Mangrove Bayou (19 page)

“Basically? I chose to be a cop. Sometimes bad things happen. If you're in a period where we police have just done something really good, and citizen opinion is on our side, we're all heroes and you get a disciplinary letter in your file. If it happens to be a time when things are more controversial between police and citizenry, it's easier to fire you than to explain that you had no choice. Politics. Goes with the job.”

“Doesn't seem fair.”

“It's not. So what?”

“Isn't there some sort of union?”

“There is.”

“Didn't they stand up for you?”

“I don't think they liked me much either.”

“You're only here on probation as it is. Think the town council will hire you on as permanent police chief?”

“That's political too. I can't worry about that. If I did, I couldn't do my job right.”

Lee rolled back onto her back. “Well, if they don't, they're stupid.”

“Thanks for the vote.” He traced a finger from her shoulder down across one nipple and to her flat stomach. “You got any books? I can never get back to sleep after these dreams. If the light bothers you I'll go out to the living room. Probably get up in an hour anyway and run.”

She rolled over to face him. “There's a bookshelf in the living room.” She put her hand flat on his chest and then reached around his neck to grab the back of his head and pull him to her. They kissed. She looked at him seriously, green eyes just inches from dark brown. “Read away, if you can,” she said. “Wake me up when you want to run and I'll go with you.”

“Didn't know you were into exercise.” He pushed forward and they kissed again
. I could do this all night,
Troy thought
. In fact, I already have.

“How do you think I keep in shape?” Lee said. “It isn't sitting in the left seat of an airplane for eight hours. I go to the gym. Yoga, we have that several times a week. Sometimes jogging. Maybe you can encourage me there.”

“I don't jog,” Troy said. “I run.”

“What's the difference?”

“You'll find out soon enough. And anything to keep you in shape. I like your shape.” Troy turned off the light. He rolled over to face her, his hands exploring.

“Humm,” Lee said. “What about the books?”

“The books can wait.”

“Good. Does this mean no running in an hour?”

“Still got to run. But I might not have to do pushups later.”

Chapter 30

Sunday, July 28

Troy and Lee sat on her back terrace and looked across the pool and lawn at the Collier River flowing past a few hundred feet away. It was 9 a.m. They had run the length of Airfield Road to the east end, up the steep slope of the Calusa shell mound, back down and west all the way to the yacht club and then back to Lee's house. A few miles in total and, after a shower, Lee had cooked the breakfast. The dishes were still on the glass-topped table before them.

“Anyone ever accidentally land on the road and not the runway,” Troy asked. “After all, they're the same length and parallel and close together.”

Lee laughed. “As I understand, when Airfield Key was first dredged up from some smaller islands, the runway was the only thing here and people used it for that and a road too.”

“Airplanes and cars sharing a common road,” Troy said. “What could possibly go wrong there? And Calvin Smith would have had a field day, ticketing all those airplanes for exceeding our speed limit.”

Lee laughed again. Troy decided he could listen to her laugh all day.

“There weren't all these private homes then,” she said. “Not much here at all. They built a separate street soon enough once it was needed. Now move your chair closer. I want to cuddle.”

Troy wasn't that big on cuddling, but the years had brought wisdom and he got up and moved his wrought-iron chair. “Damn thing must weigh forty pounds,” he said.

“They were for looks, not convenience. We manage to do any better than an occasional date-night thing and I'll invest in a love seat.”

“Which would weigh in at about eighty pounds,” Troy said. “Make sure the furniture guys put it exactly where you will always want it.”

“Actually, I won't buy one at all unless you can promise me more than a once-a-week romance.”

“Married to the job, I guess.”

“So is that ‘yes, dear, I'll be more attentive,' or ‘no, you demanding bitch, I'm the too-busy chief of police'?”

“Technically, I'm the director of pubic safety. Says so right on my office door.”

“Really? Well don't take that sign so much to heart.”

“Yes dear.”

She reached over to put an arm around his shoulders. He put a hand on her thigh, mostly because he felt that he had to do something and she had already done the shoulder thing. “So how is your department shaping up?” she asked. “Solved any mysteries lately?”

“The people are mostly great. One bad apple but he may come around, with patience.” He explained about Calvin Smith.

“Isn't it dangerous, legally, to keep someone like that on staff?”

“The law is pretty forgiving when it comes to what a cop has to do to arrest a suspect,” Troy said. “No one wants a cop getting killed because he pulled his punches, so to speak, or because he gave someone the benefit of the doubt.”

“Still, there must be limits…”

“There are. My getting fired in Tampa proves that.”

“I'm not so sure. I think those people overreacted.”

“They have to look good to the public too. It's easier to fire me than to get into an intricate legal discussion of why I was justified. When you're a cop you live always with the knowledge that your job is subject to some pretty whimsical political decisions. It's why there's a strong union.” Troy thought about that a moment. “Didn't do me much good, though. I could have put up a fight and maybe stayed on there. No hope of promotion though. I let it go.”

“We talked about that last night. But why would anyone want to be a policeman if that's the case?”

Troy thought about that a moment. Out in the yard several white ibis were stalking through the grass in their jerky-leggy way looking, Troy assumed, for bugs or worms or a slow-moving lizard.

“What are you thinking?” Lee asked.

Troy shook his head and turned to her. “Sorry. In my experience, there are three sorts of reasons for people to become police officers. A lot of them join up because they like the feeling that comes from helping people. It's fun to be able to solve people's problems, and citizens are grateful for your help. But those sorts of cops too often burn out quickly when they realize the job is not all about helping people. Too much of it is about saying no to people.”

“Second big reason is the pay. The pay is pretty good for someone with only a high school education, maybe an AA degree from a community college. Anyone wanting to get ahead needs a four-year degree, but a lot of cops don't really care about getting ahead.”

“But the third kind of cop is the one who joined up because he—or she, I've seen both—likes bullying people, and having a badge, uniform and gun makes bullying official and OK. Unfortunately, those people never seem to burn out. They just gradually escalate until someone kills them on the street or they get fired for overstepping that limit you mentioned.”

“And you think Officer Smith is one of those?”

“Perhaps. I'm watching him.”

“What else is on your plate? I'm curious about what a policeman actually does all day. Never knew one before.”

“I stay busy. At the moment I have one stalker who is a minor annoyance. One murder, or at least I think it's a murder. Everyone else seems to think it was an accident. So I'm batting oh-for-two so far.”

“So do you think you're a failure as a police chief?”

“No. Of course not. It's a process. You bumble around looking at a lot of things that mean nothing, sifting a lot of dross to get that occasional gleam of gold. Things usually fall into place sooner or later.”

“Usually.”

“Not always. You're disappointed. You move on. Maybe you revisit unsolved cases now and then.”

“Why do you do this? I know you're smart, you could do anything you wanted.”

“I like to do this. I like the puzzles. I like the psychology of the people I meet, the people I work with, even the criminals. Maybe especially the criminals. I like a job that is indoors and out. I like that I never know when I get up in the morning what I'll be doing that day. And, since I'm the chief, I do all this pretty much on my schedule.”

“Which seems to be all the time.”

“It won't be always. Things are a little hectic at the moment. But nothing's happening today, far as I know. Take it as it comes. What about you? Tell me all.”

“I'm not an orphan like you…”

“I was abandoned, not orphaned,” Troy said.

“What's the difference?”

“Well, one big difference would be that, were I an orphan, I might at least have some memories of parents, some tie to the fact that once someone had loved me.”

Lee hugged Troy. “That's true. I didn't think. I'm so sorry.”

“Well, I'm over it now.”

Lee looked at him and hugged harder. “No one would ever be over that.”

“I suppose. Maybe Doctor Groves will tell me all.”

“Who's Doctor Groves?” Lee asked.

“Therapist I'm supposed to start seeing here. Anyway, what's your story?”

“Nothing so depressing,” Lee said. “I actually do have still-living parents out in Seattle. I attended college in Seattle, English at the University of Washington.”

“Go Huskies,” Troy said.

She smiled. “I believe we're supposed to shout ‘Go Dawgs,' but do that around here and everyone thinks you're talking about Georgia Tech. I told you about my marriage. That was in Seattle too. I made a break. I decided to put the Mississippi River between him and me. And, to some degree, between the parents and me; they were pretty overbearing when I was growing up.”

“I would give anything, right now, to have one overbearing parent.”

She looked at him and hugged him closer, which was starting to hurt his ribs on the wrought-iron chair arm. “I bet you would. Anyway, Florida was about as far as I could run from my past in Seattle. And I went to Embry-Riddel in Daytona Beach to learn to fly. That was five years ago. Been doing it ever since. The Cessna is actually the second plane I've owned. Bought it used but gently used. She's been good to me so far.”

“Why do you like to fly? It's clearly more than a job to you.”

“It's more than a job. I don't need a job, never would. But I need something to do to be useful. To have purpose. Flying? Obviously I like to get up there and look down, everyone likes that. I have the option, at least, of getting to places far away in a relatively short time. I don't have to stand in stupid lines at airports while morons feel me up—which they all love to do, by the way, if you're an attractive female—looking for whatever the terrorists used three years back.”

“It's good that you're not bitter or anything.”

She smiled. “But also, I like the discipline of it. Make a mistake driving your car, the car stops working and you call a tow truck. Make a mistake with your boat, the Coast Guard comes to fetch you in.”

“Actually, these days, it's mostly Sea Tow or BoatUS.”

“Still. Tows. Institutionalized backup available at a call. But make a mistake up there,” Lee pointed at the sky, “and nobody comes to tow you home. You can't climb out and thumb another ride. You just ‘auger in.' You die.”

“Hate it when that happens,” Troy said.

Lee nodded, serious. “An aircraft is as demanding a piece of machinery as I'm permitted to own. Maintenance must be perfect. Flying skill must be honed. Habits must be disciplined. It's no surprise that a good percentage of pilots are also engineers. They have that mind-set.”

“And you get to be your own boss.”

“And I can be my own boss, yes.”

“I never much liked bosses, myself,” Troy said. “You know, I originally intended to make a career of the Army. It's not a bad life.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Bosses were the big reason. When you know you're smarter, not just a little smarter, but so much smarter that you feel you live in a world of retards, having to do something really stupid just because some retard of a higher rank thinks in his dimbulb mind that it's a good idea, is annoying. Sometimes, in the Army, it can be fatal.”

“So, are the people you work with now retards? Am I a retard?”

“You? Never. It's what most attracted me to you.”