McBirney cracked his gavel. “Next order of business.” A smirk crossed his face. “I hereby call for the dismissal of township police secretary, Sylvia Bassi.”
Ted’s chair crashed to the floor as he leapt to his feet. “On what grounds?”
The smirk blossomed into a smug smile. “Theft of township property.”
“What township property? My mother’s never stolen anything in her life.”
Zoe spotted Sylvia Bassi near the front, as the white-haired woman looked back at her son. Even from her seat in the back row, Zoe could see the shock in Sylvia’s eyes.
“She stole a computer from the police department.”
“I did not.” Sylvia looked more like the township grandma than the township thief. “It was a junk computer. They told me to dispose of it, so I took it home for Ted’s kids to play with when they come to visit.”
“There. You heard it from her own lips. She admits taking it.”
“But not stealing it,” Ted said, his words drowned by the roar of outrage coming from the crowd.
“This is absurd,” Rose said to Zoe over the din. “Why on earth would he…”
Ted and everyone else in the hall were on their feet. Their words crashed into each other so that Zoe could hear nothing clearly. Jerry McBirney’s face was as red as the letters on the exit sign above the door to his left.
Rose nudged her with an elbow. “Look who just walked in.”
Zoe had to weave and bob to see around the people standing in front of her. Just inside the door, Police Chief Pete Adams dusted snow from his black jacket. Her pulse quickened. Tall, rugged, and impressive, if anyone could handle Jerry McBirney’s idiocy, it was Pete.
The chairman also noticed the new arrival. “Chief Adams. I’m glad you’re here.”
You are? Zoe thought.
The room fell silent.
Pete Adams wore his poker face. The one with those unreadable clear blue eyes Zoe had studied at many Saturday night card games. They’d worked side-by-side in the years since he’d taken over as chief, dealing with everything from the mangled remains of traffic accidents to gunshot wounds to drunks passed out in the street. Theirs was a friendship forged of mutual respect and admiration.
“Take this woman into custody.” McBirney pointed at Sylvia who clutched a tissue to her face.
“I have to get back to work,” Zoe whispered to Rose. In truth, she hoped to catch a moment alone with Pete.
“Uh-huh.” Rose gave her a knowing look. “Say hello to the chief for me. And tell him to trump up some charges against that maggot, McBirney.”
Zoe’s cheeks warmed. So much for hiding ulterior motives from her best friend. She edged her way out of the row, hoping to work her way toward Pete before things got ugly again.
“Now, Jerry.” Pete fixed the chairman with an icy stare. “Why would I want to arrest Mrs. Bassi?”
“I want her charged with theft of township property.”
“I’m sure we can talk about this.” Pete’s gaze swept the room, and most of the irate citizens lowered into their chairs.
“There’s been enough talking. Arrest her. Arrest her now.” McBirney’s face had deepened from red to almost violet.
Pete looked weary. “Jerry—”
“Chief, must I remind you that you work for me? You follow my orders.”
Zoe froze. The ugly history between Pete Adams and his new “boss” was no secret. Besides, throwing Sylvia Bassi in jail would be akin to arresting the police department’s own personal den mother.
A soft rumble rolled over the room, as everyone murmured their theories and waited.
Then Pete stepped over to Sylvia and extended a hand. “Let’s go outside and talk,” he said with a sad smile.
McBirney stood rooted in his spot behind the table and appeared on the verge of stomping his foot. “I want her arrested,” he boomed.
Pete fixed him with a steely stare and replied in a voice only those closest to him could hear. Whatever he said finally silenced McBirney.
Sylvia took Pete’s hand and climbed to her feet. The police chief helped her with her coat and then held the heavy steel door for her. As soon as it drifted closed, the room erupted.
Zoe maneuvered her way along the wall. Noise and heat pressed in on her from all sides. When she slipped through the same doors that Pete and Sylvia had used moments earlier, the quiet and the cold of the January night offered glorious relief. The ice pellets had softened into white snowflakes. They drifted through the night air, dusting the grass with a powdered sugar coating and melting where they fell on salted concrete.
Zoe spotted Pete helping Sylvia into the passenger seat of his SUV. She broke into a jog toward them.
“What’s going on?” Her breath created a cloud in front of her face.
Sylvia was twisting the strap of her purse. Pete met Zoe’s gaze and rolled his eyes. He turned back to the older woman. “So tell me about this computer. And why is Jerry McBirney in such an uproar over it?”
“I’ve always been responsible for getting rid of the junk the township doesn’t need anymore. That computer’s been sitting in the back room for two years—since you replaced them with the new ones, remember?”
“Did the supervisors say you could take it?”
“No.” Both Sylvia’s lower lip and voice trembled. “But I didn’t think I needed permission. No one had touched the thing in ages.”
The doors of the township building burst open. Four people and a few hundred angry voices spilled out into the snow. Ted Bassi led the brigade toward the police vehicle. On his heels marched McBirney and Matt Doaks. Bringing up the rear, wobbling on stilettos not designed for rural townships’ gravel parking lots, came Elizabeth Sunday, the well-dressed township solicitor. Zoe had only seen the woman sitting in meetings, calm, reserved and arrogant. In a stylish, but lightweight jacket—too lightweight for any winter night, but especially this one—and the kind of shoes that Zoe had only seen on television shows about cities and sex, Elizabeth Sunday had stepped out of her element the moment she’d exited the building.
“Terrific,” Pete said with an exasperated sigh. “Here we go again.”
Zoe motioned to two teenagers loping toward them from the opposite direction. “That’s only the half of it.”
TWO
The tall, scrawny boy jogged across the snowy parking lot toward them, holding up his oversized jeans with both hands. Logan Bassi reminded Zoe of the ladies in old western movies, hoisting their skirts and petticoats.
Behind Logan came an equally thin, but somewhat shorter, girl with long jet-black hair. Allison wore a bulky blue and white jacket with the high school’s Blue Demons decal stitched to the front, and her faded jeans were as tight as her brother’s were huge.
“Here come your grandkids, Sylvia,” Zoe said.
The woman leaned out from her perch in Pete’s passenger seat, looking wild-eyed toward the kids.
“Damn,” Pete said with a growl. “This just gets better and better.”
Ted reached the Vance Township Police vehicle first. “Don’t you dare arrest my mother, Pete.”
Huffing, McBirney trudged up behind Ted. “That computer contains vital township records.”
“What?” Sylvia’s voice creaked. Zoe wondered if the flush in the woman’s chubby cheeks was a result of embarrassment or the cold.
“What are you doing with my grandma?” Logan demanded.
And then everyone, except Zoe and Pete, spoke at once. There hadn’t been a mob scene like this in the VFW’s parking lot since the drunken brawl last summer at the Morgan-Platt wedding.
Pete brought his thumb and middle finger to his lips. Knowing what was coming next, Zoe jammed her hands against her ears.
His whistle sliced the cold night air
and probably stopped traffic all the way to the far end of town. It also brought a halt to the bickering.
“Look, guys.” Pete struck his take-charge pose, one hand on his hip, the other resting on his sidearm. “We aren’t going to solve any of this tonight.”
McBirney opened his mouth, but Pete raised an authoritative hand to silence him then turned to Sylvia. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to file papers with the magistrate in the morning. You should probably call a lawyer to help you sort this mess out. Ted, do you know an attorney or do you need me to recommend one?”
Ted’s breath hung like fog around his head. “I have one, Pete. Thanks.”
Who else besides Pete Adams could have someone thank him for arresting their mother?
McBirney took a step closer to Pete. “Aren’t you going to throw her in jail?”
“No. I can write her up a citation if you insist, but I’d rather save a tree.”
Elizabeth Sunday rested a manicured hand on McBirney’s arm. “That will do for now, Jerry. The magistrate will issue the arrest warrant, and we can proceed from there.”
McBirney drew in a deep breath. Then he blew it out, reminding Zoe of a deflating balloon. “Fine.” He glared at Pete. “This isn’t over by a long shot.”
“I never expected it was.”
McBirney’s gaze settled on Zoe. The chairman might have been considered attractive by some with his outdoorsman physique and chiseled features, but she only saw pockmarked skin and the deep creases lining his face. And his eyes. Those dark, soulless eyes.
He leaned toward her until she could smell the stale cigarette smoke on his breath. “How you doin’, blondie?” He winked.
Sickened by the breath, the voice, and the memories they stirred, Zoe clenched a fist, fighting a desire to use it on him.
McBirney ambled back toward the VFW with Elizabeth Sunday tottering after him.
Matt Doaks watched them go, but instead of following them, moved closer to Pete’s SUV.
Logan bent forward next to Sylvia, the bottoms of his baggy jeans wicking moisture from the wet pavement. “Are you all right, Grandma?”
Allison hugged herself against the cold, her eyes darting from face to face and settling on Matt.
“I’m fine, dear,” Sylvia said. “This is all just a big mistake. We’ll get it straightened out.”
Logan’s gaze shifted to Pete. “Can I take Grandma home now?”
Pete nodded.
“I can give you a lift in the ambulance.” Zoe didn’t want Sylvia walking in the cold, especially after the stress of a theft accusation. She turned to Ted. “Unless you want to take them?”
He shook his head. “I’m going back to the meeting. Someone ought to just kill that guy and put him out of my misery.”
“You probably shouldn’t say stuff like that when the cops are around,” Pete said with a crooked smile.
Ted sniffed. “Allison. Go with your brother and grandmother.”
The teenager with the Goth-black hair had wandered over to stand near Matt Doaks. She stared at him with the kind of star-struck, come-hither smiles girls generally reserve for some hot, young movie star. Matt, tall, thin, and rakishly handsome, had a reputation as the local non-celebrity heartthrob. Zoe understood his appeal all too well, having spent a large chunk of her own youth caught in his orbit.
But no father wanted to see his teenaged daughter getting horny, especially over a thirty-five-year-old man who obviously enjoyed the attention. “Allison.” Ted’s voice took on that sharp, no-nonsense parental tone that all kids recognize.
“Coming, Dad.” She batted her dark eyelashes at Matt one last time and swaggered toward Zoe, her narrow teenaged backside doing an impressive little bump-and-grind.
“Breathe, Ted,” Zoe whispered.
“I’m going to lock her in her closet until she’s forty,” he said before following McBirney and the lady lawyer.
“I’d like to see that.” Pete chuckled. “You make sure they get home, okay?”
“Yeah.” Zoe dug her cell phone from her pocket. “I’d better tell Earl I’ll pick him up when I swing back around.”
“With this snowstorm blowing in, it’ll be an interesting evening.”
Logan helped his grandmother from Pete’s vehicle.
Pete and Zoe tipped their heads in silent goodbyes. As she guided Sylvia and the kids toward the ambulance, she noticed Matt still watching them.
Pete scanned the computer screen through his reading glasses. After fixing two typos, he clicked print. The HP all-in-one whirred into action. Ordinarily, his secretary would type up the affidavit requesting an arrest warrant. But considering that his secretary, Sylvia Bassi, was also the arrestee, having her do the paperwork might be a little crass.
While he waited for the pages to print, he whipped off the readers and poured the dregs from the coffee maker into his monster-sized mug. Sipping the bitter, hours-old brew, he renewed his silent wish for a Starbucks to open in Dillard. Or even Phillipsburg, two miles away.
The bells on the police station’s front door jingled. Pete checked his watch. Five after eleven at night. Expecting a resident with a dire emergency and an aversion to telephones, he stood and stretched. Before he made it to his door, Sylvia appeared. Fat snowflakes nestled in her gray hair, melting into droplets glittering in the overhead fluorescent lighting.
“I saw the lights on,” she said. “What are you doing here so late?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Yeah, but I asked first. Your insomnia kicking up again?”
“It takes an insomniac to know one.”
Sylvia nodded at the coffee cup in his hand. “Maybe, but I can’t blame caffeine. That stuff doesn’t help, you know.”
Pete set the mug down and side-stepped to the printer. He hoped to appear nonchalant as he scooped the pages from its tray.
The carefree attitude didn’t work. “Is that for Judge Mitchell?”
He hated this whole ordeal. He hated that he had to put Sylvia through what was obviously nothing more than a waste of time. He hated that he had to kiss that son-of-a-bitch Jerry McBirney’s ass. And while he was running over his personal hate list in his head, he decided to add that he just plain hated Jerry McBirney.
“It is, isn’t it? And it’s about me.” Sylvia heaved a massive sigh and moved to her desk caressing its old oak surface with her fingers. “I know I shouldn’t be here, seeing as I’ve been fired.”
“McBirney made the motion. I didn’t hear it pass.”
“It did. After we left. Ted phoned and told me. They called the meeting back to order. Then Matt Doaks seconded the motion. His and McBirney’s votes overrode Howard’s dissension. You know, I used to like that Doaks kid.”
Pete smiled. Matt Doaks was a long way from being a kid. But Pete, at forty-five, had ten years on the guy, and Sylvia still called him a kid, too. “Don’t worry about it. McBirney’s just trying to throw his weight around. Give it a few days and I’m sure this will all go away.”
“Like it did when he got involved with your Marcy?”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Pete waved her off. He had plenty of reasons to despise Jerry McBirney. Granted, the fact that the guy was now married to Pete’s ex ranked pretty high.
“You know, Pete, I used to think the worst day I’d ever had on this job was way back when the township’s receipts went missing. But this definitely beats all.” Sylvia’s voice cracked. “I’ll get Ted to help me pack up my things tomorrow.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. These charges will never stick. McBirney’s just making noise.”
“But I don’t know if I want to work in this township anymore.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Things have changed so much in the las
t few months, and I don’t see them getting better anytime soon.”
Pete wished he could argue with her, but he knew how she felt. Only he wasn’t about to give that bastard McBirney what he wanted. Not without a fight. As if that had made any difference before.
“Ted is in a fury over all this,” Sylvia said. “He’s been in a foul mood a lot lately what with the kids being typical teenagers and all. Now this business with my job and stealing township property…I’ve never seen him so angry. And that crack he made in front of you was…well…”
“Stupid,” Pete finished for her with a grin. How many times had he heard someone say they wished someone else dead? “But understandable considering the circumstances.”
The phone on Sylvia’s desk rang. She reached for it and then hesitated. “Oh. I guess I shouldn’t answer that.”
“Sylvia, get the damned phone.”
A smile flashed across her face, and she picked up the receiver. “Vance Township Police Department.”
Pete watched as she said “Uh-huh” a couple of times before picking up her pen. “How long has it been there? Uh-huh. No, no, Joe, you’re absolutely right. Something needs to be done. Uh-huh. Yes, I’ll send somebody out there right away. Uh-huh. Thanks, Joe.” She hung up. “That was Joe Mendez.”
“Let me guess. Someone’s stuck out in the game lands by his property again.”
“You got it. He says he doesn’t see anyone around, so they likely got out and started hiking. But with the weather as bad as it is…”
“Yeah. We might have someone wandering around lost in the snow in the middle of the night.” Pete reached for his jacket hanging on the coat tree in the corner.
“Don’t you want me to radio Seth?”
“He’s already working a traffic accident out on Babcock Road.”
“How about Kevin?”
“Home with the flu. It’s all right. I’ll check it out.”
Sylvia wiggled out of her long wool coat and tossed it onto the peg Pete’s jacket had just vacated. Then she slid into her chair. Pete almost told her to go home, but changed his mind. If McBirney had his way, this might be the last evening of overtime the two of them put in together.
Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) Page 2