Cahill

I could hear the din from the bar as I exited my SUV and I was still almost a block away. What a shame! I knew from long experience that would change as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m six feet six inches tall and I weigh an even 250 pounds—all of it broad shouldered muscle. My Body Mass Index at my last physical was less than four percent. My light brown hair is styled exactly the way it’s been for the past fifteen years—ever since I first joined the Navy. Sure enough, no sooner had I taken my first step into the bar than the noise died. When I turned left and stepped up to the bar the people there couldn’t back away fast enough. I took a stool in the middle of the empty space and sat down, waiting for the bartender to approach. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” “Good…neither am I. Give me a ginger ale.” He reached under the bar for a glass and some ice. Twenty seconds later he slid the glass in my direction. I pulled a fiver from my pocket and dropped it on the bar. He ignored it and walked away to draw a few beers and pour some wine. It looked to me like this was a pretty cheap crowd. Checking up and down the bar all I could see were longnecks and drafts. I reached into the lower left pocket of my cargo pants. Like almost everything else I was wearing they were a true deep navy blue. My heavy shoes were black as was my wide belt. My belt said as much about me as the bold white lettering across my chest. Just below the American flag over my heart were the letters that were my life—U. S. MARSHAL. On my right hip was my nickel plated .44 Magnum Colt Python, just behind two speed loaders in addition to the twenty-four rounds on the belt. On my left hip was my ASP Talon baton—every bit as deadly a weapon in my hands as the revolver. A pouch at the back of my right hip held my stainless steel handcuffs and its partner on the opposite side held my radio—my link to my backup team. I placed the photo flat on the bar as the bartender returned to me. “I’ll have another,” I said in a loud voice, continuing so I wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t pick it up and don’t make a production of looking at it. I’ve been told that he comes here a lot. Is he here tonight? If he is and he escapes because you’ve given me away I’ll see to it that you’re arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gulped a few times but did as he was told, nodding slightly in response. I continued almost at a whisper. “If my nose is pointing to twelve o’clock, my right ear to three, the back of my head to six, and my left ear to nine, tell me where he is. Again, don’t point or do anything obvious and we’ll be fine.” He pretended to wipe the bar as he whispered, “About 4:30 with his back to you.” I picked up the reflection in the mirror then asked, “Red shirt with black and white stripes, looking away from me?” He nodded again. Now, in my normal tone of voice I asked, “Where’s the men’s room?”

Fredrick_Udele · Fantasie

Zu wenig Bewertungen

69 Chs

CHAPTER 19

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I showed up at the Bascomb residence at 5:25 and was shown into the house by Samuel, the butler. Lucy's parents were in the library having a drink. Knowing that I'd be in a public meeting later I declined their offer. Lucy joined us a few minutes later, greeting me with a quick kiss and Max with a ruffle of his head and ears.

"That's a police dog, Lucille. Are you really sure he's safe?"

"Really, Mother; I couldn't possibly be safer than when I'm with either Matt or Max. Watch this." She knelt down next to Max and pushed her arm into his mouth. The worst thing that happened was that her arm was slobbered on. She hugged Max and returned to the powder room to wash her arm and hands. We left a few minutes later, Max's head resting on Lucy's shoulder.

We returned to the barbeque restaurant where we had brisket and beef ribs with a big tossed salad. I would have preferred their barbequed beans, but I abstained out of consideration for those in the large meeting room. We left and arrived at the City Hall just before seven. Lucy and I walked into the same small room I had been in last Friday evening. Lucy had explained that this room was used for executive sessions and small group meetings while the Council's open meetings were conducted in the large auditorium in the front of the building.

Carl Haynes called the meeting to order and Martin Albright was asked about my contract. He gave a succinct summary of the contract and the changes I had requested. Only Haynes had any questions. I answered those that were directed to me—why I felt they were essential and what purpose I was trying to accomplish. At one point several others criticized his comments and strongly suggested that we move forward.

Lucy then passed out sheets of Daryl's resume to the Council members. I gave them a few minutes to review it before speaking in support. "I've known Daryl Evans for the past eight years and we have worked dozens of cases together. He has the highest integrity and is a natural leader. He also has one more advantage in that he is a black man. We need some black police officers to reach out to the black community." If Haynes was upset before he showed his true colors now. He was obviously an avowed racist. He ranted and yelled for five minutes before I interrupted him. "Ms. Bascomb will present him for approval and the final decision rests with the Council. If they want him—fine. If they don't I'll have to find someone else."

Then Lucy brought up the performance standards I had reviewed with the Council at my interview. "I also intend to ask the Council to formally approve the standards that Matt brought to our attention on Friday."

"I don't believe that is necessary," was Haynes' reply.

"I do, Mr. Chairman. I feel that our approval will strengthen Matt's enforcement of them with the police officers. We all want our officers to be physically capable of conducting their duties. That's essential to the officers, but it's more critical to the citizenry."

"I understand that you are engaged to Mr. Cahill, Ms. Bascomb."

"That's right, Carl. I've made no attempt to hide it and that's also why I will abstain from voting for his appointment." Apparently that was all the business to be conducted because a few minutes later we stood and walked into the main room.

Lucy had assured me that the whole thing was a and it was. My appointment was approved by a vote of 7-1 with one abstention which Lucy explained to polite applause. Daryl's appointment was approved by a vote of 8-1. And the performance standards were approved by the same vote. The rest of the meeting was routine—read "boring." It broke up before 10:00 and I was congratulated by the Council members and many of the public present. Lucy, Max, and I left a few minutes later for our last night in the mobile home.

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Up early the following morning Lucy packed her mostly dirty clothes into her suitcase while I dumped mine into my duffel bag. A few minutes later I had the clothes and toiletries along with the gun bags in the back of the SUV with Max standing guard. I never made assumptions when it came to the handling of weapons. Lucy had cleaned out the refrigerator and cupboards and placed everything into a couple of cardboard boxes and paper bags. I followed her next door where we left everything with an elderly black woman who thanked Lucy profusely. Lucy explained that she had been a household servant for many years and now she lived here rent free, courtesy of her parents. I drove away a few minutes later wondering what our change of residence might hold for us.

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We ate breakfast at the diner and afterwards I had to walk Max so I took him out behind the building. We were there only a few minutes when Max's ears stood up straight and he turned suddenly before running at top speed around the building. I turned the corner just in time to see Lucy being accosted by her erstwhile suitor from the barbeque. I barely had the time to yell, "Max…hold," a command that could have saved that idiot's life.

Max ran up beside him and leaped forward, his 130 pounds of muscle and sinew knocking him flat onto the pavement. Less than a second later Max clamped his jaws around the man's neck. I walked up slowly, taking my bawling Lucy into my arms. After soothing her for several minutes I crouched down next to Donald Craig so I could speak to him in the lowest possible voice. I'd learned years ago that it was far more menacing and powerful than yelling.

"I'm guessing that you haven't quite learned how to take no for an answer so let me explain it to you in terms even you will understand. Lucille and I are engaged to be married. That means that I'm responsible now for her safety and it's a job I take extremely seriously. I could just as easily have given Max the command to kill you and I doubt that anyone would object given what I saw from the corner of the building and, I'm sure, numerous patrons could see from the windows. You had Lucy backed over the hood of my car and were standing between her legs while she was crying out for help. I could easily make the case that you were trying to rape her.

"So here's your only warning—leave Lucille alone. Even her mother who encouraged you in the past has welcomed and is encouraging our relationship so you're completely on your own. The next time I see you threatening her as you were today I will arrest you for violation of her civil rights and sexual assault. By the time you straighten it out it will have cost you thousands of dollars and you could be branded a sexual predator for the rest of your life. Max…back."

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