Tom Dayton is Loose Again

Chapter 1

1

Mark Sanger sat outside Commissioner Randall's office waiting for his boss to come out. An hour earlier, Chief Robert Ironside received a call from the commissioner's secretary requesting the chief's presence in his office immediately. Mark knew when that happened, it was never good. Ed and Eve were given the day off by the chief, so they were unaware of what was happening.

It wasn't often things were slow for the special crime unit. In fact, it really was never slow, only just a bit less busy. When that happened, Robert Ironside would send his staff home. He even gave Mark the day off. The specially equipped van the city provided for the chief allowed him more freedom. Instead of always depending on someone else to drive him, he could do it himself. Yet, Mark felt an obligation to drive the chief to the commissioner's office. Everyone knew Ironside could take care of himself. He became more and more self-sufficient over the years. In the beginning, Mark did just about everything for the newly crippled detective. He got him up in the morning, dressed him, and put on his socks and shoes. Then he would reverse the process at night.

Now, Ironside dressed himself in the morning. Occasionally, he would be exhausted at night, and Mark would take on his old role of getting him into his pajamas and helping him into bed. Sanger thought about his early time with the chief. He remembered Ironside offering him the job as his aide. Sanger hadn't wanted to take the job, but he was unemployed and homeless. At the time, he felt he had no choice. He deplored helping the cop who arrested him and sent him to jail.

Yet, Ironside took a personal interest in Mark. In time, the young man realized he wasn't such a bad guy after all. The former chief of detectives treated him with respect, and as a result, everyone around the detective treated Mark the same. It was a far cry from the way he was treated by the same justice system when he was on the other side of the law.

So, today, when the call came in from the commissioner's office, Mark forgot all about having the day off. His boss was going out. To him, it meant he'd go with him. Sure, Sanger realized the chief could take care of himself. He had proven it time and again. Crooks always underestimated the detective, and Ironside's ingenuity always did them in. Mark hoped someday to be just half as intelligent as his boss. That would make him pretty damn smart.

He walked out of the pool room. The chief was at the desk stuffing papers into a briefcase. Mark walked over to him. "Are you about ready to go, Chief?"

"I've been ready. I've been waiting on you. How long does it take you to get dressed in the morning? You take more time than I do, and I'm a cripple."

Mark smiled. It was going to be another one of those mornings. The chief was in his classic grumpy mood. He didn't know what the commissioner's office had told his boss, but he had been in a sour mood ever since. He supposed he would find out eventually.

"What about breakfast? Did you want me to make you something you can take with you?"

Ironside grunted. "We don't have time. I don't want to keep the commissioner waiting. He was already in a bad mood according to his secretary. I'm not going to let him spoil my mood."

"Too late," Mark said quietly, but not quietly enough.

"I heard that Mister Sanger."

Mark ignored his remark. "Do you want to stop and pick up coffee on the way?"

"The commissioner has coffee in his office." He turned his wheelchair toward his young aide. "And I have no doubt it won't be any worse than yours." Ironside picked up the briefcase and wheeled toward the ramp. Looking over his shoulder, he could see Mark was right behind him. Stopping suddenly just before he was prepared to wheel up the ramp, he turned his chair toward his aide. Mark almost ran into the detective as he was not prepared for his abrupt halt.

When Mark noticed the chief was staring at him, he said, "What, did I spill something on my shirt?"

The chief shook his head. "Now, just how could we do that when we didn't have anything for breakfast?"

"Then what?" Mark asked, not knowing why the chief was stopping.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but doesn't the van still need keys to start it?" Ironside said with sarcasm.

Mark turned around, ran over to the desk, and picked up the chief's set of keys to the van. His set was still in his bedroom. Holding them up for the detective to see, he waited until Ironside turned his chair around, then stepped behind him to help him up the ramp. He grabbed his jacket from the railing on the way out. When they arrived at the elevator that would take them to the police garage, Mark pushed the button and the doors opened.

Ironside turned his chair around and backed inside the elevator. Mark pushed the button for the ground floor. The doors closed, and they began the descent to the garage. The elevator doors opened and Ironside wheeled out, heading for the van. Mark arrived first. He pushed the button, watched the van door open, and the automatic system sent the tray out of the van and down to the pavement. Once again, Ironside turned his chair around and backed onto the lift. Mark pushed the button, and the big detective was lifted into the air into the van.

Sanger hurried around the vehicle to the driver's door. He opened it and got in behind the wheel. After backing out of the assigned parking place, Mark drove out of the police garage and into the street.

Ironside looked out the window. San Francisco was still recovering from the earthquake that struck the city a while back. Still, it amazed him just how fast the citizens of the city were restoring it back to normal. It wasn't there yet, but it soon would be.

Wondering what the commissioner wanted this time, Ironside rubbed the bridge of his nose. He supposed his office could take on more work right now. They had nothing pressing, but cold cases were always in abundance. That was what he had Eve and Ed working on when he decided to give them some time off. When they did have a case, the chief worked his staff long hours and seven days a week. It made him wonder why anyone would want to work in his office. Yet, he knew the major reason was they were not just co-workers; they were a family. Even when they were not working, they were quite often together playing cards, going to a movie, or a sports event.

Ironside also knew they were dedicated to him. He wasn't sure he deserved it, but he definitely appreciated the respect they had for him, and he returned it. Ironside stood behind his officers even when they blundered, which was not very often. They were efficient and professional people who knew their jobs and did them well. The question now was . . . was he going to be forced to call them back to the office for some case the commissioner wanted solved right away? He hoped not. Between the case in Georgia and the earthquake here in San Francisco, they had very little time off and the hours had been horrendous. Still, not one of his people complained including Carl who Ironside constantly pulled out of his department to work with his. As soon as it was in the budget, he would consider bringing Carl into his office. The only thing that really was holding the decision back was Carl's rank of lieutenant. It would make him the second ranking officer in the office, which Ironside didn't feel would be fair to Ed. Anyway, he could pull Carl into his office as often as he needed to. He seemed to be working with Ironside more than he was in his own department.

The detective was so caught up with his thoughts he didn't realize they had arrived at the Hall of Justice where the commissioner's office was located. The chief immediately backed onto the lift. He pushed the button. The door opened and the lift moved out of the van and lowered the detective to the ground. He was met immediately by Mark who pushed him into the building. They headed for the elevator that would carry them to the commissioner's floor. Upon leaving the elevator, Mark turned his boss to the right and wheeled him to the commissioner's office.

Sanger, now finished recalling the events of the day, was sitting outside Randall's office. He didn't hear any shouting, which was a good thing. At least he hoped it was. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what was going on in that office.

Ironside looked at his boss and friend. "You must be kidding. They can't possibly allow Tom Dayton back on the streets. I thought they learned from the last time they released him. I don't believe this," Ironside roared.

"Bob, I agree with you. I don't think he should be released either. Unfortunately, you and I are not the ones that get to make the decision," Randall said, trying to calm Ironside's temper which was beginning to rise.

"No, we are the ones that have to clean up the mess he makes. Dennis, the last time he was out, he attacked a woman. This time he could kill one."

"I am aware of that, Bob. I just don't know what we can do about it."

"Well, I do. I want to talk to the head of the institution that is turning him loose on San Francisco."

Rubbing his forehead, Randall could feel a headache coming on. It was a condition that quite often manifested itself whenever he had to deal with Bob Ironside in a situation the chief didn't agree with. "Look, I brought you here to inform you of what is about to happen. If you think you don't like him being released, wait until you hear where they want him to work this time."

The hair stood up on the back of Ironside's neck. One shoe had dropped and now the other was about to do the same. "Don't tell me they want him to work where there are a bunch of women. Dennis, you know the man can't handle working for a woman. That is what set him off both times before."

"There isn't a bunch of women where they want him to work. Only one, that is unless you have hired others without authorization," Randall said.

The commissioner's words echoed in Ironside's head. He couldn't possibly have said what he thought he did. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. They want him to work for you. The members of the council figure you can handle him. They were impressed on how you and Sergeant Brown trapped him into admitting he attacked that woman. They really feel working under you with a woman in your office will be good for him. You will be able to keep him under control."

"Dennis, this is ludicrous! What the blazes is he going to do in my office? If you want another man in my office, give me Carl Reese, not some guy with a mental problem who hates women."

"He will be serving as your aide."

"I've got an aide, or are you not aware the young man that is always with me, you know, Mark Sanger, is my aide." Ironside's voice was dripping into his well-known sarcasm.

"Oh come on, Bob. Both you and I know Mark does more police work than he does working as your aide. Give him more work to do in your office. Tom Dayton can take over the duties as your aide."

"I don't want Tom Dayton in my office. You are aware he was responsible for the death of Ed's fiancé. How do you think this is going to go over with him?"

"Sergeant Brown is a professional. He'll handle it. Besides, isn't he the one that engineered the way you set Dayton up to get the confession?"

"What does that have to do with anything? Dayton will be a daily reminder the woman Ed was to marry was killed by him. He's a damn good officer. I am not doing that to him. He doesn't need that kind of distraction. Dennis, Tom Dayton is dangerous," Ironside said.

"Not according to his doctor. He says they have cured him of his hatred of women."

"If that is the case, then why don't they send him back to his sister and give him back his job in the library."

Randall explained, "The Mental Institution went to the City Council. They convinced them it would be good press if the police department were to get involved with this case because they were the ones that caught him and should be willing to help him."

"Help him? The police department already helped him. We arrested him and got him the mental help he desperately needed. That should be the extent of our involvement," Ironside insisted.

"Look, Bob, I don't like this any more than you do, but I was ordered by a unanimous vote of the city council to install Tom Dayton in your office as your new aide. Like I said, Mark can be moved over to doing police work."

"Mark Sanger is not a cop," Ironside argued.

"That has never stopped you from assigning him police work. Tell me, have you ever given him a gun in a dangerous situation?"

"I made sure he was protected. What did you want me to do send him into a situation where someone might be shooting at him with no way to protect himself?"

"Since he is not a cop, he technically should not have been there in the first place," Randall pointed out.

"He's always with me, Dennis. He is at risk any time that I am."

"So what's the problem? You already have him doing police work. Just give him more to do. Besides, he wants to be a lawyer. This will be good for him. On the job training."

"Dennis, I don't want any part of this. I don't want Tom Dayton in my office."

"I am afraid you don't have a choice. By order of the City Council, I am placing him in your office as your aide."

"Dennis!"

"That's an order, Bob."

The chief blew out a breath in disgust, turned his chair around and headed for the door. When he reached it, he looked over his shoulder. "When this blows up in everybody's face, who takes the blame."

"I think you know the answer to that. So, don't let it blow up in our faces. Have a good day, Bob. The doctor will be in touch with you." Randall went back to his paperwork.

Ironside opened the door, put his hands on both sides of the door frame, and pulled his wheelchair out of Randall's office. "Come on, Mark. The commissioner just turned our office into a home for the mentally insane."

With a puzzled look, Mark Sanger stepped behind Ironside and pushed his chair down the hall toward the elevators. When they got into the elevator, Mark waited for his boss to elaborate on that statement, but he didn't say anything. Not being able to stand the silence any longer, he said, "What did the commissioner do?"

"I told you. He, or rather the City Council is turning our office into a home for the mentally and criminally insane."

"Come on, Chief, what do you mean by that?"

"Wait until we get into the van. I don't want to talk about it here."

That meant he didn't want others hearing him complain. So Mark respected his wishes and didn't say anything more. He wasn't about to let it go. As soon as they were in the van, he would ask him again. After all, Mark lived at Police Headquarters too. If the chief's safety was in danger, then so was his.

Ironside barely recognized the greetings that came his way. His mood has soured after his meeting with the commissioner. Mark didn't think that was possible since it was already pretty sour when they left the office.

Reaching the van, Mark pushed the button and brought the chief's lift to the pavement. He went around the vehicle and got in the driver's side. He heard the whine of the lift as it brought his boss up and inside the van. Ironside turned his chair so that he was facing the front of the vehicle. Mark could wait no longer.

"So why is the office going to become a home for the mentally insane?"

"Mark, just start the van and find us some place to get breakfast. I'll explain everything. My conversation with the commissioner has given me a sour stomach, and I don't like having my stomach sour when it is empty. Besides, I'm hungry."

Sanger turn back to the front, put the key in the ignition and started up the van. He pulled the vehicle into traffic. He knew the chief pretty well by now, and he could tell he was pretty upset. Mark decided not to push him any further. As always, Robert Ironside wouldn't tell him what was on his mind until he was ready.

Locating a breakfast bar he knew his boss was fond of, Mark pulled the van into the parking lot, found a handicap spot, and parked in it. He got out of the vehicle and met the chief on the other side. The detective was coming down in the lift. He rolled off the tray and allowed Mark to push the button that returned the tray to the inside of the van.

Mark stepped behind the chief and began pushing him to the door of the restaurant. He opened the door and Ironside wheeled inside. Choosing a spot at the back, the detective settled his chair at the table. Mark sat down on the opposite side. After the waitress gave them menus, she left the table to give them time to decide what they wanted to eat.

Sanger could wait no longer. "Okay, Chief, spill it."

Ironside gave him a look and frowned. "Why do you young people abuse the English language. You spill milk. You don't spill words," he said disgustedly.

"All right something is wrong. Are you going to tell me or not?"

Ironside looked at his aide and friend. "You are being promoted . . . temporarily.

Author's notes:

*This story will be based on the Ironside episode, Tom Dayton is Loose Among Us.