by Kira Barcelo
On the other hand…Mike had cuddled her that same night. When supper was over, the dishes were done, and they were in bed, he’d lavished both his attention and his love on her.
Maybe he could be an old-fashioned, strict husband when he needed to be. The fact was, she hadn’t felt any less loved while he was paddling her tail as she did when he was making love to her.
Yeah, I think I’ll keep him! she thought, smiling impishly.
Did Sheila O’Brien know about…? If she did, she was too polite to say anything about it. As the owner of O’Brien’s, she had to have heard all the scuttlebutt that went on around town.
But no one was really focusing on her. That afternoon, Debbie was grateful to note, the attention was all on her newfound friend, Sheila.
“Now you girls can’t leave without cutting the cake with me!” she exclaimed, then waved over the fishermen. “Come on over here, boys! The girls brought me a cake and you have to have some. And it’s a strawberry shortcake, too!”
The men looked uncertain even as they were slipping off their stools.
“You sure, Sheila, honey?” the bearded one asked. “We didn’t even know it was your birthday. Didn’t get you nothin’—”
“Oh, now, fellas, really. Like that should matter!” Sheila scoffed. “Come on over here and have some of my birthday cake.”
“Ah-ah—not so fast!” Irene shook an index finger at her. “First we have to sing you ‘Happy Birthday,’ lady. Gentlemen, you sing along with us.”
The shorter fisherman, Rick, who was missing a tooth, guffawed.
“Well, I can sing like an angel,” he bragged. “But if Clayton here sings, it’s going to rain cats and dogs out there!”
“Ahhh, shaddup!’ His friend pretended to throttle him.
Debbie laughed with them as she joined in with a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday.” No one even noticed the three men making their way into the bar.
But then Laura happened to look over her shoulder at them, just as everyone was talking at once. Sheila was offering everyone a round of drinks on the house; Irene was asking for a knife to cut the cake; and Marsha was bringing out the festive paper plates, napkins and plastic forks she’d brought with her.
Behind them, one man was at the window, peeking through the blinds. Looking out for something in a very paranoid manner. The second man was trying to work the lock on the front door. The third man looked around, then slowly pulled a large revolver out of his pants’ waistband. The gun’s steel barrel caught the light in the bar and glinted.
The color drained from Laura’s face. She tugged on Debbie’s arm, too shocked to speak.
“What’s wrong, hon?” Debbie asked her friend.
“Oh, no—don’t do that, sweetie,” Sheila called across the room to the man at the window. “Don’t shut those blinds…”
Cussing, the man with the gun barked, “Shut up, birthday girl! Every one of you dames—this is a stickup!”
* * * * *
Mike waited until making his rounds that morning to drive to the mayor’s residence. He hadn’t been looking forward to that conversation but neither did he have the luxury of putting it off for more than a day or so. After parking on the street right in front, he stepped out, strolled through the gate and up the stone walk, and climbed the porch steps to the door, whistling a tune as he rang the bell.
The three-storey, green Victorian with white trim was one of the most handsome homes in Lighthouse Cove. It boasted three separate entrances, including one designated for the servants, besides an inviting wraparound porch, which had enough room for a swing seat for two and a table with four chairs. Potted plants and flowers set here and there added color to an already eye-pleasing porch. The sheriff consulted his watch as the Suttons’ housekeeper came to the door.
“Well, good morning, Sheriff Brandt!” Mila greeted in her heavy German accent. “How are you?”
He gave her a gentlemanly nod. “Doing very well, ma’am. Very well. And you?”
“Oh, very well, too. Thank you for asking, sir. Won’t you come in?” The housekeeper, dressed in her light blue uniform with an apron tied around her thick waist and her hair tamed into a bun, closed the door as soon as he was in the foyer. “Is the mayor expecting you?”
“No, I don’t believe he is. I called him, then he called me.” Mike grinned at her. “We seem to be missing each other. I have a little matter I need to discuss with him, so I was hoping to catch him. But if he’s busy, I can certainly try calling him again.”
“Oh—please wait in the sitting room. He’s in his office. Please permit me to go ask him if he’s available to see you.”
“That would be very kind of you. Thanks, Mila.”
He hadn’t often been in the mayor’s home, which the man had once shared with his wife and three children. The lady of the house had died a few years earlier and the two older boys, now young men, had married and moved out. Mayor Herbert Sutton now lived there alone with his youngest child, Melinda, and Mila and her husband Franz, who was the household’s cook.
Mike had been in the sitting room before and always thought it a comfortable room, with its plush chairs, sofa and fireplace. Over by the windows was a black baby grand piano and bench which had once been played by Mrs. Sutton. He guessed that the mayor, who couldn’t play the piano himself, couldn’t bear to part with it.
“Sheriff Brandt? What—what are you doing here?”
Suddenly, comfort gave way to an awkward feeling as he turned to face Mindy, his secretary. Or rather, former secretary. She wore a demure, red-and-white dress, that sort of polka dot print that Debbie also liked, with a large bow in its collar. Her blond hair was up in a bouncy ponytail and her eyes were moistened.
She spoke up, her tone contrite, before he could answer. “Are you here to give me my job back?”
“Oh—I-I need to speak to your father,” he said hastily.
“You most certainly do, Sheriff Brandt!” The mayor appeared behind his daughter. His bluster gave way to a gentler manner as he shook the sheriff’s hand. “Would you like me to have Mila bring you some coffee? Ah—perhaps a cold drink. It is hot out there, isn’t it? Mila!”
“Oh, no, no, I’m fine, Mayor.” He dug his hands into his uniform’s pants pockets, then withdrew them. “I’m sorry to come unannounced, but I figured you’d want to discuss my decision.”
“Yes. Yes, in fact, I would.” Was he offended? The mayor, a typical politician, was hard to read. He’d had plenty of practice, too; Herbert Sutton had been reelected back into office for over the past twenty years.
He patted his daughter on the arm. “Now run along, dear. We’re discussing business here.”
Mike cleared his throat. “Sir, uh, I don’t mean to disagree, but don’t you think it’d be all right if she was present for this conversation? I mean, this does concern Mindy.”
He noticed the young woman perk right up, giving him a little grin from over her father’s shoulder.
“Daddy, tell him to give me another chance!” she urged. “Tell him I won’t ever do it again. Tell him to give me my job back, Daddy—”
“Hush, young lady!” The mayor then turned to Mike. “Now, look, Sheriff. I understand this is the girl’s first job and all. And maybe she wasn’t doing as well as she should have—”
“Well, that’s not it, sir. You know, actually, once I finally got stern with her and talked to her about doing her work instead of—uh—her nails, or reading one of her fashion magazines, she wasn’t a bad secretary at all.”
“I wasn’t?” Mindy’s eyes widened and she smiled triumphantly. “Oh, see? I am a good secretary!”
The mayor eyed him with confusion. “Then what was the problem? Why did you fire her?”
Mike took a deep breath. Now he dug his hands back into his pockets and kept them there, speaking confidently.
“Mayor, I’ll be very frank with you. This young lady walked into my office—without knocking—and witnessed—well, she saw—oh,
heck. There’s no other way to say this…”
“She saw you spanking your wife?” A mischievous smile played at the ends of Mayor Sutton’s lips.
“That’s it, exactly. Everybody’s heard about that, I know.” He felt like chuckling, too, but refrained, considering what he was about to say. “And they heard about that because your daughter—my secretary—ran off and told anybody who’d listen.”
“Ohhhhh, I see.” The mayor turned to his daughter, glaring sternly at her. “Is that true, young lady? Did you go around, telling other people your boss’ business?”
“Oh—well, well, I told the deputies!” Mindy bit her lip and wrung her hands nervously. “And…I might have told one or two more people. Or three or four. But I can’t be held responsible for them going and blabbing it all over town!”
“See?” Mike waved an arm in her direction. “Now I realize I might have been hasty in firing her, and she’s not a bad, little secretary. And I’d like to ask her to come back, if she’d like to. But you have to understand, Mayor. I can’t have a secretary that I can’t trust, who doesn’t know when to keep things confidential.”
“You can so trust me, Sheriff! That’s not fair!” Mindy stamped her foot, reminding Mike of somebody else who’d recently thrown a tantrum. “Daddy, tell him I won’t ever do that again—”
“Melinda, I will not tell you again to be quiet!” The mayor addressed Mike. “I understand what you’re saying, Sheriff. And you’re right, that there should be some kind of disciplinary action taken. Would you let her go back if that happened? If I administered that disciplinary action myself?”
Mindy looked worried. “What does that mean?”
“Are you sure about that, Mayor?” Mike tilted his head, not particularly convinced. “Mindy is your youngest child, after all. You’ll excuse me for saying, but…haven’t you indulged her a bit? Being your youngest and all?”
“Maybe a bit!” Mayor Sutton was all bluster for about a moment. “But I promise you I’ll take care of it. I’m a man of my word. And just because I’ve indulged her, that doesn’t mean I’ve never taken this young lady over my knee. I’ll make sure the punishment fits the crime. Or…comes close, at least.”
“Taken over your—oh, no!” His daughter turned on her heel and was about to run, but the mayor caught her by her arm.
“Well, if you’re going to make it fit the crime…” The sheriff allowed himself a smirk. “You got a wooden ruler?”
He would have thought the mayor was just schmoozing him, telling him what he wanted to hear…until he watched the man seat himself on the settee and yank his grown daughter over his lap. Mindy, who had usually only displayed her bored, blasé side, wasn’t so bored or blasé now. If anything, she was suddenly more animated than he’d ever seen her, turning beet red, making a fuss, pleading, and kicking her feet.
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll need it,” the mayor said with a wink. “And as for you, young lady, I better not hear that you’re telling the world what goes on at the sheriff’s office…”
“Daddy, you can’t do this! You can’t spank me! I’m twenty years old! I’m too old to—”
The first crack of the mayor’s hand when it connected with Mindy’s bottom drew a loud holler from her and a startled jump from Mike. Man, that had to sting! So the mayor wasn’t just telling him what he wanted to hear, as evidenced by the next several times that hand rained down hard.
Mike had to hand it to the man: The mayor never skipped a beat, aptly delivering a lecture as he continued to administer the hard spanking. And that was with his daughter squirming constantly, attempting to free herself from that position, with her bottom high in the air as the resounding smacks came down. Unlike Debbie, who’d taken her spanking without crying until towards the end, Mindy had already broken down, bawling loudly enough to be heard throughout the house. Mike had a feeling that little exchange would be doing wonders for Mindy Sutton’s work ethics.
“And furthermore, if I ever hear of you doing your nails or reading, or doing anything else when you’re supposed to be working, I’ll be down at that office to spank you again—and this time, I’ll have the paddle with me…”
Satisfied that the mayor was serious about getting down to the bottom of the problem, Mike decided he’d give his secretary a bit of privacy.
“I’ll just show myself out,” he said.
“Well, thanks for stopping by!” Mayor Sutton stopped spanking long enough to wave at him and smile. “Actually, Sheriff…thanks for everything.”
Poor Mindy’s hair was a mess. She was crying and needed to blow her nose. She glanced up at him, holding on to the settee’s leg. She’d stopped kicking her legs but was still squirming.
“Can I at least have my job back after this?” she asked.
“Sure, Mindy. I’ll, uh, see you next week…” Mike thought for a second. “Or…as soon as you can sit down again.”
“She’ll be there tomorrow. On time!” The mayor exclaimed, vigorously resuming the spanking. He raised his voice enough to be heard over all that racket Mindy was making. “I won’t have her missing any more days. She can bring a pillow to sit on.”
“That’s a good idea. See you, Mayor.”
“And she’ll apologize before she even starts. For being such a gossip.”
“Okay. That sounds…swell,” he said, using one of Mindy’s words.
Mike said nothing else, barely able to leave the room and close the door behind him before breaking into a hearty laugh. Then he realized Mila was at the other end of the hall, holding a laundry basket and watching him. To his relief, she was also giggling.
“Have a good day, Sheriff,” she said giddily.
He saluted her. “You, too, Mila.”
The sheriff was whistling to the tune of “Jingle, Jangle, Jingle” as he hopped back into the driver’s seat of the patrol car.
It looked like things were going to work out just fine. Maybe it wouldn’t be necessary to replace Mindy after all. She seemed to have liked her job more than she thought she would, or maybe it would suit her well and give her some independence before, like many young women, met some young man who would walk down the aisle with her as man and wife. Whichever the case, he hadn’t heard a peep out of Debbie anymore about Mindy, either. His loving wife had calmed down, not surprisingly, after he’d heated up her pretty bottom with that wooden ruler.
How silly of her to even have worried about him and Mindy. Like I even notice there are other women in this world besides you, baby, he thought.
He was in love with one woman and one woman only. To paraphrase the song, he only had eyes for his Debbie. Mike understood her being a little jealous; he’d even found it incredibly cute until she’d pitched a fit and tried to boss him around. He found himself jealous of any man Debbie even smiled at, so he could imagine how he’d have to struggle if she were still working and her new boss was some young, handsome guy who looked like he’d just stepped off a movie set.
He had pulled onto the street and was making his way back to the station when he heard Jesse’s voice calling him over the radio. He picked up the transmitter.
“Yeah, Jesse, I’m here,” he responded.
“Sheriff, how soon can you come to O’Brien’s Bar?”
He rolled his eyes. So much for a quiet afternoon. Some fishermen were probably getting into a brawl again.
“I’ll be there in about five minutes. Fight going on, huh?”
“Oh, no. Worse than that. We just found those three escaped convicts. They’re inside O’Brien’s.”
Had he heard right? Mike’s blood ran cold as he repeated, “They’re in O’Brien’s?”
“Yeah. Hurry. They have hostages. And Sheriff…one of them’s your wife.”
FOUR
“Your wedding ring, lady. Gimme your wedding ring. Now. I got no problem shootin’ a woman. Sure wouldn’t be the first time I do that.”
Terrified, Debbie stared back at him, touching her wedding band with her ri
ght hand.
“Give it to him, honey,” Sheila pleaded.
“But—but it’s my wedding ring!” she protested.
The criminal bared his nicotine-stained, crooked teeth and closed in the space between them. He pointed the gun at her chest.
“I’m not gonna say it again, lady,” he growled. “Give me the ring or I’ll make your husband a widower.”
“Give him the ring!” Irene pleaded. “Mike can replace the ring, Debbie. You, he can’t replace.”
“Fine.” Debbie acquiesced, reluctantly taking it off and placing it in his hand. “Take it.”
“That’s a good girl. And that’s a nice watch. I’ll take that, too.” He nodded at Irene. “Your watch, too, chubby.”
“Chubby! Hmmmph! Who are you calling ‘Chubby,’ you ugly scarecrow?” Irene shouted back. When he waved the gun at her, she whipped off her watch and threw it at him. “Take it!”
“What about you, doll?” The one with the stubble on his chin and cheeks ventured a leering grin at Laura. “You don’t need those pearls anymore, do you? We’ll just take ’em off your hands—”
“My pearls? Oh, my pearls! Fine. I’ll give you my pearls, but keep your filthy paws off me!” Laura spat out the words, reaching behind her neck to work the catch. “This was a gift from my daddy for my sixteenth birthday.”
“Ohhh, ain’t that nice?” the third man said. “Daddy was such a nice guy, giving his little girl some fancy gift for her Sweet Sixteen. Yeah, so maybe your cheapskate husband can buy you some new pearls, cutie. You’re about due for them.”
“My husband isn’t a cheapskate,” Laura said quietly, dropping her gaze to her shoes.
Ignoring her, the one with the gun motioned to the man who’d taken her necklace. “Now see what the fishermen got on them. If they brought in a good haul recently off one of the boats, that’ll be a nice, fat, juicy payday for us. As for you…” He pushed open the waist-high swinging door and stepped behind the bar and did a poor impression of an Irish brogue. “Ah, me fine Mrs. O’Brien! Let’s see what you got in that register there, old lady.”
