Page 6 - The Peggy's - Chapter 1

Chapter One

A New Deal

“Sergeant,” a lone, unknown policemen shouted. “Telephone.”

Rowena stopped walking. She was three hours late. Why in the world did this young
police officer want her to talk on a phone? Fuck that. Nothing good ever comes in at
two a.m. Nothing. She shook her head no when the young policeman got excited.
Shook the phone at her like whoever was on the other end was God Himself.
Rowena hated young policeman. Especially ones who have been assigned to her. It
took something of an extreme act to get assigned to her division. To get assigned to
her period.
Whatever this young policeman did to get assigned to the Cold Case division, it must
be a good story. Not so good for him though. No one young gets assigned to Dead
Division, i.e., the Cold Case, Missing Persons, and Extended Property Management
Division; unless they truly pissed someone off.

His story must be good. Too bad she didn’t really care. She didn’t even know the
man’s name and she’d been his direct supervisor now for the last two months. Two
months as the officer-in-charge of the Dead’s graveyard shift. Two months down, four
to go.
“Sergeant!” the young policeman shouted once more.
Rowena gripped her fists tight. Seethed. Called him names no one should ever be
called. Screamed at him to stop pestering her and do whatever it was he did with
phone calls. She was not to be disturbed.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” Rowena shouted louder as she reached her station. “If you
can’t handle a simple phone call…”

The agony on the young man’s face stopped her cold. He carried a pain reserved for
someone so high up on the policeman’s food chain it would normally be reserved for
bosses. Bosses like what she used to be, not for what she was right now.
Another sigh escaped as she opened a drawer. Added some whiskey to her coffee.
Looked down hard at the blinking light on her station’s phone. A sort of chuckle left
Rowena. She looked about the metal topped table and chuckled again. The police
department, the police commissioner, the bastard; decided desks should be shared
since his police department ran twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three
hundred and sixty five days a year.

Too bad the asshole never got to enjoy the policy of a shared desk. Rowena doubted
he cared what anyone below his assistants thought of the program. Assistants with big
titles and the overall capacity to keep the commissioner’s ass well kissed.