Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

still don’t see what that has to do with—”
    “At the time,” Ruby said as she sliced peaches, “Sheila was serving as chief of security on the campus. She had been there only a couple of years, but during that time, she completely reorganized and upgraded the department. She started a training program, purchased new equipment, hired more people—including women and blacks—and earned a couple of national law enforcement awards.”
    “Do you have any fresh dill, Ruby?” I asked. “It would be nice for the salad.”
    “There’s dill and basil in pots outside the door,” Ruby said. She paused, frowning. “Do we want hot bread? I can open a can of refrigerated crescent rolls and spread them with parsley butter before I roll them up. That would be quick.”
    “Sounds perfect,” I said. “Chives with the parsley, too, maybe? And you could grate some cheese into the butter, as well.”
    “Make it Parmesan,” Ramona put in. “There’s some in the fridge. And add a squirt of lemon.”
    “Parsley, chives, Parmesan, a squirt of lemon,” Ruby said, counting on her fingers. “And butter.”
    “Go for it, Ruby,” I said.
    “No, you go, Ramona,” Ruby instructed, getting out the can of crescent rolls and turning on the oven to preheat it. “You can bring in the herbs while I lay out the rolls. And don’t forget the dill and basil for the salad.”
    A few moments later, Ramona was back in the kitchen with snips of herbs. “So this miracle worker—Chief Dawson, that is—earned a couple of national awards for her work at the university,” she said. “Then what?”
    I took up the story. “Dolly Patterson’s discrimination lawsuit resulted in a U.S. Department of Justice consent decree mandating that the department hire women, Hispanics, and African Americans.” I grinned. “The decree came down about the time Smart Cookie was making headlines at CTSU.”
    “Ah,” Ramona said, in a knowing tone.
    “You got it, Ramona,” Ruby put in, as she mixed the herbs and cheese into the butter. “The time was ripe for a change.”
    “Very ripe.” I began tearing basil leaves into the salad. “As it happened, the federal mandate coincided with the election of a pair of women activists to the Pecan Springs city council. They decided that now was the time to turn the department into something that wouldn’t be a permanent legal and social liability and would stop costing mucho dinero in discrimination settlements. They persuaded the council—witha little help from the new city attorney—that it was time to look for another chief. Bubba Harris resigned, and McQuaid filled in as acting chief for a while. Six months or so, maybe.”
    “Some of the council wanted Mike McQuaid to stay on as chief.” Ruby slid me a glance. “But China wouldn’t let him.”
    “I couldn’t have stopped him if he’d really wanted to do it,” I replied. “McQuaid hates politics, and the chief’s job is super political. It’s a desk job and he hates that, too.”
    Ramona frowned. “I’ve never understood why you call your husband by his last name, China. It seems a little, well, strange.”
    “He wasn’t always my husband,” I said. “He was a homicide detective when I met him, and I was a defense attorney. We started off as McQuaid and Bayles. He’s still McQuaid, far as I’m concerned.”
    “Anyway,” Ruby put in, “when McQuaid pulled out, he left the field open to Sheila.”
    “There were several others in the running,” I said, setting the salad bowl on the table with a pair of salad tongs. “A female sheriff from one of the Valley counties, if I remember right, and another woman who was chief in a little West Texas town. There was a guy from Beaumont, and Clint Hardin, from inside the department. Sheila wasn’t even going to apply—she was starting to get serious about Blackie, who at the time was the Adams County sheriff.”
    Ruby had finished buttering the dough triangles and was now rolling them up, wide end first, placing them on a baking sheet. “But Blackie kept encouraging her,” she said “And when the search committee compared years of training and experience, awards, recognitions, that kind of thing, it was clear that Sheila was the top candidate.”
    “Her biggest competition,” I added, “came from Clint Hardin. Hewas Bubba Harris’ handpicked favorite. And of course, he had the support of the police department. To a man.”
    “To a man.” Ramona repeated with a chuckle.