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"Are you okay with my doing that?" She asked this because it was clear he wasn't.
"I'm not sure."
She laughed. "Why not? He went through my desk. Maryellen saw him. He used state police for his own agenda."
Overby's eyes dipped to the papers on his desk. They were as ordered as could be. "Well, it'll take up our time and resources. And it could be . . . awkward for us."
"Awkward?"
"Bring us into that interagency crap. I hate that."
This was hardly an argument. Life in state government is all about interagency crap.
At the end of a chewy silence, Overby seemed to come up with a thought. His eyebrow lifted a bit. "Besides, I think you might not have time to pursue it."
"I'll fit it in, Charles."
"Well, the thing is, there's this. . . ." He found a file on his credenza and extracted a stapled document several pages long.
"What's that?"
"Matter of fact"--the second eyebrow joined in--"it's from the AG's office." He pushed the papers forward across the desk. "It seems there was a complaint made against you."
"Me?"
"Apparently you made racist remarks to a county employee."
"Charles, that's crazy."
"Ah, well, it went all the way to Sacramento."
"Who complained?"
"Sharanda Evans. County Social Services."
"I've never met her. It's a mistake."
"She was at Monterey Bay Hospital when your mother was arrested. She was looking after your children."
Oh, the woman who'd collected Wes and Maggie from the hospital play area.
"Charles, she wasn't 'looking after' them. She was taking them into custody. She didn't even try to call me."
"She claims you uttered racist comments."
"Jesus Christ, Charles, I said she was incompetent. That's all."
"She didn't interpret it that way. Now, since you generally have a good reputation and no history of problems in the past, the AG's not inclined to open a formal complaint. Still, it's got to be looked into."
He seemed torn about this dilemma.
But not that torn.
"He wanted some input from people on the ground about how to proceed."
From Overby himself, he meant. And she understood too exactly what was going on here: Dance had embarrassed Overby in front of Royce. Maybe the ombudsman had gotten the impression that the man couldn't control his employees. A CBI-instigated complaint against Royce would call Overby's leadership into question.
"Of course you're not racist. But the woman's pretty hot under the collar about it, this Ms. Evans." He stared at the inverted letter in front of Dance the way one would gaze at autopsy photos.
