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

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69 Chs

CHAPTER 65

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The next six months were routine—read "boring." Other than the occasional drunk at a bar and one or two automobile accidents a month there was nothing much happening. That changed in a flash when Steven Johnson, the County Sheriff, pleaded guilty to slightly reduced charges. He was sentenced to eighteen months in a minimum security prison which meant that he could be released in just over a year.

I was at work on a Tuesday morning looking forward to the birth of my second daughter in another two weeks when Sandra walked in with a mug of black coffee for me. "I must have told you two hundred times that you didn't have to get me coffee."

She gave me a smirk and turned away to answer the phone. She was back a few minutes later and she seemed nervous. "Um…Matt, that was Sinclair Kerwin. He and Miles Smart are coming in to see you at two this afternoon."

"Okay, maybe now you can tell me who the hell these people are to get you so nervous."

"Sinclair Kerwin is the County Executive and Miles Smart is the Chairman of the County Commissioners. Why would they want to talk with you?"

"Sandra, I haven't a clue, but I guess we'll find out this afternoon, won't we? Now, for the second hundred and the first time—you don't have to bring me coffee, but thank you." With that I waved my hand as a signal for her to go, but I was asking myself the same questions. I spent the rest of the morning reviewing evaluations from the training officers. All of them were positive, but three of the ten indicated the need for additional on-the-job training. They proved the accuracy of the trainers' work because the lieutenants had made the same recommendations. Still, I was extremely pleased with our first class of minority officers. In another two months we were going to start another class. I knew we would need another five officers because of four retirements and one transfer to the state police.

Lucy and Melody came in with lunch for Daryl and me. The adults ate while Melody played with Max, the ferocious police dog. She was able to pull herself up onto his back and hold on while he walked slowly around the room. Daryl and I thought it was hilarious, but, as a mother, Lucy was upset until she saw how safe Melody actually was. We finished by 1:30 and I just had enough time to hit the men's room and speak with the detectives before my appointment.

I walked to the office door to meet my guests as I always did with non-police department visitors. We introduced ourselves and I led the two county officials to my conference table where we took seats after I had offered and they had turned down coffee or water. Sinclair Kerwin was a relatively tall thin man with thinning hair and a pinched face. Miles Smart was shorter and heavier, bald with a fringe of brown hair and a chubby pleasant face.

This was their meeting so I asked how I could help them then sat back and listened. There are some in the south who believe that it is rude to just jump into business, instead spending twenty minutes or more in what they consider "polite social conversation." Maybe it's because my uncle is an attorney who considers time to be money, but I hate this custom and I made my feelings known after five minutes of banter.

"Gentlemen, I agreed to meet with you even though I have an extremely busy afternoon so I'd appreciate it if we could get down to business."

Smart smiled as he said, "I heard that you were an extremely direct person, Chief Cahill. I'm glad to see that my information was correct. It confirms our decision. I'm sure you know about our sheriff."

"I do. Several of your deputies came to me with their concerns first and I arranged for them to meet with a State Attorney who initiated the investigation."

"He was formally terminated at our last meeting of the County Commissioners so we're looking for a new sheriff." Maybe I was being unusually dense, but I still wasn't sure what they wanted until he continued. "We'd like to offer the position to you. We think that everyone in the county knows what you've done here in Bascomb's Landing. Things aren't as bad in the Sheriff's Office, but they could be a lot better. Normally, we would consider one of the ranking officers, but they were all in sympathy with Johnson. We've had more than enough of that kind of thinking.

"We know what you're earning now and we'll pay you more than $40,000 more to start with the same benefits and five weeks of vacation instead of the four you currently have. We would appoint you in an emergency meeting this week and you'd be all set until next November's election, but we're sure you'll be reelected."

"Since you know so much about me I'm sure you know three important things. First, I've only been here as chief of police for about fourteen months. Second, my wife is the chairperson of the City Council so I work for her and I don't want her to be offended by my leaving. Third, and probably the most important, is that I'm no politician. I wouldn't have the first idea how to run for office."

"We assume you are a registered Republican." I nodded in reply. "Then you'll have no difficulty being reelected. More than seventy percent of county voters are Republicans and most vote a straight party ticket. Of the eleven commissioners we have only one Democrat, but that works out well. She keeps us on our toes and makes sure we're honest. Other than your regular duties you would be expected to attend our monthly meetings unless your duties require you to work or you're on vacation. You'll get a new vehicle every year for your personal use and—yes—we can have it customized for your dog the way your current vehicle is."

"This is a tempting offer, gentlemen, but I would need to discuss it with my wife before giving you an answer. I'd also like to know a little more about your facilities and personnel before giving you a final answer." I stood then to signal that the meeting was over. We shook hands and they walked out the door. Sandra was curious, but I wouldn't say anything about our discussion.

I left the office at five and was home ten minutes later. I wasn't surprised to see Jonathan's car in the driveway. He and Marylou visited often, especially now that Lucy was expecting again. However, I was surprised at the greeting I got when I walked into the family room. "Well, did you take the job," Lucy asked as she rushed to kiss me.

I just stood silently until Jonathan said, "Oh no…don't tell us that you turned it down."

"You know what this is? It's a conspiracy. Why am I always the last one to know what's going on?"

"I only found out this morning, Matt. Miles Smart told me that they were coming down to interview you. No, that's wrong. He said they wanted to offer the job to you. It's quite a compliment."

"Maybe, Jonathan, but I've only been here for about fourteen months. I don't think it would be right to take another job so soon and I'm sure you all realize that I'm not a politician. I know nothing about running for office."

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