Chapter 9 - Decision Day
Unlike the time we'd come back to campus to the blue-and-red lights and sirens, tonight it was silent and dark throughout the buildings, with only the orangey streetlamps giving the place any light at all. I gave Harris a kiss before we pulled up to the parking lot. Only time would tell what would happen. Tomorrow was a big day.
I walked up to my dorm room. As soon as I opened the door to my room, I was immediately stopped by Mullers and Manson.
"Where've you been all day, Carnegie?" they asked me simultaneously.
"We thought you… died or something," Manson commented. "I mean, if that happened, no one would find out until the smell got into the hallway—even quicker if you don't have A/C. Do you have A/C?"
"Was I supposed to pick you up?" Mullers asked me, ignoring Manson's comment. "I'm so sorry, Carnegie; I forgot you didn't have a car."
"I didn't expect you to pick me up," I said. "I didn't feel right, that's all." Little did they know what I didn't feel right about….
"Is it contagious?" Manson asked. "You know, like an STD?"
"Definitely not," I said, rolling my eyes at Manson's odd line of questioning. First rot and then STDs. She definitely was on a weird kick. "I think something in my gut just wasn't sitting right with me."
"Lieutenant Harris was asking about you all day," Manson said. "Brookstone really came onto him in the afternoon and he told her to leave him the hell alone, can you believe it? Then Bordeaux, Beaner, and Alberts started teasing me, and Harris actually told them to stop."
"Bordeaux and Beaner are assholes," I said.
"It was more than teasing, Manson," Mullers replied. "They really got into it this time. They took bright red lipstick and wrote Helter Skelter on our lunch table. Something's really wrong with them."
"I hope they get kicked out like Norris did," I commented, rolling my eyes. "Bunch of losers."
"How did you get back here, anyway?" Manson asked.
"Harris called my house and picked me up," I said. "Everything's okay now. I'm not going to get anyone sick or anything."
"Right, he did disappear during the evening," Mullers said. "Guess that makes sense now. Come to think of it, he wasn't there for the municipal code exam. Captain Callahan gave that one by herself. You're gonna have to make that up."
"Ugh, I totally forgot about that," I said, slapping my forehead.
"We better let you get to studying," Mullers commented. "There's a ton of shit on there that we barely talked about. Anyway, we're glad you're back."
"Me too," I said, immediately wondering how tomorrow would be. I did know for sure that I'd be failing that exam.
Our squadron was informed in the morning that we would be going on actual traffic duty after lunch as practice interacting with the public. We'd get to wear our uniforms and look like real cops as we directed traffic at some intersections in the city that were currently getting their traffic lights replaced. It was a good arrangement between the academy and the city and we'd finally be getting a bit of relaxation from the constant running and exercises we had to do every day. In the meantime, we had to first practice our traffic directing skills in a safe environment—essentially, the driving range at the academy.
Talk of Lassard's successor filled the entire morning driving range session as we stood on the sidelines watching each student take his or her turn directing Harris's police car on which way to drive around the cones. It was boring to watch, but the gossip that went on during the session was fine with me.
"Who do you think Lassard's gonna pick to be the next commandant?" Mullers asked our little group.
"I think Captain Callahan," Stiner admitted. "That Tackleberry guy seems a little… off, and she's the only other captain."
"You're forgetting about Captain Hightower," Manson interjected. "The commandant just promoted him. He has a good a chance as any, now."
"But Captain Hightower doesn't talk," Stiner reacted. "He seems like a nice guy, but he's not the friendliest."
"And you think Captain Callahan is?" Mullers said, cocking her eyebrow. "All she does is walk around in her sunglasses all day and smirk."
"Well, if they were to pick from a lieutenant, they have Harris, Jones, and Hooks to pick," Stiner commented. "They probably won't pick Hooks, though. She's too quiet to make announcements to everyone at one time."
"Maybe Lieutenant Jones," Manson considered, giving me a quick look as if daring me to respond. "He seems pretty funny and he's also super friendly."
I'd kept silent this whole time, just waiting for them to throw Harris in my face.
"Do you think Lieutenant Harris has a chance?" Mullers then asked me. Damn. I'd predicted it very well.
"I don't know," I answered honestly. "He's really different than Commandant Lassard."
"You can tell he really wants that job," Mullers said. "I bet he'd do anything to be commandant."
"I'm not holding my breath," I admitted. She'd really hit the nail on the head. I realized that everyone was still full-on expecting Lassard to retire and pick his successor. The possible game-changing fact that Lassard now knew what really happened to his fish was seemingly only known by Harris and me.
Thankfully, neither instructor could hear any of our conversation. In fact, Harris was the driver of the squad car for most of the driving range session, as we directed him on where to go. As he puttered around the course, he kept both windows rolled down and screamed at cadets if they weren't loud or clear enough with their instructions. I didn't pay much attention to what was going on with him and the cadets until it was Brookstone's turn.
Rather than direct traffic with her hands or the signals we'd been taught, Brookstone walked right over to Harris's driver's side window and leaned onto his car. I could see that she was talking to him rather animatedly and he was looking up at her with a mix of irritation and intrigue.
"So you're gonna go that way," I heard her say as she pointed to the right. "Alright, Captain Harris?"
"It's lieutenant," he huffed, his annoyance building. "Brookstone, you can't walk on over to a car like some hooker trying to pick up a john. Now, get out of the way."
Stiner, Mullers, Manson, and I laughed as we watched Brookstone's attempt to flirt with Lieutenant Harris fall on its face. She glowered up at us as she walked back to the sidelines. I never wanted so bad to tell her off, but then again, my relationship with Harris was supposed to be secret. I don't think I'd ever felt so frustrated.
There was electricity in the air at lunch about Lassard and his promise to announce his replacement today. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was supposed to be retiring today. I wondered if Lassard had told the other instructors anything about what had happened. Apparently he'd told Lieutenant Harris something this morning.
The cafeteria fell to a quiet hush when the man of the hour entered. All the other instructors were sitting at their respective tables when Commandant Lassard entered the cafeteria. He flashed a couple of smiles at various cadets as he headed towards Jones's table. I saw Jones hand him a mini-microphone and he held it to his mouth. He moved away from the instructors, making some room around himself as the room went dead silent. This seemed like a rather informal way to do such an important thing. We hadn't even had previous notice that it would be occurring right now. I was baffled.
"I have an important announcement to make," he said, not looking the least bit unhappy. I bit my tongue, knowing where this was going. Several of the instructors, including Tackleberry, Hightower, and Jones, looked up at him from their tables and then smiled over at Callahan, who removed her sunglasses and straightened her posture, but Harris noticeably did not so much as look up from his food.
"I have received very, very crucial information about the situation that predated my planned retirement," Lassard began.
The instructors looked confused and glanced around at each other. Interestingly, Captain Callahan's raw glare moved to Harris, who had since paled but did not move a muscle.
"As a result, I have decided against retiring at this time," Lassard continued. "There are many, many more things that we can do together and much, much more to come of my time here!"
For some reason, my eyes stayed on Callahan, and though she smiled at Lassard as he finished speaking, she resumed glaring in the direction of Lieutenant Harris with her head shaking slowly back and forth. I could see several of the instructors looking over at her sympathetically.
Wow, so Captain Callahan had been Lassard's top choice! Had Harris known?
Once Lassard had left the cafeteria, the conversations moved to what exactly had changed Lassard's mind and a lot of relief about Lassard staying. The man did seem to be the perfect commandant; he was personable, honest to a fault, and always professional. Even the way he spoke was high-class.
"Wow, so apparently Captain Callahan expected to get it," Mullers said, also quite aware of the death-stare Callahan was giving Harris. "And it looks like she thinks Harris had something to do with it."
"Do you think Harris told Lassard about the affairs she's been having with cadets?" Manson asked. "I don't see how he wouldn't know about them."
"That would be low," Steiner muttered. "And, no offense, Carnegie, but a little hypocritical of him."
"I agree," I said, glaring in the direction of Harris. That comment threw a new monkey wrench into this whole confusion. Had Harris not actually told Lassard about his fish's fate and instead revealed Callahan's past?
