Glory Hunter: He'll win the votes, if he lives long enough ... (Hollins & Haring Book 2) by T.J. Beach

Author:T.J. Beach [Beach, T.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

STU TOOK THEIR statement in the all-too-familiar Bell’s Landing cop shop interview room.

“Have you charged Chopper?” Debbie asked.

The head of the South-West CIB cocked his chin. “With what?”

“Duh. Vandalism.”

“There’s the issue. If painting a shopfront at the request of the tenant is a crime, sign painters have a problem.”

Debbie wasn’t having that. “What about the owners? How did they like having their walls messed up?”

“If they have a complaint, it’s with their tenant. There’s nowhere to go on this.”

“Hate speech?”

“Has to be directed at a racial or ethnic group. You can hate politicians as much as you like.”

“That’s good to know,” Hollins said.

“Before you get on your high horses,” Stu went on. “I’ve spoken to the crown prosecutor, because I am royally pissed off at being used by the campaign to get publicity. She’s the one who passed on those pearls of wisdom about the legal position.”

“Hah.” Debbie raised a finger. “What about wasting police time? Making a false report?”

“Thank you, Debbie. Great idea. I would love to arrest the troublemaker who reported the painting at APP campaign headquarters.”

“Well, do it then. How hard is it? You’re a policeman, do your job!”

“Thank you, God.” Stu stared at the ceiling for a moment of blissful repose. “Debbie Haring, you are under arrest—“

“What did I do?”

“You made a false report,” Stu said.

Hollins enjoyed the rare sight of Debbie Haring struck dumb almost as much as Stu Reilly.

“It was you who called us. Therefore the waste of police time came directly from your mouth.”

“Back off a minute. That’s not fair. I made that report in good faith. I saw—”

“I’m messing with you. Settle down.”

Debbie’s mouth opened and shut a few times before she regathered her snark and went back into battle.“They’ll get off scot-free?”

Stu sighed. “I shall have a very stern word with Glenn Braithwaite.”

“Is that all?”

“It’s all my superintendent will allow. After discussions with the police commissioner himself, who was not best pleased about his golf game being interrupted.”

“That’s outrageous.”

“I agree. No one should have their phone turned on at the ninth tee. And political parties should not stage crimes to generate publicity, as I will explain to Austin Gould’s campaign manager. His wrist will sting from the slap I give it, but that’s all Commissioner Roberts will sanction in the current climate.”

“What current climate?” Debbie asked.

“Sophia Pendlebury’s funeral on Wednesday amid overwhelming public sympathy for the grieving South-West Agricultural Region candidate. This is modern policing. Sworn officers face a significant restraint.”

Debbie rolled her eyes. “Politics.”

“That and this other little biddy thing we call the law of the land. It’s a pain. You wouldn’t believe how often the law stops us putting the cuffs on someone who thoroughly deserves a timeout behind bars. By the way, if I catch you so much as sliding your toenail over the line, I won’t hesitate to lock you up.”

“That’s a nice thing to say when we just solved a crime for you.”

“For which I am grateful. Good pick up on the motocross cap. You damn nearly stuffed it up with that dog and pony show this morning.

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