Free Chiefs by Stuart Woods Page A

and I can honestly say that I’ve never overequipped one yet. Now, let’s see. That’s two winter uniforms, shirt and trousers, three summer uniforms—that’s first-grade military khaki there, sir—shirt and trousers, one pea jacket, one winter hat, one summer hat, two black neckties, one holster and belt with attachments for extra ammunition, handcuffs, and blackjack, one blackjack, two Colt .38 pistols, three pair of handcuffs, and one thousand rounds of .38 ammunition. That comes to exactly three hundred forty-nine dollars and forty-five cents.”
    Will Henry looked narrowly at the little man. “Couldn’t you think of anything to spend the other fifty-five cents on?”
    Brown grinned. “I always like to see a department come in under budget.” He reached into an inside pocket and withdrew a thin leather case. “By the way, Chief. Just as a token of our esteem and congratulations on your new post, the National Law Enforcement Equipment Company, Incorporated, would be honored if you’d accept this little gift.” He opened the box and set it on the green felt. Inside were three badges, large, medium, and small. Each bore the legend Delano Police Department and the designation Chief. “One’s for your shirt, the middle-sized one clips onto your cap, and the little one”—he took a small leather wallet from his pocket and pinned the smallest badge into it—“this is for carrying when you’re in civilian clothes. It’s gold plated.”
    Will Henry picked up the order blank and signed it. “Mr. Brown, you sure come prepared, don’t you?”
    “Chief, I know my business, and I know my officers’ business. I know what they need to do the job.” He turned to Jimmy Riley. Now, just let me run out to the car for a minute. I’ve got a few things you’re going to be needing.”
    Will Henry gathered his things and left Jimmy Riley to the tender mercies of T. T. Brown.

    Chapter 10.
    SINCE THE NEW police station was simply being added onto the already-planned fire station, building proceeded quickly. Will Henry had been chief for less than a month when it was completed. On the Saturday night before the Monday when the station was to be officially open, he and Hugh Holmes were hard at work in the new building. T. T. Brown’s custom-made bars, doors, windows, and locks had arrived during the week, and their installation had been completed the day before. Holmes had purchased a roll-top desk, two filing cabinets, four straight-backed chairs, a swivel chair, and a hat rack. The cells had been furnished with wooden bunks, cotton mattresses, and army blankets, and a large potbellied stove was glowing in the office. Will Henry was tacking wanted posters to a new bulletin board, and Holmes, his shirt sleeves rolled up, was sweeping up excelsior, in which the new furniture had been packed. A man from the telephone company had just left. The new instrument had been hung on a wall next to a window opening into the firehouse, so that it could be answered from the other side. The telephone rang.
    Will Henry put down his box of thumbtacks and answered it. It was Estelle, the night operator. “Is that you, Mr. Lee? Chief?”
    “Yes, Estelle. How’re you?”
    “I’m just fine, but I’ve got a lady on the line who’s nearly ‘bout hysterical. She says there’s something terrible happening over on Maple Street.” The streets on the north side of the M&B tracks were all named after trees. They were lined with nearly identical white houses built by Thomas Delano to house his work force.
    “Well, you better connect her with me, here. You can do that, can’t you? I mean, the phone is all hooked up, isn’t it?”
    “Yessir. Here she is.” There was a click, and Will Henry could hear someone breathing irregularly, as if trying to suppress sobs.
    “Hello. Hello, this is Will Henry Lee. Chief Lee. What’s the matter?”
    “Oh, thank God!” a woman’s voice said. “I’m so glad I got hold of you! The operator said