Chapter I
© Copyright 1995,2001 David R. Mohr
“How long has it been here?” asks Sheriff Marshall Winston, a real gentleman who is aging gracefully.
Marshall has been with the force for some twenty-seven years. After his training, he became an officer in his small hometown of Lutts, Tennessee. He received much of his experience from the then well seasoned sheriff of the county, and was determined to be as good as he was. Following in the footsteps of that sheriff, his father figure, Marshall left the small town and headed for the city. He saw many years of action, brutality and acts of inhuman cruelty so bizarre, he still shudders on occasion. Now in his mid sixties, Marshall has returned to his hometown. Becoming sheriff meant a lot to him. He always kept in touch with the only ‘father’ he had ever known. In becoming sheriff of Wayne County, he felt he closed the circle. He was able to use the gift given to him. He came back to his roots, and now he will be able to pass along this “gift” to someone else. He can still remember the proud look on the face of his dear friend. That smile of approval, the thankfulness of knowing how he helped young Marshall. Never really knowing his own father, Marshall will never forget “Gypsy Bob”, a man his real father would never be.
Marshall has just come from Gypsy Bob’s grave, where he visits regularly. The thought of someone else possibly having lost a dear loved one, causes his crushed spirit to sink deeper into that lonely place within his soul. He knows the loss of a loved one.
“’Bout three days.” answers Mike.
Mike Toggle, a man in his forties with jet black hair and glasses to match. Right down to his pocket protector, the same one he had in high school, he was what everyone would call the typical “Geek.” The kind of guy who was always picked on and who always ended up in a position of power - in this case Manager of a local Supermarket in Collinwood. The type of guy who always lets you know he is the boss, requiring you to put up with his stupid ideas or be fired. He is liked by few. Mike had called the sheriff to have a car towed.
“I don’t want this car here taking up my valuable space where paying customers could be parking. I have a right to have this car removed you know. I’m manager of this store and it’s my...”
“I get the picture, Mike, I don’t need a complete dissertation about your history nor your legal rights.” interrupts Marshall, in his soothing yet authoritative southern voice. “Let me call it in and see if there has been any reports about stolen vehicles and we’ll see what we can do.”
“I know what you can do, you can have it towed down to the impound...” Marshall walks away while Mike is babbling and gets into his patrol car. “…yard and keep it there...” Mike rambles on while following Marshall. “…until somebody claims........hey!” Marshall rolls up his window to get some privacy.
“This is sheriff Winston, Suzie you there?”
Marshall’s patrol car is, as usual, immaculate. He keeps it clean. He says, “I’ve had enough dirt in my life from the city. I want everything spotless from now on!”
“This is sheriff Winston, Suzie do you read me?”
Still no answer. When Suzie didn’t answer it usually meant she was preoccupied and unless one of the officers called with a priority one call, she would not leave what she was doing to answer the radio.
Marshall decides to examine the car and its surrounding area for any clues while waiting for Suzie to finish up whatever she had gotten herself into.
“You know, that was not very nice of you, I was right in the middle of a sentence and you just cut me off.” says Mike. “You’re a public servant ya know and you’re supposed to be nice to people. You’re supposed to help people and do what’s necessary to keep the peace. That wasn’t a very peaceable thing you did. You should...”
“You know Mike, a lot of people would be less hostile towards cops if I were to shoot you dead right now.” Marshall butts in. Mike “clams up” in shock. “In fact, I’d probably get an award. I imagine most of the towns people would be downright grateful to me.” Marshall continues. “People in this town have been getting more and more hostile ever since you moved in. My theory is this: ‘If you no longer existed, this town would become the peaceful haven it once was.’ So maybe you’re right. Maybe I haven’t been doin’ my job. Hmmm, lesssee. You said I’m supposed to do what’s necessary to keep the peace. Well in my humble opinion, this is very necessary.”
Marshall pulls his .357 magnum from its holster and points it at Mikes head. Gasping, Mike’s face grows pasty and his eyes open as wide as saucers. With his mouth agape, his pearly white protruding teeth glistened in the sunlight. As Marshall cocks back the hammer of his gun, Mike starts screaming as loud as his squeaky, raspy voice would allow.
Marshall can’t help but chuckle while shaking his head as Mike turns and runs toward the store. Putting his gun away, he notices a small yellow puddle of water where Mike had been standing. Again he laughs.
“Thanks Clint. You were right about the .357”
Looking around the car, nothing looks abnormal. Whomever was driving pulled in with no problems. They were even within the bright white lines, front tires right up against the curb...good driver who ever they are. Beautiful car, too: a bright red 1972 Corvette. The kind of car kids dream about, and thieves steal. The doors were locked so Marshall looks in through the windshield. The side windows are tinted so dark he can’t see through them. The car looks normal. No obvious signs of a struggle nor foul play. Marshall presumed the car to have been stolen and left here to be picked up. Marshall’s eyes slowly opened wide as he cocks his head to one side.
“This don’t make sense.” he mumbles aloud, then dashes back to his patrol car. “Suzie,” he shouts grabbing the radio’s microphone, “9 1 1. This is Sheriff Winston. I need you now!”