well-respected and long-term departmental employees may soon follow suit.
“Although Sanders was a political appointee who served at the pleasure of the sheriff, he had nonetheless functioned in that capacity for two separate administrations and had been expected to play a pivotal part in the orderly transition to the administration of the new sheriff who was elected this week.
“One departmental employee who spoke only on condition of anonymity said, ‘I’m afraid a woman is just going to cave in under the pressure.
I mean, she’s been in office two days, and already we have two homicides.” (See above article.)” Joanna turned the paper over enough to see that the headline at the top of the page dealt with the two separate Cochise County slayings. But that wasn’t the article Dick Voland had handed her, so she turned back to the other one and resumed reading.
“Chief Deputy Richard Voland, another political appointee, actively campaigned for Al Freeman, the former chief of police from Sierra Vista who also ran for the position of sheriff. Citing Joanna Brady’s lack of law-enforcement experience, Voland emphasized that the county needed a professional law-enforcement officer to take charge of the Sheriff’s Department.
“‘Joanna Brady’s a nice lady,” Voland says, ‘but she’s never been a cop. And that’s what this county needs more than anything right now. someone who knows the score.’”
Joanna glanced at Dick Voland over the top of the newspaper and found him regarding her anxiously.
“That quote’s from one of your campaign speeches, isn’t it? The one about me not being a cop?”
Dick Voland nodded glumly. “That’s right,” he said, “but the woman who wrote the article makes it sound as though I said it yesterday, as though I’m out on the streets right this minute trying to undermine you.”
Without reading any more, Joanna closed the paper, folded it back up, and placed it on her desk.
She left the unopened envelope lying where it fell.
“Mr. Voland,” she said, “I think it’s only fair for you to know that this article is written by Sue Rolles, a reporter I personally threw out of my office late yesterday afternoon. Now tell me why you’re leaving. Are you really convinced that I’ll never be able to hack it in this job?”
“No. That’s not it at all.”
“What is it then?”
“With this kind of crap showing up in the media, I’m worried about a total breakdown in the chain of command, and that could put officers lives in jeopardy. It seems to me you might be better off with a slate of people of your own choosing. Out with the old, in with the new.”
“Are you saying you don’t think you can work with me?”
“No, but that may be the public perception. Especially after people read this. And anything that causes confusion; anything that makes one officer second-guess another, undermines the efficiency as well as the safety of the department.”
Joanna considered what he was saying. “Let me ask you a question, Dick. Considering I’m a rookie, was there anything about my behavior at the crime scene yesterday that was out of order?”
“No, you did fine, but…”
“But if there had been, would you have let it pass, or would you have pointed it out to me so I wouldn’t look quite so dumb the next time?”
Dick Voland met Joanna’s searching gaze and didn’t look away. “If something had been way out of line, I believe I would have told you.”
“That’s good.” Joanna picked up the envelope, tapped edge of it on the desktop, but still made no move to open it. “I’ll take this matter under advisement,” she said. “I’ll give it some thought, but for the time being, you need to understand that I have not yet accepted your resignation. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, then, aren’t I supposed to have some kind of early-morning briefing about what went on in the county overnight?”
“Two brothers got all drunked up at a birthday party over in Kansas Settlement and beat the crap out of one another with wooden baseball bats. One of them is in the county hospital down in Douglas. There were two domestics in the county overnight, one out in Elfrida and the other in Miracle Valley. Three one runaway juvenile from Pirtleville, and a carload of illegals who ran out of gas between Tombstone and St. David. The deputy held them long enough for the Border Patrol to show up and take them into custody.”
“That’s all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Voland replied.
“What about Ernie Carpenter? Any developments there?”
“Nothing new overnight that I know of, except that Ivy Patterson and that Russian of hers did go ahead and tie the knot. I can tell you that one’s raised a few eyebrows around town. Other than that, things are pretty quiet.” Voland headed for the door.
“Wait, Dick,” Joanna said. “There’s one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you have any suggestions about who to get to fill Martin Sanders’ position?”
Voland shook his head. “Not right offhand. It’s a funny situation, neither fish nor fowl. It would be a big promotion for most of the guys out on patrol, but that person essentially functions in a staff capacity, totally cut off from any direct con tact with the public.
“Not only that, it’s a paper-intensive job. The person who takes it is agreeing to serve as point man for every ugly can of worms that walks in the door-from pet cruelty complaints to wrangling with the board of supervisors
