The Hunt Club Read Online Free PDF Page A

saw no reason to change the tone. “Well, it’s flattering that you should consider me…”
    He jumped in again before I could outright refuse. “It’s quite a significant bump in salary, you know.”
    I shook my head. “It’s not that.”
    â€œWhat is it, then?”
    â€œWhat I said. I guess I’m just not much of an office person. I like going out on calls.”
    Sitting back, slumped in the chair again, Mayhew’s face had closed down. “And you often go out alone.”
    It wasn’t a question. Still, I said, “Yes, sir, I do.”
    â€œWhy is that?”
    Because most of my coworkers, whom you’ve hired, are unmotivated, you idiot. But I said, “Sometimes it’s hard to coordinate schedules.”
    â€œAnd do you think that’s particularly efficient?”
    â€œSometimes in the field, an inexperienced partner can be more a hindrance than a help.”
    â€œBut how are they to gain that vital hands-on experience if veteran caseworkers won’t go on calls with them?”
    â€œWell…it’s not a matter of ‘won’t.’ Some of the people downstairs feel like they have to write up their reports, and that’s their priority. And sometimes that keeps them at their desks.” We were leaving the faux friendly arena quickly. “As to efficiency, you said I’ve had good performance reviews.”
    â€œOn the calls themselves, yes. But we’ve got a ship to run here, and we need all the sailors to cooperate if we’re going to keep it afloat.”
    The old salt in me failed to respond to the analogy. So hire people who want to go out and do the work. But I dredged up a hopeful smile. “I like to think I’m cooperating, sir.”
    For a long moment, Mayhew chewed on his thin lower lip. Sighing heavily with apparently deep regret, he said, “We’ve got several promising young people we’d like to bring on here, Wyatt, and frankly they could start at a much lower salary than you’re drawing right now. Even if you moved up to supervisor, the impact on our budget would be positive if we could bring some of these people on.”
    So now it was a budget issue. Mayhew was pulling out all the stops as I began to see the bottom line. He’d promised a job— my job —to the son or daughter of one of his cronies.
    â€œWho would I be replacing?” I asked. “As supervisor?”
    â€œDarlene’s been out on maternity leave for five months already,” he said. “Two more than she applied for. I don’t think she’s coming back.”
    â€œCan I give it some thought?” I asked.
    â€œSure.” The shiny face beamed. “Take a few days, Wyatt, as much time as you need.”

    I said no.
    Two weeks after my refusal, Mayhew announced an administrative shakeup in the department whereby the three caseworkers with the most experience—that would be me, Bettina Keck, and a ten-year vet with chronically poor attendance named Lionel Whitmore—would evaluate both the seriousness and the credibility of abuse reports and assign caseworkers as appropriate. This was essentially the role that our level-one supervisors had filled before, and it was full-time in-office work, but no raise was involved this time.
    Every actual case of child abuse was serious, of course, but not every call to report abuse was legitimate. When I’d first started working, I was surprised at the number of these complaints to CPS that turned out to be bogus—called in by fathers wanting to get their baby’s mama in trouble or neighbors as payback for other neighbors making too much noise at night or an ex-wife wanting to hassle an ex-husband while he had the kids for a weekend. These and dozens of others like them were the all-too-common ugly, stupid, petty scams in which kids were used as pawns in the adults’ games. Citing the facts that we were chronically