The Copper Frame (3 page)

“You don't understand politics, and you also underestimate your popularity,” Foley said. “You're not just Andy Saxon's son. The whole town knows you're the best cop on the force. And certainly the best fitted for chief. Who else has a degree in criminology?”

“Nobody. But Art Marks has fourteen years' seniority over me as a lieutenant and seventeen over me in total time on the force.”

The mayor made a dismissing gesture. “Art Marks would probably be Bennock's choice, if Bennock does make a deal with Larry Cutter, because Art is unimaginative enough to do as he's told. But everyone in town knows Art hasn't the capability to be chief. He might possibly be accepted if I appointed him now, but the town would explode if the new council kicked you out as acting chief once you're actually serving in the job and replaced you with Art.” He looked thoughtfully off into space before adding, “In a way I sort of hope they do.”

Saxon gave him a quizzical look.

“That's just the politician in me,” Foley said with a grin. “They won't, because it would be political suicide. They'll give you the permanent appointment whether they want to or not, because city councilmen who flout the public will get voted out of office.”

Rising to his feet, the mayor said, “Stand and raise your right hand, Lieutenant. I'm about to swear you in as acting chief of police for the City of Iroquois.”

chapter 3

Saxon called a general meeting of the police department at 4
P.M
. to announce his appointment as acting chief. The announcement was greeted not merely with approval, but with an obvious measure of relief, which led the new chief to suspect that the men had been discussing possible successors to his father with some concern. It was rather gratifying to know that they had been afraid he might not get the appointment. He had been aware that he was well liked in the department, but he hadn't suspected the force was so solidly behind him.

If Lieutenant Art Marks felt any disappointment at being passed over, he didn't show it. His congratulations were just as hearty as anyone else's.

As the meeting broke up, Sam Lennox came over and said, “Can I see you a minute, Chief?”

“Sure,” Saxon said, leading the way out of the squad room and into the office that had been his father's.

Inside he discovered that he couldn't yet bring himself to sit in the chief's big chair. Closing the door, he sat in one of the guest chairs and waved Lennox to another.

“What's on your mind, Sam?”

The older man nervously shifted his feet. “I was just wondering what I'm supposed to do around here, now that your dad's gone.”

Saxon regarded him curiously. “What do you mean? You're still a member of the force.”

“Well, you know how it was with your dad. I was supposed to be his driver, but most of the day I just sat around in the squad room. Even when he went somewhere, he really didn't need me. He could have driven himself for all he used the car. You know why he assigned me as his driver?”

“I suppose he figured you'd earned a soft job after all your years of service.”

Lennox's red-veined face moved back and forth in a negative. “He wanted his eye on me all the time I was on duty. He knew that some time, somewhere, I'd slip and take a drink otherwise. And after one I never stop. He would have had to board me if he caught me drunk on duty, because he played by the book. But he didn't want to have to. He wanted me to make it to my pension. That's the kind of guy he was.”

“I see,” Saxon said. “And now you're afraid I'll stick you on a beat, and you'll get drunk and be boarded.”

“Are you going to stick me on a beat?”

When you inherit a job, you sometimes inherit with it responsibilities that you hadn't counted on, Saxon realized. If it had been important to his father to see that Sam Lennox reached retirement age without his record being tarnished during the last few years of his service, he supposed that out of duty to his father he was obligated to nurse the old alcoholic the rest of the way.

“For the time being suppose you just continue as the chief's driver,” Saxon said. “You show up as usual at nine in the morning.”

“Thanks, Chief!”

When the man had gone out, Saxon sat musing for a time on the burdens of his new job. There was an implied responsibility for the welfare of his men both on and off duty which involved a measure of paternalism not very appealing to him. He hoped Sam Lennox would be the only member of the force with a problem requiring special handling.

After a time he roused himself and went out to the waiting room to use the desk phone, having a strange reluctance to use the one on the desk that had been his father's. He phoned the Alstrom Funeral Parlor and asked if the funeral director had as yet heard from the coroner.

He had. The body was to be released the next day. They set the funeral for 2
P.M
. Friday, and Alstrom said everything would be ready for friends to call at the funeral home by Wednesday evening.

By then it was 5
P.M
. and Saxon hadn't yet found time even to phone Emily. She had gone on duty at three; he called her at the hospital to tell her of the funeral plans and to announce his appointment as acting chief.

Emily received the news with a mixture of pride in him and sadness. “You certainly deserve it, honey,” she said. “But I hate to think of what made the promotion possible.”

As Mayor Ben Foley had prophesied, Saxon's appointment met with general public approval. The announcement had appeared in Tuesday's
Iroquois Evening Bulletin
, and by the next morning everyone in town knew it. A steady stream of city-hall employees, plus many people from the street, stuck their heads in his door Wednesday morning to offer congratulations. Those whom he hadn't seen the day before combined their congratulations with sympathy for his father's death. It may have helped that the
Evening Bulletin
had run, in conjunction with the news item, an editorial heartily endorsing the choice.

In order to get some work done, Saxon finally left instructions with the desk man that he was to be disturbed only on official business, and closed his office door.

As Saxon was putting on his galoshes to go across the street for lunch, his office door opened and Emily peeped in.

“Hi,” she said. “I had to come downtown to mail a stack of wedding-postponement cards, so I thought I'd try to cadge a free lunch.”

“I may as well get used to it,” he said.

As they walked down the front steps of the city hall together, a tall, spare man in his early forties who was passing by paused to wait for them. It wasn't snowing at the moment; there was no wind, and the temperature had risen to a crisp thirty-five; but he was bundled to the ears and his thin nose was pink with cold.

Saxon said politely, “How are you, Mr. Bennock?”

Adam Bennock said in a thin, reedy voice, “Sorry to hear about your father, Saxon. Is the funeral date set yet?”

“The day after tomorrow,” Saxon said. “Friday at two. It'll be in the paper tonight. Do you know Emily Vane?”

The mayor-elect gave Emily an austere nod and tugged briefly at his hat brim. “We've met. How are you, Miss Vane?”

“Fine, Mr. Bennock.”

Bennock said, “I see by last night's paper that you're our new acting police chief, Saxon. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Usually it's customary for a lame-duck executive to consult his successor before making new appointments, but Mayor Foley didn't deign to render me that courtesy. He left me to read it in the newspaper. However, no harm's done. I quite likely would have made the same choice.”

“Thanks again,” Saxon said dryly.

“We'll have to get together right after the first of the year to discuss the general status of the force.”

“All right.”

“You'll need one new man to replace the vacancy left by your father's death. Have you given that any thought?”

“There are a couple on the waiting list,” Saxon said. “Mayor Foley's taking them up with the council tomorrow.”

Adam Bennock frowned. “The mayor seems bent on leaving as little as possible for me to do. Does he also plan to fill the lieutenancy vacancy before his term expires?”

“There won't be any until a permanent chief is appointed,” Saxon said.

“Hmm. It's gratifying to know I may have some say in that matter at least.”

Touching his hat brim to Emily again, he abruptly walked on.

“He's a cold fish,” Emily said. “See what comes of staying a bachelor? You'd be like that in another dozen years if I hadn't come along.”

“What makes you think I wouldn't have been snagged by some blonde if you hadn't?”

She made a face at him. “I hear he doesn't smoke or drink either. What's he do for amusement?”

“He skates,” Saxon said. Adam Bennock's business was the operation of a roller rink at one of the civic beaches, and he had once been a champion skater.

“Well, anyway, I don't like him.”

“You're in the minority,” Saxon told her. “He got seventy per cent of the popular vote. Let's get over to Hardy's Restaurant before they run out of food.”

chapter 4

Once the ordeal of the funeral was over, Saxon threw himself into his work. There were no drastic changes he cared to make in the procedures his father had set up, but he did make one minor change.

He found a safe yet more useful role for Sam Lennox than sitting around the squad room waiting for the rare occasions when he was needed as a driver. Since he was around headquarters all the time the chief was there—which was most of the time, inasmuch as a police chief's work was chiefly administrative—Saxon put him on permanent daytime desk duty, thus releasing one more man for necessary outside duty. Lennox still remained under his watchful eye most of the time, and in addition was performing a useful function.

Meantime neither the sheriff's office nor the state police had discovered any new leads in Andy Saxon's murder. It was beginning to show all the dreary signs of an unsolved homicide.

It had for many years been Andy Saxon's custom to allow members of the force assigned to duty over Christmas and New Year's to shift duty with other members who were willing to trade. The new acting chief saw no reason to suspend this tradition. Accordingly, he called a general staff meeting for 4
P.M
. on Saturday.

The Christmas Eve and Christmas Day schedules were settled first. A number of swaps were made, matters finally being settled to the satisfaction of everyone concerned. New Year's Eve wasn't as easy to resolve, however, for everyone liked that night off.

It was customary on New Year's Eve to move each shift forward one hour so that the relief change-over wouldn't come just at midnight. Instead of running from 4
P.M
. until midnight, the second trick started at 5
P.M
. and ran until 1
A.M
. This allowed those assigned to the swing trick an extra hour to see in the new year instead of having their celebrations interrupted at the climax of the evening.

The second trick consisted of two radio-car teams, a single foot patrolman in the downtown area, and a desk man. One of the radio-car men got George Chaney to swap duty with him for the usual ten-dollar fee. The other three and the beat cop preferred to save their money. So everyone was satisfied but Art Marks, who was assigned to desk duty that night. Marks wanted off because he and his wife were invited to a house party New Year's Eve. When no one volunteered to swap with him, he raised the bid to fifteen dollars.

There were still no takers.

The expression of disappointment on the middle-aged lieutenant's face was too much for Saxon. He said, “I'll sit in for you, Art.”

Everyone in the squad room looked at him in astonishment, for the chief of police wasn't expected to pull desk duty at any time, let alone on New Year's Eve.

“I don't have a thing on,” Saxon said. “Emily has to go on duty at eleven
P.M.,
so we'd have to leave anywhere we went by ten, and local parties don't get started until that time. We hadn't planned any celebration in any event, so soon after my dad's funeral.”

Art Marks said uncertainly, “Well, if you don't mind, Chief, I'd sure appreciate it.” He started to reach for his wallet.

“Skip the fee,” Saxon said. “I'll get even by making you do me a favor sometime.”

When the meeting broke up, Vic Burns followed Saxon into the chief's office. Closing the door behind him, he stood scratching his right biceps.

“Got an itch?” Saxon asked.

The stocky lieutenant dropped his hand to his side. “That damned bullet burn. It's scabbed over and itches all the time. That was a pretty nice thing you did, Chief. Smart, too.”

“Why smart?”

“You must know Art expected the chief's appointment. He hasn't said anything, but you can tell it rankled. Now you've got him solidly on your side.”

“I think he was on my side anyway, Vic. I haven't noticed any sign of resentment.”

“Oh, he's being a good trouper. But if you'll notice, he hasn't smiled since the day you broke the news of your appointment.”

“You're imagining things,” Saxon said. “He never did smile much.”

“Maybe,” Burns said doubtfully. “Still, I've had a feeling all week that Art was brooding over the injustice of being bypassed. I think what you're doing for him may shake him out of it.” He turned toward the door. “Just thought I'd tip you off. Morale's important.”

“Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

When Burns had gone out, Saxon sat musing for a time. Had the lieutenant been trying to warn him that Art Marks's attitude was something deserving serious attention—that perhaps there was danger of the veteran lieutenant's attempting deliberately to undercut his authority in some way? Knowing the stolid Marks as well as he did, Saxon considered it hardly likely that he would be capable of anything that devious. Nevertheless, the incident left him vaguely disturbed.