CHAPTER TWO
The
judge was up early and made some notes to discuss with the commissioner when she
met him for lunch. She had several pages
of notes when it was time to shower and dress for the meeting. Wearing a fitted
blue suit with a little make up she drove downtown to the new skyscraper housing
the commissioner’s office. Taking the
elevator to eleven she got off and greeted the secretary.
The
secretary smiled and let the commissioner know that the judge had arrived and
he came out immediately and shook her hand, welcoming her warmly, as he ushered
her into his office.
She
was surprised that they were alone and said, “I thought I’d be facing a group
of power players,” the judge said.
“I
wanted to talk to you first,” he said, “The city manager, acting mayor and
several councilmen will be by in about an hour.”
He
opened a legal pad and asked her, “Tell me what you think some of the friction
would be between you as chief and the power
players?” he grinned as he asked.
“First
of all if I’m chief I expect to deploy my men as I see fit without
interference,” she said.
“As
you know, I am used to operating with full authority and making my own
decisions, so I expect to have quite a bit of autonomy and if you have any
rules or guidelines in mind I want to know them upfront,” she said.
“Next,
I want at least two years guaranteed to get things organized and functioning,”
she added.
“I’m
also very concerned about the recent gang and drug activity near some of our
schools and I plan on doing something about that immediately commissioner.”
The
commissioner laughed, “Call me John, judge.
Nothing about salary, vacation, benefits, hours?” he asked.
“Minor
details, John, and you can call me Beth,” she smiled back at him.
“We’re
quite sure you have other, more lucrative even more prestigious offers to
consider, Beth. Why are you considering
this position?”
“Number
one, I actually enjoy police work, John, and two, I think I can be a good chief
but I need the time to establish and enact my concepts into the department and
put my ideas to work. I’m not interested
in taking on a job that I’m not allowed to finish. Three, I like it here. It’s my home, my parish, and my friends and
family live here. My concerns are here,” she said.
“Well,
are you ready for lunch with the boys?” he asked.
He
escorted her to a conference room where lunch was being catered and introduced
her, “For those of you who don’t know Judge Able let me introduce you.
Gentlemen,
this is Judge Beth Able my choice for our next Chief of Police and he went
around the table introducing the rest of the men, most of whom she knew or
recognized.”
“Thank
you, John.”
“Gentlemen,”
she nodded and took her seat next to the commissioner.
Lou
Graham, the police union representative, asked, “What is your position on the
police union and negotiations?”
“Mr.
Graham, I’m an old homicide detective myself so I’m familiar with most of the
issues that come up for bargaining. I
should tell you that I am not an advocate of ‘blue flu’ because I think these
things can be worked out before we reach that point.”
“What
do you mean, judge?” Graham asked.
“Our
next contract isn’t up until two years from now so let’s start working out some
of the issues now. Why wait until there is a possibility of leaving this town
unprotected to resolve them? And, more importantly, why leave issues that
create friction and hardship unresolved until contract time?” she asked.
Several
heads nodded in agreement and while Graham looked dubious he was listening.
She
addressed Lou Graham, “Mr. Graham one of the issues in our next contract will
be part time policemen without adequate benefits and in need of second jobs to
sustain their families. The city thinks it saves money but it’s a detriment to
good police work and it’s an issue that shouldn’t wait until contract time to
be resolved.”
Less
agreement from the table in general but Graham seemed happy and the
commissioner was leaning back in his chair smiling.
“What
about police coverage of our city?” someone asked.
“I
will base police coverage solely on where the police are needed and I will do
that without interference or I won’t take this job,” she said.
That
caused a stir and John spoke up, “I have agreed that the judge will have
autonomy on that and several other issues that she believes are important to
her tenure. I have also agreed to a
minimum of two years in office,” he said.
“That’s
unheard of,” several voices chimed in.
“Gentlemen,
I can’t run a police department with political interference. It’s a big job and a big responsibility so
you decide if you can live with my guidelines or not.”
The
caterers came in with their main course as a great deal of mumbling and
crosstalk continued among the assemblage.
“Let
me give you an example,” she said, “two days ago we had an attempted drive by
shooting in our town and that is a serious matter that must be addressed and
stopped. When that shooting occurred two
police cars and four officers were in Country Estates settling a neighborhood
dispute between two grownups arguing over dog poop on their lawns. If I am
chief that is a travesty that will never happen again.”
Some
of them laughed and the rest busied themselves with their lunch. Beth smiled and tasted the crab cakes,
“Delicious,” she commented and sipped her wine enjoying the expression on
several faces. As a judge she had
learned to keep a poker face and none of her emotions showed as she enjoyed her
lunch.
She
figured she wouldn’t get the job but what the hell, lunch had been fun and she
could still accept the federal appointment or even retire and pursue her
interests as a private citizen.
Councilman
Morales from the district with the drive by shooting said, “I saw your letter
to the Standard after the shooting and I assume my district will get your attention
on that matter?”
She
answered him in Spanish, “You will indeed, I’ve already talked with some
concerned parents in the area with youngsters in that school and I contacted
our parish priest,” she said. “If, I become the chief I’d appreciate your help
in the matter. It must be nipped in the bud.”
Mr.
Morales nodded to her and smiled as he tasted his crab cakes, “Yes, very
delicious,” he said and sipped his own wine.
The
commissioner smiled, pleased that the judge had already offended the councilman
from Country Estates and enlisted the assistance of the councilman from the
poorest district in the city. She
startled the mostly white group by speaking Spanish to Robert Morales. She had
crossed swords with the union rep and criticized the city for its part time
police program. She didn’t need them, he thought, they needed her.
The
lunch was cleared away and John told Beth he would be calling her in a couple
of hours and asked for a number to reach her.
She gave him her mobile number and thanked the gentlemen for a lovely
lunch and conversation and said she could find her own way out. Several stood when she got up and exited the
room.
John
rose and said, “Gentlemen, I am pleased that we have found such a
well-qualified new Chief of Police.” He
lifted his glass of wine and said, “To Judge Beth Able, Chief of Police of Alta
Vista.”
Several
voices said, “Hear, hear,” while some angry ones asked, “You’re not going to
accede to her demands are you? We can
negotiate with her.”
John
told them, “Gentlemen, we need her, she doesn’t need us. The contract is already being typed up and I
intend to get her signature on it before she changes her mind.”
Councilman
Morales decided he would call her tomorrow about the drive by. The union rep thought it would be an interesting
time for union negotiations and started a mental list of important issues
before the union at this time. Some of
the men left in disgust and others adopted a wait and see attitude.
John
called Beth an hour later and asked if he could stop by her home. “I was just about to pour a Jameson with an
old friend but I’ll wait until you get here,” she said, “Park in the driveway
and come around to the back,” she directed.
Matt’s
eyebrows rose questioningly when she took the call.
Beth
shrugged, “He’s on his way over.”
“I
should go,” Matt said.
“You
stay, Matt, please.”
They
were sitting in the patio loungers relaxing when John came around the corner of
the house and spotted them; he walked over and took a seat.
“Good
Evening, Beth, Matt,” he said.
“John,
you know Matt Crenshaw?”
“I’ve
had the pleasure,” the commissioner said, “You were involved in the serial
killer case recently, Matt.”
Matt
nodded to the commissioner.
John
opened his briefcase and handed the new contract to Beth, “I’m hoping you’ll
read it and sign tonight,” he said.
She
poured John and Matt a Jameson and said she would go inside to read it in
better light with her glasses.
Matt
and John sipped Jameson and discussed the upcoming football season. John a Stanford alumnus was picking the Colts
for their division and Matt was taking the Seahawks as a long shot. They
discussed RG3, his injuries and his chances of getting hurt again in the
upcoming season which led to talk about Denver and Manning’s chances for a
Super Bowl ring.
Beth
came out with the contract and a pen, “Are you sure you want to do this?” she
asked John.
“I’m
sure that you are aware that crime is on the rise in our city and some
residents are convinced the police are their own private security force while
others rarely see a cop except for traffic tickets. We need you, Beth,” he said, “as soon as you
can start.”
“They
allowed all of my conditions,” she said.
“Actually,
I didn’t ask them, I told them,” he grinned at her.
“Look
Beth I’m sure that we’re going to get pissed at each other during the course of
your service as chief but I respect you and believe that you’re the best person
for the job. I think we’re damn luck to
get you,” he said.
She
sat down at the patio table and signed the contract sealing the next two years
of her life and handed it to John.
John
asked Matt if he would serve as witness and then he signed the contract.
When
Matt finished signing as witness Beth poured herself a Jameson and refreshed
their drinks.
They
raised their glasses to toast the new chief, the contract, and the future.
© August 2013 by Karen MacEanruig
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