Patience County War (Madeleine Toche Series)

by Soren Petrek

  “Dumb ass kids.”

  “Didn’t you do dumb ass shit when you were a kid?” Swanson asked.

  “When he wasn’t pissing.”

  “Did I ever tell you your wife worships my ass, Mikey?”

  “And yours talks to a mummified lump of shit she keeps in her pocket,” Charlie said as he put Mike in a friendly headlock.

  “She‘s your sister, buddy.”

  Swanson rolled his eyes and shook his head. He’s known these guys forever. They were inseparable and never changed. They seemed happy with their lives; anymore easy going and they’d be inert.

  “I’m glad you guys spend most of your time in the park. Now take off. I’m going to drive over to Sam’s and tell him about this stuff. Who knows what he’ll do. He’s not a big fan of drugs. The last druggy who tried to sell anything but pot here turned up two counties over, covered head to toe in bug bites ranting about wolves and black giants chasing him through the woods.”

  “Must have been sampling his own wares,” Mike said a huge smile on his face. There was only one black giant in Patience, his buddy Nathan.

  “Without a doubt,” Swanson said.

  “Yep, no crime in Patience.”

  “Fantastic,” Swanson said, as he walked back towards his car.

  Deputy Swanson opened his car door just as Sam came out of his house and onto the porch.

  “Sam, I’ve got something here you’ll want to see. We just found it near an accident scene. Two girls plowed into Mike and Charlie out by the state park road. I think one of them must have tossed this to the side.”

  “Who had this?” Sam said to his deputy when Swanson handed over the plastic bag containing the pipe and scrap of tin-foil. He was so angry that his hand was shaking as he held it. Swanson had seen Sam come unglued a couple of times. Only one rule when that happened: get out of the way!

  “We think Janice Marty and Patty Pitcher.”

  “Those two are thick as thieves. They should know better. Why can’t kids just steal their parent’s beer from time to time and leave this stuff alone? I hate this shit!” Sam yelled as he walked around to the back of the squad and opened the trunk tossing the pipe into a plastic evidence box.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your day off, Sam,” Swanson said as he noticed Nathan, Christine and Yves sitting on Sam’s deck.

  “It’s okay,” Sam said, trying to calm down. As Sam walked back towards the deck, Swanson could tell that he was getting agitated. He was just glad that he wasn’t on the other side of that agitation.

  Sam took Christine and Yves back to the restaurant, then drove on to the hospital where the ‘meth girls’, as Sam called them, had been taken. As he drove he remembered the disappointment on Christine’s face when he told her that he had to go to work. She understood though, and asked him to stop by the restaurant later. He couldn’t wait to see her again and it had only been a few minutes.

  Sam jumped into his squad and called Nathan on his cell phone. “Nathan, you busy? We’ve got meth issues again. I’ll be right over to pick you up.”

  Sam and Nathan pulled up to the old hospital where virtually all of Patience had been born. The building was old, but solidly built. Both the local clinic and the emergency room were part of the same building. Critical cases were airlifted to St. Louis from the helicopter pad located on top of the hospital wing. The locals said a little silent prayer to themselves each time they heard the helicopter. It meant that some friend or neighbor was in a bad way.

  Sam and Nathan walked into the emergency room area and up to the front desk, where a gray haired old Doctor stood examining a file while nurses and clerical staff came and went doing the business of the busy facility.

  Squad in the shop, Samson?” old Doctor Parsons said, looking up. “No accidents lately?”

  Nathan jumped right in, pretending to steer a car with his hands over his eyes and smiling, to the immediate joy of the girls behind the counter.

  “All in the pursuit of justice, placing myself bodily on the line to keep the world safe for democracy,” Sam said, spreading his arms.

  “What’s up there, Samson?” the older man said.

  “Just Sam, Doc, please.”

  “I delivered you Samson Trunce and I will call you by your Christian name if I please. And as for you Nathan, I believe I put in an order some time ago. Are you a lazy bootlegger or what?”

  “Doc, I didn’t hear that,” Sam said.

  “I am eighty years old, and was shot at more times than you’ve had hot dinners as a medic saving reckless young men like you during the war. I can and will prescribe whatever medication for myself that I see fit!” Doctor Parsons was at that point in his life where he didn’t care if the Commander in Chief told him he couldn’t have some homemade whiskey.

  Sam raised his hands in mock supplication. “I need a blood draw from those two girls that were just brought in.”

  “I already drew the driver for a tox scan. Accident case you know there Sheriff. What am I going to find?”

  “Methamphetamine, I think.”

  “In a child I delivered? That will not stand!” Dr. Parsons said raising his voice and tossing the file he was reading down in contempt.

  “I plan to nail this one right away. Wherever the supply is coming from, I’m going to burn the bastards down.”

  Doctor Parsons just nodded and laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Any help I can give, Sam.”

  “How long for a lab result?”

  “Week or so,” Doctor Parsons said.

  “Too long. It’s time for the direct approach,” Sam said.

  “Are you going to call their parents first?” Doc Parsons asked.

  “No, I know both of their parents and they’re better off telling me first. We’ll all tell their parents together. I am not going to wait. Besides, I’m not going to prosecute these girls if they cooperate. They got hurt, Mike and Charlie are alright.”

  “You know what’s best, Sam. Call me if you need me.”

  “Let’s go there, Gentle Ben,” Sam said moving back towards the hospital examination rooms.

  “I feel all jittery and my arm hurts like hell. When do you think they’ll tell us we can go?” Janice whined. “It feels like the walls are closing in on us,” Janice said, adjusting her cast in the sling holding her arm immobile.

  “I know what you mean. I want to get out of here, like now. You should ask them for some pain meds and save one for me. That stuff really kicks ass.”

  Just as she spoke the door opened and Sam and Nathan walked in. The room was small enough so that Nathan pretty much took up the available space. He leaned on the examination table and stared at the girls as he picked his teeth with a tooth pick. His teeth looked like an entire accordion keyboard.

  “Girls,” Sam sighed. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “What, sheriff? It was just an accident,” Patty said.

  “Meth pipes, your blood positive for meth, an injured passenger. One, two, three, prison,” Sam continued sitting down onto the examination table.

  “One two three,” Nathan nodded in affirmation. “The old one, two, three: a prison guarantee!”

  “I wasn’t driving,” Janice blurted out.

  “Shut up, Janice.”

  “Show ‘em how to make a shiv out of a spoon, Sam,” Nathan said and made stabbing motions in the air over the girls’ heads. “Can’t send ‘em in with the big bitch without a shiv.”

  “The big bitch?” Patty questioned.

  “Almost as big as Nathan. She loves the tender teenage meat. She runs the women’s prison over at Charity,” Sam said as if he was reading a brochure.

  “She the warden?” Patty asked her voice shaking.

  “Warden! The warden doesn’t actually go to the prison, too dangerous. She more like calls it in and makes sure the food and supplies are pushed through the gate. The big bitch is the main bull, you know, guard. Anyway, you’ll learn all the lingo.” Sam locked eyes with Patty.
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  “You’re just trying to scare us. Kids don’t go to prison.”

  “What are you, seventeen now? You’re almost an adult anyway. I’m sure they’d try you as an adult. Yah, I’d dress like a kid if I were you when I went in front of the judge, he hates druggies.”

  “Sam, you forgot the finger prints,” Nathan said, wagging a sausage-like finger at Sam.

  Both girls were pale and too terrified to cry. Sam knew he’d pushed enough, so he let a little light into their world of misery.

  “Now, I might be able to keep the judge from going, you know, side two when he hears, but I’m going to need a little help.”

  “What do we have to do?” Janice said.

  “I need to know where you got the meth.”

  “You mean narc?” Patty answered.

  “Everyone is the big bitch’s narc, everyone,” Nathan said rolling his eyes around.

  “Henry!” both girls said in unison.

  “Henry the head, old hemp boy?” Sam growled.

  “Don’t tell him we said so,” Patty added.

  Sam looked at the girls and said, “Let me point something out to you. You are seventeen years old and think all adults don’t know anything. All adults were once your age. Do you think people just magically get stupid once they’re over thirty? Are you going to jump off a damn cliff when you’re thirty Patty?”

  “No,” Patty said sliding down in her chair.

  Why not? You’ll just be a stupid, useless old bag.”

  “I don’t think adults are stupid,” Patty murmured.

  “Of course you do. Didn’t any adult ever tell you meth was bad?”

  “In school.”

  “Do you think they told you not to use it so that there would be more for themselves?”

  Both girls shook their heads.

  “You see, believe it or not, you do learn some things as you get older. Adult life is hard work, so don’t spend the last few years of real freedom you have putting Drano into your bodies,” Sam said.

  “Drano?”

  “Drano, Lye, Muriatic acid, matchstick heads, and industrial solvents all that crap are used to make meth. What, you think meth is produced in a high tech lab somewhere? Most meth labs are in places you wouldn’t drive by if you had the choice. Most of the people that sell the shit don’t use it. You know why? Because they’re crooked adults and they’re smarter than you. They’ll take your dumb ass money though.”

  “Are we going to jail now?” Janice said in a small voice.

  “We are going to your house and we are going to talk to your parents. I will be there to make sure you get your story straight. You mess up at all and I hear about it, you will end up in Charity. Never was a place so improperly named.”

  “Are you going to tell anyone else?” Patty said.

  “No, and neither are you. This is between you and me.” Sam stood up and abruptly left the room. Nathan waited a minute and moved towards the door.

  “You have no idea how close you came. By the way, you piss off Sam, you better just go and stay gone. I watched him deck the big bitch once with one punch and then spit on her,” Nathan added.

  “What for?” Janice asked, her eyes darting back and forth.

  “Stepped on his foot. He doesn’t like her much,” Nathan said as he slid through the open door sideways and left.

  “Henry the head. You’ve been too lenient Sam,” Nathan said from the back seat of the squad as they drove out of the hospital parking lot.

  “That’s nice coming from you, Jack Daniels. I swear to god you’re like the Good Humor ice cream man tinkling down the street with your customers following along: “where’s my jug, where’s my jug?”

  “I distill only the best for my customers.”

  “The best lethal, caustic rocket fuel known to man, you mean. After a nuclear war, there’ll be nothing but cockroaches and jugs of that chrome cleaner laying around. Thanks for your help. Despite your obvious faults, I appreciate your helping me grab these idiots from time to time.”

  “Glad to help the man who’s taking me to dinner. By the way, swing by my house. I need to pick something up for the proprietress.” Both men just sniggered and laughed. They had grown up, but remembered when they were full of piss and vinegar and the whole of their lives seemed to lay ahead, catching fish, chasing girls and lions. They’d known it all once, too.

  Carlos stood quietly, waiting for Jose to acknowledge his presence and permit him to speak. This was a new rule and destined to result in pushing Carlos even closer to the edge. He fantasized about Jose’s death frequently now, and the wonderful, almost innumerable ways he could carry it out.

  “Patron, Doc has prepared a quantity of the product,” Carlos said.

  “It is time to move some of it,” Jose answered. “We’ll start small and then build the operation into several labs.”

  Jose was in the middle of piecing together a beautiful Italian Berretta shotgun that he had just taken apart to clean, and was doing just about everything backwards, trying not to appear too frustrated.

  “I would be pleased to do that for you, Patron,” Carlos offered.

  “My uncle always says that a man should handle his own firearms so that he knows them like fine wine or a beautiful woman,” Jose said airily as he idly reached down and stroked his dog’s ears. Lion was in the middle of a snap fest trying to catch a fly as it buzzed around his head. A damn avalanche could fall on that mutt’s head and he’d never know it, Carlos thought.

  “When we are fully operational, then we will distribute our product. Most of it will go to St. Louis, the rest locally. We must build our market and establish our territory.”

  “It might be best not to attract attention in the rural areas where we manufacture, Patron.”

  “I have already begun a modest local distribution. We must build our centers of influence.”

  “I really think…” Carlos interrupted.

  “That is why you are not in charge. You lack the business skill and high intellect for such matters,” Jose snapped dismissively.

  I can snap a simple shotgun together, as well as keep a low profile Carlos thought. I really need reassignment he told himself, not for the first time that day.

  “We will create an epidemic and feed the sickness. I will build an empire and go back to Mexico to take over when my uncle is ready.” Jose had risen and that’s when Carlos noticed the piece of toilet paper stuck to his shoe, trailing behind him, so had the dog. Carlos could see the tension building in the animal. It obviously thought some vicious white creature had attached itself to his master. It would soon be gun time, Carlos decided.

  “I will attend to it immediately,” Carlos said, as he almost ran from the room. Just as he closed the door he heard a wild howl, and in his mind’s eye could picture the dog leaping across the room at the creature attacking his master’s shoe. He cringed as he awaited the gunshot, but none came. When he peeked into the room Jose was holding the gun and looking down into the barrel. He quickly closed the door again and made a silent prayer, which had nothing to do with God preventing an accident.

  “Time to find Henry the Head,” Sam said to three of his deputies sitting around in what Sam liked to call the ready room back at the Sheriff’s station. There was a large map of Patience County on one wall, a conference table and a couple of old couches where most of the discussions took place. A sliding glass window separated the room from the day room.

  “He’s washing dishes at the Fish ‘n Feet over in Jackson,” Lisa called from her desk.

  “The Fish n Feet?” Taylor Marshall said. He was Sam’s new deputy, fresh out of the military and law Enforcement College.

  “It’s really Bob’s Surf ‘n Turf, but about twenty-five years ago, some mobsters dumped some other mobster’s feet off in the dumpster behind the restaurant. The name kind of stuck. Fish isn’t bad, couldn’t tell you about the feet,” Sam said.

  “That’s technically out of our jurisdiction, Sheriff,” Taylor said
.

  “You know, I hate that word. If some clowns are moving meth in Patience, I don’t care where they land. You know hot pursuit,” Sam smiled.

  “How’s that, Sheriff?” Taylor cautiously said. He knew plenty about command structure and when to tread lightly.

  “When Henry sees me coming there’ll be hot pursuit alright. I warned the puke. So what does he do? He sets up shop just inside the next county, sells pot so the cops really don’t give a shit. You try to be nice and it never fails. Maybe my message wasn’t sincere enough before. I’ll have to be more direct.”

  Henry the Head Walker stood in the dumpster enclosure out back behind the restaurant, smoking a roach and a cigarette simultaneously. He wasn’t doing much to hide it. He could have been an escaped convict for all his employer cared, as long as the dishes got done and he kept up.

  “Oh Henry,” Sam called from the other side of the dumpster like a mother calling her kid in for dinner.

  “Shit,” Henry hissed and tossed the smoldering roach into his mouth and almost immediately starting to cough and choke.

  “Let me know when the fire’s out. Take your time,” Sam said sticking his head in between the swinging doors that allowed access for dumping grease and garbage.

  “Why are you harassing me? I’m not doing anything wrong!” Henry wailed.

  “That’s not what a couple of teens over in Patience tell me. Graduated to meth, prison time for Henry,” Sam said sliding through the doors.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sheriff.”

  Sam lifted the lid on a fifty five gallon drum of kitchen grease. “Yummy. Ever slip and accidentally dunk your head into the grease here.”

  “Don’t you touch me, Sheriff. There’s a camera pointing over at the dumpster here,” Henry blurted out nervously.

  “Right now that camera is getting a lovely shot of Nathan’s back. Have you ever stood behind him in a line? It’s like your whole world becomes Nathan’s stinking back. You can’t see around him, under him, over him. He’s a damn billboard, and that’s what the camera sees.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The very next second Henry knew he had made a mistake. Sam took his head and plunged it into the drum. Henry struggled furiously, but he felt like a mouse under a cat’s paw. He was near panic. Panic arrived in the form of the song Sam started to sing.