Flashover Pt. 02

"Nothing like that. He wants me to find out what it will take for the BPD to take over patrolling Tilley." She looked like she bit into something unpleasant. "What?" he asked.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Why?"

Before she could answer, the timer he'd set began to sound. He gave her a nudge to indicate his desire to get up, and then rose to take the fish out of the oven as she followed. "I'd be worried about the problems. Tilley and Abbyville have always been considered the wrong side of the tracks. I remember when I was growing up everyone was told to steer clear of there, especially Abbyville, and most especially at night."

"Why?" he asked again as he used a spatula to transfer the fish from the baking tray onto plates and then began to dip beans and coleslaw.

She shook her head as she refilled her glass and then poured up his drink. "I don't know, exactly. I know, or at least I always heard, how there was a lot of crime and drugs, and the like, there. It's where all the low skill labor for the mills lived. We have a lot of trouble out of them."

"How so?" he asked as he placed the two plates on his small table.

"We have three lift stations in Tilley, two in Abbyville, and we have more problems with theft and vandalism out of those five stations than we do the other twelve combined. It's a constant problem."

He frowned. He knew his officers had a low opinion of Tilley and Abbyville, but he'd taken most of that with a grain of salt. The police often saw the worst side of human nature, and that tended to make them cynical. It sounded like Maggie and Rudy shared the same low opinion. He knew Tilley and Abbyville had a drug problem, but now with the rape of the little girl, maybe his officers weren't so far off the mark after all.

"What's happening?"

She pursed her lips. "Stealing fuel for the generators is a big problem. We put locks on the tanks, and there's an eight-foot fence around the entire pumping station, but they cut the fence and the locks off the tanks and siphon the fuel out. I guess they sell it, or put it in their trucks, or something. Whatever the reason, I guess they don't care if those tanks are empty, and the power goes out, the pumps won't run and the waste will back up into their houses." She paused a moment before continuing. "That, at least, I can understand, but the rest, the vandalism, the painting graffiti on the fuel tanks, pump stations, and generator housing, throwing trash inside the fence, that sort of thing, I don't get that at all." She placed the two glasses on the table and sat down.

"Yeah," he said as he placed their plates on the table.

"Exactly. Rudy was all gung-ho to hook Tilley and Abbyville onto our system, but unless we're billing them through the nose, we're probably losing money on the deal simply because of the increased maintenance." She paused and prodded her fish with her fork. "I hate to generalize, but I haven't seen anything in the six years I've been the ORC to change my mind about them."

"What's that?" he asked, his tone sympathetic.

She poked at the fish again, clearly not wanting to answer. "That they're nothing but a bunch of low-life hoods," she said softly and then looked at him with sad eyes. "I know it sounds terrible, but the facts speak for themselves."

"If we start cleaning up the town then maybe the vandalism will go down."

"Maybe," she said, keeping her eyes down.

"What?"

"Nothing," she murmured.

"It sure looks like something to me."

She looked up. "I worry, okay?"

He gave her a small grin. "That's sweet."

"It's not funny, Sean. It's against city policy, but I know my guys carry a pistol when they have to respond to a call in the middle of the night in Tilley or Abbyville. Officially I don't know they're doing it, but I'm not stupid or blind. There's a reason they do, and I'm not going to bust their chops for it."

He reached across the table and took her hand. "It's not like in the movies, okay? We're not going to be involved in bloody shootouts or anything like that. If we take on the job, we'll start running more patrols and showing the colors. We'll probably have to arrest a few people before they get the message, but criminals are mostly stupid, lazy, cowards. If they weren't, they wouldn't be criminals. They don't want a fight. When we start making life difficult for them, they'll move on to wherever life is easier."

"I hope it's that easy."

He hoped so too, but he couldn't very well say so. "It will be. Besides, they may not go for it when they see what it'll cost."

She nodded. "Yeah, okay. I hope you're right." She paused then smiled at him. "The fish is really good," she said, clearly wanting to change the subject.

"Thanks. It would be better with fresh cod, but really fresh fish is hard to come by around here."

They continued eating while talking about more pleasant things and avoiding the topic of work entirely. Finished, they quickly loaded the dishwasher and then settled down to watch the movie as the machine swished and purred. As the movie opened, he again thought about buying a larger television. Maggie had a sixty-five-inch monster that was almost like going to the theater. He'd never watched a lot of television, but his forty-two-inch seemed rather puny now that he was starting to enjoy movies more.

She snuggled in close, and for the next one hundred sixteen minutes, he didn't think about anything except the warm softness curled into his side as his hand casually brushed the top of her breast. When the end credits began to roll, she looked up at him and he kissed her softly.

"Will you stay?" he whispered as their lips slowly parted.

"I was hoping you'd ask," she murmured in return.

He kissed her again, more passionately this time, and she responded, opening her mouth slightly and offering him her tongue. He took it, offering his in return.

She sighed out of the kiss, holding his gaze with her own, smiling softly as his hand softly caressed her breast. "That feels nice."

He smiled back. "Yes, it does."

"I had to get up early this morning. Are you ready for bed?"

It wasn't quite ten, and he wasn't sleepy, especially now, but she hadn't said anything about sleeping. "Yes."

She sat up so he could stand. He rose, offered her his hand, and then gently pulled her to her feet. They walked, hand in hand, to his bedroom. She stopped just inside the door and turned to face him, melting into him as she pulled him in for another kiss, their hands leisurely roaming before she slowly pulled back.

She smiled at him, still standing close, as she lightly scraped at his cheek with her fingernails to make scratching sounds. "I need to brush and you need to shave."

He held her gaze as he took her hand and kissed it. They hadn't reached the point where Maggie had a change of clothes at his house, but she did have a toothbrush and a bottle of something she used to clean her face. They'd shower in the morning, and have breakfast together, and then she'd dash home for a quick change of clothes before going to work. It was the same when he stayed at her house. Sometimes one or the other would bring a change of clothes, but that was normally on the weekends. It was a cumbersome system, but it worked for them, and he didn't want to move too fast and risk screwing up a good thing. He'd give it another month or two, and then if everything was still going well, he'd casually mention that maybe she should just leave a couple of changes of clothes at his place and see what she said.

He kissed her again, but gently. With his strawberry blonde hair and light coloring, his beard didn't show until it was long and course, and he'd seen the results on her skin the next morning when he didn't shave. She hadn't complained, much, but he always shaved now so her face, and other parts of her, didn't look so irritated, even if she didn't mention it. "Are you sure you're up for that?" he asked softly, wanting to give her an out since she'd reminded him she'd gotten up earlier than normal this morning.

She smiled and pulled his glasses off and placed them on the dresser where he parked them when they weren't on his face. "Yes. Are you?" She cupped his manhood and then smiled. "Yes... it seems you are."

They spent a few minutes performing their evening routines, Sean shaving as Maggie brushed her teeth. They finished about the same time and he took her place at the sink to brush his own teeth while she cleaned her face. He finished first and stood behind her, holding her close as he nuzzled her neck and enjoyed the smell of her. She always smelled of apples and vanilla, a scent he'd become very fond of. She finished with her face and then turned in his arms. She didn't wear much makeup and looked just as lovely now as before.

"Now, where were we?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"Right about here, I think," he murmured before taking her lips again. He left her lips and kissed down her jaw and under her ear to the place he'd found that made her squirm.

She pulled his lips from her neck with a soft gasp and then gently nudged him out of the tiny bath and back into the bedroom. The moment she passed through the door he pulled her into another kiss, more heated this time, as their fingers went to work, slowly undressing each other as their lips began to explore.

"Sean," he said in way of answering his phone.

"Good morning, Sean. Evie Wirick," a woman's slightly distorted voice said.

"Good morning, councilwoman. How may I help you?"

"I'm calling to let you know we passed the budget last night and the money for your computers and software has been approved."

Sean smiled. Of all the members of the city council, Evie was his biggest ally. During the mess with Steve Locoste, she'd been steadfast in her support, allowing him to do his job until he got to the bottom of the murder. She'd run for a position on the city council for the express purpose of breaking up the 'good ol' boy' network that pervaded the city's politics, and she was doing a good job of shaking things up. He decided not to mention Rudy had already told him it was going to pass. "That's good news, Ms. Wirick. Thank you."

"You're welcome, though it wasn't that hard. There were no dissenting votes. We all know what you're working with."

His predecessor was strictly old school. The Brunswick Police Department was still a paper-based operation, and their computers were new when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Several members of his department, himself included, were lugging their personal computers back and forth to work because the department's ancient Windows 7 desktops were all but useless. He'd been lobbying hard for replacements, and new software to run on them, so he could modernize and streamline the department. If they were going to take over patrolling Tilley, the new computers and software were going to be even more necessary.

"Please pass along my sincere thanks to everyone on the council," Sean said.

"I will, and thank you for putting together such a detailed plan. That went a long way in convincing everyone why you needed them and what the money would be spent on. I won't keep you, but I know you were anxious to get moving on this. You must feel like a kid at Christmas."

He could hear the smile in her voice and chuckled. "Not quite that bad, but yeah, I have a couple of phone calls to make."

After they said their goodbyes, he dug through his emails until he found what he was looking for. He placed the call to PISTOL systems--Police Information Systems & Tracking: On-Line--the company he'd selected to provide the hardware and software his department would use to computerize their evidence tracking and case files. PISTOL was the same software they used in Boston, and if it could handle Boston, it'd have no problem doing everything they needed it to do in Brunswick.

"Robin Ghebli."

"Robin, Sean McGhee, Brunswick PD."

"Good morning, Sean. How can I help you this morning?"

Sean smiled. It was barely after seven a.m. in California, but Robin sounded as awake and chipper as she always did.

"I just found out my budget has been approved and goes into effect August one. I need you to send me the contract to sign so we can get moving on this."

"That's great news! I have it ready. I'll get that out to you as soon as I get into the office. Any changes?"

"No. It's just as we discussed."

"Okay, that's perfect. As soon as you sign the contract, and get it back to me, I'll contact you and we can work out the installation and training schedule."

"Thanks. I'll sign it and get it back to you today. I want to move on this as quickly as possible. We're dying down here."

She snickered. "Yeah, looks like it, but we're going to fix that for you."

"I'll keep an eye out for your email."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before he pressed the button to hang up and then immediately dialed again. He called Balken Fleet Services, the company he'd selected to upfit their cruisers with the computer mounts and wiring the patrol cars were going to need. He and his salesman had already worked out the configuration they were going to use, so it only took a moment to get his fleet on their schedule. If everything went according to plan, in three months his officers would have computers in their cars, new laptops on their desks, and software to replace their paper-based filing system. That would give them the ability to track evidence and have their case information available at the click of a mouse.

PISTOL was a modular system that allowed them to start with the basics and add functionality as they needed it. At the start, the software would provide only basic case and evidence tracking, with two additional modules for remote access and personnel. Since they had nothing now, they were taking the base configuration and the BPD would modify their procedures to match the best practices built into the software. That was the easy part. The officers would begin using the software immediately with new cases, but getting all the old case information into the system was going to be a major project in itself. He'd like to hire a group of high schoolers to come in and pound away on the case files until they were done, but the information contained in the files, while public record, was sensitive. Instead of high school kids, he was going to have his dispatchers entering the old file information into the system between calls. They'd start with the most recent cases and arrests, and work their way backwards to the oldest. It'd take time, but the older the files got, the less likely they were to need the information at their fingertips, so it didn't really matter how long it took. His task in all of this was to manage the project, enter all the personnel information into the system, and provide support as his officers came up to speed on the software.

He next called his HP salesman and placed the order for his new ProLiant DL80 file servers. They'd already settled on a configuration and all he had to do was place the order. He'd ordered two and would configure them so that one was online and the other was a hot backup in case of failure. He'd ordered two PISTOL servers for the same reason.

Finished with that task, he placed one more call to his salesman at Intelisys to start the lease on the new highspeed multifunction printer and copier he'd selected to replace the ancient pile they'd been using. Like with Hewlett-Packard and Balken, everything was ready. All he had to do was sign the lease and the machine would be delivered.

Rudy was probably going to have a heart attack with him spending over twenty-five percent of his budget on the first day of the new budget year, but it couldn't be helped. He had to have it, and it all had to happen at the same time. After hanging up with Intelisys, he rocked back in his chair and tried to think of anything else he might have missed. He'd been reviewing his upgrade plan weekly, sometimes daily, trying to make sure he had everything he needed so there wouldn't be any surprises. He stared at the wall for a long moment, tugging on his bottom lip, but couldn't think of anything he'd missed. He rocked forward in his chair and smiled to himself. Evie was surprisingly perceptive. He did feel a little bit like a kid at Christmas.

When Sean took over as chief, he'd started walking the ten blocks of the downtown area once a week as a way to meet the business owners and familiarize himself with their concerns. In the beginning the community was friendly but politely ignored him. Now, six months in, they'd loosened up enough around him that people were starting to greet and chat with him as he made his rounds. He normally walked on Wednesday or Thursday around eleven, stopping in one of the restaurants for lunch while he was out. That had been ideal during the winter. All the businesses were open and busy, and the weather was perfect, but now that it had warmed up, the midday heat was killing him. The only thing that made it bearable was most of the businesses had an awning or other type of covering over the sidewalk to keep the sun at bay.

He'd finished his weekly walk through downtown and was working on his proposal for Rudy, detailing what he thought it would take to begin effectively patrolling Tilley. He stared at his spreadsheet, wondering what Rudy was going to say. It was going to be a hard sell, that much was certain. He was still staring at the screen, trying to determine if he was being fair and honest, and not letting the blight of Tilley color his perceptions, when his phone rang.

He glanced at it in annoyance. He thought he got a lot of phone calls when he was heading up the CTF--the Cybercrimes Task Force--in Boston, but he was getting more calls as the chief of police than he ever did as a lieutenant on the Boston PD. He didn't recognize the number as he picked up the handset. "Chief McGhee."

"Chief McGhee, this is Wallace Barns. I'd like to have a minute of your time."

The name tickled a memory, but Sean couldn't remember where he'd heard it before. "How may I help you, Mr. Barns?"

"I just heard from Peter Turney. He said the fire at The Mills was arson. That's very bad for my insurance. I'm checking to see if you have any, leads I guess you could call it, on who may have started the fire."

When Wallace mentioned arson, the name clicked. "No leads, Mr. Barns. I'll be honest with you, it's highly unlikely we'll be making any arrests. Other than a burned mattress, there's no evidence. As I'm sure you know, the building is used by the homeless. It was probably one of them. Once your crews begin work you probably won't have any more trouble out of them."

"Chief McGhee, I know you have other concerns, but having you tell me 'don't worry about it' isn't an acceptable response."

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Barns, but the BPD isn't a private security firm. I can't assign a man to watch your building."

"Can't you run off the squatters for trespassing?"

"I can, but unless I station a man there full time, they'll simply come back. My suggestion is to hire a security firm to patrol the buildings if you're concerned, but honestly, Mr. Barns, according to Chief Turney, the arsonist was totally incompetent. It was probably one of the homeless and it isn't likely to happen again. The guy was probably drunk, stoned, or strung out, mad about something, and decided to take it out on your building."

There was a long pause, but Sean waited him out. "Demolition of the utilities building will begin within two weeks. When the equipment begins to arrive, can I depend on you to clean out the squatters?"

"Of course. Let me know what day you want it to happen, and we'll run them off."