Tourquai by Tim Davys Read Free Book Online

himself be drawn into a conversation, it would mean another hour or two at the station. He was well acquainted with all the ongoing investigations, likewise all the underlying conflicts that arose over time among the inspectors. Despite his reputation and his broadly applied harshness, he was an excellent head of WE. He solved problems wherever they arose and he was accessible even when he was busy. Larry had never thought it was hard being a boss; it was a lot harder to be a police superintendent. He dug in his jacket pocket and found a few raisins, which he ate up as he hurried down the stairs. He was on his way to Chez Jacques; he could already taste the cold beer.
    The police department in Mollisan Town was set up according to a simple structure. The police authorities were classified, for budgetary purposes, under the Ministry of Finance. Commander Gaardsmyg was not, however, subordinate to the head of the ministry but instead reported directly to the mayor. There was a certain amount of administrative coordination among the organizations, but for the most part the Ministry of Finance and the police existed side by side. In the free elections that took place in Mollisan Town every fourth year, the stuffed animals had the opportunity to elect a new commander. Partly due to the media’s focus on the mayoral election, which for practical reasons took place the same day, the election of the commander often ended up in the backwater of the debates. Six years ago there had been a couple of strong candidates, but Gaardsmyg won at the finish line. On the other hand, the last election two years ago turned out to be a landslide. Gaardsmyg was not a media animal; he kept a low profile, which distinguished him from his predecessors. It was hard to find anyone who spoke badly of Gaardsmyg, and he was said to have an excellent relationship with Mayor Sara Lion.
    Commander Gaardsmyg had four majors under him. They were each responsible for one of the city’s districts—Amberville, Lanceheim, Tourquai, and Yok—and were also heads of the largest police stations in the districts. These animals were not politically appointed, and, at the moment, none of the four had any political ambitions. They were police officers, experienced and hardened, and had come up through the ranks. By keeping careerists away from the major posts, Gaardsmyg minimized the number of potential rivals leading up to the next term of office.
    The police chiefs at the smaller stations, like the one on rue de Cadix, were called Captains, and Jan Buck was a typical representative of this position. Though one of the foremost members of his graduating class at the Police Academy, surprisingly police work itself was never something that interested Buck. Larry Bloodhound’s young chief was interested in success, and evidence of success. He had sufficient self-insight to choose a career in the public sector, and he bragged about his short memory as a guarantee for future ruthlessness. Buck was more concerned that the columns in the monthly reports were correctly color-coded than that his superintendents—the heads of the station’s three divisions, WE, GL, and PAS—had sufficient resources.
    Buck was not planning to remain at rue de Cadix. This police station was not ranked low, but many were higher up on the list.
    “It’ll be better when he’s gone,” one of the inspectors might speculate.
    “There’ll be a new Buck,” Larry Bloodhound would reply. “I’ll be damned if they don’t build that sort at the Academy.”
    This resulted in laughter and sighs in equal proportion. Because it was true.
    All the police stations in Mollisan Town had their counterpart to Chez Jacques, to which Larry Bloodhound was directing his steps this late Monday. The bar was on the same block as the station, and was a place to wind down after work. The majority of the customers were police officers. This created a special atmosphere, a pleasant feeling of mutual understanding that