Boosted Pt. 03

SIX

Sean waited as the last few dribbles fell into the carafe before he lifted the pot and poured the coffee into his mug. He typically arrived about an hour after the morning shift change, so the community coffee pot in the breakroom was usually empty, or nearly so. He needed the jolt this morning. He hadn't slept well last night, and during the movie he watched with Maggie, his attention kept wandering to Marmalade. Maggie had picked up on his distress and tried to console him. He'd felt a little silly worrying so much about his cat, but he couldn't help it.

"Morning, Sean," Helen Grueller said as she stepped into the breakroom, taking the pot and filling her travel mug the moment he placed the decanter back on the heating element.

Helen was the first female officer to join the Brunswick PD. Average in height for a woman, she wore her jet-black hair pulled tightly back and tied off in a ponytail that she then twisted into a modified bun. After working the graveyard shift her hair wasn't as neat as normal, and her eyes were tired, but she was as friendly and outgoing as she usually was.

"Morning. How was it last night?"

"Same as always." She shook her head and sighed wearily as she set the carafe on the heating element. "I stopped a car for running a stop sign and had to bust them for possession. There was sh--crap in plain sight inside the car. The driver was DUI and the woman was clearly on something as well. That was tough. What kind of person is out doing drugs at two o'clock in the morning with your baby in the back seat?"

His lips thinned. "Not exactly paragons of parenthood. I don't get it."

"Me either. Thank God the mother's mother could take the child."

"Did you report it to child services?"

Helen avoided his eyes and took a sip from her travel cup. "No. The grandmother came and got the kid before I called County. I guess I forgot to mention the child. She was just a little thing, chief. She couldn't have been more than a year or so old. The grandmother begged me to let her take Jacinta, the mother gave her permission, so..."

"And the father?"

"The man in the car wasn't the father."

Procedures said the child should be handed over to the state in a case like this, but he couldn't fault her. He'd probably have done the same thing. He wouldn't officially condone it, but he wasn't going to bust her ass over it either.

"Anything else?" he asked, dropping the subject.

She relaxed slightly. "No. That new car place is really hustling to get opened."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. They were still hard at it at one this morning."

"Really?"

"The front was dark, but the back was all lit up and the doors were open. I couldn't see anything because of the fence, but the place looked like it was jumping."

He had the impression from talking with CJ yesterday they were ready to open. A small smile tugged at his lips. When he was getting close to opening Loch and Castle, he thought he would be ready to open his doors in the next few days for over a month, but things kept cropping up to delay him. CJ was probably dealing with the same issues.

He took a sip of his coffee. "Yeah. I know how that feels."

"Your place is open now, right?"

"Yep."

"I'll have to check it out."

"Please do."

She yawned. "Maybe I will when I get off this shift."

"I know how that feels too. Go home and get some rest."

"Thanks, I plan to."

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but then nodded and turned and walked away. He followed her out of the breakroom but turned the opposite way and walked to his office. He sat down behind his desk and started his computer. The first thing he did was look up Officer Grueller's report. It looked like Helen had Therell Logan on a clean bust for DUI, and both Logan and Mashela Breeland for possession. There was no mention of the child anywhere in the report. Helen had made the best of a bad situation since the grandmother was willing to take the child. He expected his officers to enforce the laws, but he also wanted them to use their judgement. He closed the case file. As far as he was concerned, the matter was closed.

-oOo-

Sean clicked Send to distribute the email to all his officers, asking for volunteers to work security for the upcoming Craftsmen on Main. He'd be there, but he always asked for volunteers to provide event security before assigning officers. His people had always been willing to volunteer, most welcoming the overtime pay, but with a larger pool of officers to draw from, maybe he wouldn't have to depend on the same handful of officers each time.

Brunswick closed Main Street five times a year to draw people into the town. The Brunswick Stew Festival was held every February, along with the Craftsmen on Main in April, Cars on Main in June, Pottery on Main in September, and Christmas on Main in November. It was all part of Rudy's plan to revitalize Brunswick, and it seemed to be working. He'd attended only two stew festivals, but this year's event seemed busier than last, and Rudy had asked him to close off an additional street this year to make more room for the craftsmen.

When he returned from the restroom, Fish had already replied to his request. Whether it was because Fish enjoyed working events, he felt a sense of duty, or his young daughter made him anxious for any overtime he could get, Sean didn't know. Whatever the reason, if Sean asked for volunteers, Fish was always one of the first to sign up.

He spent the next half-hour reviewing a proposal from the Littleton Exxon. Dick Littleton wanted to provide fueling services to his fleet, and he was putting his money where his mouth was. He was undercutting their current supplier by almost a penny a gallon. Considering how many gallons of fuel his fleet burned in a year, it was a considerable savings. He was reading the proposal for a third time, looking for the catch, because he couldn't figure out how Dick was going to make money at the price he was proposing, when his cell rang. He set the proposal aside.

"Sean."

"Mr. McGhee, this is Doctor Brewster. I've completed the tests on Marmalade and I have some bad news. He does have DCM, dilated cardiomyopathy. I've given him a shot of Dobutamine, along with a diuretic, and he's doing better. He needs to be on a low sodium diet, and you're going to have to give him a couple of pills every day, but he can go home."

"Is he going to be okay?" Sean asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"There's no cure. All we can do is try to manage his symptoms, but we should give this therapy a try before you give up hope."

"Okay. I'll come get him. Where do I get this low sodium food?"

"You can buy it from us, or you can find it online."

"Okay. Thanks, doc. I'll be by in a few minutes to get him."

Sean hung up and stared at his desk for a moment. It wasn't great news, but it could have been worse. At least Marmalade was coming home. He rose and hurried from his office. "Going to get my cat," he said without slowing as he passed through the lobby. After a ten-minute drive across town, he was opening the door to the vet's office. "Sean McGhee, here to get Marmalade," he said as he stepped up to the desk.

"That was quick," the pudgy woman behind the desk said. "Janice, can you get Marmalade?" she asked a young girl. "Cash or charge today?"

"Charge."

The woman printed a bill and slid it across the counter. "Here is a detail list of charges. The total is $438.26"

"I also need a few cans of your low sodium cat food. The wet kind." Like with all cat food, he had the luxury of choice, and he finally decided on the mixed pack. The food was more than double the cost of the stuff he'd been buying, but compared to the price of the vet bill, it was a bargain.

"$472.41" He handed over his card as the girl brought out Marmalade in his carrier. Marmalade was crouched at the door, glaring at everyone and growling. "Thank you, Mr. McGhee. I hope Marmalade continues to feel better."

"Thanks," he said, hefting the carrier from the counter and tucking the cat food under his other arm. "Oh, hush," he fussed at the growling cat as he put him in his car. "You're going home."

Arriving home, he carried the animal to his apartment, sat the carrier on the floor, and opened the door. Marmalade didn't bolt, but as soon as he stepped out of his plastic prison he quickly slunk to the bedroom, probably to disappear under the bed. Sean followed, but as he put the carrier away, the animal was nowhere to be seen. He paused to look under the bed. Marmalade, crouching in the center, glared at him and began to growl again.

"Oh, stop it. I'm not going to bother you," Sean told the cat before rising to his feet. By the time he returned from work, Marmalade will have calmed down.

He was waiting on traffic to make a left when a red International rollback with a sad looking BMW 2002 secured to the bed passed. After a moment of thought, he clicked on the right turn signal and pulled out, tailing the tow truck out of curiosity. He followed the truck until it turned into BIGS Automotive Repair, a large Now Open! sign stretched across the windows. He continued past without slowing as the truck ground to a stop in the drive. He turned around at the same crossroad, Juniper, he'd used Friday night when Maggie was with him. As he drove past BIGS again, the truck driver was backing his rig through the big double gate in the fence.

He was almost back to Brunswick when another tow truck, a white one this time, passed with another old car onboard. It passed too quickly for him to positively identify the year, but he recognized it as an Austin-Healey 3000, and it appeared to be in far better shape than the BMW he'd followed earlier. He smiled to himself. The citizens of Brunswick and Tilley were going to start seeing a lot of unfamiliar, but interesting old cars rolling through town. Brunswick's Cars on Main was dominated by American makes. Last year his Jaguar was one of only three antique European cars in the show. Maybe in a few years Tilley should host their own version of Cars on Main and invite all of BIGS' clients.

He pulled into the parking lot of the station, stepped out of the car, and walked quickly to the lobby. "I'm back," he said with a wave, waiting until Claire unlocked the lobby door.

"How's your cat?" she called as he passed her door.

He turned back and entered the small room the dispatchers shared with their communication equipment, printer, and servers. The room was crowded with all the equipment, but no more so than the doubled-up officers in the rest of the building. He'd like the 9-1-1 operators to have their own small office, but he simply didn't have the room. He'd done what he could by putting up a six-foot tall noise absorbing partition, along with acoustic panels on the walls, to abate the constant background hum of the servers and occasional thumps and rhythmic chugging of the printer. It seemed to have worked. The 9-1-1 headset didn't pick up the faint background noise, and the dispatchers claimed they didn't even hear it anymore. It may not be ideal, but they had a workable solution.

"Feisty. I think he's feeling better."

"What's wrong with him?"

"The doc said he has dilated cardiomyopathy."

She pulled a face. Claire Montgomery was a small woman in her mid-thirties, pretty in the girl next door way, with brown hair worn in a short, classically feminine, Audrey Hepburn style. She'd divorced her husband two years ago when he couldn't get control of his drinking problem, and was working her ass off to make a better life for herself and her eleven-year-old son. Her goal had been to become Brunswick's first female officer. He admired her effort, and while she couldn't be the first woman on the force anymore, if he had an opening when she was close to graduating, he'd hold it open for her.

"That doesn't sound good."

He shook his head. "No. The doc said it's a type of congestive heart failure. He gave me some pills to give him every day... joy. Anyway, there's no cure but the doc wants to give this a try."

"Hopefully he'll..." she began before she looked back to her computer. "Brunswick 9-1-1. Please state the nature of your emergency."

He stepped out of her office so she could do her job. He spent the rest of the day answering emails, approving invoices, and returning phone calls. By the time he finished replying to the last email it was nearly five. He snapped his laptop shut and stuffed it into its case, deciding to drive by Loch and Castle on his way home. Tuesday wasn't a great night to gage the success of a pub, but he had to see for himself. Laura had called him each day since they opened to keep him informed, but her news wasn't good. Business was going the wrong way if the pub was going to survive. Saturday had been a busy day, but Sunday less so, and Monday less still with only two couples all night.

He stood, slung his computer over his shoulder, and walked down the hall to the dispatcher's office. Michelle was on duty, taking over for Claire at three-thirty. Michelle Marx was around forty and tending toward plump with a pronounced nose, dark eyes set wide apart, and shoulder length dishwater blonde hair. She was looking alert at her computer as she tapped away, an old case file open on the desk beside her.

She looked up as he entered. "Leaving for the day?"

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

He walked out, glancing through the window back into the dispatch office, smiling as she watched him leave. Each dispatcher was expected to enter at least ten old cases into the PISTOL software during their shift, if they had the time. On a slow shift that could be done in a couple of hours. She'd probably already keyed in her quota for the evening and he'd bet that five minutes after he left, she'd have a magazine on her desk. She never read when she was working the day shift, but when working the evening or night shift, he knew she kept a book or magazine handy because he'd caught her reading a magazine one evening when she thought he was already gone. He suspected she wasn't the only one, but so long as the dispatchers did their job, he wasn't going to reprimand them for doing what it took to stay awake and alert.

He drove by Loch and Castle but didn't stop. Through the large windows he could see several people, and there were three cars in the parking lot, which was more than he expected. Laura was still convinced he had nothing to be concerned about, but he couldn't help but worry that he'd leapt too quickly, and Tilley's reputation would stop people from giving his pub a chance. He continued on his way, circling the block, before driving slowly through downtown. His car was an unmarked black Dodge Charger, but those that had reason to care could tell from the mounted computer, antenna bumps on the roof, and overall plainness of the car, that it was probably a police car. For those that didn't care, having a little traffic helped prevent the area from looking so deserted.

He drove home, gritting his teeth in annoyance as he slowed to a stop in front of his apartment building. Each apartment had two parking spots, one reserved and another, unreserved, available on a first come, first served basis. While he couldn't complain if someone parked in the unreserved spot that technically belonged to him, it torqued him off when someone took his reserved spot. It'd happened twice before, and three times was enough. He found an empty spot that belonged to the next building and walked to his apartment.

Marmalade greeted him at the door, causing Sean to smile. "Feeling better?" he asked, picking up the cat and scratching its ears. After a moment he put the cat back on the floor, the animal racing to the cabinet where his food was kept. "Okay, okay, if you're hungry."

Sean pulled out the new food he'd bought earlier in the day, dumped the contents into a bowl, and then placing it on the floor. Marmalade sniffed at it and then looked up at him and meowed.

Sean smiled down at his cat. "At least try it before you turn your nose up."

Marmalade began to weave around his legs, meowing. Sean considered a moment and then picked up the bowl, set it aside on the counter, and pulled out one of the cans of food Marmalade had been eating. After emptying the contents into a second bowl, Sean placed the bowl on the floor. Marmalade took a sniff and began to eat, purring loudly. Sean picked up the bowl causing Marmalade to cry in protest. He scraped about a third of the new food into the bowl with the old, mixed it together, and put the bowl back on the floor.

"Uh-huh, just as I thought," Sean grunted as the animal ate with gusto.

He sealed the left-over food with plastic wrap and placed it in the 'fridge. He'd start mixing the two foods and gradually wean Marmalade over to the new diet. While the cat ate, he cleaned the litter pan, refilled Marmalade's water bowl, and gathered his running gear. When he returned to the kitchen Marmalade was finishing his meal. With a sigh, Sean picked up the two pill bottles and read the instructions. He fed his pet twice a day, and he debated giving Marmalade one pill in the morning and the other in the evening, but decided he only wanted to fight with the cat once a day. The pills weren't large, and he considered the best way to go about giving Marmalade the drugs. He decided to try tuna. Every time he opened a can of tuna, Marmalade came running and begging. He gave the animal the water as a treat and the cat seemed to love it.

"Today is your lucky day, cat," he said as he pulled a can of tuna from the cabinet.

He first drained off the water and then scooped a bit of the tuna onto his fingers and wrapped it around a pill. He offered Marmalade the treat and the cat eagerly wolfed it down, pill and all. Sean smiled to himself, but he didn't declare victory yet. That was the smaller of the two pills. He repeated the procedure with the second pill. The first time Marmalade spat out the pill, but when Sean tried again with a slightly larger chunk of tuna, the pill disappeared. He placed the tuna water on the floor, realizing too late he should have saved some for the next time. He gave the orange tabby a good scratch and then wrapped the tuna in plastic wrap before he placed it in the refrigerator beside the leftover food for the next time.

"Be good, Marmalade," Sean said as he picked up the litter.

He'd reached the door when he stopped and returned to the kitchen. He ripped a sheet of paper from the pad he kept in a kitchen drawer and picked up a pen. This parking space is reserved for apartment 4-B. Any vehicle parked in my reserved space will be towed. Sean McGhee, Brunswick Chief of Police. He read over the note twice. He wasn't above name dropping to solve a problem peaceably. Satisfied with his warning, he picked up the bag of litter, tucked his note under the wiper of the car occupying his spot, and tossed the litter into the dumpster on his way to his car.

As he drove to Maggie's he could feel his mood improving with each passing mile. Seeing Maggie was always something he looked forward to, but having Marmalade feeling better and eating with his usual appetite did much to reduce his worries. It might take a week or so, but he was certain he could convince Marmalade to eat the new food if he mixed the old and new food together, adjusting the ratio each time. He found it amusing, now that the crisis was over, how worried he'd been over a cat. He pulled to a stop in the garage.

"Hey," Maggie said as he stepped into the kitchen and kissed her. "You're late," she added with a teasing smile.

"Had to give Marmalade his pills."

"How'd that go?"

"Okay. You ready to run? I'll tell you all about it."

"Yep. As soon as you change."