Burying Ben (42 page)

He hasn
’
t chased a crook in years. His forehead is glistening with sweat as tho
u
gh he had oiled hi
m
self for a weight lifti
n
g conte
s
t. He pulls a folded piece of
paper from
his pocket and spreads it open on the podiu
m
. “Thank you everyone for co
m
i
ng today on such short notice. It has been
m
y honor and privilege to serve and p
r
otect the people of Kenilworth for so
m
a
ny years. No matter where I go or how far I tra
ve
l, Kenilwo
r
th will
a
lways be my ho
m
e and the good people of the Kenilwo
r
th police
d
epart
m
ent will always be
m
y fa
m
ily.”

“Bull shit.” Eddie stu
m
bles down the ce
n
ter aisle and flops into a seat. He’
s wearing his dress uniform. The jacket hangs
open and his shirt gapes
at
the
buttons.
His chin is pocked with gray stubble and he
’
s not wearing socks. “You don
’
t deserve to wear the unifor
m
, you ignoranus.”

The sheen on Baxter
’
s forehead tinges with pink. His nostrils fla
r
e, in and out, like
m
i
niature bellows. He s
m
iles broadly, splitt
i
ng
h
i
s face in two.

“Allow
m
e to introduce Eddie Ri
m
b
auer, one of my
m
o
st senior officers.”

“Know why you
’
re an ignoranus, Baxte
r
?
Not only are you stupid, you
’
re an asshole too.”

Eddie doubles over with laug
h
ter,
tipping
sideways
out of his seat. A slender thread of drool falls from
his lower
lip onto the floor. Manny appears at the back of the roo
m
, vaults down the aisle and pulls Eddie to his feet.

“Manny, you young
turk. My best ever recruit. Helluva cop.”

Eddie raises Manny
’
s hand like a winning boxer and tries to turn him
around for the audience.
Manny retracts his hand, presses it fir
m
ly against Eddie
’
s broad back, and pushes him
toward the door.

Baxter watches their exit, staring after
the
m
, his flinty eyes sparking in the overhead lights. His face is a
m
ask, except for the rhyth
m
ic twitching of his nostrils. Silence fills the room
like glue, viscous and sticky.

Baxter snaps to attention and parries the
m
o
m
ent to his advantage. “Know w
h
at I
’
ll
m
i
ss about this place?
The laughs. Nothing like cop hu
m
or. That Eddie R
i
m
bauer is a
m
aster co
m
ic. Kept me in stitc
h
es for years.”

He looks down at his notes, dragging h
i
s thick fingers over the page, until he finds his place.
P
eople are shifting in their
s
eats. The
m
ayor steals a look at his watch.

“If
m
y health proble
m
s weren
’
t the way they are, I
’
d probably stay on the job forever. But that
’
s not to be. So let
m
e cut to the chase. I
’
ve been to a lot of retire
m
ents. Nothing but long speec
h
es, bad food and even worse jokes. People have
b
een asking
m
e what I want for a parting gift and I told them
nothing. This community has already given
m
e
so much.
W
hat I want is to give so
m
e
thing back. Therefore it
is
m
y privilege to announce the fo
r
m
ation of the Robert Baxter
Foundation for the prevention of police suicide.” He pulls an envelope from
his po
c
ket. “
T
o kick things off,
I
’m
going to contribute $60,000 of my own
m
on
e
y.” There
is a s
m
attering of applause. “The foundation will fund progra
m
s to provide education and co
u
nseling to officers and t
h
eir
f
a
m
ilies. To design and
a
d
m
inist
e
r this progra
m
, I’ve asked Dr.
Dot Meyer
h
o
f
f
to end her sabbatical and continue in her pos
i
tion as depart
m
ent psychologist.”

He turns to where I am
sitting in the
audience with the Go
m
e
z f
a
m
ily and
m
otions for
m
e to join him
on the stage. It ta
k
es
m
e a
m
i
nute to
c
atch on because I’m still
s
t
u
n
ned at his chutzpah, firing me and calling it a sabbati
c
al. I
c
li
m
b to the stage a
n
d o
ff
er
m
y hand, hoping to avoid having to hug hi
m
. He
rejects
m
y hand with feigned hurt and pulls
m
e forward, e
m
bracing
m
e with his bulbous
ar
m
s, digging his stubby fingers into
m
y back. The cold
m
etal
m
i
crophone presses against
m
y neck like a gun. His breath hisses in my ear. I squirm
and he tightens his grip, pressing his body against
m
i
ne, stretching the mo
m
ent into so
m
ething lurid.

I know
what he
’
s
doing, he
’
s teasing the press, encouraging them
to speculate that there is so
m
ething p
r
urient about the way I got my job back. He releases
m
e and shoves the
m
i
crophone into
m
y hand. My cheeks are infla
m
ed and my heart is pounding. I can’t hide
m
y breathlessness. I turn to
the audience and exaggerate my panting.

“That
’
s a hug I won
’
t fo
r
get.” They twitter politely, looking at
m
e with a collective expec
t
ant eye, wondering what the t
w
o of us have been up to. I turn
m
y back to Baxter and walk to the
f
r
ont of the stage.

“I’m
honored to continue serving the nee
d
s of the officers and civilians who work at the Kenilworth Police Depart
m
ent and to serve as coordinator of this new program
for the prevention of police suici
d
e. I’ve discovered so
m
ething for
m
yself in the ti
m
e I’ve been here. I like working with cops more than I like writing about the
m
.”

There’s a burst of applause from
the cops in the audience.

“As ad
m
i
nistrator of t
h
is progra
m
, my first official act is to rena
m
e the foundation in
honor of Benj
a
m
in Go
m
ez, the young officer who took his life several
m
onths ago. Ben
’
s suicide was the first in this depart
m
ent
’
s history.
It
is
my
m
ission
to
see
that
it
is
the
last.”

There
is
an
e
ddy of
m
ove
m
ent in the front row as Mrs. Go
m
ez
stifles a sob with
her handkerchief.

“I want
to
acknowledge Officer Go
m
ez’ grandparents, Lupe and Ra
m
on Go
m
ez. Their presence
today
is
a re
m
inder th
a
t this
o
ccup
a
tion a
ff
ects
f
a
m
ilies. Police o
ff
icers, like oth
e
r emergency responders, could not
w
ork the
long hours or take the physical and e
m
otional risks they do without the understa
n
ding and su
p
port of those at ho
m
e. It will be
m
y job to see that police o
ff
ic
e
rs take as g
o
od care of
t
h
eir
f
a
m
ilies and the
m
selves as they do of
the re
s
t of us. I thank you for this opportunity.”

I hand the
m
i
crophone to the
m
ayor who invites the crowd for cake and coffee. I lea
v
e via a
s
i
de
door to avoid Baxter and the press. Over my shoulder I see people swar
m
i
ng the Go
m
ez
f
a
m
ily, offering their condolences. They are nodding,
s
m
iling, shaking hands. Baxter is
standing by hi
m
self, waiting for so
m
eone to cut the c
a
ke.