Behind the Badge

by David R Lewis

  Nadine smiled. “Thanks again, Crockett.”

  Crockett returned her smile. “Shucks, M’am,” he said. “Thar’s thangs a man jus’ hasta do.”

  Nadine returned to her station and Crockett winced as he swallowed the aspirin.

  “Jesus,” Phil said. “You’re pretty quick.”

  “For an old guy,” Crockett replied.

  “For anybody,” Phil went on. “You handled that whole bunch.”

  “Fear based,” Crockett said. “I get scared, I get hyper. I also wind up taking aspirin.”

  “What would you have done if those other four had come at ya?”

  Crockett grinned up at the big man. “Thrown my gun at them and climbed you for safety,” he said.

  Phil laughed. “Right. I think they were the ones that weren’t safe.”

  “That’s what you were supposed to think, Phil,” Crockett said. “That’s what they were supposed to think, too.”

  *****

  At eleven o’clock the next morning, Crockett got a phone call from the cabin company that they were less than an hour out. He and Stitch met procession at Crockett’s driveway then led two trucks, each hauling half a house, a third truck with a porch, and a fourth hauling a medium-sized crane to the entrance of the house site. The first truck and the lowboy with the crane drove in, and everybody else left their vehicles next to the road and walked. A familiar looking man climbed out of a truck and waved to Crockett.

  “I know you,” Crockett said.

  “Yep, ya do. Bill Nance. I was one of ‘em that brought your place in an’ put it up.”

  They shook hands, and Crockett introduced him to Stitch.

  “This’un ain’t gonna take as long as the first one did,” Nance said. “We had to build it. All we need here is a shitload a bailin’ wire an’ ducktape. Take about a hour.”

  “Far out,” Stitch replied. “My housewarmin’ party starts at three. You guys’ll be long gone by then. That’s good, ya know? I only got two kegs.”

  Nance laughed and looked around. “Nice spot ya got here. That lake go clean over to the other place?”

  “Yeah,” Crockett said. “About twenty acres of draws and fingers. Just started stocking it.”

  “Last time I was here they warn’t no lake. Just a bunch a dozer tracks. See what happens when I leave ya alone for a couple years?”

  “I owe it all to you,” Crockett said.

  “Yessir,” Nance went on. “If we’re gonna git outa here before the party starts, we better git busy. You two can supervise if ya want, just don’t make me look bad in front of the guys.”

  *****

  About two o’clock, Stitch paddled away in the canoe and Crockett called Dale to tell him he was taking the night off. A little before three, Stitch showed back up on the pontoon boat with iced tea and a big pile of chocolate chip cookies. It was nearly dusk before Crockett and Stitch drove the six workmen to a motel in Smithville, bought the guys dinner, and left Stitch’s truck with them so they could return the next morning.

  “What are you gonna do with the foundation?” Crockett asked.

  “Ah, they did a good job with the weepin’ lines and the rock backfill,” Stitch said. “Guess I’ll, like, waterproof the shit out of it, hang some screen, stucco it, and paint it dark brown or somethin’, man. I thought about rockin’ it with stone veneer, but that shit has a tendency to fall off, an’ I ain’t no stone mason.”

  “You know how to stucco?”

  “I spent fifteen years in southern California, man, doin’ whatever I had to do to eat. Betcher ass I know how to stucco.”

  *****

  At a little after five the next afternoon, Nance handed Stitch the keys.

  “Paco’s almost done under the place, insulatin’ your water line. We’re through. Your enclosed carport an’ out building’ll be here Monday. Won’t take more than three or four hours to git them up. You got a real nice place in a real nice spot. Oughta be some proud of it.”

  “Thanks, dude,” Stitch replied. “You cats are freakin’ radical, man. Did a kickass job.”

  As the guys gathered up their stuff, Stitch handed each one fifty bucks. After they left, the place was strangely quiet. Stitch walked to the front door, climbed the three steps up to the porch, and entered his house for the first time. Smiling, Crockett walked to the truck and headed home.

  *****

  About eight, Crockett fired up the grill out on the deck. They’d had a gas grill since the prior fall. Satin had become a little concerned with his cavalier attitude toward charcoal lighter and got the new grill while in a defensive mood. She came outside with onions, peppers, and mushrooms on skewers, some large sesame buns, and three massive ground beef patties. As they waited for the grill to get hot, they heard a truck crunch on the drive. Dundee took off to greet her friend. In a moment, Stitch and the dog climbed the side steps.

  “Hey,” Stitch said.

  Satin smiled at him. “Got a house, huh?”

  “No shit. Looks great, man.”

  “You gonna grab your sleeping bag and stay over there tonight?”

  “Who me? Nah. Place is empty, man. Nothin’ in there at all. Fuckin’ freaky, ya know?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It took Stitch another week or so to get all his furnishings and settle in. On a hot Saturday morning he and Crockett got his dock assembled and tethered, and were sitting in the shade of a massive oak near the waterline, drinking cream sodas.

  “I got some information from Lyle Higgenbotham about the club yesterday,” Crockett said.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “It seems that the appliances for Buckles and Bows all came from Jack Cantral. Jack’s a brother to Shorty and Spud.”

  “Them cat’s you told me about that gave ya some shit?”

  “That’s them. Jack is also an investor in the club. Owns about twenty percent of the place.”

  “Which means, like, what?”

  “I don’t know, but it damn sure has to mean something. Those two guys are ridge runnin’ shitkickers. They’ve both got a grudge against me, and they’re not the kind of assholes to just walk away from somebody they think done ‘em wrong, especially Shorty. And yet, they did. That means someone called them off.”

  “Jack?”

  “Probably. Shorty was in charge of security while they were building the place, but after he blew up my mailbox and Clete got after him, he just disappeared. The question is, why?”

  “He don’t want them fuckin’ with you, ‘cause he don’t want you fuckin’ with them. You get one a them in deep enough shit an’ he might do somethin’ stupid, ya know? Like say somethin’ he shouldn’t if he’s all pissed off, or try to bargain if he’s freaked out. You had any contact with, ah, Jack?”

  “None at all. He’s the respectable one of the bunch.”

  “Bullshit,” Stitch said. “If he’s one of the bunch, he ain’t respectable, man. He’s just smarter than them other fuckers. He’s got a appliance store?”

  “Yeah. In Liberty, and a big car wash near Home Depot. Plus he owns another car wash and some property in Hartrick.”

  “A cat puts money into someplace like Buckles an’ Bows, man, he’s got to have some coin, dude. Probably more coin that he’s gonna get from washin’ cars an’ sellin’ fridges. If he’s in some shit, you can bet his brothers are in there with his ass. Them kinda dudes stick together, Crockett. An’ they don’t quit. They just wait for opportunities, ya know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Any of that stuff you got from ol’ Clete help, man?”

  “Everybody seemed to check out pretty okay. Nothing at all on any of the waitresses. They come and go anyway. Got a bartended named Miller did six months for domestic violence in Michigan five or six years ago. And one that had two busts in California for possession of controlled substances, with one misdemeanor conviction. He’s worked at two other clubs for this company before he came here.”

  “What’s his name?”

&
nbsp; “Cole. Mickey Cole.”

  “Got a description?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Ah, curious, dude. Them bartenders work various shifts and rotate positions at the two big bars where the chicks pick up drinks an’ shit. On the other side of the place is the little bar, ya know?”

  “Yeah. Over past the pool tables, back from the dance floor a ways kind of in the corner.”

  “Only one bartender works there. Same guy every night. Walk-up service only, man. No waitresses work off of it, nobody runs a tab. Only three or four stools. Cash and carry. Cats come up, sit down, order a drink, hang around for a couple a minutes, and split. Not very social, ya know?”

  “Really.”

  “I mean, if I owned the crib, man, I wouldn’t even keep that little bar open. The cats over there that shoot pool an’ stuff, mostly use the waitresses from the other two bars. The little one ain’t cost effective. Cost effective is important shit, Crockett. If that bar ain’t sellin’ enough booze to pay its own way, maybe it’s sellin’ somthin’ else.”

  “You ain’t so dumb,” Crockett said.

  Stitch tapped the side of his head. “Kidneys, motherfucker,” he said. “Kidneys.”

  Crockett laughed. “You learning anything else?”

  “I’m just bein’ a good guy, dude. I over tip, I order a lot a booze, man. Mosta which gets poured on the floor when nobody’s lookin’. I buy cats an’ chicks drinks. Got some ladies givin’ me the eye an’ shit. Now that I got a crib, I may hafta do somethin’ about that, ya know?”

  “Whatever you think is necessary,” Crockett said.

  “Speakin’ a chicks, you got a gal named Sheila Graham on your list, man?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “She’s like a floor walker, ya know? Checks up on the bartenders an’ waitresses an’ shit. Always kinda out there on the edge a things, watchin’ stuff. Sits at a open table now an’ then, but not for very long. She’s some kinda management or somethin’. Around forty, blond, ‘bout five-nine, well preserved. I bought her a drink last night. Scotch an’ soda. Knocked that fucker back like she was in a hurry. Jawed a while, then took off. She’s curious about me. I don’t exactly fit the mold, dude.”

  “No!”

  Stitch grinned. “I figure if I’m a enigma, man, folks are gonna want to know more. The more they want to know about me, the more they’ll tell me about other stuff, lookin’ for some quid pro quo action. It’s getting’ around that I got money, dude. When it gets out that I got a helo, man, my stock is gonna climb. Somebody like ol’ Shelia is gonna want to know more. Chicks like her find a way. You guys goin’ to the club tonight?”

  “Probably. Satin wants to try out her new cowgirl outfit.”

  “Far out. Maybe I’ll ask her to do the boogie. Takes balls to dance with a cop’s squeeze, man.”

  “Takes balls to live with one, too,” Crockett said.

  *****

  The customary parking space and table were waiting when they arrived at the club. Satin was wearing her new outfit and looking exceptionally charming. Shelly was on hand immediately.

  “Hey, you two,” she said, putting two bottles of Guinness on the tiny table. “Burgers and fries tonight?”

  “Shrimp for me, I think, sweetie,” Satin said. “You doing okay?”

  “Great,” Shelly said. “You look terrific.”

  “Thank you.”

  Shelly turned to Crockett. “How ‘bout you, officer,” she asked.

  “I look terrific, too,” Crockett said.

  “Yes, you do. Would you care to dine?”

  “Chicken fingers,” Crockett said. “How’s the crowd?”

  “Ready to have fun. Got a good band tonight. Rustler’s Revenge out of Denver.”

  “Who’s Shelia Graham?”

  Shelly looked a little startled. “Ah, she’s the new floor manager. Only been here about two weeks. Came in from one of the other clubs. Brought a couple of waitresses with her.”

  “She here tonight?”

  “Uh-huh. Blonde, tall, royal blue shirt, light blue jeans. She’s not on the floor right now, I don’t think.”

  “Thanks, Shelly.”

  “Aren’t you gonna ask me if I’m dancing tonight?”

  “Hey, Shelly. You dancing tonight?”

  “Brand new red panties with white ruffles, just for you. Don’t tell your wife.”

  Crockett grinned. “Not a word,” he said. Shelly giggled and scooted away.

  Satin peered at him. “I got ruffles on my shirt and my new skirt,” she said.

  “But what about your panties?”

  “What if I said I wasn’t wearing any?”

  Crockett smiled. “I’d say that Stitch is having a bad effect on you.”

  *****

  As usual, Satin hit the floor with her customary line-dance addiction. Crockett was watching her as a woman took a seat at his table.

  “Shelia Graham,” she said.

  Crockett,” he replied, and shook her offered hand.

  She smiled. “I hear you’re sort of our guardian angel around here.”

  Crockett smiled back. “I find the term ‘angel’ a little pretentious. Saint will do nicely. I hear you’re the new floor boss.”

  “I find the term ‘boss’ a little harsh,” she said. “Manager will do nicely.”

  “Manager it is,” Crockett said. “Nice to meet you, Shelia.”

  “Likewise, Crockett. I also hear that you don’t accept gratuities.”

  “Not true. I’m into this place for about three cups of coffee a week.”

  “As I understand it, there have been a couple of incidents here that might have gotten out of hand had it not been for you and what you’ve done. No strings attached, no gratuity offered. Just appreciation for a professional doing his job. You work for the county, don’t you?”

  “I hold a county police commission, yes.”

  “Always glad to have you here,” Shelia went on, standing up. “You’ve done a lot for us. The least we can do is be grateful.”

  Crockett smiled. “Thank you, Shelia. That’s the most you can do, too.”

  “Understood,” she said, and walked away.

  *****

  “Who was that?” Satin asked when she returned to the table.

  “That was Shelia Graham.”

  “The one that Shelly was talking about?”

  “Yeah. Stitch told me about her first.”

  “What’d she want?”

  “To feel me out. See if I was a straight arrow. See if what she’d heard about me could be true.”

  “Ah. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  “You’re pretty smart for a girl.”

  Satin preened. “Especially in comparison to you,” she said.

  Crockett laughed. “If Danni was still around, I’d send her in undercover.”

  “Stitch would like that,” Satin replied. “Hell, so would she.”

  “You being a mom?”

  “No. I told you before that I had no problem with those two. I still don’t. Besides, you don’t need Danni. It seems like Shelly is sorta on your side anyway.”

  “Shelly is on Shelly’s side. I just happen to fit in.”

  “You suspicious by nature or just paranoid, Crockett?”

  “I’m suspicious by habit. I’m paranoid by choice. I just don’t know if I’m paranoid enough.”

  Later in the evening, Stitch danced one two-step with Satin, making small talk and keeping things light. When they left around eleven, Satin noticed him standing near the bar as he talked with a young woman who seemed prone to tossing her hair and laughing. She mentioned it to Crockett.

  “Ah, Deputy Winkler,” Crockett said. “No sacrifice too great.”

  *****

  At around nine the next morning, Crockett’s phone rang as he sat on the deck scratching Dundee’s ears.

  “Hello?”

  “Why doan you cats come on over, man? Peach pancakes with real m
aple syrup an’ fried pork loin. Be ready in about a hour or less.”

  “Wow. Ah, great. I don’t know if Satin’s up yet, but she will be real quick. See ya.”

  As Crockett disconnected, Satin schlepped out onto the porch in her ratty chenille robe, clutching a cup of coffee. Crockett eyeballed her.

  “Brush your teeth, flatten down your hair, and get dressed,” he said.

  Satin looked confused. “What?”

  “We have been invited to Stitch’s place for a delicious country breakfast of pancakes and pork.”

  “Now?”

  “It’s morning,” Crockett went on. “Morning and breakfast have long been known to occupy the same time of day.”

  “I just got up.”

  “I can see that. Breakfast in less than an hour. Hustle up. I wanna leave in about thirty minutes. C’mon. It’ll give the hippie a chance to use three of his four plates.”

  “Oh, hell,” Satin muttered, and staggered back inside.

  Crockett grinned and went down to feed the bluegill. They were getting bigger.

  *****

  Forty-five minutes later they pulled the pontoon boat up beside Stitch’s new dock, and walked up the slope. He met them at the door.

  “Mornin’, dudes,” he said. “Welcome to my, like, crib, ya know?”

  *****

  They broke fast from TV trays while perched on the edge of recliners.

  “Maybe I should, like, get a table or somethin’ huh?” Stitch said.

  “It would be a little more convenient for guests,” Satin told him.

  “Yeah. I wanted you guys to be my first, like, visitors, but that didn’t happen.”