by JD Nixon
“Excuse me, sir, what do you mean by removing myself from the location?” asked the Sarge.
“He means you’re going to make yourself scarce, Maguire,” said the Super.
“So that the media can’t contact you,” explained Manning. “I’d recommend an overseas holiday for the interim. Or at least somewhere interstate. You need to disappear for a couple of months.”
“But, sir, I can’t leave –” tried the Sarge.
The Deputy Commissioner butted in, displeased by the interruption. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Sergeant Maguire. As of this minute, you are suspended from duty on full pay until the results of this investigation are known. Do you understand, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll remove yourself immediately from the town.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sarge,” I said in stunned dismay.
“Tessie, not now,” he warned.
“Tell me you’re not going to let them do this to you.”
“Tessie . . .”
“No!” I blurted in disbelief. “This is total bullshit.”
“Shut up, Tessie,” hissed the Super.
“You are not taking the Sarge away from me. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Dylan Krysztofiak was going to kill me. The Sarge saved my life. He’s a hero. Can’t you see that? You don’t need some stinking investigation to work that out.”
The Sarge gripped my arm, his face strained. “Tessie, please don’t. It’s not helping.”
“I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut, Senior Constable,” admonished Parisher in a voice that would freeze fire. “I won’t tolerate outbursts like that from my officers.”
“And I won’t tolerate you taking the Sarge away from me. You are not leaving me in that town by myself again. You have no idea what that’s like for me.”
“For Christ’s sake, Tessie. Shut the fuck up now,” warned the Super. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
“I’m not going to just sit here quietly and let you people take the Sarge away from me.”
“Control your Senior Constable, Superintendent Midden.”
“Tessie, get out of the room. Now,” she ordered.
I ignored her. I was inflamed by even the thought of the Sarge not being there in Little Town for me. Nothing was going to stop me from speaking my mind about it, and I didn’t care who heard me.
I ripped back the wound covering on my neck. “Take a look at this cut. Dylan was going to slash my throat. There was no reasoning with him. He was psychotic. The Sarge had no choice but to shoot him otherwise it would be me who’s the cold corpse in the morgue today.” I looked over at McCarthy. “I told your people that five frigging times yesterday. How many more times do I have to say it before you people start to listen?”
“Tessie, get out of this room!” shouted the Super.
The Sarge pleaded, “Tessie, please leave. You’re going to make things worse for both of us.”
I pointed at the Deputy Commissioner. “He’s the one making things worse. What the hell do you think the Bycrafts are going to do to me without you there, Sarge? Do I have to be killed before you all realise what a stupid, incompetent decision this is.”
The Super picked up her phone and spoke into it angrily. “Get someone up to my office now.”
“Senior Constable,” shouted Parisher. “I’ve had enough of your impertinence. I’m warning you that you are seriously risking your career at this moment.”
“Do you honestly think I give a shit about my career right now?” I shouted back in a bridge-burning moment I wasn’t proud about thinking back on it later. “I’m talking about my life. Don’t you understand?”
“You will no longer have a career if you don’t immediately stop this impertinence.”
Maybe it was the trauma, or the stress of witnessing two men die, or the threat of losing the Sarge, but something in me exploded into overdrive.
“You think that’s impertinence?” I said, leaping to my feet. “Well, how about this?” And I kicked my chair, sending it flying across the room, smashing into the wall and leaving a dent. “Or what about this?” And I swept the Super’s teetering in-tray off her desk, papers fluttering to the ground around us.
“Oh, shit,” she groaned, covering her face with her hand.
“Control your Senior Constable, Superintendent Midden!” roared Parisher again.
The Sarge sprang to his feet, hooking his arms around mine from behind, pulling them back and restraining them. But not finished with my temper tantrum, I kicked out, knocking a full glass ashtray off the Super’s desk, the crushed butts and ash landing on the Deputy Commissioner’s neatly pressed trousers.
He jumped up, brushing off the ash, but only managing to smear it further. I struggled in the Sarge’s arms, but he pulled me towards the door. The only thing I could kick out at was his chair and I sent that clattering to the floor as well. Just then a burly constable arrived, puffing as if he ran the entire way from reception. Between them, the Sarge and he managed to drag me out of the office into the waiting room.
They threw me on to a chair, and the Sarge sat on me. I struggled under his weight, trying to push him off. I still had some things I wanted to say to the Deputy Commissioner.
“Stop it, Tess. Calm down right now. You don’t want to lose your job.”
“I don’t care anymore,” I said, my voice muffled under his body.
“Well, I do, so stop it now. You’re not helping anybody by carrying on like this.”
I stopped struggling, crushed into the material of the chair. “Can you get off me, please?”
“Are you going to calm down?”
“Yes.”
He moved off to sit next to me, keeping firm hold of one of my arms as if he suspected I was going to make a run for it. The thought crossed my mind, but I had to agree with him – nothing I did would make any difference now.
“Are you going to fight your suspension?”
He hesitated before answering. “No. I hate leaving you alone, but I’ll make sure they find a replacement for me as quickly as possible.”
I felt as if he’d punched me in the stomach. I couldn’t look at him, so stared down at my boots in misery. “I can’t believe you’re just going to walk away from . . . the town.”
“It’s not like that, Tess.”
We didn’t have the chance to say anything else because the Super poked her head around. She wasn’t pleased with me, judging by the set of her mouth and the way her hair sprang out in different directions like unruly tufts of grass.
“Get back in my office and keep your mouth shut,” she ordered.
We obediently trooped back in, picking up our chairs and sitting down.
“I reiterate,” said the Deputy Commissioner, careful not to make any eye contact with me. “Sergeant Maguire, you are immediately suspended from duty on full pay. You will return to Mount Big Town to pack up your belongings and leave town until further notice.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And as for you, Senior Constable Fuller. I’ve yet to make a decision about your future. Superintendent Midden has convinced me to not be hasty in this matter, considering your . . . personal circumstances. I shall ponder the matter during the next few weeks and advise you in due course of my decision.”
I stood up again, much to the Super’s alarm. I pulled out my police identification card and laid it gently on her desk.
“Don’t bother,” I said dully. “I no longer wish to work for an organisation that doesn’t value my safety.” I turned and headed for the door. “I’m out of here for good.”
“Get back here now,” ordered the Super.
“Tessie . . .” said the Sarge, half-rising.
I left, closing the door quietly behind me.
I waited in the patrol car for the Sarge to arrive, which he did a scant ten minutes later. He sat in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but didn’t turn the engine on.
“W
hat the hell was that about?” he demanded. “Your drama queen moment?”
“I’m not a drama queen.”
“You could have fooled me with that performance.” I realised then that he was angry with me, really angry. But I was just as angry with him.
“What do you care anyway? You’re just going to piss off out of town, so who cares if I quit or not? It’s not like you’ll be around to even notice.”
He sighed deeply, his anger dissipating. “Tess, you’re upset with me. I can understand that.”
“Aren’t you just Mr Reasonable?” I said nastily.
He handed me my identification card. I stared at it but didn’t take it.
“I handed that in.”
“Your resignation wasn’t accepted. Take your card back.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Take it. The Super promised she’d find a relief sergeant within a week. You won’t be in Little Town alone.”
Won’t I? I thought, but didn’t say. I didn’t pick up my card, so he placed it in the console storage unit and started the car.
“You know, if you’d played your cards smarter, you could have been an acting sergeant while I’m away.”
“Yeah, right. As if the Super would ever put me in charge of anything.”
“She would have considered it. It’s easier to replace a senior constable than a sergeant, so it makes sense to have you acting in the position. But not now.”
“No, not now. Especially considering I’ve quit.”
“You haven’t quit.”
I snorted in disbelief. “Why is it proving so difficult to quit?”
“Because nobody wants you to quit.”
“The Deputy Commissioner probably does.”
“Actually, that probably is true,” he conceded. “But nobody else does. Particularly when you were in such an emotional state.”
“I was not emotional,” I denied hotly. “Don’t give me that sexist rubbish. I was furious. I am furious. With everybody.”
“Tess, I know you’re angry, but please believe me. What I’m doing is for the best.”
“Sure it is. It gives you the perfect opportunity to cut and run from Little Town without looking like the bad guy.”
“It’s not like that. It’s for the best for both of us if I go without making a fuss.”
He could say whatever he wanted to make himself feel better about abandoning me, but I wasn’t buying that. Not for one minute.
At his house, he changed out of his uniform into casual clothes. I silently watched him pack, leaning against his wall with my arms crossed, not offering to help. He retrieved his expensive suitcases from where he’d stored them in his spare room, and commenced the task of packing up his life. He was neat and meticulous, stripping each room only of the most essential items – his clothes and shoes, toiletries, his photos, and his computer and printer. Everything else he left in place.
“What are you going to do with the rest of your things?” I asked.
“Leave them here for when I return. I’ll let the new sergeant enjoy using them.”
“Where are you going to live? Isn’t your apartment still rented out?”
“I’ll move in with Mum for a while. But I’ll think I’ll take the media liaison guy’s advice and go overseas. The press can’t reach me if they don’t know where I am. I’ll probably go visit my father.”
He stowed the suitcases in his car and carefully locked up the house. I sat on the stairs of his front verandah, my eyes on him with quiet desolation. I’d never felt more rejected in my life watching this man – someone I’d known for only nine months – leaving me behind. I’d always dreaded this day, and it had arrived so suddenly I’d had no time to prepare for it. It simply wasn’t possible to mask the misery swamping me. It showed in every glance I gave, every gesture I made.
He sat down next to me, reaching for my hand and dropping his house keys in it.
“Feel free to use whatever you want until the new sergeant arrives.”
“Okay,” I said flatly.
“Tessie,” he said. “This isn’t goodbye forever. I’m coming back.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m not abandoning you.”
“If you say so.”
“By not fighting the suspension, it means the investigation can start and finish sooner. I know I’m going to be vindicated and reinstated as sergeant here. So it’s not goodbye, it’s just see you soon.”
“Yep, sure.”
He sighed in exasperation. “I’m under a lot of pressure at the moment. People way above us are telling me to disappear and not just the Deputy Commissioner. These are people I just can’t ignore.”
“Sure.”
“Tessie, please don’t be like this.”
Personally, I doubted I’d ever see him again. If the Super had any control over appointments here in this little place, I didn’t think she’d let him return, even if he wanted to. She would relish the opportunity to split us up, and would probably lumber me with some disciplinarian sergeant who treated his or her underlings like serfs.
In my mind, this was our final goodbye. I tried to be gracious and do the polite thing as Nana Fuller had taught me.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Sarge. I know I’ve seemed ungrateful at times, but I really did appreciate it,” I said robotically, staring ahead of me.
“Tessie, don’t . . .”
“And I hope you and Melissa have fun overseas and can sort out your wedding plans soon.”
“Don’t.”
“And I know you have a brilliant life ahead of you, but maybe you might think about me once in a while.” My voice wobbled a bit when I said that. I jammed my eyes shut on the traitorous tears that threatened to spill.
“Stop it, Tessie.” He slipped his hand behind my neck and cradled it, his eyes drilling intently down into mine, full of anguish. “You have no idea how I feel about having to leave you in this town. It’s killing me to leave here. I will think about you every day I’m away, and I am not going to be content or happy again until I return.”
“Me neither,” I whispered, mesmerised by his beautiful eyes.
“So it’s not goodbye, it’s just see you soon.”
“See you soon, Sarge.”
He leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “Stay safe for me, Tessie.”
We hugged awkwardly as we sat there. He stood and bounded down the stairs, casting a glance back at me before sliding into the driver’s seat.
He drove off the property and out of my life, waving and tooting the horn as he left. I remained sitting on his stairs, watching his blue car until it wasn’t visible anymore, silent tears pouring down my face.
I wondered if I’d ever see him again.
Epilogue
I was a total monster after the Sarge left town, snappy and morose with everyone, even Dad. I couldn’t seem to find any joy in my life and I wasn’t particularly interested in looking for any either.
They say misery loves company, but I didn’t and I spent more and more time by myself. I lost a fair amount of weight because I exercised almost obsessively, jogging for long periods, sometimes even twice a day, losing myself in the mindless, repetitive physical effort. Now and then, I’d let myself into the Sarge’s house to use his gym equipment. More often than not though, I’d end up not exercising, but wandering around his house, touching his things and wishing he was still here. His furniture and belongings looked as abandoned as I felt.
People began to tiptoe around me or even avoid me, and that was fine with me. Tourists to the town didn’t find the friendly, relaxed country cop they expected, but a hard life-bitten bitch unmoved by any explanations they offered up for their transgressions with their hopeful smiles. I issued more infringement notices in the first two weeks after the Sarge left than I had the entire previous nine months.
Sick of me knocking back their invitations, one Friday after work Ronnie kidnapped me and drove me to Big Town to spend the
weekend with Fiona and him. I refused to speak to Fiona and hadn’t since that awful day in her office, so she kept out of my way. But late at night on their back deck, both of us nursing a beer, Ronnie and I talked about the Sarge and what his leaving town meant to me. I hadn’t realised how badly I’d needed to discuss it with someone I trusted.
I told him I couldn’t really understand the Sarge’s reasoning behind not appealing against his suspension. I felt that in Fiona’s office, I’d sacrificed my career by defending him and he’d saved his by abandoning me.
Ronnie vehemently disagreed, explaining it in the same terms the Sarge had – by being cooperative, he ensured the investigation would run more quickly and smoothly and this could be a positive factor affecting the outcome. By the end of the weekend, Ronnie convinced me that the Sarge had thought his decision through carefully and chosen the path that could have him returning to Little Town as soon as possible. Knowing that made me feel better about the enforced separation, and I almost began to believe that he would come back here one day. Almost.
To date, the PIU investigation remains ongoing.
*****
Once the press release was issued about the death-by-cop of Dylan, the media swarmed into Little Town looking for the Sarge, even though he hadn’t been named. But police stations are leakier than a homemade canoe, and obviously someone at Big Town had tipped off the press about his identity.
A recent spate of similar incidents involving a mentally ill person being killed by police made Dylan’s story highly topical. I’d been given strict orders not to speak to the media under any circumstances, but to refer all questions to the Media Liaison Unit. I was happy to comply, sick of having microphones and digital recorders thrust under my nose every time I left my house or the station. I even caught some journalists trying to break into the Sarge’s house. Marianne told me that brief TV footage of me saying a terse “no comment” as I pushed through the media scrum to enter the station had even been broadcast in the capital city’s news.