* * *
Deputy Steven Marsters sat in his Stansbury issue police cruiser and watched the freak in the winter suit drive his way out of town. If the freak took even a mittened hand off of his steering wheel to wave at him, he would pull him over. He watched to make sure both brake lights still worked. If the freak so much as had a burnt out brake lamp, he would pull him over. There was just something about the guy Deputy Marsters didn’t like and he knew that if he could get him for one thing, he would find all the other things to get him for and maybe he would be able to get him to the office and fingerprint him and run his prints and find out he was some kind of sexual deviant or convict. Deputy Marsters was sure that the freak was some kind of sexual deviant or convict. Of course, Deputy Marsters was fairly sure that everyone who passed him by as they drove through town was on their way to commit a crime of some kind or at least go home and perform some deviant act on their pretty little kitty cat. Deputy Marsters didn’t have any pets. People who had pets liked to pet their pets and stroke them and that made them all deviants as far as he was concerned. Of course, he didn’t tell anyone about what he thought about them because of what Ben Hamilton had said all those years ago. Until Ben Hamilton threw the election and let that little idiot Tom win the office of sheriff of Stansbury - Deputy Marsters would never call him Sheriff Tom in his mind because in his mind he was just that little idiot who was always doing something stupid like running for sheriff and if Ben Hamilton knew he wasn’t going to want to be sheriff anymore then he should have told Deputy Marsters, given him a heads up that maybe it was his time to be sheriff instead of leaving the town in the hands of a little idiot like Tom. Until Ben Hamilton abandoned him and the town, he always felt that Ben Hamilton was the one person he could be sure was not a sexual deviant or some kind of convict. Now he wasn’t so sure. Why would he throw the election like that? He never told Deputy Marsters. He just packed up his desk and left. He didn’t even say goodbye.
“See you around, Steve.” He said as he packed up his desk.
“You’re not allowed to call me Steve anymore, citizen Hamilton.”
“Okay, Deputy Marsters.” Ben Hamilton was always trying to be friendly. Was always trying to give friendly advice. When Ben was Deputy Marsters’ boss, he listened because he always looked up to Ben Hamilton. But not anymore. “But listen, just take it easy on Sheriff Tom, okay? And take it easy on the town. I’ve always told you, these are good people.”
“I don’t have to listen to you anymore. Have a good day, citizen Hamilton.”
Ben Hamilton looked sad at that. He finished packing up his desk without a word and left the office. Deputy Marsters couldn’t believe he was gone…couldn’t believe Ben Hamilton was gone and that he wasn’t Sheriff Steve now. He was supposed to be Sheriff Steve. That was what Ben Hamilton told him all those years ago.
“If you’re good to the people,” then-Sheriff Ben said all those years ago, “if you uphold the law, but do it with a human touch, let the people know that you are there for them to protect them and to make sure nothing bad will happen to them, but always so they know that you are a real person and can make mistakes, well, they will want you to keep on protecting them. Maybe someday, after I’m gone, they’ll want you to be in charge of it all and keep it all safe for them the way I do.”
Ben Hamilton gave him the formula for being Sheriff Steve. He allowed them to call him Deputy Steve even though he preferred Deputy Marsters. He looked the other way at all the little infractions that they all committed everyday. The jaywalking. The rolling stops. The parking for over an hour where there was only an hour allowed. He let all the little stuff go and he let them call him Deputy Steve and he smiled at them even though he knew they could see behind his smile and know that he knew that they were all deviants and convicts.
“Deputy Steve? Could you help me with this box?” Charlie at Charlie’s grill would say to him. Charlie who always bribed him with a cup of coffee and a donut. What was he hiding that always offered bribes to the local law enforcement? What was in that box that he was helping to move even though it wasn’t in his job description to move boxes for the local business people? Did Charlie think coffee and a donut were enough for him to look the other way? Maybe when he was finally sheriff, he would take a closer look at old Charlie. Maybe those boxes labeled with the contents of cans of tomato sauce and freshly frozen cuts of meat were full of sex toys or drugs and Charlie was operating the grill as a front for a druggy bondage house and laughing at Deputy Marsters who moved his boxes of inequity to and fro for a cup of coffee, a powdered donut and a friendly smile. But he moved those boxes and drank the coffee and ate the donuts because then-Sheriff Ben told him to be helpful to the citizenry. He was helpful. At least while he was Deputy Steve.
“Deputy Steve, could you give me a break this time? I was only going a little fast so I could get home in time to feed my boys before their practice.” Mrs. Kettleman was always going a little fast for one reason or another and whenever he stopped her for speeding, she always had an excuse and because she was never going any more than a few miles per hour, she was always asking him for a “break this time.” While he was Deputy Steve, he always smiled and let her go to meet her secret lover for a tryst while her husband was off hard at work at the dairy collective he helped run. He always smiled at her while she was speeding around trying to meet her pot dealer and get her next fix which she’d go down to the Lakebridge to smoke with her 15 year old lover who was her son’s best friend who thought it was a cool thing that he was nailing the biggest MILF in all of Stansbury. He always smiled at her while she was going off to hire a hit man to take out her husband who worked for the dairy collective so she could inherit his insurance money and run off to Montreal with her high school Romeo. Deputy Steve would always smile at her and let her go because he knew she would vote for him for sheriff when the time came but Ben Hamilton had gone and let that little idiot Tom win the election that Deputy Marsters didn’t even know was up for grabs. He would always let her get off with a warning to slow down when he was Deputy Steve because that’s what Ben Hamilton told him to do. And he always did. At least when he was Deputy Steve.
“Deputy Steve, could you help me figure out this paperwork?” The little idiot didn’t want to be sheriff anyway. That’s what he told his new subordinate who was ten years older than him and had let him off with countless warnings over the years when he was being nice.
“I’m really sorry, Deputy Steve. Could you take care of this call?” The little idiot never wanted to leave the office and was afraid to wear his gun belt. The little idiot barely had a driver’s license and still didn’t know how to operate the radio or the controls in the Stansbury issue police cruiser.
“Deputy Steve, I’m going over to Charlie’s for a cup of coffee. Hold down the fort.” The little idiot was mastering the art of being the typical small town sheriff in that he would go and hang out with the locals and be “present” while having his deputy do all the work. It came to a head after a month of the little idiot playing nice. He told his new boss to call him Deputy Marsters. He told him that everyone was to call him Deputy Marsters from now on and that is how he should be referred to and from now on he was going to enforce every letter of every law because that’s what Stansbury needed.
“Okay, Deputy Steve. And I will call you what I want to as I am your boss.” His boss! “But don’t let me get too many complaints that you are overstepping your position or I will fire you. Copy that?”
“Yes, Sheriff.” Little idiot got himself some balls.
“Take care of this paperwork, would you? I’m heading over to Charlie’s for a cup of coffee.”
People in town learned pretty fast that Deputy Steve was closed for business and they were none too happy about it. Charlie didn’t offer him coffee or donuts anymore. Mrs. Kettleman learned after her third speeding ticket in as many days that there were no more breaks to be had from Deputy Marsters. Ben Hamilton had tried to intercede on
the town’s behalf.
“You’re not winning any popularity contests here, Deputy Marsters.” Ben Hamilton said.
“It’s not my job to be popular, Mr. Hamilton. It’s my job to protect and keep the peace in Stansbury and enforce the laws of the great state of Vermont. For a long time, I was not doing a very good job of that. I think I was too concerned about winning some kind of popularity contest. But thanks to you, I found out that it is more important to do what’s in my heart. You’ve followed your heart to do whatever it is you have to do. My heart tells me that letting people off for breaking the law just a little or doing little favors for little bribes is no way to keep the peace. It’s not my job to be popular. I’ll leave that to the sheriff.”
Ben Hamilton nodded sagely and went on his way after signing the speeding ticket Deputy Marsters wrote him.
“Deputy Steve?” The little idiot’s voice came over the radio. He almost wished he never taught the little idiot to use the radio. He probably had to go and investigate an incident of cow tipping again. There were never any cows tipped, mind you. There were just reports of cows being tipped phoned into the sheriff’s office and then he would have to go out and investigate the report that would inevitably be a prank of some kind. The little idiot would remind him that the letter of the law said that there must be an investigation of any incident reported and that since Stansbury’s deputy was such a stickler for the law, he would have to go out and do his duty.
“Yes, sheriff.” You little idiot.
“Could you go out by the Lakebridge and take a report, please?”
“What is the nature of the incident?” You little idiot.
“I do believe our friend, Mr. Kurtz, has made another attempt to destroy our town’s one and only landmark.”
“Shall I arrest Mr. Kurtz?” You little idiot.
“If the event warrants it, then you may bring him in. At this time, please take a report. There are witnesses for you to interrogate.”
“Don’t you mean interview?” You little idiot.
“By all means, interview away, Deputy Steve.”
“I’m on my way, you little-“ Idiot!
Lakebridge: Spring (Supernatural Horror Literary Fiction) Page 22