Tidbits from Hillsdale
A Voice from the Corner
I was standing at my grooming table yesterday, screwdriver in hand, swapping out the drive on my favorite pair of Andis clippers. The shop was quiet, or at least, it was quiet to anyone else.
I felt a familiar pressure against my knee. To a stranger, it would have been a draft. To me, it was G.
Even though she passed on years ago, her voice is still the clearest thing in the room. She didn't have to say much. Just a soft, rhythmic reminder of the pulse of the shop. “The rhythm is off, Mom,” she whispered. “Fix the hum, and the rest will follow.”
She was right. As soon as the new drive snapped into place and the blade started to glide with that perfect, low-vibration purr, the energy in the room shifted.
Why It Matters
In grooming and in Hillsdale, if the "hum" is off, there is an issue. Whether it’s a piece of equipment or a secret someone is trying to hide, you have to be tuned in to hear it.
The police at the station, like Jed McNally, are looking for the big, loud clues. They’re looking for the broken windows and the shouting matches. But here at the table, I know the truth is usually found in the subtle things. The stuff people ignore until it’s too late.
I’ll keep the blades sharp and the drives fresh. And I’ll keep listening. Because, as G likes to remind me, the dead have a lot to say about the living, if you’re willing to fix the hum and listen.
— Evanjeline
Cutting Room Floor
Not everything actually makes it into the book. Some bits get cut, but they’re a fun insight into the characters. This is where you can find them.
Turkey Toes, Banter, and Coffee
I was in the PD gym working on the kick bag. My bare feet struck home again and again. I was focused on my form, so I didn’t see the Lieutenant come in.
“What happened to your feet?” His eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead.
I jumped a bit, startled at his seemingly sudden arrival, and looked down at my feet. They had turkeys painted on them as it was nearly Thanksgiving. Their googly eyes looked back at me. “Nothing?”
“What’s all that?” He motioned with his finger at my turkey toes.
“What? The turkeys? They’re…well, they’re turkeys.” I looked at him in confusion. Had he never seen a cartoonish turkey before? They may not have been perfect, but I think anyone could tell they were happy turkey toes.
“Why?” He looked utterly baffled.
“Thanksgiving is coming up,” I said as if that explained everything.
He looked from my toes to my face and narrowed his eyes. “Are you being serious?”
My eyes went wide, and I nodded. “Yes.”
He glared down at my toes again. “That’s not SOP.”
“Actually, it’s not in SOPs; fingernails are regulated, but toes are not.” I smiled at him.
“That can’t be right.” He scowled.
“No, I looked, there’s nothing in there that says I can’t have polish on my toes.” I nodded quickly.
“LT, are you seriously giving her crap about her turkey toes?” Jed’s voice boomed from the doorway.
“SOPs are there for a reason, and they’re to be followed.” The Lt. scowled at Jed.
“Who is going to see her ridiculous feet? And why do you care?” Jed held his hands up as if trying to find an answer.
“I’m going to check.” The Lt. turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs toward his office.
I sighed. They’re just turkeys. Why is he freaking out?
“Did you really look?” Jed asked me quietly.
“Yeah, there’s nothing in there that says I can’t.” I nodded.
“Well, he can’t put anything in there now, or you’re going straight to your union rep.” Jed huffed.
“Jed, you’re my union rep.” I laughed.
“Right, and he can’t just make up rules for one person for no reason. If you want ridiculous and weird things on your toes, you should be able to do that. No idea why you would, but whatever.” Jed said, and the last of it was under his breath.
“C’mon, they’re cute! Look at their little beaks!” I wiggled my toes at him.
“You’re an odd duck.” Jed shook his head.
“Turkeys, Jed, not ducks.” I grinned.
His face could have been used as the definition of unamused.
I tried to look like he wasn’t staring at me with those piercing eyes that made me want to end my workout and run right out on patrol.
“I’m going to go talk to the Lieutenant, make sure you can keep whatever bird you want on your toes.” Jed shook his head at me and rolled his eyes.
“Thanks Jed! I’m going to do Santa faces for Christmas.” I beamed.
“You’re a weird kid, Anj….” Jed shook his head and walked up the stairs.
I finished my workout a little while later, got back in uniform, and headed up the stairs.
I walked somewhat quickly by the Lieutenant’s door and over to the squad room.
“There ya go, kid, you can paint anything you please on your ridiculous toes,” Jed said as he typed in a speeding ticket into the system.
I laughed. “Thanks Jed.”
“You’re welcome, now go make me coffee.” Jed pointed toward the empty coffee pot.
“That’s a fair trade. One pot of coffee coming up.” I made coffee the way my father taught me. It was dark and strong enough to climb out of the pot and into the mug on its own. That’s how Jed liked it, too.
Tyler walked in and gave me a nod.
“You want coffee, Ty?” I called toward the squad room.
“Who made it?” Tyler called back.
“Me, why?” I didn’t see why it mattered.
“Oh, absolutely not.” I could hear him shaking his head vigorously enough that his chair rattled.
“Why not?!” I asked, somewhat offended.
“Because I’d like to sleep tonight, or any night this week. You make coffee that could give someone a heart attack.” Tyler made a face.
“She makes damn fine coffee.” Jed grinned as he continued typing in tickets.
“See?” I looked at Tyler as I entered the squad room with a black cup of coffee for Jed and handed it to him.
“I don’t see how you can drink that.” Tyler made a face like he was sucking on a lemon.
“It’ll put hair on your chest.” Jed took another sip and sighed happily.
“If it’s so good, why don’t you drink it, Anj?” Tyler grinned at me.
“One, I don’t want a hairy chest, and two, I don’t like coffee, no matter who makes it.” I made a face.
“You heading out on patrol, turkey toes?” Jed called over his shoulder.
“Yeah. You guys want me to pick up….you know.” I raised my eyebrows at them twice because we all knew the minute someone uttered the word supper, 911 was going to ring enough times to keep us all busy the rest of the night, and eating would no longer be an option.
“Where are you guys ordering supper from?” The new dispatcher asked.
Jed, Tyler, and I collectively groaned when, not even a heartbeat later, 911 rang.
“Someone needs to fill in the new guy,” Tyler said as he grabbed his coat, and the two of us ran out the door.
“Make Anj do it, she owes me one,” Jed said as he jogged to his cruiser.
“I made you coffee!” I yelled over the hood of my cruiser.
“Oh yeah. Tyler, that leaves you.” Jed grinned at him.
“Why me? Why can’t you?” Tyler said, sticking his head out the window as he backed up.
“You want him to quit?” Jed said as he got in the car.
“Good point.” Tyler rolled up his window, and within the time it took for us each to pull out of the driveway, we each had a different 911 call to handle.
