operating procedures for all personnel.”

“The chief sent me a copy,” Holly said. “I’ve read it, and I’m very impressed.”

“He said he thought you might make some suggestions for revisions,” Jane said.

“Not right away—maybe later.”

Jane handed her a sheet of paper. “Here’s a personnel roster with everybody’s rank and assigned duties.”

“I’ve seen this, too,” Holly said. “I’m not sure I’ve memorized it yet, though.”

“I believe you’re all set,” Jane said. “We’ve got an office ready for you next door. Let me show you.” She led Holly into an office nearly as big as the chief’s. It seemed well equipped and comfortable. “Here’s the combination to your safe and your keys to your office and the building,” she said, handing Holly a slip of paper and some keys. “I expect you should use the chief’s car until…he’s back at work. It’s the blue, unmarked car in space one in the lot. Here are the keys.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s a watch change at ten o’clock; we can officially introduce you then.”

“Sounds good. I take it nobody but you and the chief knew I was coming?”

“That’s the way the chief wanted it,” she said.

“Jane, a minute ago, you said something about nobody being able to do anything about my being here. If people had known I was coming, might somebody have tried to do something about it?”

“Well,” Jane said, “you never know, do you?”

“I guess not. I think I’d better see Lieutenant Wallace before the others. Will you ask him to come in here?” Holly settled herself behind her new desk and waited.