A welcoming committee of one watched as I parked my unremarkable car in the Police Station car park. Hand outstretched he descended on me as I opened the door and got out. "I am George Brookman." That was it, no welcome prologue, no idle banter.
"I'm Sergeant Scott Reynolds, but then you already know that." My uniform with the newly applied Sergeant stripes, was a dead giveaway. I took the hand and shook it.
"Come in why don't you." I couldn't see why I shouldn't, so I followed him inside. "Take a seat." He indicated a chair in front of the desk that I assumed I would be seated behind in future. "Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee, white, no sugar."
He busied himself pouring water over what appeared to be cheap coffee powder. It was, that'll have to change. "I understand that this is your first posting as a Sergeant."
"Yes Sir." I decided that he was used to being treated deferentially, so I obliged. I didn't want to get offside with the most powerful man in this district, at least not yet.
"Country policing differs from what you must be used to in the city."
I chose to conveniently omit to inform him that I have had experience with country living, having been born and raised in this very town. Because I didn't move in his rarefied circles, I doubted that our paths had crossed before I left to join the police force.
"Let me fill you in on what is expected of you. There will be times when the full force of the law is to be applied, and times when leniency is more appropriate."
"The full force applies to the 'townies' while leniency will apply to the families of the larger landholders."
"While I can't order you to adhere to these rules, you get my drift."
"I guess that, as the Mayor of this town, you have some say in what happens around here." He hadn't introduced himself as the Mayor, but then I had done my research before coming here.
Brookman was a medium sized town that developed from the large Brookman farm that grew up over a period of years. It had an interesting history. Before it became known as Brookman its name was officially gazetted as Canning Hill. A small village grew up to service the surrounding district. Somewhere around a hundred and fifty years ago, one Alexander Brookman began buying up land quite literally around the village. While still officially designated as Canning Hill, the village became colloquially known as Brookman. The postal service agreed to recognise the Brookman name. Since becoming a town, a Brookman always assumed the role of Mayor, sort of a rite of passage for each generation. My minor admonition at his lack of courtesy whizzed straight over his head, as I expected it would.
"I'll leave you with it." He stood and, giving me a brief nod, left me to get my gear from my car and move into the sparse police residence tacked onto the rear of the police station. The Brookman Police district was controlled by a Sergeant, it was my turn, and no one else. Its performance indicators meant that it didn't warrant any additional staffing, so it was just me to keep everything under control.
My predecessor had died on the job so to speak. He had viewed this posting as a lifetime position, and, according to his situational reports, there was little policing to do. Brookman was a law-abiding town, almost entirely bereft of crime. I was led to believe that it was an easy posting.
Having filed my belongings away in the appropriate cupboards, wardrobes etc., I headed for the main drag of this thriving metropolis. Okay that's a slight exaggeration both in size and activity. My uniform attracted the attention of the curious, but my status in Brookman was a work in progress.
I recognised the face that looked at me in the mirror behind the counter of the Paragon Café. "Fuck, look what the cat's just dragged in. Scott Reynolds, how the fuck are you? So you're the new copper in town."
"I'll have none of that swearing from you Judy." There was a smile in her reflected eyes. "How the fuck are you?"
"Fine now that you're back in town, now I won't have to keep beating the young bucks off with a stick."
"If memory serves, you weren't all that enthusiastic with that stick."
"Not with you I wasn't, but the others, well none of them managed to take your place."
"I find that hard to believe, back in the day you were something of a prick tease."
"It was all look but don't touch. I have been saving myself for your return."
"So George Junior never had his evil way with you. I find that also hard to believe."
"You can ask his balls how successful he was. You have to give me credit for some sense. Did you know he's on his second wife, who has recently found out that he has just proposed to his mistress? She, it seems had just told him that he'd knocked her up?"
"He hasn't changed then, always was a randy bastard."
"He has always believed that he has a divine right to fuck anyone."
"You must have pissed him off then."
"A less than subtle grip on his balls did the trick."
"Remind me never to try and force myself on you."
"With you, force will be un-necessary."
"Judy," My stern words caused her to look sharply at me, "before you drag me into the back room and have your wicked way with me, you had better make me what I came in here for in the first place."
"Okay, what will it be, Sir?"
"A large flat white, and did you make that cheese cake?"
"Nothing but home-made here."
"Okay, a slice of that as well." I sat at one of the tables and she brought over a cup of proper coffee and a large slice of the best cheesecake that I had ever tasted. A bloke could get fat here if he didn't watch out.
Judy took my plate and cup from the table and, before I had a chance to dodge her, kissed me on the lips, with a bit of tongue thrown in. "You need a haircut, but don't get any ideas about going in to Trudy's salon. You remember her, don't you? The blonde with the outstanding features." She held her cupped hands out several inches from her chest.
"I'll try to stay out of there." I strolled along the street and it wasn't long before word had got around that Scott Reynolds, the famous local larrikin of ten years ago, who got out of town before he got into serious trouble, was back in town as the new cop. By the time I reached the end of the street, a welcome home party had been arranged at the pub.
I was at my desk coming to terms with the welcome when Judy came in. "I heard about the party tonight, how do you feel about that?"
"I guess that I'd better be there, but you can understand why I don't really want to go, not after what this town did to my parents, or didn't do. After years of giving without having to be asked, I would have thought that some reciprocity would have been forthcoming."
"Some of us tried, but we were told in no uncertain manner not to. Don't blame us for that, it was the Brookmans that were to blame. Your parents giving food away cut into Brookman's General Store's profits."
"I'm getting a revenge of sorts, my salary goes straight into my bank account with the Police Credit Union, and I pay everything on-line or with a debit card. I have no reason to patronise that bank."
My parents had a modest land holding that had provided them with enough income to meet their modest needs. All of that changed following a couple of bad years of diminished production and low prices for their produce. Brookman Bank, on the promise that they always looked after their customers, loaned them money to survive, and when the loan fell due and they didn't have enough money to repay it, the bank foreclosed. It wasn't until after Dad's anger gnawed away at him leading to frustration and depression, that the real story came out, all too late for them. The official verdict was a motor vehicle accident. But Dad had driven that road just about every day for the past thirty years, and knew every tree on the side of the road. His car left the road and crashed at high speed into the biggest, strongest gum tree on that section of road. There were no skid marks, or any sign that he had tried to avoid it, just the charred remains of his car with his mangled body trapped inside. The investigation stated that it appeared that he was not wearing his seat belt, something unheard of. In the final seconds of his life, his tortured mind would have rationalised that he had no chance that his body would survive. Mum didn't last much longer. She hadn't told him that she had cancer, not wanting to add to his worries.
Their insurance policies left me with enough money to buy my unremarkable car and the rest I invested in a low risk, low yield share portfolio, that has been growing slowly with the addition of the bulk of my disposable income. I'll never be rich, but then I'll probably never go broke.
The fact was that Brookman had put it about that he wanted Dad's land, and he bought it from the bank, his bank, for a price that was way below market value. That meant that Mum and Dad had absolutely no money to live on. But this didn't come to the surface until much later.
Like everything else about this place, the Brookman Bank had an interesting history. When the town had reached a commercially acceptable size, one of the major banks sought to establish a bank in competition to Brookman's small banking business attached to his General Store. Alexander's son Henry saw the need to prevent this, or to at least allow it to operate on his terms. They were that, he would allow them to place their name on the building, but the bank would be run by him and his successors on a joint profit sharing basis. The bank thought about it before agreeing to his terms, the thinking being that they would have a physical presence in town at little cost to themselves. Brookman would contribute to the cost of corporate advertising that would further raise the bank's profile in the town.
I was not the life and soul of the party, that role went to everyone else. "You're not having fun, are you?" Judy asked. She had volunteered to be my date for this party, and had tried to cheer me up, with only moderate success.
"I can think of better places to be."
"So can I. Let's get out of here and I'll take you home, to my home, there's no way that I'm leaving you alone tonight."
