The mayor leaned on his arms on the desk and stared into Saxon’s face. “There’s a reason other than offering sympathy that I sent for you, Ted. If Larry Cutter is planning to move into Iroquois, he has to get two people on his side first: the mayor and the chief of police. I don’t know much about Adam Bennock. Maybe he’s as honest as Abe Lincoln. But just in case, I’d like to make sure we still have a chief of police as incorruptible as Andy Saxon.”
Saxon raised his eyebrows. “If you’re thinking of me, I appreciate the compliment, but the city council appoints the chief of police.”
“Permanent appointment, sure. But according to the city charter, the mayor is empowered to appoint an acting chief in the event of the permanent chief’s disability or death.”
“What good will that do?” Saxon asked. “Bennock swept in a majority of council seats with him. After the first of the year, they’ll appoint whoever he wants.”
“You don’t understand politics, and you also underestimate your popularity,” Foley said. “You’re not just Andy Saxon’s son. The whole town knows you’re the best cop on the force. And certainly the best fitted for chief. Who else has a degree in criminology?”
“Nobody. But Art Marks has fourteen years’ seniority over me as a lieutenant and seventeen over me in total time on the force.”
The mayor made a dismissing gesture. “Art Marks would probably be Bennock’s choice, if Bennock does make a deal with Larry Cutter, because Art is unimaginative enough to do as he’s told. But everyone in town knows Art hasn’t the capability to be chief. He might possibly be accepted if I appointed him now, but the town would explode if the new council kicked you out as acting chief once you’re actually serving in the job and replaced you with Art.” He looked thoughtfully off into space before adding, “In a way I sort of hope they do.”
Saxon gave him a quizzical look.
“That’s just the politician in me,” Foley said with a grin. “They won’t, because it would be political suicide. They’ll give you the permanent appointment whether they want to or not, because city councilmen who flout the public will get voted out of office.”
Rising to his feet, the mayor said, “Stand and raise your right hand, Lieutenant. I’m about to swear you in as acting chief of police for the City of Iroquois.”
Chapter 3
Saxon called a general meeting of the police department at 4 P.M. to announce his appointment as acting chief. The announcement was greeted not merely with approval, but with an obvious measure of relief, which led the new chief to suspect that the men had been discussing possible successors to his father with some concern. It was rather gratifying to know that they had been afraid he might not get the appointment. He had been aware that he was well liked in the department, but he hadn’t suspected the force was so solidly behind him.
If Lieutenant Art Marks felt any disappointment at being passed over, he didn’t show it. His congratulations were just as hearty as anyone else’s.
As the meeting broke up, Sam Lennox came over and said, “Can I see you a minute, Chief?”
“Sure,” Saxon said, leading the way out of the squad room and into the office that had been his father’s.
Inside he discovered that he couldn’t yet bring himself to sit in the chief’s big chair. Closing the door, he sat in one of the guest chairs and waved Lennox to another.
“What’s on your mind, Sam?”
The older man nervously shifted his feet. “I was just wondering what I’m supposed to do around here, now that your dad’s gone.”
Saxon regarded him curiously. “What do you mean? You’re still a member of the force.”
“Well, you know how it was with your dad. I was supposed to be his driver, but most of the day I just sat around in the squad room. Even when he went somewhere, he really didn’t need me. He could have driven himself for all he used the car. You know why he assigned me as his driver?”
“I suppose he figured you’d earned a soft job after all your years of service.”
Lennox’s red-veined face moved back and forth in a negative. “He wanted his eye on me all the time I was on duty. He knew that some time, somewhere, I’d slip and take a drink otherwise. And after one I never stop. He would have had to board me if he caught me drunk on duty, because he played by the book. But he didn’t want to have to. He wanted me to make it to my pension. That’s the kind of guy he was.”
“I see,” Saxon said. “And now you’re afraid I’ll stick you on a beat, and you’ll get drunk and be boarded.”
“Are you going to stick me on a beat?”
When you inherit a job, you sometimes inherit with it responsibilities that you hadn’t counted on, Saxon realized. If it had been important to his father to see that Sam Lennox reached retirement age without his record being tarnished during the last few years of his service, he supposed that out of duty to his father he was obligated to nurse the old alcoholic the rest of the way.
“For the time being suppose you just continue as the chief’s driver,” Saxon said. “You show up as usual at nine in the morning.”
“Thanks, Chief!”
When the man had gone out, Saxon sat musing for a time on the burdens of his new job. There was an implied responsibility for the welfare of his men both on and off duty which involved a measure of paternalism not very appealing to him. He hoped Sam Lennox would be the only member of the force with a problem requiring special handling.
After a time he roused himself and went out to the waiting room to use the desk phone, having a strange reluctance to use the one on the desk that had been his father’s. He phoned the Alstrom Funeral Parlor and asked if the funeral director had as yet heard from the coroner.
He had. The body was to be released the next day. They set the funeral for 2 P.M. Friday, and Alstrom said everything would be ready for friends to call at the funeral home by Wednesday evening.
By then it was 5 P.M. and Saxon hadn’t yet found time even to phone Emily. She had gone on duty at three; he called her at the hospital to tell her of the funeral plans and to announce his appointment as acting chief.
Emily received the news with a mixture of pride in him and sadness. “You certainly deserve it, honey,” she said. “But I hate to think of what made the promotion possible.”
As Mayor Ben Foley had prophesied, Saxon’s appointment met with general public approval. The announcement had appeared in Tuesday’s Iroquois Evening Bulletin, and by the next morning everyone in town knew it. A steady stream of city-hall employees, plus many people from the street, stuck their heads in his door Wednesday morning to offer congratulations. Those whom he hadn’t seen the day before combined their congratulations with sympathy for his father’s death. It may have helped that the Evening Bulletin had run, in conjunction with the news item, an editorial heartily endorsing the choice.
In order to get some work done, Saxon finally left instructions with the desk man that he was to be disturbed only on official business, and closed his office door.
As Saxon was putting on his galoshes to go across the street for lunch, his office door opened and Emily peeped in.
“Hi,” she said. “I had to come downtown to mail a stack of wedding-postponement cards, so I thought I’d try to cadge a free lunch.”
“I may as well get used to it,” he said.
As they walked down the front steps of the city hall together, a tall, spare man in his early forties who was passing by paused to wait for them. It wasn’t snowing at the moment; there was no wind, and the temperature had risen to a crisp thirty-five; but he was bundled to the ears and his thin nose was pink with cold.