“Could have been a pimp involved, and he set Cathy up."
“Okay. I think we have enough. Let's get back to the room, type up the report and head back to Raleigh. With any luck we can be home for supper."
“I wish there were some way we could get Dilson off the hook. We could have if he hadn't written those damned love notes."
“Do you think Mrs. Dollar really burned those photographs?"
“She said she did, so their whereabouts are no longer a mystery. Why would she want to keep them? They were not exactly the kind of photographs one would want to show to the grandkids."
They chuckled and Potts increased his speed to seventy on the fifty-five mile an hour limit road.
“Ralph, do you think they will ever find the shooter?"
“Could be. If the shooter is smart, they won't. These cases have a way of solving themselves, though. The revolver may turn up with fingerprints. The whore may someday spill her guts in a plea bargain attempt. Or, if it was some salesman who panicked, he might just walk into the sheriff's office and confess out of pure remorse."
“At any rate, it isn't our problem anymore."
* * * *
Tim and Sandra sat at the breakfast room table, eating turkey sandwiches for lunch. “How many times,” Sandra asked, “have we thought it was over? Do you think it is really over now, Tim?"
“I don't know, Dudette. I hope so. It's really rough on you, isn't it?” He smiled gently at her.
“It's rough on you too,” she replied. “That's what bothers me the most. One of these days, you are going to have enough and kick me out."
“Do you want to get married?"
“Where did that come from, Dude?"
“Sandy, I can make speeches to anybody and everybody but you. Somehow, I have trouble saying what I really feel to you. I've told you I love you, and that's something I didn't think I would ever say again to anyone. I've made you a part of my life, such as it is, and you've jumped on that. I know I haven't told you that I need you, but I do. I would never think of throwing you out, Sandy, but I love you enough to let you go if you should ever want to."
Tears welled up in Sandra's eyes. “That's the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me, Tim. It was a hell of a speech."
“Anyway,” he continued. “You seem to feel insecure in our current relationship. I thought you might feel better—more confident of the future—if we were married."
What Sandra did not hear Tim say was that he wanted to marry her. She did not immediately reply; hoping the words would follow. When they didn't, she said, “Marriage is no more secure than our special relationship, Tim. It's just about as easy to get a divorce as it is to get married."
“Hang in there, Sandy. I really do need you. I admit that at first, I wanted to get rid of you, but if you think back to the instant we met, we've made a lot of progress. It's been a joint effort. Sure, you've done some things on your own, and so have I, but even while going our own ways, we have leaned on each other. We make a good team, Dudette. There is no way I am going to get rid of my partner."
Sandra stood up, went to him, leaned over and pressed her lips to his. He fondled her breasts.
“Want to go to bed?” she asked.
“Not in the middle of the afternoon,” he replied with a mock expression of shock in his tone.
She drew back, pretending to pout, and he stood up, wrapping his strong arms around her.
“What's wrong with the breakfast room table?” he grinned.
* * * *
Sandra stood in the back of the bookstore, holding a copy of the New Jerusalem Bible. Tim was also in Charlotte inspecting the renovation of his rental houses. Earlier, when they showered together, he invited her to accompany him. She declined, saying she wanted to work on her novel. She tried, but words would not come. The two hours of questioning by the SBI agents that morning unnerved her. She remembered her conversation with Mack McGee and decided this was a good time to begin keeping her promise to the preacher.
There was only one copy of the New Jerusalem Bible available. It was expensive, but also beautiful. The cover was made of black padded leather with gold embossing. The thin India pages, edged in gold, contained small but distinct and easy to read print. There were two sewed-in red ribbons to use as bookmarks. Sandra felt slightly embarrassed by her lack of biblical knowledge. She had no idea where to find the Gospel of John. She turned the first few pages until she found the Table of Contents and was comforted to see this edition of the Bible contained explanatory notes, and introductions to various sections. She also found that the section for which she was looking began on page 1744 in the New Testament.
She began to read:
In the beginning was the Word:
the Word was with God
and the Word was God.
He was with God in the beginning.
Through him all things came into
being,
not one thing came into being
except through him.
What has come into being in him was
life,
life that was the light of men;
and light shines in darkness,
and darkness could not overpower
it.
A man came, sent by God.
His name was John.
He came as a witness,
to bear witness to the light,
so that everyone might believe
through him.
He was not the light,
he was to bear witness to the
light.
The Word was the real light
that gives light to everyone;
he was coming into the world.
He was in the world
that had come into being through
him,
and the world did not recognize
him.
He came to his own
and his own people did not accept
him.
But to those who did accept him
he gave power to become children of
God,
to those who believed in his name
who were born not from human stock
or human desire
or human will
but from God himself.
The Word became flesh,
he lived among us,
and we saw his glory,
the glory that he has from the
Father as only Son of the Father,
full of grace and truth.
John witnesses to him. He
proclaims:
'This is the one of whom I said:
He who comes after me
has passed ahead of me
because he existed before me.'
Indeed, from his fullness we have,
all of us, received -
one gift replacing another,
for the Law was given through
Moses,
grace and truth have come through
Jesus Christ.
No one has ever seen God;
it is the only Son, who is close to
the Father's heart,
who has made him known.
Mack, she thought as she approached the checkout counter, you are going to have to preach some good sermons for me to understand your Gospel of John.
During dinner that night, Sandra told Tim about her conversation with Mack on Sunday, and of her promise to read the Gospel of John. She explained that she went to Charlotte during the afternoon, purchased a copy of the New Jerusalem Bible, and that she didn't understand much of the first chapter.
“Dudette,” Tim said. “I haven't read from the Bible in years, but back when I was in High School I used to read a little bit every night. I don't want to impose, but would you like for us to read this gospel together? I might be able to answer some of your questions."
Sandra retrieved her new Bible from the library and returned to the table.
Chapter Sixteen
“Pretty L
ady,” Tim said as he cut into the two fried eggs on his breakfast plate, “I need your help again."
“Compliments will get you everywhere,” she replied. “I'm riding a cotton pony today and I'm afraid I don't feel very pretty."
“You're riding a what?"
“Think about it."
“Oh."
“What do you need help with, Dude?"
“I tried several times to write a letter to the editor to go in Thursday's Courier. I just can't make it come out the way I want it. The meeting Saturday night is important to me, but I don't want our neighbors to think that I am trying to ram anything down their throats."
“Are you?"
“Are I what?” he grinned, intentionally using incorrect English.
“Are you trying to ram something down their throats but don't want them to know it?"
“No,” Tim protested. “You know how I am about plans. What we plan to do, certainly as it pertains to business, is largely dependent on what the town plans to do. If they are satisfied with the status quo, that's fine and we can plan accordingly. But if they want to reverse the way things are going, then it will be in our best interest to help in any way we can."
“Is that your letter?” Sandra asked, reaching for the file folder he had brought to the table.
“Yes, or at least it is the part I have written so far."
Sandra read the three page single-spaced document as she continued to eat with Tim looking on anxiously.
“Is what you told me really what you mean?"
“Why would I lie about it?” Tim asked with a bit of frustration in his voice.
“I'm not suggesting that you lied to me,” she laughed. “I'm asking if you are sure about it in your own mind. The main thing you want from this meeting is to see what the people think about the future of Dot."
“Of course it is."
“Well, that's not what your letter seems to say. For instance, you state that Dot needs a paid fire department, a clinic, a police department, a park, and a library. For God's sake Tim, you even state Dot needs to incorporate and levy taxes to pay for all of these needs. These are things that you think need to be done, not necessarily what our neighbors think."
“I told you I needed your help,” he responded apologetically.
“And I shall give it, kind sir. I'll write a draft while you are doing the breakfast dishes."
“Deal,” he agreed.
* * * *
Diane Sizemore printed and distributed flyers advertising the town meeting on Tuesday morning. That afternoon she placed a letter in the mail from the Pulpit Committee to all Dot Baptist Church members. The committee recommended that Mack McGee be extended an offer to become their new pastor at a salary of $40,000 plus the use of the pastorium, which she explained was the Baptist word for parsonage. Discussion and voting on the recommendation would take place following the Sunday morning worship service.
The news of the church business meeting made the front page of the week's edition of the Courier, as did an editorial encouraging all readers to pay careful attention to a letter on page three from Timothy Dollar. The editorial strongly encouraged everyone with any interest at all in the future of the community to be present. The newspaper highlighted Sandra's letter, signed by Tim, with a border of exclamation points.
Just a few short weeks ago, I came to Dot with the intention of collecting my inheritance and moving on to parts unknown. The wonderful, friendly people of Dot quickly changed my mind. Both Sandy and I have fallen in love with this community. We plan to stay here the rest of our lives. We want to do what we can to become good citizens of Dot.
Our community has much to commend itself: excellent businesses, a wonderful doctor, a fine weekly newspaper and an outstanding volunteer fire department and rescue squad, to name just a few. More good things are on the horizon. The church will meet Sunday to select a new pastor, and a very outstanding young lady is seriously considering taking over the law practice of recently retired Silas Coan.
There are some unfortunate things happening in Dot as well. From its beginning the economy of the community depended on the growing of tobacco and its sale in two now defunct auction warehouses. The market for tobacco is disappearing and because of this economic disaster, people have moved out of the community and more are certain to follow. If the population continues to decline, how can our local businesses continue to operate? How can our professional people afford stay with us?
Surely, every reader of this letter has thought about this problem. Now it's time to get together and pool our ideas, decide what, if anything, we want to do, and how best to do it. While we have our thinking caps on, I would like for us to think of other opportunities that could lie in our future.
Some of the things that have come to my mind include a medical clinic, remodeled buildings, perhaps two or three paid full-time firemen, increased funding for our volunteer fire department and rescue squad, a school, some forms of entertainment, a park, a library, street lights, law enforcement, a water system, a sewer system and trash disposal.
What are some of the things on your mind? Please come to the town meeting at the church this Saturday night at 7:00 p.m. Let's decide together if we are happy with things the way they are or if we want to work together to make Dot an even better place in which to live.
* * * *
The Sheriff's Review Board with all twenty-one members present as well as the County Manager and County Attorney sat somber-faced around the large, imitation mahogany, conference table. Each participant was provided with a glass of water, a small legal pad, a pencil, an ash tray and a copy of the State Bureau of Investigation report on the circumstances surrounding the death of Deputy Cathy Long, the disappearance of evidence from the sheriff's office, the sexual harassment charges against Sheriff Matt Dilson, and the wreck of the spider car owned by the Sheriff's Department.
Bradley Shoemaker, the chairman of the review board and a leading Charlotte attorney, spoke first.
“You've all had time to study the report. It seems to me that the key factors for our consideration are as follows.” He glanced at his notes. “Deputy Long was a drug addict who apparently devised several illegal sources of income to pay for her habit. Her death by a party or parties unknown was the result of an illegal scam on her part that went wrong. Her sexual harassment charge against Matt Dilson was another attempt by Deputy Long to acquire income to pay for her addiction. While clearly not guilty of sexual harassment, Sheriff Dilson is guilty of inappropriate behavior. The SBI has determined that Dilson intentionally wrecked the spider car in a suicide attempt. The missing evidence, photographs I understand, has been determined by the SBI to be of no value to any present or pending case and they have been destroyed."
Shoemaker paused for a sip of water. Committee member Brenda Ware said, “In the matter of Deputy Long, it has already been announced to the press that she was killed in the line of duty. I see no reason to make any correction to that release unless forced to do so by media inquiry. To unnecessarily release the result of the SBI investigation at this time would tend to undermine public confidence in the department."
“Does anyone have an additional comment or differing opinion?” asked Shoemaker. “Hearing no opposition we will adopt silence as our policy by consensus opinion. The matter involving the Sheriff is more complicated, I think. Comments?"
Three people began to speak simultaneously, then paused.
“Bob, you first,” said Shoemaker.
Robert Summers was one of nine black members of the Committee, a shoe repairman by trade. “As I understand it, Dilson was fired because of his inappropriate behavior. Undoubtedly that led to his suicide attempt. However, there has been no public disclosure of the dismissal. I am not clear on the reason for this."
“It was felt,” the County Attorney volunteered, “that we might want to reconsider after learning the facts surrounding the death of Deputy Long."
“The man is clearly guilty of inappropriate behav
ior,” Summers continued. “His dismissal must stand. However, in view of his effective record as Sheriff of Mecklenburg County, I recommend we continue his salary and benefits for eighteen months, at which time the dismissal can be made on the grounds of medical disability."
“You can't fire a man for medical disability,” said the County Attorney. “You can retire him, but not fire him."
A lengthy debate erupted with tempers flaring frequently. Dilson, whether or not he survived, would have extensive medical expenses. If they officially fired him, his medical insurance coverage would end. On the other hand, to retire him on medical disability would cost the county a considerable sum of money. In addition to this, no one knew at this point whether or not Matt would survive and, if so, whether or not his injuries would result in permanent disability.
On a split vote, the group narrowly decided to continue the investigation until Dilson's major medical costs were paid, and then dismiss him on the inappropriate behavior charge. Sergeant Masterson was named acting Sheriff and the County Manager was given the responsibility of informing Dilson of the group's action if and when he regained consciousness.
* * * *
During the meeting of the Sheriff's Review Board, Matt Dilson, heavily bandaged and with both legs and his left arm in casts, was being slowly fed a bowl of chicken broth, having regained consciousness just hours earlier.
* * * *
“Victoria,” said Susan Honneycutt, “I am getting very excited about having my own practice, but going through Mr. Coan's files and records is a bit discouraging. The only client on retainer is Tim Dollar. I don't see how I can make a living here."
“At one time, Mr. Coan enjoyed a large practice, Miss Honneycutt, but as he grew older, he tended to reduce his work load while relying more and more heavily on income from his investments. We do have some contacts with major firms in Charlotte from whom Mr. Coan used to get referrals. I believe that in time you could do the same. In addition, a big part of Mr. Coan's revenue came from income tax preparation. I believe you could get those clients back without much difficulty and the tax season starts in less than two months."
“How do I do that?” Susan asked innocently.
“I believe the current word is ‘networking.’ Get to know as many people as possible as quickly as possible. Take an active role in the church. Attend professional meetings in Charlotte. Spend every free minute mingling with people in Dot businesses, especially the diner. If I were you, I would attend the town meeting Saturday night. I think something important may come of that and it might prove profitable if you could get in on the ground floor. Also, I know it's a dirty word to you professionals, but it's hard to beat a plain, old-fashioned advertisements in the newspaper."
Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors Page 21