by Ken Renshaw
Tuesday was a more exciting day in court. As Elizabeth and I drove back to the ranch after the day in court, Elizabeth said, "Here in the big leagues we sure put in long days. You should get hazardous duty pay. I thought the good Sheriff was trying to kill you with those hatred beams from his eyes. Did you see that his hand started to go down for his gun before he apparently remembered he was not wearing his belt. Several members of the jury were cringing at his anger in his answers to your questions. Before we came up here I thought you were a patent attorney, you should specialize in personal injury, slip and fall cases."
"Thanks," I said. "I noticed my nemesis in the back of the courtroom after lunch today. He was the guy with the crew-cut grey hair and the gold-rimmed glasses. Buster was sitting right behind him and Buster's other man was sitting two seats away. Did you see him?"
"I saw him. I thought he was weird. Not a Rocky Butte local. He had a terrible vibration, like a crazy man. He was making faces in response to what people said like an undisciplined third-grader."
Exhausted, we didn't talk much the rest of the trip.
When we made the car switch at the old Williams' place, I climbed in and asked Buster, "Do you know who that guy sitting in front of you was? He is the man who has been stalking me."
"We had Mr. S. under surveillance before he even got to the courthouse. We made sure he was thoroughly searched by security at the entrance to the courthouse. You know that person in the blue lab coat that runs you through the metal detector?"
"Yes, the same man every day," I observed.
Buster smiled and said, "He also works for us. Don't worry about Mr. S. I assure you we have him covered."
Buster didn't elaborate.