Tomorrow she’d be a cop. She’d get in a run early, to work off the effects of the wine; then she’d be at her new job on the dot.
She undressed and got into bed, naked, and began to drift off. The crickets in the swamp lulled her to sleep. Chet Marley had made a good decision, she thought. She’d do him proud.
CHAPTER
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?”
