The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,2

to hurry to dress and walk Scipio before work. Their walk was pretty standard; today, it included Scipio chasing a squirrel when Tean let him off the leash at Liberty Park, and then, a few minutes later, Tean rescuing Scipio when a goose cornered him. The black Lab had been pressed up against an old oak, barking wildly at the goose until Tean reattached the leash and led him away. As soon as they’d put a few yards between themselves and the bird, Scipio started bounding and frolicking, his tail going like mad. He obviously considered himself the winner of that particular skirmish and was unbearably proud of himself.

When Tean got to work, he found himself immediately caught up in a fresh conflict. Norbert Smith, eighty years old, who frequently forgot to shave and—even more noticeably—to bathe, had worked for DWR for over forty years. He’d handled a lot of the state’s poaching complaints, especially from the northwest quadrant, and he’d done a good job of it until a bad fall and a broken leg in December. Everyone, Tean included, had expected that to loosen Norbert’s death grip on his job, but instead of retiring, Norbert had clung on. Now he was back, using a walker to navigate the DWR building, unable to drive long distances let alone hike into the back country to catch poachers. And from the hints he had dropped, he was obviously hoping someone would try to fire him so he could sue.

Instead, Tean had put him in a clerical job, digitizing old records. It was work that needed to be done—although from what Tean could tell on his initial review, all Norbert had managed to do was scan the blank backs of hundreds of pages and include them all in the same file. More importantly, it kept Norbert clear of DWR’s daily operations.

Except for this morning. And ten other mornings just like it over the last two months.

“I know you think I’m a bitch,” Hannah was saying. She was Tean’s colleague and friend, a biologist specializing in native aquatics. Her chestnut hair had a million flyaways today, and her face was splotchy. “Just say it, Norbert. You think I’m a bitch. But I don’t care. I don’t know how that phone call got routed to you, but you have absolutely no right fielding calls from the public and authorizing them to do whatever they want to do.”

Norbert sank down in his chair, an eighty-year-old sullen child. “Can I go now? Got work to do.”

“She’s right,” Tean said. “Your job isn’t to handle calls from the public.”

“I’ve done this job longer than either of you’s been alive,” Norbert said, his sunken eyes cutting back and forth as though he couldn’t quite fix on Tean. “It was a simple question. I know my years of experience don’t mean bullpucky to either of you, but they ought to count for something.”

“Well, that’s fair,” Tean said, darting a look at Hannah. “I do value your experience, and I know that many times, people call in with the same questions, so I’m sure you felt comfortable answering—”

“The man wanted to go fishing with dynamite,” Hannah shouted. “And Norbert said yes.”

“It’s those damn burbot,” he said, referring to an invasive species of fish. “Let him blow them all to hell if he wants.”

“That’s illegal and unethical—”

“Ok,” Tean said. “Norbert, it’s not your job to answer the phone. If you do, and if you’re fielding questions from the public, you need to give answers in line with DWR policy. Is that clear?”

“Wasn’t like this back in the day,” Norbert said, slouching even lower in the chair.

“Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“And talk to him about the paperwork,” Hannah said.

“The paperwork?” Tean said.

“He’s not doing any of the clerical work he’s supposed to be doing. He’s supposed to be processing surrendered turkey tags, and—”

“Young lady,” Norbert said, “if they got a tag, and if they didn’t get a darn turkey, why should I care what happens to the tag after?”

“Because it’s your job.”

“All right,” Tean said. “Hannah, thank you for raising your concerns. Norbert, even if you don’t think the task is important, it still needs to get done.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Norbert said, easing himself up from the seat and grabbing his walker.

“That’s right,” Hannah said, “you need to hurry back to your desk and look at those Japanese Playboys you keep in the top drawer.”

Tean covered his eyes.

Norbert huffed, and it sounded like he might say something, but then the door opened,