14Chief Charlot got up from her desk and forcefully yanked the hem of her jacket down so as to disallow any wrinkling. Her brown hair was in a short braid on her back, and her heavy eyebrows, unplucked, were pulled down as she glowered. Paul-Henri could hear her walking to her office door; he inwardly cringed.
“Is this how former Chief Maron instructed you to do your paperwork? Because if so, he was sadly in error. You can’t simply leave out portions whenever you feel like it, Officer Monsour. Did you sleep through Officer’s School? Perhaps your Papa pulled some strings to get you through, something like that?”
Paul-Henri was used to condescending nags; he had one for a mother. But familiarity with the type did not make being in the same room with Chief Charlot, much less being her subor
