https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081PRPRLR

EVERGREEN

By

Al Lamanda

Copyright by Al Lamanda

Prologue

The darkness of her confinement was as if she had suddenly gone blind, it was that dark.

The first instinct was to panic. No amount of training can overcome that initial response. What the training does, however, is help you fight through the panic and allow clear thinking to emerge.

She could feel the sides of her confinement with her hands. They were made of wood. The air was damp and smelled stale. She slowed her breathing to sips because she didn’t know how much air was available and needed to conserve what there was or risk suffocating.

She reached up and touched the ceiling. It was also made of wood and maybe a foot above her face.

She swallowed the terror in her chest and tried to remember how this came to pass and couldn’t. The last thing she remembered was …

Her utility belt, it was still around her waist.

She felt for her weapon and it was in the holster on her right hip. On her left hip was the two-battery Maglite she always carried and she withdrew it from the sheath. Her hands shook a bit as she clicked it on.

Immediately she recognized her confinement.

She was inside a cheap pine coffin.

Jesus Christ, she had been buried alive.

Chapter One

As she rode the ferry back to Newport, Claire Evergreen replayed the job interview in her mind and decided that she wouldn’t get the position.

The mayor of Smokey Point, Carl Walker, who also served as town manager, a squirrelly little man who reminded Claire of the pointy haired office manager in the Dilbert cartoon didn’t like her. She could see it right off, the way he looked at her with distain that he was going to be a problem.

The other four members of the town council seemed fine with her, but she could tell Walker was going to do his best to poison their votes.

She caught the ferry out of Newport and arrived at Smokey Point thirty minutes early. She wore a pants suit and flats, the flats because at five foot nine and one half inches tall, she could appear overpowering in two-inch heels.

It was just her luck Walker stood five foot four inches tall. She could see he would have an immediate problem with her height. The other members of the council seemed to like her well enough though, so maybe she had a shot after all.

The interview took place in the town hall, a small building where public meetings were held.

Each member of the council had her resume and cover letter.

Walker opened the interview.

“Miss Evergreen, thank you for coming and for being prompt,” he said. “I know you came a long way to be here this morning.”

The five members of the council sat at a long table. Claire sat in a chair facing them. It was awkward to say the least.

“Now then, as you are aware of the position you are interviewing for is sheriff of Smokey Point. Our previous sheriff, Matthew Holt retired after eight years of loyal and distinguished service. When you spoke with Mrs. Maxwell, you told her you were interested in one year of employment. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Claire said. “My suspension with the Rhode Island State Police is for one year. I would like to return to work after that if possible.”

“Perhaps you see this position as a fill-in, something to do while you wait to return to the Rhode Island State Police?” Walker said.

“I didn’t say that and I certainly don’t,” Claire said.

Perhaps she had said that a bit too harsh, but she was not about to have this squirrelly little man put words in her mouth.

“But you have no plans to make this position your career,” Walker said.

“No,” Claire said. “I do not. I specifically stated my intent of one year employment in the position while I wait for my suspension to conclude.”

“And if were to hire you in one year we would be right back where we are now, seeking a suitable sheriff for our town,” Walker said.

“Not necessarily,” Claire said. “If during my one year tenure I was able to elevate one of the three deputies and get him or her ready to assume the role of sheriff, you would have a ready-made replacement for when my time is up.”

Claire could see the other members of the council, especially Mitzi Maxwell, the lone woman on the council, appreciated her remark.

Walker wasn’t sold.

“In which case we would be short one deputy and right before season,” he said.

“I would think it easier to find a qualified deputy than a sheriff, especially if I were to begin accepting applications for one month before my departure,” Clair said.

Walker glared at her.

Well, fuck him, Claire thought.

“Miss Evergreen, it is Miss, isn’t it?” Walker said.

“Yes,” Claire said.

“Would you explain to us how your suspension came about?” Walker asked.

“I explained all that in my letter,” Claire said.

“I know, but I was wondering why a state trooper assigned to homicide was making a traffic stop,” Walker said.

“Because I’m in homicide doesn’t mean I should ignore all other facets of the law,” Claire said.

“Yes, but please elaborate for us on what happened,” Walker said.

Claire stared at Walker for a moment, analyzing his ‘gotcha moment’, and then decided screw it and said, “I just worked a double shift on a particularly gruesome murder investigation. A woman in Kranston put her baby in a pillowcase and smashed him against the side of a building, so I was not in a good mood to begin with. It was after midnight and I was driving home on 95 when a drunk driver cuts me off and waltzes across four lanes. I hit the wailer and …”

“Wailer?” Walker said.

“The siren and lights,” Claire said. “And I pull him over. He blows a 2.4 and is staggering drunk. He resisted arrest and grabbed my right tit and insisted I perform oral sex on him. When I went to put the cuffs on him he tried to bite me on the neck so I tazed him and threw him in the back of my car.”

“That seems a bit excessive to me,” Walker said.

Enough with this twerp, Clair thought. “I take it that you’ve never had a drunk grab your tit, call you a bitch and ask you for a blowjob then,” she said.

Mitzi Maxwell all but burst out laughing and the other three men on the council had to hide their smiles.

“Miss Evergreen, your language,” Walker said.

“If I offended I apologize,” Claire said.

“Could you …?” Walker said.

“Miss Evergreen, are you prepared to start work immediately?” Mitzi asked.

“I am,” Claire said. “I have a tenant ready to sublet my apartment for one year standing by. I could be ready by next Monday.”

“Your qualifications speak volumes,” Mitzi said. “I for one have little doubt you would make an excellent sheriff of Smoky Point.”

Walker seemed highly annoyed and glared at Mitzi.

“Miss Evergreen, were you aware at the time that the man you tazed was a Congressman home from Washington on a two-week break?” Walker asked.

“I was not,” Claire said.

“Should you have been?”

“New York State has twenty-seven Congressmen and two Senators; would you recognize every one of them on a dark highway especially if they were drunk?” Claire asked.

“Probably not,” Walker said. “In your opinion was your suspension due to excessive force or because the Congressman pulled some strings to have you punished?”

“My captain said it was because I showed poor judgment in how I handled the situation,” Claire said.

“In what way?” Walker said.

“My captain said I should have given him a blowjob,” Claire said.

Mitzi and the other three men burst out laughing.

“I think we are done here,” Walker said.

“May I say something?” Claire asked.

“Go ahead,” Walker said.

“I suppose I could ride out my suspension and collect unemployment and maybe even take a few college courses,” Claire said. “But I feel the genuine need to protect and serve. That is my calling if you will. I am very good at my job or I wouldn’t have made homicide before the age of thirty-five. Had I known the Congressman was a Congressman, it wouldn’t have made any difference. The man was drunk on a public highway and could have killed himself or worse, somebody else. Ask yourself if you would tolerate that in Smoky Point.”

“Thank you, Miss Evergreen,” Walker said. “That will be all for now.”

So when she finally arrived back in her apartment just before midnight, the last thing Claire expected to hear on her voice mailbox on her home phone was Mitzi Maxwell offering her the position of Sheriff of Smoky Point.

Chapter Two

“What’s a Smoky Point?” Captain Dugan asked when Claire told him the news.

“It’s a small vacation town on the tip of Long Island in New York,” Claire said.

“Sounds exciting,” Dugan said.

“I didn’t ask to be suspended on a bullshit charge trumped up by some drunken Congressman,” Claire said.

“Do you know how much punch a twelve-term Congressman who sits on five Congressional committees has?” Dugan said.

“Enough to blow three times the legal limit on I 95 and get away with it,” Claire said.

“He didn’t … he hasn’t gotten away with anything,” Dugan said.

“Has he been suspended from Congress for one year?” Claire asked.

Dugan looked at her.

“Call me if you need help?” he said.

“In Smoky Point, help with what?” Claire asked.

*****

Claire packed all of her clothes into several large boxes that fit into the back seat and trunk of her car. She left all furniture and appliances as is for her sublet tenant, a businessman on a one-year job transfer.

Her seven-year-old Angora cat Snowball didn’t like being placed into a carrier but having two legs instead of four made Claire the boss.

Snowball meowed her annoyance the first hundred miles of the drive. At a pit stop in Hartford, Claire decided enough was enough and let the cat out and Snowball slept peacefully on the floor in back the rest of the way.

She reached the George Washington Bridge around five in the afternoon and skirted her way onto the Grand Central Parkway and onto Long Island where she found out just how long of an island it really was.

One hundred and eighteen miles long to be exact and much of it at bumper-to-bumper. The last ten miles on a state road before a sign greeted her with Welcome to Smoky Point.

It was eight o’clock in the evening when Claire parked in front of a small office on Main Street. Mitzi Maxwell Real Estate Agent the letterhead on the door read. Besides being the only real estate agent in town, Mitzi was also the Town Clerk at the town office where Carl Walker’s office was located.

Mitzi was a firecracker of a woman, around fifty with burning red hair and a plump figure the way men like.

“A long drive,” Mitzi said when Claire entered the tiny office.

“Very,” Claire said.

“Sit for a minute and we’ll talk,” Mitzi said.

Claire took the chair opposite Mitzi’s desk.

“The vote was four to one to hire you,” Mitzi said. “Walker being the lone no.”

“I figured,” Claire said.

“Don’t let it bother you. Carl hasn’t been laid in years since his wife ran off with an interstate trucker,” Mitzi said. “It made him distrustful of women.”

“Sure,” Claire said.

“Do you want me to fill you in on your staff or wait and see for yourself?”

“Wait and see.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Mitzi said. “Follow me to the house I told you about on the phone.”

*****

Claire followed Mitzi’s Town Car for about a mile where the house for rent overlooked the ocean.

“It’s small,” Mitzi said as she unlocked the front door. “Two bedrooms, kitchen, living room, one and a half baths and two-car garage.”

“My apartment back in Providence is small,” Claire said. “To that this is a castle. What is the rent?”

“How much is the rent on your apartment?”

“Nine hundred a month.”

“And you sublet it for what?”

“Twelve hundred.”

“The rent is three hundred a month,” Mitzi said.

“How is that possible?” Claire asked.

“I own this house,” Mitzi said. “The rent is what I say it is.”

“Okay then, deal.”

“Good. You’ll find coffee and fresh milk in the kitchen. I’ll make some while you bring your stuff in and we can chat for a bit.”

*****

“You see dear, it may not look like much right now, but come Memorial Day when the boardwalk and amusement park opens and the charter fishing and beaches kicks in, Smoky Point will explode and it will stay busy right up to Labor Day and beyond to Columbus Day. After that we get a lull until leaf peeping starts and we hop again for another two weeks. Come November we return to our cocoons until spring. In four weeks, twenty-one B&B’s will open as well as four motels by the ocean and one resort. Shops, stores and places to eat will triple. We have eleven bars that stay open year-round on what we call Alcoholics Alley, but that number will double. In short, you will earn the thirty-eight-thousand a year we are paying you.”

Claire sipped her coffee.

Snowball jumped onto Mitzi’s lap and Mitzi said, “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

“Snowball,” Claire said.

Mitzi stroked snowball and said, “Divorced, huh?”

“Twice.”

“Ouch. I’m a three-timer myself. First thing a divorced woman does is get a cat and buy a copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary.”

Claire grinned and sipped more coffee. It was fair to say that she liked Mitzi Maxwell from the start.

“What about uniforms?” Claire asked.

“Your predecessor wore plain clothing,” Mitzi said. “As sheriff, you have that option.”

“I’ll order a few sets and keep them in the rotation,” Claire said.

“Well, it’s late and I have a dozen rental properties to show to tourists jumpstarting the season,” Mitzi said. She stood and Snowball jumped off her lap. “Good luck and call if you need anything.”

“I do need one thing,” Claire said. “Where is the Sheriff’s Department located?”

*****

After choosing the smaller of the two bedrooms because it had the full bathroom and more comfortable bed, Clair unpacked her clothing and made the bed with fresh linen she found in the linen closet.

There was an alarm clock on the bedside table and she set it for six even though she knew she wouldn’t need it.

Then she filled a glass with water and set it by the clock.

Claire hated the idea of pajamas and wore usually just panties and a tank top to sleep in, even on the coldest winter nights. Tonight was no exception even though the temperature had dropped considerably since sundown.

She cracked the window for the fresh air and also for the sound of the ocean.

Then she removed her Glock .40 pistol from its holster and set it under the second pillow as was her custom.

From where Snowball came Claire couldn’t say, but the moment she turned off the light and got into bed, there she was by her side.

Claire rubbed her ears for a few seconds and Snowball purred loudly.

“Like our new home?” Claire asked.

Snowball curled into a ball and closed her eyes against Claire’s stomach.

“Me, too,” Claire said.

Chapter Three

Claire wore dark blue jeans, a grey tee-shirt and a corduroy sports jacket to conceal her utility belt when she left in the morning and drove around town for a daylight look-see at the what’s-what.

She found a donut shop on the main drag and stopped for a large container of coffee. She took it to the beach and parked in the lot to watch the sun rise slowly over the ocean.

It was a chilly morning around forty-five degrees. Fog rolled in off the ocean creating a hauntingly beautiful picture.

When she finished the coffee, Claire returned to her car and after a few wrong turns, found the Sheriff’s Department on Elm Street next door to the library.

Two white cruisers and a Volkswagen sedan were parked out front.

Claire parked next to the Volkswagen and sat for a few minutes.

Hardly anyone was on the streets, but it was just past seven in the morning so what did she expect? Even Providence was no hotspot of activity so early in the morning.

She watched a man walking his dog and a woman walking her dog and a newspaper delivery truck go by and then another woman and dog.

A few kids walking to school passed by and then a school bus stopped to pick them up.

At seven-thirty Claire left her car with her briefcase and entered the office.

There were three desks in the main room of the department. A separate office with a glass window and door was directly behind the last desk.

At the closest desk sat a deputy in his mid to late forties.

“You must be James Turley,” Claire said to him.

At the second desk sat a deputy in his twenties.

“And you’re Roger Knox, but I was told you like to be called Shortstop,” Claire said.

Claire looked at the woman at the third desk. She was in her mid-forties.

“And you have to be Rose Bailey,” Claire said.

“And you are?” Turley asked.

“Your new boss,” Claire said.

Knox appeared stunned.

Rose smiled.

Turley looked at Claire as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“I assume that’s my office so one at a time, let’s go get acquainted,” Claire said. “Who wants to go first?”

*****

Rose had made a pot of coffee and Claire found a clean mug on her desk with the inscription Smoky Point Sheriff’s Department inscribed in gold lettering on it. She sipped from the mug as she read Turley’s file.

Turley sat in a chair and quietly watched her read.

Finally Claire closed the file and looked at him.

“I was wondering why a forty-seven-year-old man was content to be a deputy in a small town, but I understand after reading your file,” she said. “Tell me about the shooting. How did it go down?”

“It was a routine traffic stop on the LIE,” Turley said. “Night shift, one in the morning, the driver of an SUV is doing eighty-five in a construction site posted for fifty. I approached the vehicle and the man behind the wheel shot me in the right knee with a .22 caliber pistol and then drove away.”

“Sixteen years with the state police, rank of sergeant, six commendations and it’s over in the blink of an eye,” Claire said.

“I was in rehab for a year,” Turley said. “The knee was shattered and replaced, but I walk with such a limp I was forced to take a disability pension.”

“I didn’t see much of a limp when you walked in here,” Claire said.

“I wear a brace under my pants,” Turley said.

Claire nodded. “How did you wind up here?”

“I sat around for a year doing nothing,” Turley said. “I decided to get back into the game, work if I could and contribute to my pension for as long as possible. I really loved being a trooper. I don’t love being a deputy, but at least my hat is still in the ring.”

“Can you pull your weight?” Claire asked.

“I’ve lasted five years,” Turley said.

“Okay,” Claire said.

*****

“Why are you called Shortstop?” Claire asked.

“I played shortstop in high school and college,” Knox said. “Tore my rotor cuff in my third year and that was that. Nobody wants a shortstop that throws like a little girl.”

Claire looked at Knox.

“Oh, no offense,” Knox said.

“None taken,” Claire said. “I don’t throw like a little girl.”

Knox grinned.

“Three years with Smoky Point, you’re only twenty-eight, why are you still here?” Claire said.

“I’m waiting to be called by the state police,” Knox said. “Probably next year and in the meantime I keep a foot in the door as a deputy.”

“What if you don’t get called?” Claire asked.

“Why wouldn’t I get called?” Knox said with a grin.

He was boyishly handsome with blue eyes and sandy hair, tall and fit and probably scored well with the women Claire assessed.

“How did you score on the tests?” Claire asked.

“Good,” Knox said. “Not great but good. I figure another year in the Point.”

*****

“Twelve years as an EMT, what made you switch over?” Claire asked Rose.

“My husband left me for a younger, prettier woman,” Rose said. “I needed a job with a more regular schedule. I took the one hundred and twenty hours at the academy and Sheriff Holt was kind enough to give me a chance.”

“Seven years in?”

Rose nodded.

“You’re only forty-five, Rose,” Claire said. “You have a long way to go. Are you happy being a deputy in a small town or is there more below the surface?”

“My oldest is in college. My middle daughter is a senior and the youngest is a freshman,” Rose said. “I got the house and child support. The child support ends when my youngest graduates college. Ask me that question again in seven years.”

Claire picked up her briefcase and removed a folder and set it on the desk.

“That’s my file,” she said. “I’d like the three of you to read it carefully and then ask me anything you’d like.”

*****

Claire gave them fifteen minutes and then returned to the squad room, filled her mug with coffee and looked at her three deputies.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well what?” Knox said.

“Questions,” Claire said. “For me.”

“Did you really taze a Congressman?” Knox asked.

“I did.”

“I remember seeing that on the news,” Turley said. “As I recall he would have dropped charges if you apologized.”

“Why would I apologize for enforcing the law if that’s what I’m paid to do?” Claire said.

“You only plan to do one year?” Turley said.

“Unless the Rhode Island State Police for some reason fires me after my suspension is up,” Claire said. “In which case I’ll probably stay a while longer.”

“Five shootings in fourteen years is a bit high, isn’t it?” Turley said. “I never drew my gun once in the line of duty.”

“Somebody shoots at me, I shoot back,” Claire said.

“What about policy and schedules?” Knox asked.

“How do you work it now?” Claire asked.

“Two of us works days, one of us works nights and Rose works dispatch unless needed in the field,” Knox said.

“Who is on tonight?” Claire asked.

“Me,” Knox said.

“I suggest you go home right after this meeting and get some sleep then,” Claire said.

“Who has the VW?” Claire asked.

“I do,” Rose said.

“Have a radio and wailer?”

“It does.”

“One thing we need to be clear about,” Claire said. “You’re all going to want to make helpful suggestions on how we do things. Give me advice on what works and what doesn’t. Please don’t. Turley, you have dispatch. Rose, you come with me.”

*****

“What goes on around here, Rose? What am I up against come Memorial Day?” Claire asked.

“A lot of drunk and disorderly on the beach, a lot of bar fights especially when the motorcycle enthusiasts show up and more than our fair share of drugs,” Rose said. “Sometimes Sheriff Holt would ask for help from the County Sheriff or State Police and sometimes he would even get it.”

“Take me to Alcoholics Alley,” Claire said.

About a mile from the office, Rose turned down a side street, made an immediate left and parked at the corner.

Claire counted twenty-three bars that lined both sides of the street.

“Next?” Rose asked.

“Boardwalk and amusement park and stop at the donut shop, I want to grab some coffee,” Claire said.

*****

They sat on a bench a hundred feet from the ocean. A stone wall a mile long was at their backs. Every thirty feet there was a break in the wall allowing access to the sand. A quarter mile on their left the amusement park was quiet and isolated. A stiff breeze off the water made the fifty-five degree temperature feel like forty.

They sipped coffee from donut shop containers.

“Aren’t you cold?” Rose asked as she turned up the collar of her uniform jacket.

“I don’t think about it,” Claire said.

Rose sipped some coffee. “It’s freezing. It’s not supposed to be this cold this close to May.”

“How often do you go in the field, Rose?” Claire asked.

“Not as often as I’d like to,” Rose said. “Maybe a dozen times over the course of the summer.”

“Unless it’s all hands on deck, count on none,” Claire said.

“I don’t understand. I’m competent enough to …”

“Our budget doesn’t allow for a detective,” Claire said. “So from now on you are my investigator. If, in the course of an investigation you need to go out, go. But no more sitting on your ass waiting for the phone to ring. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Claire sipped some coffee.

Rose sipped some coffee.

“What are you going to tell Turley and Shortstop?” Rose asked.

“Turley is a field man,” Claire said. “I doubt he would have ever made detective. Knox is one step away from being a security guard at a bank. I’ll tell them you’re my investigator and that’s that.”

“How did you make detective in homicide at so young an age?” Rose asked.

“By working harder than anybody else,” Claire said. “Why do you think I’m divorced twice by the age of forty?”

“Anyplace else you want to see?” Rose said. “Because I’m freezing my ass off.”

“Let’s drive around,” Claire said. “I want to feel the town.”

*****

“Tell me about Holt,” Claire said as Rose drove around town.

“Matt was … I mean is a good man,” Rose said. “I don’t know if you read his file, but he quit the New York City Police Department after twenty-two years when his wife died. He sat around for two years raising his two sons and them came aboard eight years ago as sheriff after they were grown.”

“Why did he quit?”

“He said thirty years was enough,” Rose said. “He said he wanted to enjoy his pension while he was still young enough to spend it.”

“Let’s grab some lunch and then head back,” Claire said.

*****

Turley was on the phone when Claire and Rose returned to the office.

“Yes, I realize I’m not Rose, Mr. Cassedy,” Turley said into the phone. “But is there something I can help you with?”

Rose went to her desk.

Claire stood beside Turley’s desk.

“No, sir, I don’t think it’s possible that Rose could call you back to say hello, but I’ll tell her,” Turley said and hung up.

“And that was about?” Claire said.

“Mr. Cassedy is eighty-seven-years-old and is in love with Rose,” Turley said. “He calls every day to hear her voice.”

“Cute,” Claire said. “Rose, bring me everything.”

Claire went into her office and sat at her desk.

Rose appeared in the doorway.

“What do you mean by everything?” Rose asked.

“Start with all arrest reports from last year,” Claire said.

*****

Claire read arrest reports cover-to-cover until, at five o’clock, Turley knocked on her door.

“It’s five o’clock,” he said. “I’ve been here ten hours. Unless you need me I’m clocking out.”

Claire nodded.

“Rose?”

“She stays until six when Short comes on.”

“Goodnight then,” Claire said.

After Turley left, Claire stood and went to the squad room where Rose was at her desk writing a report.

“Do you usually stay until six?” Claire asked.

Rose nodded. “Until the night watch shows up. That way he can work until at least two.”

“And from two until eight?”

“Whoever worked the day shift takes the call at home.”

Claire sat on the edge of Rose’s desk.

“Last summer there was an average of two arrests a day for drunk and disorderly on the beach, one bar fight a night and at least two arrests a week for drug possession,” Claire said. “Not pot but cocaine and heroin. The bar fights usually are between motorcycle gangs. Are they responsible for the drugs?”

“Holt believed so but was never able to make a case, against them” Rose said.

“I want you to start an investigation tomorrow,” Claire said. “I’d like you to go back five years and check for priors on all motorcycle gang members arrested for drugs. Possession and intent to sell. Somebody is bringing drugs to the beach and it’s up to us to stop it. Build me a case, Rose.”

Rose looked at Claire.

“My fingerprints are in my file,” Claire said. “Tomorrow get me a license to carry permit. The sheriff should be able to legally conceal, don’t you think?”

Rose nodded.

“Go home,” Claire said. “I’ll stick around and wait for Short.”

*****

Claire was still reading the arrest log when Knox arrived at five to six. He had a paper bag and a thermos of coffee and set them on his desk.

Her door was open and he poked his nose in and said, “Where’s Rose?”

“I sent her home early,” Claire said. “Short, sit for a minute.”

There was a small sofa against the wall and Knox sat there rather than the hard chairs opposite the desk.

“Hey, do you know why they named it Smoky Point?” Knox asked.

“Because when the fog rolls in off the ocean at sunrise it resembles smoke,” Claire said. “Just a guess.”

Knox looked at her.

“A lot of drug related arrests last summer,” Claire said.

“It’s to be expected with so many college kids and teenagers around the beach and park,” Knox said.

“What did Sheriff Holt try to do about it?” Claire asked.

“Name it and he tried it,” Knox said. “Parked cruisers at the beach and amusement park, traffic stops, investigations into motorcycle gangs, even borrowed a couple of female deputies from county to work undercover at the beach. Nothing worked.”

“How is it every college kid and moron on the beach couldn’t identify where they purchased the drugs?” Claire asked. “Some guy, a dude and this guy at the beach doesn’t get it done in my or any book for that matter.”

“Like I said, we tried everything,” Knox said. “Matt even had us walk the beach in uniform.”

“Do you know where Holt is? I’d like to give him a call.”

“He lives near Wading River on the beach,” Knox said. “His address and number are in the files.”

“I’ll find it,” Claire said. “I’m going to read a while so go about your business.”

Knox stood up and turned to the door, hesitated and looked back. “What should I call you? I mean Sheriff Holt preferred to be called Matt.”

“Claire. Call me Claire.”

Knox nodded. “Okay, Claire. I’ll be at my desk.”

Claire read for another hour before calling it a night.

Knox was on the phone when she entered the squad room.

“Mrs. Parker, your son is twenty-seven-years-old, I don’t think we can actually say he ran away from home,” Knox said. “If he doesn’t show up in twenty-four hours you can file a missing person’s report. Yes, I keep an eye out for him. Goodnight.”

Knox hung up and looked at Claire.

“She calls once a month when her son goes off on a bender,” he said.

“Is there a market I can pick up some things at?” Claire asked.

“Two blocks east and one block to the north is Food City,” Knox said. “It’s open until midnight.”

“Thanks.”

Claire went to her office for her jacket and as she returned to the squad room, Mitzi Maxwell was coming through the door.

“I was driving by and thought I recognized your car,” Mitzi said.

“I was just heading out,” Claire said. “To the food market actually.”

“Well, as long as I’m here why not have dinner?” Mitzi said. “You can hit the market on the way home.”

Claire slipped on her jacket. “Let’s go,” she said.

Chapter Four

Mitzi held up her glass of white wine and said, “Cheers.”

Claire lightly touched Mitzi’s glass with her own and each woman took a small sip of wine.

“The council agreed to give you a few days burn-in time before calling a meeting,” Mitzi said.

“Make it sooner than later,” Claire said. “I’d like to discuss budgets and a few other things.”

“I’ll talk to Carl tomorrow,” Mitzi said.

“Thank you.”

“So what do you think of your staff?” Mitzi asked. “Be honest.”

“I don’t know them yet, know their capabilities,” Claire said. “Ask me that again in two weeks and I’ll be able to provide an honest answer.”

“Fair enough,” Mitzi said.

A waiter approached the table. “Have you decided yet?” he asked.

“Walter, bring me the house salad,” Mitzi said. “You know how I like it.”

“And the lady?”

“Walter, this is Claire Evergreen, our new sheriff,” Mitzi said.

“A pleasure,” Walter said.

“I think I’ll go with the same,” Claire said.

“Very good,” Walter said and left the table.

“So Claire, what is the origin of your name?” Mitzi asked. “Evergreen is such an unusual name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“As the family story goes, my great-grandfather came over from Scandinavia in nineteen-eleven and when he went through Ellis Island no one could pronounce his name,” Claire said. “To the clerk checking him in it sounded like the word evergreen so that’s what he wrote on my great-grandfather’s papers.”

“What a wonderful story,” Mitzi said. “Any idea what it really is?”

“Something I can’t pronounce,” Claire said.

“And the house is?”

“Perfectly fine,” Claire said. “I slept like a baby listening to the ocean.”

Mitzi smiled. “Good.”

Walter returned with the salads.

“Save room for dessert,” Mitzi said. “They have a wonderful cheesecake here.”

“Can you tell me something?” Claire said. “Off the record if you’d like.”

“If I can.”

“What was Sheriff Holt like?”

“In what way?”

“As a sheriff and as a person.”

“I’m afraid Carl is the one to ask about his duties as sheriff,” Mitzi said. “The sheriff reports directly to the town manager. I thought he was highly competent if not a little bored there at the end. He’s a big fisherman and if you ask me would rather be on his boat fishing than anyplace else.”

“My dad is like that,” Claire said. “After my mom passed, he moved down to the Keys and bought a little charter boat and takes guests out fishing almost every day.”

“Sounds like your dad and Matthew would get along just fine,” Mitzi said. “And the first dinner is always on me.”

*****

Claire walked through her front door carrying two large shopping bags. Snowball was already in place and waiting to greet her.

Claire put down the bags and picked up the cat. She gave Snowball several kisses and scratched behind her ears and then set her down.

“To the kitchen,” Claire said.

At the counter, Claire unpacked the groceries. Cat litter, cat food, milk, coffee, eggs, butter bacon and bread.

After filling Snowball’s food bowl and changing out her water, Claire went to the bedroom and took a twenty minute, blazing hot shower, something she did even on hot summer days.

Afterward she put on shorts and tank-top and a lightweight robe.

Snowball was already on the bed waiting.

Claire propped up the pillows and allowed Snowball to take up residence on her stomach.

Stroking Snowball’s ears, Claire said, “I’m not so sure about this place.”

Snowball purred and began kneading Claire’s stomach.

“Why?” Claire said. “Because one deputy walks like a duck, another is one step above brainless and the third is a middle-aged woman who probably never fired the gun she doesn’t wear.”

Snowball rubbed her face against Claire’s hand.

“Oh, that’s right. We’re women too, aren’t we?” Claire said.

Snowball turned over and Claire rubbed her back.

“Well, I am anyway,” Claire said. “You’ve been spayed, although for all the action I’ve been getting lately I might as well be, too.”

Claire gently moved Snowball off her stomach and stood up. “Be right back,” she said.

She went to the kitchen for a glass of water and set it on the nightstand. Then she placed her Glock .40 under the spare pillow and turned off the lamp.

Claire and Snowball were asleep within minutes.

*****

Before the alarm went off at six am, Claire was out of bed and in the kitchen making coffee.

While the coffee brewed, she returned to the bedroom, dropped to the floor and did thirty-five pushups. She rested for two minutes and then did another thirty-five. Immediately, Claire turned and did thirty-five sit-ups, followed by thirty-five stomach crunches and then held a plank for a count of one twenty. Then she did another thirty-five sit-ups and thirty-five crunches.

Snowball, as she usually did whenever Claire went through this routine, watched quietly from the bed.

When she finally stood up, Claire went to a cardboard box against the wall and removed the pull-up bar that attached to a door frame and hung it on the bathroom door.

Then she went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee and took it to the backyard where a small table and chairs faced the ocean. It was a chilly morning and she had to wear a robe, but the fresh, cold air along with the caffeine was the jumpstart she needed to go on to stage two.

Coffee finished, Claire slipped into a jogging suit with well-worn running shoes and walked down to the sand. The waves crashed as fog rolled in. She checked her watch and started a twenty-minute run at waters edge.

After twenty-minutes, she turned around and ran home.

The procedure ended at the bathroom where she stripped down and did three sets of ten reps of pull-ups on the bar. After the final rep she jumped into the shower.

Claire performed this workout three times a week without fail.

She felt she owed it to the tax payer that paid her salary to be able to, if necessary, outrun the bad guy.

After dressing in jeans, dark blue denim shirt and steel-toe boots, Claire fixed some toast with scrambled eggs and ate at the kitchen table.

She left fresh food and water for Snowball, slipped on her holster and left for work.

Chapter Five

Rose and Turley were already in the office when Claire arrived.

Rose had a stack of reports on her desk and was making notes on a pad.

Turley was reading a copy of Newsday.

“Morning Claire,” Turley said.

“Morning,” Claire said.

“Short brought in a drunk last night,” Turley said. “He’s in the cage.”

“Show me,” Claire said.

Turley stood and Claire followed him to the door next to the bathroom. He opened the door and down a short hallway was the ‘cage.’ Large enough to hold a dozen, the cage was basically one large jail cell with six bunk bed type cots.

A middle-aged man was sleeping in one of the lower cots.

“Deputy Turley, can you run on that leg?” Claire asked.

“Can I … how do you mean?” Turley asked.

“I mean if you had to chase a suspect, can you do it? Can you run?”

“Well I don’t … I mean I’ve never tried,” Turley said.

“So if you and Short were on foot and chasing a suspect you believed to be armed you wouldn’t be able to pursue the suspect and Short would be on his own,” Claire said. “Facing a possibly armed and dangerous suspect.”

Turley looked at Claire.

“I didn’t ask to get shot,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you if you asked to get shot,” Claire said. “I asked you if you could run.”

Turley sighed. “No, probably not.”

“How many more years did you figure on working?”

“Three. At least three.”

“I’ll get you the three, but on my terms,” Claire said. “Agreed?”

Turley nodded.

“Now what do we have for weapons around here?” Claire asked.

Opposite the cage was a locked closet. Turley used a key to unlock the door.

“Four pistol grip shotguns and two vests,” Claire said. “Anything in the cruisers?”

“No.”

“From now on one shotgun for each cruiser,” Claire said. “Fully loaded and extra ammunition in the glove box.”

Turley removed one shotgun and a box of ammunition from the closet and locked the door.

Rose still had her nose dug in reports when they returned to the squad room. She looked up and watched Turley leave the building with the shotgun.

“Rose, do you own a gun?” Claire asked.

“I do.”

“Where is it?”

“Home.”

“What is it?”

“Smith and Wesson .40.”

“Last time you fired it?”

“Who said I fired it?”

“From now on you wear it at all times while on duty.”

Turley returned and Claire looked at him.

“What range do you practice at?” she asked.

“Suffolk Rod and Gun Club,” Turley said.

“What time will Short be here?” Claire asked.

“Usually around two after a night shift,” Rose said.

“Do we have petty cash?” Claire asked.

“About one hundred dollars,” Rose said.

“At noon, I want the both of you to head over to the range and fire a minimum of one hundred rounds,” Claire said. “More if you have to, but you don’t come back until Rose can put seven out of ten in the black. Take what you need for practice ammo from petty cash.”

“What about calls?” Turley asked.

“I think I can handle a few hours alone,” Claire said.

*****

At her desk, Claire studied budget reports for several hours. Forty thousand dollars was allocated for summer manpower.

She called Rose to the office.

“Last summer there were five part time deputies,” Claire said. “Call over to the police academy and see if you can line up four top-class graduating deputies who wouldn’t mind making ten grand for three month’s work.”

“Just four?”

“I’d rather pay a bit extra per man and get a better quality deputy.”

“I’ll make the calls,” Rose said and returned to her desk.

After closing the files, Claire dug out the phone number left for Matthew Holt. She dialed the number and he answered after three rings.

“Matt Holt,” he said.

“Mr. Holt, this is your replacement calling, Claire Evergreen,” Claire said.

After a short pause, Holt said, “It’s snowing in hell then.”

“I …excuse me?” Claire said.

“Carl Walker approved a woman as sheriff,” Holt said.

“Yes, yes he did, but it was a four to one vote,” Claire said.

“Should I guess who the ‘no’ was?” Holt said.

“No need,” Claire said. “So why I’m calling is I’d like to know if you have some free time tomorrow. I’d like your input on a few things if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you fish?”

“No, no I don’t.”

“Do you eat?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Make it around one. Know where I live?”

“I have the address. I’ll find it.”

“One o’clock then.”

“I’ll be there.”

Claire hung up just as Rose knocked on the open door and entered. “It’s noon. Jim and I are headed over to the range now. I took fifty from petty cash for practice ammo. Also, I put in a call to the academy.”

“Get receipts,” Claire said. “Oh, who delivers?”

*****

Claire was eating noodles with chicken dumplings from The China Rose restaurant a few blocks from the office when Knox reported for his shift.

Claire met him at his desk.

“I cut your drunk lose with a desk appearance ticket for court,” she said.

“Where are Rose and Jim?” Knox asked.

“I sent them to the range so Rose can practice,” Claire said.

“Rose?”

“She’s a deputy, isn’t she?”

The phone rang and Knox answered it.

Rose returned to her desk and a few seconds later, Knox stuck his head in the door.

“Bar fight at the Palace,” he said.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Claire said.

“It’s Dwayne and his wife,” Knox said. “He’s a …”

“Tell me about it on the way,” Claire said.

“You’re going with me?” Knox said.

*****

The Palace was anything but. One of the eleven bars open year round, it was a dark and gloomy dive of a place.

Dwayne Haywood was beating the crap out of the bartender when Claire and Knox arrived.

A woman sat at a table with a bloody lip and a quickly closing black eye.

Otherwise the place was empty.

Knox grabbed Dwayne from behind and yanked him off the bartender and the bartender fell to the floor.

“Get the fuck offa me,” Dwayne yelled.

“Dammit, Dwayne, this is the third time this month you …” Knox said.

Dwayne, a former semi-pro football player and a good two hundred and fifty pounds shoved Knox backward.

Knox grabbed Dwayne and they started wrestling against the bar.

Claire looked at the woman. “Who are you?”

“I’m that idiot’s wife.”

“He do that to you?”

The woman nodded.

“He thinks I’m having an affair with the bartender.”

“Are you?”

“It’s his first day.”

Claire looked at the fallen bartender. He was a bloody mess. “Probably his last, too,” she said.

Dwayne had Knox in a headlock and was screaming, “Nobody fucks my wife but me. Nobody.”

“Every town has one,” Claire said.

She tapped Dwayne on the shoulder and he released Knox and turned around. The second Dwayne was facing her; Claire kicked him in the balls with her right steel-toe boot.

Dwayne gasped, grabbed his sack and slumped over to the floor.

Knox and Dwayne’s wife stared at Claire.

“Cuff this asshole and toss him in the cruiser,” Claire said.

*****

“You’re going to need medical attention,” Claire said to Dwayne’s wife.

“I’m alright. He’s done it before. He’ll do it again.”

Her name was Sally and she was the waitress at the Palace. She was seated on the sofa in Claire’s office.

“Not this time,” Claire said. “And not anymore.”

“You don’t understand how mean Dwayne can get,” Sally said.

“How long have you been married to this idiot?” Claire asked.

“Since we graduated high school ten years ago,” Sally said. “Dwayne was going to be a big football star. Had a tryout with the Jets over at Hofstra. He blew out his right knee and that was that.”

“Well, Dwayne is going to jail,” Claire said.

“What for?” Sally asked.

“Domestic violence, assault and battery for openers,” Claire said.

“Dwayne can’t go to know jail. He has a job.”

“I hope they hold it for him,” Claire said. “He’ll be gone for at least one year.”

“A year?” Sally said. “Dwayne can’t do no year. I won’t press charges.”

“That’s not up to you,” Claire said. “That’s up to me.”

Knox tapped on the door and opened it.

“Claire, county boys are here for Dwayne,” he said.

“I’ll be right out,” Claire said.

She stood and said, “Sally, you wait right there.”

Claire went to the squad room where two county deputies were talking to Knox.

“Transport to county,” one of the deputies said.

“In the cage,” Claire said.

“I’ll get him,” Knox said and opened the door to the backroom.

“You’re new,” one of the county deputies said.

“Claire Evergreen. Sheriff Holt’s replacement,” Claire said.

Knox returned with Dwayne in cuffs.

“I want a lawyer,” Dwayne said. “This fucking bitch kicked me in the balls.”

“Twice,” Claire said and kicked Dwayne in the balls again.

“Jesus,” Knox said.

As the county deputies and Knox carried Dwayne out to their van, Claire returned to her office.

“The bartender is really hurt,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t count of seeing Dwayne for a year or more. Go home and tend to those bruises.”

“What about … what do you call it … bail?” Sally said.

“Tomorrow, if you’d like, drive to the county sheriff’s department and when he’s arraigned ask his lawyer if he can post bail,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t count on it though.”

“Did you have to kick him again?” Sally asked.

“No,” Claire said. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

*****

Claire was engrossed in writing her report and didn’t notice Rose and Turley until she heard their voices and looked up from her desk.

She grabbed her empty mug and went to the squad room and filled it at the coffee maker. “How did it go at the range?” she said.

“Sixty-four out of one hundred in the black,” Turley said.

“Good enough, but keep practicing,” Claire said to Rose. “And from now on you wear your piece on duty.”

“Short tells us you took down that idiot Dwayne at the Palace,” Turley said.

“Twice,” Rose said.

“His wife will stick by him though,” Claire said. “She doesn’t know any better.”

Claire sat on the edge of Rose’s desk.

“Last summer the majority of the arrests for drunk and disorderly and drugs came between four in the afternoon and ten at night,” she said. “Something like eighty percent.”

“That’s when the beaches, amusement park and bars are at the busiest,” Turley said. “The amusement park closes at midnight and most of the beach crowd leaves at dark. The bars give us most of the trouble.”

“They usually do,” Claire said. “Alcohol and stupidity don’t mix.”

The phone rang and Knox answered the call.

“Rose,” Claire said as she returned to her office.

Rose followed Claire and Claire closed the door.

“I noticed that quite a few arrests at the bars came from out of town bikers,” Claire said as she sat behind her desk.

Rose took the sofa. “Drunken bar fights and bikers are synonymous,” she said.

“That’s true everywhere,” Claire said.

“Even in small towns,” Rose said.

“I wonder if you noticed that the out of town bikers always seem to get arrested around the first of the month?” Claire asked.

“I … no, I didn’t,” Rose said. “I’m still doing research.”

“It just strikes me odd that gangs from Rhode Island and Massachusetts always seem to be around the first of the month and then disappear,” Claire said. “They must ride the ferry down for a good time, blow off steam and then head back.”

“Must,” Rose said.

“Why the bother?” Claire asked.

“I don’t follow.”

“There are dozens of town in Rhode Island and Mass where these assholes can go to let off steam. Why bother with a long, boring ferry ride to a nowhere town on Long Island?” Claire said. “Any why the first of the month all summer?”

“Maybe that’s when they get their checks?” Rose said.

Claire grinned.

“Keep up the research,” she said.

Rose stood and returned to the squad room.

A minute later, Rose poked her head in the door.

“Mitzi Maxwell on line one,” she said.

Claire picked up her phone.

“This is Claire,” she said.

“The council wants to meet at ten tomorrow morning. Okay?” Mitzi said.

“I’ll be there,” Rose said.

“We serve bagels and coffee,” Mitzi said.

“Not donuts?”

Mitzi laughed and then hung up.

Claire went out to the squad room. Turley and Knox were on a call. “I’m meeting with the town council tomorrow at ten. After that I’ll be meeting with your former boss at one. I probably won’t be in the office until four. Take down my cell number and give it to Turley and Short when they return.”

“Are you taking off?” Rose asked.

“I am,” Claire said. “Who covers tonight?”

“Turley.”

“Are you free for dinner?” Claire asked. “I’d like to talk to you away from the office.”

“I’m free.”

“Make it seven-thirty.” Claire said.

Chapter Six

Rose rang Claire’s doorbell exactly at seven-thirty. She had gone home, took a shower and changed, picked up a bottle of wine and even wore her weapon under her blazer.

From inside, Claire yelled that the door was open.

Rose opened the door and entered the living room. She was immediately struck with the aroma of something wonderful cooking in the kitchen. She followed her nose.

Claire was in the kitchen stirring something in a large Wok with a wood spoon. A pot with boiling water was on a back-burner.

“Smells good,” Rose said.

“White or red?” Claire said as she looked over her shoulder.

“White.”

“Good. Open it and pour us a glass,” Claire said. “Dinner in five minutes.”

*****

Claire made a stir-fry of chicken, beef, several different vegetables and brown noodles and all of it was delicious.

“I’m stuffed,” Rose said. “And is your cat eating noodles?”

“Yes. She loves noodles,” Claire said. “And boiled potatoes for some reason.”

“So we talked about the weather, life on Long Island, why you became a cop, my divorce, your two ex-husbands and how much you enjoy cooking but don’t do enough of it unless you have company,” Rose said. “You’re taking the long way around the barn getting to the point.”

Claire took a sip of wine, set the glass aside and tapped her lap. Immediately, Snowball hopped on and began to knead.

“Cut that out, it hurts,” Claire said. She looked at Rose. “When you work homicide you develop a certain flair for details that doesn’t go away when you stop chasing murderers.”

Snowball rubbed Clair’s stomach and Claire scratched her ears. The cat purred loudly and settled in.

“Details are always at the forefront of every murder investigation,” Claire continued. “And every other type of crime you can think of. It always comes down to the details. So … when I see arrest reports on Rhode Island and Massachusetts motorcycle gangs in Smoky Point my details meter goes off. I know those gangs and some of the members. They are hard-core to the bone. Drug runners, killers for hire, gun smugglers and a host of other suspicions. I ask myself what in the world are these badass bikers doing in Smoky Point?”

“I don’t … I have no answer,” Rose said.

“Me neither,” Claire said. “That’s the problem.”

“I can continue with the stats report and see where that goes,” Rose said.

“I want you to and more,” Claire said. “I want to know what these assholes are doing here and why the first of the month.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me this at the office?” Rose asked.

“You’re doing this quietly,” Claire said. “Not that I don’t trust the boys, but I don’t trust the boy’s egos so to speak.”

Rose nodded. “Men and their fragile egos,” she said.

“I’ll be making some changes and I don’t want to damage the egos anymore than I have to. Agreed?”

“What changes?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Claire said. “Some will depend on how things go at the council meeting. Others will depend on what kind of deputies you can get me from the academy.”

“Maybe I’ll take a drive there instead of waiting on a call?” Rose said. “Do some recruiting in person.”

“Good. Do it. Tomorrow.”

“What shall I tell the egos?”

“Nothing. That’s my job,” Claire said. “Head over to the academy in the morning and I’ll be in the office by nine.”

Rose nodded.

“Do you really think something is going on with those bikers?” she asked. “Other than them being biker assholes I mean.”

“I doubt they come down for the amusement park,” Claire said. “Details and gut instinct, Rose. It always comes down to that.”

*****

Rose drove home somewhat in a fog. She was used to pretty much being ignored by Holt, Short and Turley and now she had more responsibility in two days than all her previous years combined.

The question rolling around in her mind was a coin toss. Was this newfound confidence in her abilities the result of Clair being biased toward women, or actual belief in her as a deputy?

She should have asked Claire point blank.

The thing was she was enjoying the confidence Claire placed in her. If the answer was biased, maybe she didn’t really want to know.

*****

Claire finished the last bit of the wine Rose brought while she soaked in a hot tub full of bubble bath.

Snowball watched her from the closed lid on the toilet seat.

Claire sipped some wine and looked at Snowball.

“I’m sure you have an opinion on all this,” Claire said.

Snowball yawned.

“Yes, I agree,” Claire said.