Whenever Homer yelled, “Let’s go get ‘em!” Darrel recognized it was code for leaving the office to grab an oversized breakfast at the local Rosa’s diner.
Sarah was the first person callers spoke with before she connected them to the detectives, and she always made detailed notes. She was empathetic with the victims, especially the whimpering, panicked women who reached out to the police for protection against a drunk, ranting husband, or lover. Sarah would promise these callers that an officer would be there shortly. Sometimes that happened, but most often Homer and Darrel ignored the domestic violence requests. They figured time would take care of the “mean bastard” and he’d sleep it off. Abused women were mostly a waste of time for law enforcement. The detectives also hated any Jews, despised the black part of town, and mostly ignored anyone they considered “white trash.”
They snickered when an Indian-owned convenience store was robbed one time. Unless there was physical harm done to the proprietor or customers, calls from minority communities went unaddressed. Blacks were often pinned with any petty thefts such as stolen hubcaps or missing bicycles. Residents of Montague County mostly fended for themselves or asked for a neighbor’s assistance. Homer’s family was longtime friends with the elected county sheriff, Will Townsend, and felt certain any transgressions would be overlooked.
Rural sheriffs are typically the most powerful individuals in the county. They can incarcerate virtually at will and often dole out favors with the same fervor. Sheriff Will was a popular lawman because the crime rate for Montague County was practically absent, except for an occasional pot-head committing petty theft or a drunk roughhousing a buddy or his wife. Two detectives for such a sparse population wasn’t unusual. If Sheriff Will felt two men were all that was needed to investigate crimes in his county, no one would question him.
Homer was a regular at the local diner, Darrel often in tow. Rosa’s diner and gas station was the hub of local gossip, and citizens enjoyed rehashing crimes over hotcakes and biscuits and gravy. Nothing upset Homer more than being interrupted at a meal by a call from headquarters spelling out the latest misdeed. If a black was involved, Homer would make sure he had his Billy club handy and take Darrel to assist in the likely case that Homer would end up beating the suspect.
Homer’s pals back at Rosa’s would compliment Homer on his work when he returned to finish eating, commenting on how efficient Homer and Darrel were at keeping the peace. To Homer, investigating a crime was simply pinning someone with the misdeed and then beating out an admission of someone—guilt or innocence was unimportant.
Sarah learned the office routine quickly. Around 10:00 every morning, the two detectives would enter the back door, grab a cup of stale coffee, and question Sarah on any calls that might demand their attention. Most often, Sarah had already handled the situation. Afterward, the men spent the morning chatting—Homer smoking a cigar, often a good one he was given or had confiscated, and Darrel working on a pack of Camel straights.
Although disgusted with the men’s attitude and demeanor, Sarah was fascinated with the crimes they so lightly dismissed. A crackhead cashing his grandmother’s social security check; a worthless, unemployed child abuser reported by his neighbors; or a bar brawl from the night before ending in someone hospitalized and a demolished business.
Sarah often fantasized that she could stop these incidents if she was allowed a gun. A gun was a great equalizer in difficult situations.
Sarah particularly hated the abusers. “I’d show them,” she’d think. “Damn bullies.” She prayed for Jesus to take the hatred from her heart, but her resentment of thugs in power would not leave her.
Weekends were a flurry of housework and cooking for Sarah. She’d promised Pete she’d take care of the house just as she did before she entered the workforce. Pete had been even more critical of her homemaking and cooking skills since she was employed. Often spitting out her meatloaf or angrily pushing away her chicken-fried pan steak, he’d complain that a man should never have to eat such trash. However, Pete also seemed to like the extra money in the Sears budget.
One Saturday night Pete and Sarah were eating dinner when the wall phone’s ring jarred their silence.
“Answer the damned thing,” Pete demanded. Sarah ran to catch the next ring.
“Yes,” Sarah was listening intently to the other end. “Okay, I’ll make sure,” she assured the caller. “I’ll be down tomorrow afternoon,” Sarah said and hung up the phone.
Sitting back down with Pete, Sarah announced that Homer had keeled over at Rosa’s diner earlier that day. “He died at Memorial Hospital about an hour ago,” she told Pete. “A heart attack they said.”
“Why are they calling to tell you?” Pete inquired, anger in his voice.
“Homer’s nephew, Darrel, is the assistant investigator. He wants me to handle the funeral, call all Homer’s relatives, and make sure the county employees hear the news,” Sarah explained. She was calm and factual. “I guess Homer’s wife is in no shape to handle anything.”
“Why that fat old broad probably couldn’t get out of her chair to call anybody,” Pete snapped. “I hated that man anyway, always driving his county patrol car, chewing on a cigar. Fat bastard deserved to die.” Pete sopped a bite of steak in the cream gravy and stuffed it in his mouth.
“I told Darrel I’d come down to the office tomorrow afternoon and get everything organized,” said Sarah.
“Of course, you did,” Pete said with a mouthful of food. “Miss Efficiency. Miss Pleaser. Miss Do Good.” Pete taunted his wife relentlessly. “Why don’t you try to please your old man?”
Peter continued chewing and rattling his fork on the plate just to upset Sarah. She realized how much she hated this man but worried God was reading her mind. “I’m sorry, God,” she thought. “I’ll try to remember the good things about him.”
The night brought crazy dreams again. Sarah pulling a gun and shooting Homer in his fat stomach; blood spurting out of his bulbous abdomen; and Homer’s eyes bulging when he realized his time had come. Sarah imagined both the blacks and the white trash townspeople congratulating her at a 4th of July parade. Sarah Sears, their hero.
Sarah felt smug and happy that Home, the town bully, was dead. And she had done the deed. Just like Wonder Woman. Jolted awake by the noise of her husband’s snoring, she realized it was only a dream, one of many she’d had since joining the sheriff’s department. She dismissed the nightly fantasy and readied herself for the day’s work informing everyone she could that Homer Wilson was dead.
The funeral was smaller than expected. In attendance were the county sheriff, a few neighboring county lawmen, Homer’s immediate family, and a cadre of white supremacists angling for a fight with any blacks who might show up nearby to celebrate Homer’s death. Darrel fidgeted in his pew, and he glanced around many times during the service. He knew his job could be on the line because Homer had shielded his inept performance for many years.
The funeral service was over quickly, and a few cars waited in line for the casket and the pallbearers to leave the chapel for the cemetery. Sarah looked professional wearing the black suit she’d bought on sale a few weeks earlier. “Why do I need a black suit?” she’d asked herself at the time. She now knew it was God’s plan, as was everything in life.
The next day was Wednesday, and the morning was spent back at work as usual. Sarah handled the phone lines and typed reports.
Darrel came in early around 8:30 reeking of stale beer and sporting a scruffy beard. He probably had not shaved since Saturday, Sarah assumed.
“Will Townsend is here to see you,” Sarah said to him. Will officed at the courthouse, not with his county staff, but he was stationed at Homer’s desk this morning. Darrel was shocked to see his boss sitting in Homer’s old chair.
“Darrel, this department is going to need you to step up and take Homer’s place,” Will announced, staring at the assistant investigator. “I’m afraid to post this job, as it might get attention fro
m the state office. They’ve been wanting me to cut staff. If I cut out a job, I’ll never get it back.” Will knew how to play the government’s game.
“Do you know anyone you trust to take your job so you can move into the lead investigator role?” Will was pursuing his plan not to make any waves in his personnel. Darrel looked at Sarah, who was standing next to his desk.
“Yes,” Darrel said, seemingly more assured. “Meet Sarah Sears, this woman right here.”
Sarah slightly gasped, muffling her surprise.
Will did not react. “A woman?” he said and raised an eyebrow.
Darrel continued, “Sarah handles most of the phone calls around here anyway and really understands the law.” Sarah was stunned that Darrel was promoting her in front of the sheriff.
“Might look good to have a woman, now that I think about it,” Will said, as much to himself as to Darrel and Sarah. “I’d be seen as progressive. Austin likes that.” Austin was the state capital and the seat of government for Texas.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Sarah thought, reeling in shock. “Me. An investigator!” She tried to maintain her cool and simply nodded her head toward both men in agreement.
“What do you think, Sarah?” Will asked her.
She regained her composure and said, “ I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Okay, then,” the sheriff said and stood up from Homer’s chair. “Let’s give it a try. Don’t let us down,” he warned. “There’s always gotta be a first.”
He shook her hand and announced that he’d be back later to swear her in. Darrel and Ruby would serve as witnesses.
Sarah floated through the rest of her day, not believing she’d just been handed a job as an assistant investigator. She’d be given a state-owned official vehicle, a badge to wear on a uniformed shirt, and a state-issued handgun. These symbols of power aroused Sarah, and she continually glanced out the window eyeing the unmarked Ford that might become hers during the work week.
Darrel, meanwhile, sat in Homer’s office all morning, half-pouting and half-smug. He was the new chief investigator, and Sarah Sears, his assistant investigator, could now do all his work. Nothing would have to change. Truth be told, he had grown tired of Homer being his boss, and now he was the boss. He reached in Homer’s desk drawer and pinned on his bigger badge. Chest out and hand on his revolver, Darrel smiled at Sarah and went outside to get in his new state-owned Ford. Darrel was off to Rosa’s diner.
That afternoon, Will returned and announced that his supervisor in Austin had hesitatingly agreed to try this experiment using a woman in a traditionally male role. He had warned Will that this better work and there better be no whining, crying, or complaining from her. Sarah smiled as Will relayed this information, but not too wide.
Oath taken, gun issued, and car keys delivered, Sarah was to stay at her current desk until another office clerk could be hired. Will would not allow a public job posting for Sarah’s old position, again wanting to fly under the radar screen. Sarah was to find her replacement without fanfare.
No crimes were reported that day, and Sarah typed reports as usual, laying her Colt .45 beside her in case she was summoned. Sarah felt a strange power, much like her dream had foretold. It was as if God had transformed her into a real Wonder Woman. Sarah Sears had a mission now; crime would not be allowed to go free. Like the Old Testament offered, it would be an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth in this county. Montague County would not be the devil’s workshop any longer. Sarah Sears was to be feared by criminals and cheered by God’s people.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she said softly, smiling as she packed up to go home and tell Pete the incredible news.
Sarah prevented any sour thoughts of Pete’s reaction from invading her psyche. Somehow she’d convince him that if she was to work, she should try to make as much money as possible. This would be a second raise within a year of her employment. Of course, she’d never bring her achievements up to Pete; he’d likely slap her around for bragging. She’d downplay her promotion and gently mention getting her own car to drive. Sarah knew this entire scenario was fraught with danger. Pete’s reactions were often inconsistent and hard to predetermine. But she had to let him know. Surprises were not allowed in the Sears household.
Dinner was the best time for discussions, and most often it was the only time to approach Pete when he wasn’t already agitated by something else. Sarah was ready for flying dishes, a man’s fist, or verbal abuse.
However, her newfound power began to well up in her body and mind.
“Will Townsend came over to the office today and asked Darrel to do Homer’s old job,” Sarah said flatly as they finished eating.
“Oh, another blind pig sucking up our taxes,” Pete snarled. Sarah was silent.
“Darrel asked me to help him in the investigator’s department,” she stated flatly again. She held her eyes down away from Pete’s.
“La tee da,” Pete mocked. “So you’re going to catch Alcatraz criminals in Montague County? How stupid. You and stupid Darrel, what a waste of taxpayer money.”
Sarah sat motionless waiting for an eruption.
“Does this mean more money?” he inquired, almost civil.
Sarah answered, “For sure. It’s a little more.” She sat quiet again, nervous.
“Whatever,” Pete said and acted disgusted. “One thing, bitch. No shrugging off your duties as a wife and a woman. This house better be clean, and you better not get uppity with me. I’ll beat the hell out of you.”
Silence befell the rest of the meal. Pete stared at Sarah when he finished eating, and he left the table without a word and without a tantrum. Sarah was relieved.
On Thursday morning, Sarah Sears reported for duty officially as Assistant Investigator for Montague County, Texas. She was ready for anything. God had a plan, and Sarah was his willing messenger.
***
The long, hot Texas summers seemed to mimic Satan’s fiery hell and brought out people’s demons. Summer typically saw crime rates increase, and even Montague County’s rural population turned mean when the days and nights scorched the earth and stifled their breaths.
The phone rang more often in the sheriff’s department, keeping Sarah and Ruby busy manning the calls.
Johnny stopped by Sarah’s office to congratulate her. He had just been promoted himself and would soon be the assistant sheriff in Gainesville, Texas. “Hey, Sarah,” he said and smiled, spotting Sarah at the reception desk. “First, congratulations, and second, when are you getting out from behind that desk?”
“I will,” Sarah answered and smiled back, careful to never appear flirty. “Just as soon as I find someone to replace me.”
“Oh yeah,” Johnny said. “I meant to mention that. My cousin’s son is 21 and needs a job. Zach is a good kid, but he’s not college material. All he really likes to do is look at his damned television and watch crime movies.”
Sarah raised her eyebrow, wondering where this conversation was going. Zach sounded like a loser, among the many losers she already knew. Johnny continued, “He’s really smart, but just kind of weird. He likes men.”
“You got something against homos?” he asked in a lowered voice.
“Not really,” Sarah said, hesitant.
Johnny continued, “You know, the sheriff doesn’t want to post this job. Austin just waits for us to have an opening so they can freeze hiring. It’s best to get the position filled right away.”
Sarah nodded.
He continued, “Will you interview Zach? It would really help him and his parents for him to get a job.”
“Sure,” Sarah agreed, unsure where this conversation was going. “Monday okay?”
Johnny seemed glad she’d agreed to meet Zach. “Consider it a favor,” Johnny said quietly and moved toward the front door.
“Johnny,” Sarah said. “ I really want to thank you for helping me get this job.”
“No problem,” he said. “What are friends for?”
&
nbsp; Monday morning marked Sarah’s first full week in her new role. The weekend had been tense as Pete took turns pouting and snapping at Sarah. She had fortunately evaded his hand and felt grateful to endure only his verbal outrage instead.
Sarah pulled up the driveway of the office and parked her new state car in the back parking lot. Johnny pulled in beside her, a young man sitting in the front seat beside him.
“Sarah Sears, meet Zach Turner.” Johnny was happy to introduce the two. Sarah was slightly embarrassed and felt suddenly unworthy of her powerful position. She hoped this young man didn’t think she was uppity.
“Hi Zach,” Sarah said and smiled. Zach smiled back. “What a pleasant young man,” Sarah thought. Although Zach was too skinny, he was good-looking with some feminine aspects.
The interview went well between Sarah and Zach. They bonded over a cup of coffee in the office kitchen while Sarah explained her old job to him. Sarah was anxious to get started reading all the criminal files and wanted to learn everything possible about the professional thugs who repeatedly broke the laws. Determined to be the best investigator ever in Montague County, Sarah agreed to recommend Zach for the front office job.
“A goddamned fag working in the sheriff’s department?” Will would later exclaim, aghast at the idea initially when Sarah told him about the new hire. Then Will sat quietly and after a few minutes said, “What the hell? A homo should sit well with Austin. If you want to try him out, okay. But make sure he doesn’t want to fuck the prisoners.”
“Yes, sir,” Sarah said. Sarah hid her surprise that Will would use such foul language. She’d heard much worse from her husband, but somehow felt the county sheriff would be more professional.
Zach seemed happy he was going to work and thanked Sarah for her support. “You won’t be sorry. I’ll be totally supportive of you. We can be friends,” he promised her.
Sarah didn’t know what to say about this comment.
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