its job of protecting the public and upholding the law."
"How you get to that goal is important, Chief," Demora said smoothly.
"Developing constructive and informed input from employees makes them feel empowered."
"Exactly how does the union view Otero?" Kerney asked, trying to move Demora away from his favorite team-building theory of management.
"He's seen as abrasive, argumentative, and authoritarian."
"Is that your reading of the man?"
"I've found him to be confrontational upon occasion. Unnecessarily so."
Kerney thought back to the purged documents about Officer Herrera that Helen Muiz had saved from destruction. None of Otero's memos had showed evidence of distribution outside the department. Had Demora been behind the cleansing of Herrera's personnel jacket and the decision to destroy Otero's career? Captains not slated for promotions were frequently buried in technical-duty slots, far away from the operational-command assignments that were crucial for advancement.
Perhaps Demora had assumed Kerney would overlook Otero because of his career-ending posting.
Kerney decided to push the issue.
"Can you give me more details?"
Demora ran a hand over a horseshoe-shaped bald spot.
"I'd rather not get into specifics, but it was a situation requiring subtle handling, and Otero failed to realize that."
"I see."
"It's not too late to withdraw Otero's appointment. Doing so could win you some allies on the city council."
"Allies would be nice to have," Kerney said.
"But caving in to that could be perceived as union pressure might not be wise. When the union contract comes up for renegotiation, they'll be clamoring for a voice in management."
Demora nodded vigorously.
"Yes, of course, you're exactly right. Do you have an alternative suggestion?"
"Otero is eligible for retirement in sixty days. If he fails to do a competent job or conduct himself professionally, I'll ask him to put in his papers and retire."
Demora smiled with pursed lips.
"Very well. Sixty days, then, and you'll keep me advised of his performance."
"Of course," Kerney said. And you'll advise me if any additional concerns are lodged about his promotion?"
"Absolutely," Demora replied. His smile widened as he showed some teeth.
"It's essential that the two of us maintain a free-flowing communication. There's no need to hold anything back. With that in mind I do want Otero carefully supervised."
"That won't be a problem."
Demora nodded.
"I hope not. Now, fill me in on the murder investigations so I can brief the mayor. This isn't the kind of national exposure Santa Fe needs."
"It certainly isn't," Kerney said, holding back on the somewhat snide thought that criminals really should be more sensitive to the chamber-of-commerce vision of a picture-perfect retirement and playground community for the well-to-do and outright rich. The murder of a prominent citizen was unseemly, only served to tarnish the city's image, and caused hand wringing for both the boosters and the local politicians.
He forced down his anger at having his first major decision as chief challenged for the sake of petty politics, and began to explain the status of the investigations.
Growing up poor in Mexico, Ignacio Terjo had learned the hard way the importance of money. His first border crossing into America had driven the point home even more thoroughly. After arriving in Santa Fe he'd gone hungry and had slept under a bridge, covered only by newspapers and cardboard, until he found his way to a homeless shelter. Vowing never to be so needy again, Terjo now kept two hundred dollars sewn in the inside lining of his winter coat or tucked into the watch pocket of his jeans during warm weather.
Wary about his false identity, Ignacio had avoided becoming too friendly with the Mexican nationals who lived on the south side of the city, fearing he might be recognized. Instead, he'd gotten to know some of the locals, found his way to a good job with Mrs. Terrell, and met
"How you get to that goal is important, Chief," Demora said smoothly.
"Developing constructive and informed input from employees makes them feel empowered."
"Exactly how does the union view Otero?" Kerney asked, trying to move Demora away from his favorite team-building theory of management.
"He's seen as abrasive, argumentative, and authoritarian."
"Is that your reading of the man?"
"I've found him to be confrontational upon occasion. Unnecessarily so."
Kerney thought back to the purged documents about Officer Herrera that Helen Muiz had saved from destruction. None of Otero's memos had showed evidence of distribution outside the department. Had Demora been behind the cleansing of Herrera's personnel jacket and the decision to destroy Otero's career? Captains not slated for promotions were frequently buried in technical-duty slots, far away from the operational-command assignments that were crucial for advancement.
Perhaps Demora had assumed Kerney would overlook Otero because of his career-ending posting.
Kerney decided to push the issue.
"Can you give me more details?"
Demora ran a hand over a horseshoe-shaped bald spot.
"I'd rather not get into specifics, but it was a situation requiring subtle handling, and Otero failed to realize that."
"I see."
"It's not too late to withdraw Otero's appointment. Doing so could win you some allies on the city council."
"Allies would be nice to have," Kerney said.
"But caving in to that could be perceived as union pressure might not be wise. When the union contract comes up for renegotiation, they'll be clamoring for a voice in management."
Demora nodded vigorously.
"Yes, of course, you're exactly right. Do you have an alternative suggestion?"
"Otero is eligible for retirement in sixty days. If he fails to do a competent job or conduct himself professionally, I'll ask him to put in his papers and retire."
Demora smiled with pursed lips.
"Very well. Sixty days, then, and you'll keep me advised of his performance."
"Of course," Kerney said. And you'll advise me if any additional concerns are lodged about his promotion?"
"Absolutely," Demora replied. His smile widened as he showed some teeth.
"It's essential that the two of us maintain a free-flowing communication. There's no need to hold anything back. With that in mind I do want Otero carefully supervised."
"That won't be a problem."
Demora nodded.
"I hope not. Now, fill me in on the murder investigations so I can brief the mayor. This isn't the kind of national exposure Santa Fe needs."
"It certainly isn't," Kerney said, holding back on the somewhat snide thought that criminals really should be more sensitive to the chamber-of-commerce vision of a picture-perfect retirement and playground community for the well-to-do and outright rich. The murder of a prominent citizen was unseemly, only served to tarnish the city's image, and caused hand wringing for both the boosters and the local politicians.
He forced down his anger at having his first major decision as chief challenged for the sake of petty politics, and began to explain the status of the investigations.
Growing up poor in Mexico, Ignacio Terjo had learned the hard way the importance of money. His first border crossing into America had driven the point home even more thoroughly. After arriving in Santa Fe he'd gone hungry and had slept under a bridge, covered only by newspapers and cardboard, until he found his way to a homeless shelter. Vowing never to be so needy again, Terjo now kept two hundred dollars sewn in the inside lining of his winter coat or tucked into the watch pocket of his jeans during warm weather.
Wary about his false identity, Ignacio had avoided becoming too friendly with the Mexican nationals who lived on the south side of the city, fearing he might be recognized. Instead, he'd gotten to know some of the locals, found his way to a good job with Mrs. Terrell, and met
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