“Ooh,” she says. “He wants to go straight to coffee. NoHow do you do?No presenting his calling card. Just wham, bam, cup o’ joe, ma’am.”
Clay has heard of Zoey’s odd sense of humor. He’s heard a lot of things about her, all from his father. And to Judd’s credit, he’s never badmouthed the police officer who replaced him as chief. Even though she’s over twenty years younger than Judd. Even though she was brought in from northern Minnesota. And even though she’s a she.
Zoey looks at her watch and says, “Sue, I’m going to take thirty. I’ll be down at Maisy’s if you need me.” She looks over at Mike Wahlquist, a sixty-year-old uniform, and says, “Mind the store for me while I’m gone, Mike?”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Mike, eyes on his desk. Then the officer who once served under Judd stares hard at Clay.
CHAPTER 7
Maisy’s is a legit high-end, roast-their-own-beans, espresso-driven coffee shop that offers oat milk lattes and pea protein shakes and scones that would hold their own in Ireland. Maisy does not own it. Maisy does not work there. Maisy is a standard poodle, black and white, who can usually be found lying on the deck out back making sure no squirrels or rabbits come looking for handouts.
Zoey and Clay sit inside because it’s June and when there’s good weather in Minnesota, every sane person sits outside. The alfresco season is short and treasured in the most northern state in the continental forty-eight. Inside, the coffee shop is empty—a good place for a private conversation.
“You want a list of criminal activity in town?” says Zoey. “Why are you interested? Do criminals make good soccer players?And how come I haven’t met you before today? It’s a small town. You’ve avoided me since you moved here.”
“I haven’t avoided you,” says Clay. “I’ve just had no need to talk to the chief of police until today.”
“I think you’ve avoided me because I replaced your dad as chief,” says Zoey.
“Not true,” says Clay. “I have no investment in my father being chief other than it kept him busy and out of my hair.”
“You do have nice hair,” says Zoey. “Do you get it cut at Hank’s? I don’t see Hank knowing what to do with long hair.”
“I don’t go anywhere near Hank’s,” says Clay.
Zoey sighs and nods, then puts a concerned look on her face. “Do you want to know why the city council fired him?”
“My dad?”
“Yes.”
“He says it was to add diversity to the department. But knowing my dad, my guess is it’s more complicated than that.”
“Judd didn’t do anything wrong,” says Zoey. “There are no complaints registered against him. Not about harassment or getting a little rough or pulling over cars driven by Black and Brown people. No misogyny. Nothing.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. My dad’s a lot of things. But he’s not a racist. Or misogynistic. So the city council just wanted new blood?”
“Maybe a little of that,” says Zoey. “They explained to me that Officers Kimmich and Wahlquist had some outdated policing practices and attitudes. Those two do have complaints against them. The council asked your dad to re-educate them,but I guess Judd was too loyal to his subordinates. And too good of a friend. After a while, the council got frustrated with Judd not straightening out Kimmich and Wahlquist and replaced him.”
“Why didn’t they just replace Kimmich and Wahlquist?” says Clay.
“That’s a good question. Maybe someone somewhere is indebted to those two. Haven’t been here long enough to know all the dynamics.”
“Small-town politics,” says Clay.
“Can’t pretend it doesn’t exist,” says Zoey.
“So they bucked tradition and brought in a woman,” says Clay with a gentle smile.
“A half-Native woman,” says Zoey.
“And are you straightening them out?” says Clay. “Officers Kimmich and Wahlquist? Making modern men out of them? Emotionally intelligent? Racially and sexual orientation and gender sensitive?”
“I’m doing my best,” says Zoey. “Of course they get to call mechief. A bit of a Native slur, but I am the chief. Nothing I can do about that.” Zoey leans forward in her chair as if she’s about to divulge a secret. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“You can ask,” says Clay.
“When you go to the men’s room, do you wash your hands before or after?”
