Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

“I really don’t think you understand what—”
    “I do understand, hon,” Blackie said earnestly. “Look. I’ve been in this business a long time, and I know it’s not a good idea for an officer to step outside the command structure and work alongside a subordinate, much less let the subordinate take the lead. It’s even more complicated because you’re a woman. Believe me. When this gets out, it’ll weaken your authority in the department.”
    Weaken my authority
. “Because I’m a woman, you mean?” she asked, feeling the heat rising inside her.
    He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Bartlett will have a hard time dealing with the fallout, too. You won’t be in the men’s locker room to hear the guys making off-color jokes about being the boss’s handpicked favorite, but he will. He’ll hear it said to his face, and he’ll know that they’re saying it behind his back. It’ll take him a long time to get past this. And what happens if you and Bartlett don’t manage to clear this case—at least, not right away?” He made a gruff noise in his throat. “Jeez, hon, what were you thinking?”
    Sheila picked up her mug of chocolate—cold, by now—and took a sip, trying to cool her temper, trying to see things from his point of view. It was true that Blackie understood the politics in the Pecan Springs Police Department. After all, he’d been sheriff for a good many years and he knew many of the guys. They’d shared dozens of investigations, worked out at the same gym, practiced at the same shooting range. And yeah, it was undoubtedly true that the male officers in the department would raise their eyebrows when they heard that the chief had taken what looked like the subordinate role in an investigation. But she didn’t feel that it was a threat to her authority. She thought of it as a way to get what she wanted—some field time. A way to give Bartlett a chance to shine, without being eclipsed by a senior officer who’d step in and take the credit for his investigative work. As for not clearing the case, that was ridiculous. Of course they would clear the case! That was their job, wasn’t it? Failure was not an option. It hurt to think that her own husband didn’t have faith in her ability to do her job.
    And what was just as bad: the patronizing tone of Blackie’s question. “Jeez, hon, what were you thinking?”—as if she were some airhead bimbo who couldn’t figure things out for herself. As for what she was thinking—
    She clenched her hand around the phone, making an effort to keep her voice level, conversational. “Actually, I was thinking it would be a good idea to show Bartlett that I had confidence in his ability to handle this investigation. We don’t have many cases like this in Pecan Springs, and if Hardin were here, he’d grab it. He—”
    Blackie didn’t let her finish. “Well, you were wrong,” he said flatly. “Tell you what I think you ought to do, babe. First thing tomorrow, you go back to the office. You phone Hardin and brief him on the currentstatus of the investigation. You won’t have to tell him what to do—he’ll understand that he needs to cancel this fishing trip and get his butt back to work. After all, this case potentially involves George Timms, which makes it highly political and very visible, not the kind of case the chief ought to be working. Hardin can take over with Bartlett, and you can go back to the desk.” He didn’t say
where you belong
, but Sheila heard the words as clearly as if he had spoken them.
    She pulled in her breath, pushing down the anger and resentment that threatened to boil over. “No,” she said emphatically.
    There was a long silence.
    “No?” His voice was wary. “No to which part?”
    “Just… no,” Sheila said. “No to all of it. Bartlett, Hardin, the investigation. This is my job and my department, Blackie. I appreciate your concern.” (
Yeah, that was a lie, a big one
.) “But if I’m making a mistake, I’m the one who’ll have to live with it.”
    As she spoke, she was wondering if there was something else going on here. Jealousy, maybe? Was Blackie
jealous
of Bartlett? Or jealous that she had responsibilities—and choices—that he no longer had?
    Another silence.
    “Okay,” he said finally. He sounded resigned. “I don’t like it, but I guess you know what you want to do. I think it’s a mistake. But I’ll support you regardless. You know that.” He cleared his throat