***
After a bit more discussion I heard that tell tale tone of voice that said the conversation was comin' to an end. This mainly came from Momma as I think Daddy could have gone on a bit longer.
Figurin' they'd be coming out of their room pretty quickly I turned the knob, every so quietly, on the back door and slipped out without them ever knowing I was there.
For some reason playin' with Hank didn't seem like the thing to do then. Other things were on my mind.
In Broad Daylight
As told to me by the checkout girl down to the Barnsdall Market (can't recall her name)
Of course I heard about it, nothing's a secret in this small town. But I didn't have all the gory details. Daddy chose not to share them at the dinner table last night.
See it was Saturday mornin' and it happened the day before. Momma wouldn't let me go up to the store for a candy bar, not after what happened; but I snuck away and did it anyway. I felt like quite the rebel!
On my way up to the store I didn't see any kids playin' outside; not a one. One of the nosey neighbor ladies drove by in her beat up Chevy Nova and said: "Jessi what're you doin' out wondering the streets? Don't your Momma know better than to let you do that after what's happened ?". She said a few other things but she rolled too far away for me to hear what they were. I didn't really care anyways. I could take care of myself.
Barnsdall looked like a ghost town. There wasn't a single person walkin' on Main Street; and on such a beautiful morning. There were cars driving up and down the road though; I guessed with the doors firmly locked ? and probably a loaded gun or two in the glove compartment.
As I got closer to the grocery store I felt a little guilty. I didn't usually sneak away to do things. I quickly got over it though when I reminded myself there was a Twix at the end of this trail. I figured I could get back in time, before Momma noticed I was gone, but even if I didn't the scoldin' might be worth it for the candy bar. Surely I wouldn't get grounded. I mean everyone was all ready grounded; made to stay in their houses 'cause of what happened. Everybody now knew it was continuing.
As I slowly strolled into the checkout line I eyed my prize. I grabbed up four of my favorite Twix candy bars, but returned two to the shelf after counting my pocket change. Two would hold me over for the day, surely. I probably wasn't gettin' out just for the candy bar anyways. No, it was probably more of that cabin fever thing. I just wanted to be out on my own; not shut in like a scaredy cat; like ever'body else was.
"What you doin' out all by yourself little girl," said the teenage checkout girl. She looked like someone that had to know everybody else's business.
I didn't say anything, I just held up the two candy bars.
"Oh, well don't you think ya otta be stickin' close to your parents ? don't want to end up like that lady yesterday."
"What do ya know about that ? got any details?" I knew she must.
"Sure I do," the checkout girl looked proud of being "in the know".
I noticed no one else in the store, at least no one in line behind me, so I figured we had a few minutes to talk. I leaned against the counter and gave a look of interest. That's all it took; off she was telling me the horrible story.
"Well you already know it happened right? I mean you know about what time it happened ? in the morning. I mean they let school out 'cause if it so you do know that right? I mean surely you know that?" This girl's fast ramblings, and question after question with no room for me to answer, reminded me of Mrs. Jennings.
"Yep," I replied, still with my serious look of interest on my face. I didn't want her to know how annoying she was to me. Not yet anyways.
"Good, good then. I'll just skip when and where and get to the what happened to the poor woman. Glenda was her name. You know Glenda Davis? Suppose you do, I mean ever'body knows ever'body 'round here."
I nodded. I did know of Glenda Davis, but didn't know her. Her daughter was younger than me, not in my class, so I didn't know much about her.
The checkout girl looked around to see if anyone could hear her; as if she was tellin' some serious secret. She sort of leaned across the checkout stand and whispered as she spoke; but in a loud voice.
"Glenda's car was apparently just sittin' on the side of the road. Lots of folks past her by and didn't even think a thing; just a car sittin' on the side of the road ya know. But somebody glanced in as they drove by, not sure really who it was, and noticed a terrible sight." The checkout girl glanced around again and her tone became more dramatic.
I kept firm eye contact with the girl while I slapped my change on the counter. I then started in on my first Twix. I wasn't worried about a horror story hurtin' my appetite.
"Whoever it was that found her didn't get too close, guess they saw enough just drivin' by. Instead of goin' up and checkin' on her in the car they just called the cops. I think it was your Daddy actually". I didn't know this girl from Eve; of course I'd seen her about town, but I didn't know her. However, apparently she knew who I was ? in connection to my Daddy, Chief of Police John Long, anyway. Once again known and defined by my lawman Daddy. Whoopee.
"Once the cops arrived on scene lots a folks started gatherin' 'round." I thought duh ? that goes without sayin' in Barnsdall. Rubberneckers Daddy calls 'em.
"So what was done to her?" I appreciated the checkout girl takin' the time to tell me the story but I needed to get back home. I wanted her to hurry it along.
"Glenda ? she was found ?" the checkout girl began to look quite upset. She must have known Glenda well. Or maybe she was just the kind of person that tears up 'bout things like this. I'm not. " ? poor Glenda ? she was found slumped over the wheel of her car, just past the end of the school zone." She paused real dramatically at this point; long enough for me to look at the clock on the wall.
"Uhmm," I cleared my throat just to bring her back to the here and now.
"Yeah, Glenda was slumped over the wheel of her car ? bleeding everywhere. Or she had bled everywhere already. She was pale white and basically empty of blood. It was all in the floor boards and ever'where. It must've been an awful sight to see." From the shakiness of the checkout girl's voice you'd a thought she saw it with her own two eyes.
"My goodness ? Glenda's throat was slit from ear to ear and her tongue pulled through in what's known as a "Columbian neck tie"." The thought of this made me nauseous. I've got a pretty strong stomach ? I'm tough ya know. But, I got a picture in my head of what the checkout girl desecribed, so dramatically, and it really scared me.
I guess the checkout girl noticed a new expression on my face, 'cause she said: "I'm sorry hon, maybe I was too graphic. I didn't mean to scare ya. I sure hope you don't have nightmares 'bout that."
"No ? no, I'm fine." I would be fine, but at that moment I didn't know what to feel exactly. Should I be fearful, sad for Daddy, angry, indifferent? I was a mess, but I put on a brave face and said: "Go on ? a ? please."
It didn't take much convincin' to get her to continue; seemed she really needed to get this off of her chest. Or maybe she just liked tellin' folks what she knew?
"Now I don't know what really happened after that, just hear say really from folks comin' in and tellin' me bits and pieces in the checkout line. But what I heard was that Big John went about askin' 'round the neighborhood and up to the school as well about who, what, when, how and why. You know all that police work, investigation stuff like you see on the boob tube. He had some of his other police officers helpin' him out too, I think." She paused as an old lady came into the store and struggled to free a shopping cart from its corral. Once the lady had finally passed she continued on.
"Oh that's Mrs. Shoffer, she usually takes a long while to get her shoppin' done. I'll hurry up now and get you to the end." Something told me this checkout girl has never hurried up to the end of a story.
"Strange thing was that no one could seem to recall seein' anything that woul
d be of help to the police. Can you believe that; in a town like Barnsdall? No one saw nothin'?" I just shrugged my shoulders. At this point, after all that had happened recently, I might believe just about anything could happen.
"Seems all folks could tell your Daddy was that Glenda dropped her daughter off for school and then sped away. She was prone to speedin' ya know. She wasn't a bad person, she just didn't pay too close attention to things like that. Not a bad person at all I tell ya ? she just had ? well had her problems ya know." The checkout girl almost sounded like she was tryin' to convince me this Glenda lady was better than she really was.
But this checkout girl cared more about good juicy gossip than she did about Glenda because, surprisingly to me, she turned on her at this point and started pointing out her ? less glowing traits.
"Now don't tell nobody I'ze the one that told you this now hon. Ok?" She didn't wait for me to agree with her. It didn't matter if I said "no, I'm gonna tell the world you said it; I'm gonna climb to the top of the water tower with a megaphone", she still would've told me. She just had to spill her guts; had to get the gossip out.
The checkout girl leaned in even closer to me and used that loud whisper voice that was actually no quieter than her normal voice; just sounded sneakier is all. She started to smile as she said: "Glenda was known to be a drinker," she raised her eye brows and nodded her head as if to say: "bet ya didn't know that huh?". I just tilted my head to the side in half nod and took another bite of Twix.
"Now when I say a drinker I mean a DRINKERrrrr! I'm here to tell ya she would wake up in the mornings with the hair of the dog." I had no idea what she meant by that until she explained it in such detail that there was no question; Glenda drank from morning to night.
"And as you can imagine with someone all tanked up like that all the time; she wasn't much of a driver. She had a good heart that Glenda, but she just had problems." I nearly laughed at the way the teenage checkout girl couldn't decide whether she was gonna praise Glenda for her "good heart", or slam her about her drinkin' and such. I felt judgmental when I thought: two faced.
"I'm sure that mornin', just like any mornin', noon or night, Glenda was driving like a maniac. You know, speedin' and runnin' stop signs and such. It's what the cops sometimes call driving erratically. Or they might call it driving recklessly, I don't know. Either way she was a menace. You'd best stay off the streets when she was behind the wheel. Come to think of it, you'd probably be safe to stay off the sidewalks too. She was that bad. Really!" Checkout girl was layin' it on pretty thick now. I wanted to shout out: "I GET IT, NOW MOVE ON!"
"I once saw Glenda run through three stop signs in a row without even lookin' from side to side once. Hell she could a killed a lot a people. Right?" She didn't care about the answer to this question; checkout girl just wanted reinforcement for her idea about Glenda; that she was less than a safe person. To keep things movin' along I quickly nodded my head in agreement.
"Always goin' to bed extra "medicated" usually made Glenda late at droppin' off her daughter to school. That's probably a good thing though, 'cause there weren't very many kids around, all in class, for her to run over. In fact, maybe that's why no one saw what happened. That everybody else had dropped off their kids already and the kids were in the school; just not many people around to see anything." I thought duh, you're just now figuring that out. It was starting to seem like checkout girl was just makin' up this story as she went. That by bouncing her ideas off of me she was putting pieces of the puzzle together that made sense to her and then spouting them off as the truth. In fact, I strongly suspected, this was simply her idea of the truth.
Checkout girl kept goin' on about how it's lucky Glenda didn't show up earlier when all the kids were around or she may have hit one with that crazy driving. She just kept repeating herself over and over. Quite annoying! Finally she broke free of this cycle and moved on.
"Not only was she a drinker, and one crazy driver, but she also had a mouth on her that would make a salty sailor blush. I mean that lady could cuss up a storm." About this time Mrs. Shoffer shuffled up to the checkout stand. Seemed checkout girl wasn't fast enough to finish her story before slow Mrs. Shoffer could finish her shoppin'. It didn't surprise me, checkout girl was long winded to say the least.
I stepped back out of the way, thumbing through the magazine rack, while checkout girl did her work. She really did more chit chattin' with Mrs. Shoffer than she did workin' though. Seemed she thought her job was talkin' to the customers instead of efficiently checking them out. Oh small town life; laid back, slow ? often frustrating!
After what seemed like an eternity Mrs. Shoffer made her way out to the car with the carryout boy that checkout girl called up from the back of the store. I stepped back up to the counter.
"Now where was I ?" checkout girl looked to the ceiling. I realized this was probably just a gesture; she really didn't expect for me to say anything, but I had to. I was sure I'd be in big trouble all ready; being away from the house this long. Surely Momma already discovered I was gone. I'd be lucky if she didn't already have one of those APB's, or BOLO's, out on me; probably has Daddy searchin' the world over for me.
"You were quickly finishin' up your story so I can get on home," I snapped off quickly. The checkout girl looked at me as if to say: "well you didn't have to wait ? you could've just left ya know". I recognized I was bein' pretty rude, but ? well I just didn't care at that moment. I was really annoyed.
"Way I see it this is probably what happened ?" I knew checkout girl was just makin' this up now, but for some reason I really wanted to hear her theory. She had a mad power of gossip that's for sure.
" ? I figure Glenda got up late to take her daughter to school. But ? as usual she still managed to find the time to get sloshed before headin' out to the car; we all gotta have priorities right." Checkout girl laughed; I didn't. "So there she is drivin' up to the school like a bat out a Hades, ya know swerving and runnin' stop signs and such; probably scarin' her little girl to death. Or maybe her daughter was used to that kind a drivin' by now. Probably, what do you think?" The last thing I wanted to do was ponder on that question. I just put my hand on my hip and tilted my head. I tried not to look angry, but probably did. I was goin' for a grown up gesture of "I'm in a hurry toots".
"Yeah, yeah ? no she probably was scared ? I mean what little girl wouldn't be scared to see her Mommy drivin' and actin' like that?" At this point checkout girl sounded exactly like Mrs. Jennings, only far less appealing. Again, I just stood there saying nothing.
"As I was sayin', I 'magine Glenda was drivin' crazy and screeched up to the school to drop off her kiddo. Then she sped away ? probably nearly hit somebody, then got in a big argument with 'em. She probably cussed them up one side and down the other. They probably got real pissed at her, I sure would, and she got herself ? whacked!" Checkout girl did a slicing motion with her hand, across her throat; real dramatic like. "That's what I think happened. What do you think?" I had already started movin' towards the out door before I started speaking.
"I'll let ya know the next time I come in. Sorry, sorry gotta get home now. Momma's probably gonna kill me. See you later." I was already out the door before the word later got out. I was bookin' it home.
Needless to say Momma was none too happy when I got home. I was surprised at how fast she got over it though, she didn't even scold me; well not for more than a few minutes anyways.
Once I caught my breath from my fast sprint home I made my way to my bedroom and began to think. My thoughts ended with this truth: whether I liked it or not, whether I was worried for Daddy or not, Big John Long, Chief of Police now had to face the facts. It was continuing.
The Deep End
I worried about Daddy ? ya know now that the killings for sure had started back up. After Glenda Davis was found killed ever'body in town seemed to assume William Countryman wasn't just hit by a car, rath
er murdered as well. They were probably right. I know I thought he was killed. So that would make two more murders since Daddy arrested that Al Clement fella. Needless to say, things were hard on Daddy; real stressful.
But he wasn't the only one things were hard on. Momma took it hard and so did Miss Jennings, she went back to bein' a shut in ? just scared to death. Momma was a bit more subtle about her fear. She at least tried to put up a good front. It didn't fool me though.
What I mean by a good front was that Momma seemed calm ? overly calm ? too calm. She seemed almost like a zombie. I remember seein' her drink, for the first time I could remember, just a couple days after Glenda was found with her gross neck tie.
"Momma! What're ya doin'?" I found Momma sitting at the kitchen table. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon. If I remember right it was Sunday too.
"Just thinking Jessica," she replied so softly I could barely hear her. She had a bottle of red wine in front of her, half full or half empty, depending on how you look at it. I knew she had to have drank it all herself 'cause Daddy wouldn't get near that stuff. Momma took a slow, but big, sip from her wine glass and looked out the window.
"When did you start drinkin' Momma?" I realized my question sounded judgmental, but I didn't care. I thought Daddy did enough drinkin' for both of the parental units. Surely with both of them drinkin' ? well no good could come of it. Right?
"Drinking ? huh? Oh ? oh honey ? wine's not really drinking," she replied while still looking out the window.
"It's not?" I didn't agree with her one bit.
"No Jessica. It's the blood of Christ." She took another big sip.
"Ooookkkk," I said. How do you argue with that? So I didn't. I just let it go, but really didn't. It bothered me to see her drinking. Adults are so complicated!
Not to be selfish, but ? I was impacted a lot by the restart of the murders; though I suppose they never really stopped in the first place. I had a hard time at school. Folks thought they'd take out their frustrations, about my Daddy not doin' a good job as Chief of Police, on me.
"Howdy Chief O' Police Jessi ? why'd you let the murders start up again?" David Spencer had that smart aleck tone he gets; or usually just has most of the time.
"David don't start," I replied as I was heading toward my locker.
"Oh I'll start Jessi ? I'll start when ever I want to!" He sounded less goofy than normal, and angrier. I didn't like his tone or his expression.
"What ever you say Davey," I tried to just blow him off and go about my business, but he was having none of it.
"I thought your Daddy arrested the killer? What's up with that?"
"David, I don't know. Why don't you ask him yourself?" I had my back to him now. He was standing behind me as I was putting books in my locker.
"I'm askin' you," he replied. He was leaning over my shoulder and was right up next to my ear. You could say he was invading my personal space.
"Damn David how about a tic-tac?" He didn't have bad breath really but my little joke got a nice chuckle out of the small crowd that was gatherin'; a crowd that would surely grow due to David's loud and obnoxious tone of voice. Folks in small towns just come runnin' when there's trouble; not to help, just to gawk. Damn rubberneckers!
David grabbed my arm and tried to spin me around to face him, but I managed to jerk free before he could. He wasn't givin' up though.
"You're the reason we all can't go out and play anymore!" David had a whiny tone to his voice.
"Yeah!" shouted out somebody in the ever enlarging crowd of kids.
"What ? what are you talking about?" I turned around to face him, of my own free will, now.
"It's your fault that we can't go out and play. All the grown ups are sayin' stay in doors, don't go out there ? it's not safe! Stuff like that."
"So what's that got to do with me David?" I was playin' a bit coy. I kind of figured I was about to take the fall for my Daddy; again.
"If your Daddy would do his damn job then we wouldn't be locked up in the friggin' house. The only time I get to go outside is when I'm walkin' to my Mom's car so she can carry me to school." David had balled up his fists like he was gonna hit me. I think he knew better though ? I could probably take him.
"Me too," shouted someone from the back of the crowd.
"Yeah!" Seemed like the whole crowd joined in against me; saying things like: "I'm tired of bein' locked up, it's like bein' grounded for nothin' I did, your Daddy don't know what he's doing". Really, there were worse things than that said; I just can't bring myself to write them down right now. Let's just say they were mean and hurtful. They made me ball up my fists, but there were just too many kids against me to pick out the first one to hit. Although David would have been a good first pick, I didn't do it.
"What does my Daddy's job have to do with me?" I knew what David's, and the crowd's, answer would be to this. I was really just stalling; hopin' a teacher would come along and break this little lynching up. I couldn't fight them all off alone and I couldn't back down either. I was definitely in a no win situation.
"You're his kin ain't ya?" David still took the lead for the crowd.
"Duh," I replied. I was seriously trying to act cool; like none of this bothered me a bit. I figured if David thought he was gettin' my goat, he'd probably continue on longer ? no I know David would have; he's that kind a brat!
"Well then you can tell him ? well tell him ? he ? he needs to start doin' a better job." It seemed David was stumbling now because he recognized his point of view was flawed. I mean surely he could see I really couldn't make my Daddy do anything; better or worse. Surely he could see that. Right?
Well the crowd didn't seem to be impacted by David's stammerin', because they gave their rousing approval again. The crowd was getting so loud I was sure a teacher would be comin' soon. This made me get a little bold.
"David if you're so smart ? if you're so tough why don't you tell him yourself? You seem to have all the answers. You seem to know just what to do."
"I'm telling you!" David was outright shouting now. "We're all telling you!"
"Yeah!" The crowd shouted in almost perfect time together.
"Well I'm tellin' you, there's nothin' I can do to help you." I didn't want to give in to them, to admit my Daddy wasn't doin' a good job, but deep down I agreed with them. It made me sad ? no it made me frustrated. Frustration was the feeling that won out at that moment. I really felt like I was painted into a corner.
"Then you're just as worthless as your Daddy," said David with a grin on his face.
I'd had it, and I was just about to sock him one good when Mr. Henderson, the science teacher, came out of his classroom and broke up the crowd. I walked away from my locker feeling drained, but mostly I felt like an outcast; like I'd been banished from the world of friendships. It really stunk ? just wasn't fair!
I was glad, at first, to see my bestest friend Heather run up to me. I was hoping that she would at least be on my side.
"That was awkward ? wasn't it?" Heather sounded out of breath.
"You could say that. What an arrogant jerk that David can be, huh?" I was sure she'd agree with me. I mean the only thing she liked about David was that he was easy to pick on.
"Well he's kinda got a point, don't ya think?" Heather said this so matter-of-factly. I was stunned. I stopped walking and she turned to face me.
"You're jokin' right?" I really thought she was at first.
"Well no."
"No?" I was in a state of shock; Heather agreeing with David ? had hell frozen over?
"Yeah no ? I mean things are gettin' pretty bad in town don't ya think? Can't you say something to your Daddy? You know get him to ? well ? to get busy or somethin'.
"You too ? not you too Heather!" My voice went up about three octaves when I said her name.
"Oh me too what Jessi? I mean jeash! Can't you see your Daddy's in over his head?" All I could
think was: what an awful thing to say to your best friend; about your best friends Daddy!
"Gosh Heather, whether he is or isn't in over his head ? what's it got to do with me? Like I'm supposed to be his boss or somethin'?" I was trying to reason with her, but quickly realized she was no different than David and his crowd of supporters; they had already made their minds up, and no amount of reasoning was gonna change them.
"Surely you have some influence over him. Surely you can go to him and tell him how hard it is on ever'body with all this crap goin' on. Surely you can do that. Right?" Heather had put her hands on her hips and was talkin' to me like she was the parent and I was the child. It was really no better than what David had done just a short bit ago. I felt more pressure from Heather than I did from David and his whole crowd of followers. I suppose it was because I cared what Heather thought way more than David and his supporters. But ? Heather was starting to lose my caring with her point of view. Her off base point of view!
"Surely," I said in a mocking tone.
"Well with an attitude like that it's no wonder things have gone so far down hill in town. It must run in the family."
"What does that mean?"
"Well you don't want to do anything and it's pretty clear that your Daddy isn't doin' anything, so nothin' gets done. The murders just continue and us kids get locked in the house to be kept 'safe'." Heather sounded so selfish. All she really cared about was bein' able to go out and play. I don't think she really cared about the folks that were murdered; she just cared about her precious play time; time she could spend playin' tricks on dummies like David; who she was now agreeing with. I wanted to scream! But I didn't.
"Heather, I can't believe your bein' this a way."
"What way?" Heather acted as if she'd said nothing wrong at all; like nothin' she'd said should offend me in the slightest. I guess that was the most offensive part about it.
"You know better than to talk bad about other folks' families; especially their parents."
"I'm not talkin' bad about your parents; just your Daddy," Heather chuckled. She actually chuckled like it was all a big joke to her.
"Well that makes it all better I guess. Your wrong Heather ? your just wrong ? you don't know what you're talkin' 'bout!" I had mirrored her by putting my hands on my hips. It was a hands on hips argument for sure.
That's when Heather, my supposed bestest friend, just threw up her hands and kind of waved them at me, like she was brushin' me off, and turned and walked away, saying: "What ever then". She simply blew me off just like that! Just left me standin' there. That's not how bestest friends treat each other. No it ain't!
After all that I needed a break. I figured I'd be late for class but I just didn't care, I needed to head into the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face; it felt like it was beet red. I sorta shuffled my feet slowly towards the bathroom door and tried not to look at anyone. I wasn't shyin' away from nobody really, I just didn't want another argument; not right now.
Once inside I was happy to find I was alone. I spent some time just standing in the middle of the bathroom staring into nothing. I couldn't stop going over and over my conversation with Heather; though I couldn't care less about David. I was angry, sure; but I was more disappointed. My feelings were hurt in a way that makes you more sad than mad. Know what I mean?
Once I heard the final bell ring out I knew I was late for class. I thought, oh well no reason to hurry now. A few minutes one way or another isn't gonna get me in more, or less, trouble; not after the final bell ? late is late. So I slowly stepped to the closest sink and turned on the cold tap just a little. I let the cool water fill my hands then I threw it right up into my face. It was a shock; a nice shock. It brought me back to life. When I looked up into the mirror I did notice my face was quite red, but it seemed the cold water was calmin' that down. I splashed a couple more hands full of water on me; some on my face and some accidently on my shirt. Once I felt I'd gathered myself enough I set out for class.
I was hoping the walk to class would feel long, like a leisurely stroll, but it didn't. Instead it felt like a heart pounding rush, realizing the scoldin' I'd get from my teacher Mrs. Pearson. She could be quite the hot head. A stickler for "the rules" she wouldn't let my tardiness slide; not today, not ever.
I saw through the little window in the door (you know the little windows with wires through them school doors seem to have) that Mrs. Pearson was standing with her back to the door, kind of sideways to the chalkboard. I thought I might get lucky and slip in undetected. Actually I knew better than that.
As I opened the door, ever so quietly, every kids head in the room turned ? but Mrs. Pearson didn't see me yet. No she didn't see me until one of the kids, I didn't actually catch who said it but I think it was John Oyster, shouted out: "Hi Jessi, nice of you to join us!" I could have strangled him. If he'd have just kept his big mouth shut I might have snuck in without Mrs. Pearson seein' me. I could have just sat down in my chair and acted like I was there the whole time. Later it occurred to me that Mrs. Pearson had probably already taken roll and it wouldn't have mattered anyway; she would have already marked me down as either tardy or, I suppose, even absent at that point.
"Well yes Jessica ? nice of you to join us," echoed Mrs. Pearson in her holier than thou tone of voice. The kind of tone of voice that makes kids stomachs turn over; the kind of voice that makes you lay in bed, late at night, dreading to hear it again in the next coming school day. You get my point.
"I was just ?", she interrupted me.
"Take your seat Miss Long," she said calmly. I thought maybe I was off the hook, but only for a second. As I approached my chair she began her chastising rant.
"Not much of a rules keeper huh? Or you could say not much for obeying the law." I could feel her words cut into my back like a knife. I turned to face her before sitting down.
"Take your seat Jessica." She didn't really shout but she said this very sternly. I sat down immediately.
"I'm sorry to be late Mrs. Pearson, see I was just ?," she interrupted me ? again. She did that all the time, and not just to me really, to everyone. It's as if she can't stand to hear anyone's voice but her own.
"It would seem your tardiness is a symptom of a hereditary disease," Mrs. Pearson was smiling one of those smug teacher smiles when they think they've said something witty. I didn't completely understand what she meant, but I figured I knew where she was going with this.
"Ok then," I replied, thinking that if I agreed with her it would catch her off guard and she'd let it go. A normal person would just let it go, right? Nope. I'm really not even sure she was listening to me.
"What I mean, Miss Long, is that your lackadaisical attitude towards being on time to class could be a greater reflection on your gene pool. That is to say, that your languid ways towards important things may run in the family; just as your father seems to take his job as Chief of Police so lightly ? so, shall we say ? lazily." She then turned her back on me and began slowly walkin' back to the chalk board. I couldn't see it now, but I could feel her smug grin; that attitude of condescension. Condescension was another one of my recent spelling words and it fit Mrs. Pearson pretty well ? pretty well indeed!
I thought for what seemed like a long time; everything was running in slow motion. I thought about saying nothin', just duckin' my head down and staying quiet. But ? you just don't insult somebody's parents. Right! Right?
"How inappropriate Mizzzz Pearson," I replied in the same smug tone she usually uses. I even changed her Mrs. to Miss, pronouncing it just the way she does when she chooses to call a student by other than her first name. Before I said it I thought I would probably immediately regret it after I did; but I didn't. She was out of line and I knew I was in the right. Unfortunately right and wrong rarely matters to folks. No they care more about what they want; and in this case Mrs. Pearson wanted to make a point; wanted me embarrassed.
"What I have no respect for isn't authority ? it's YOU! You standin' there talkin' bad about my Daddy like that; you have no right!" I felt my face getting red again and was fightin' hard to hold back tears that were surely coming.
I heard David Spencer snicker and say something like "you've done it now dummy". A bunch of kids chuckled, which didn't help my cause.
"Shut up David, you horses ass!" I yelled this out without thinkin'. Before, I was trying to walk a fine line between appropriately defending my Daddy and insulting Mrs. Pearson, but cussing in her class was too far. I knew what was comin' before she even said it.
"That's it Jessica ? out of my classroom. Out, out now!" Now I started to tear up. I really wish I hadn't.
"Gladly," I said through the beginnings of a "you done me wrong" sob.
"Just keep it up Miss Long ? just keep on digging your grave." I thought that was a terrible thing to say to a child. "Find your way down to the Principal's office and I'll be with you shortly. You can explain to her what you've done before I get there. Now off you go." Mrs. Pearson shooed me away with a wave of her hand. It was almost exactly like what Heather did earlier. I felt like poop.
I won't go into details about what happened in the Principal's office. I basically apologized my way out of trouble. I didn't mean the apologies, and with what Mrs. Pearson said about my Daddy, even the Principal realized she was partly to blame for the whole thing; although Mrs. Pearson never apologized. An adult apologize to a kid ? never!
Not Only The Good Die Young
Told to me by a friend of a friend that overheard the conversation
"I'm tellin' ya'll we should count our blessings," said Leonard White with another sip of his black coffee. A portly old man with rosie red cheeks; looking all the more portly as he was wedged into his coffee shop booth.
"Oh Leonard now ? I just can't see how you can find much good out of all them killin's," replied fellow (every morning) patron, Harry Lanley. Harry would be the Abbott to Leonard's Costello; if you catch my drift.
"Goodness Leonard," remarked the waitress, name tag reads Lorain, as she freshened up the mugs.
"Well I guess you know you've gone a step too far when you were able to offend a coffees shop waitress." Henry laughed as Lorain rolled her eyes and walked on to the next booth.
"Look Leonard, you just can't go 'round talkin' like them murders was somehow ? somehow good. Some a the folks that might overhear ya are kin to them that got killed. Know what I mean ole' boy?" Harry looked at the clouds in his coffee.
"Hell Harry ? it's a free country ain't it; freedom a speech and all that jazz. Right? I mean my point of view makes sense don't it? It might not be very "PC", but it makes some damn good sense don't it?"
"Sense or not Leonard it's a pretty negative way to look at things. Why don't we talk 'bout the game last night or somethin'?" Harry desperately wanted to change the subject, but Leonard was just as desperately trying to make his point.
"Look Harry ? and you too Lorain," Leonard glanced, and somewhat spoke, at Lorain as she passed by the table on her way back behind the counter. "All I'm sayin' is if you look at it like I do, you see how Barnsdall might be better off without them troublemakers."
"So you think what them folks did or didn't do warranted the death penalty. That's what you think Leonard?" Harry believes in the death penalty but only for the worst types of things, not the types of things he heard those folks did.
"I'm not sayin' they should have been killed, I'm just sayin' since they were ? let's all just move on and live our lives. I guess I'm just tryin' to find some reason behind what happened. Make sense Harry?"
"Yeah, I suppose," Harry didn't sound too convinced.
"Ok look at the first murder then. What was his name again ? you know that ole' boy that was hung up on the oil well. Oh dammit my old memory's failin' me ? help me out here Harry," Leonard had an irritated tone to his voice; irritated at himself mainly, but Harry knew that irritation would quickly turn on him if he didn't provide some help.
"Dale Shaw," Harry said with no expressiveness.
"Yeah, yeah ? Dale Shaw, take his killin' for instance. Again, I'm not sayin' he should a been killed for what he done, but you have to admit Barnsdall's better off without him. I mean he was quite the cut up, ya know. Him and that damn beat up Chevy ?".
"Camaro," Harry continued with his help.
" ? Yeah, yeah ? his damned Camaro; beat up hunk a junk flyin' 'round town. Really who puts glass packs on a Camaro, 'cept a down right white trash hick? Answer me that Harry?"
"I don't know Leonard, I guess kids these days think that's cool maybe." Harry knew Leonard didn't know what was cool anymore. He was way too far removed from what was cool in today's time.
"Well it ain't cool Harry, 'specially when you got a head gasket leak that pings louder than your damned glass pack mufflers!" Both Leonard and Harry had a good chuckle at that. It was pretty funny really.
Lorain past by the booth again and received a less than wholesome wink from Leonard. She rolled her eyes and quickened her step; Harry pretended he saw nothing.
"And what about those two killed down at Big Hole?" Harry didn't feel like Leonard had fully explained his logic of being better off without Dale Shaw, and here he was off onto the next victims.
"What about 'em Leonard?" Harry replied with gracious attentiveness.
"Well hell Harry. Those two were thick as thieves they were. I mean they were thieves. Trouble makers of the sort that would make that Dale Shaw character look like a green freshman." Leonard's voice had gone up a notch as he was really lettin' his emotions drive his statements.
"How's that?" Harry leaned forward just a little bit.
"I'll tell ya how's that. Mrs. Cooper, down the way from my house, she was tellin' me the other day that she's sure that it was those two that stole her brand new lawnmower from her shed out back. Yep, those two no goods just took it right out of her shed."
"How'd she know it was them? Did she see 'em doin' it?"
"I don't think so," replied Leonard with a frown. He didn't like bein' questioned, especially about his ? well his blown up stories. Interjecting logic, or questions, into a good story spoiled the whole thing for him. A good story needs to be embellished, not brought down to earth ? brought down to facts and figures.
"Well then how'd she know it was them?" Harry leaned back in the booth and took a sip of coffee. He wasn't tryin' to be pessimistic; but he was.
"Hell I don't know Harry ? women's intuition! I didn't question her every statement ya know. That wouldn't a been polite now would it?"
"Guess not," replied Harry getting Leonard's point right and proper.
"Ok Leonard, I get your idea about those folks bein' ? bein' trouble makers, but surely you don't feel that way about those two little ones that were hung up by their Buster Browns from the stop light?"
"Why not Harry? Just 'cause they're kids? Kids can cause trouble too ya know."
"But from all accounts, Leonard, those kids weren't bad at all. I mean they did goofy kid stuff sometimes, but they weren't bad. Right?" Harry felt an urge to stick up for those poor little ones. After bein' done the way they were he just thought it wouldn't be nice to think they deserved it.
"Yeah that's been throwin' me for a loop. If all these killings were done by the same nut bag then he must've slipped up there; moved out of his normal mode of behavior. But ? I 'spose crazy
goof balls don't have to make much sense. Huh Harry?"
"No I guess not ? you've got a point there." Harry was just glad Leonard wasn't sayin' those poor kids were bad like the others.
"But that Billy Countryman ? now that was a son of a bitch if I've ever seen one!" Leonard slapped the table and laughed loudly.
"You got that right Leonard," replied Harry with a big grin. He knew how Leonard didn't like William Countryman's "rich ways" about himself. Harry agreed with Leonard completely on this.
"Slick Willy Countryman. He was one horndogger what'nt he! Always chasin' after those less than ripe apples. He got just what he deserved."
"You think so Leonard? You really think he deserved to be killed?" Harry wasn't trying to stick up for ole' Countryman. He was just tryin' to get to the bottom of Leonard's point of view.
"Well I guess I'd fall a little short of the death penalty for his sins, but then again. I'll just say this; if you play with fire long enough you're bound to get burned." Leonard raised his eyebrows exhibiting an expression that said: I've just said something very insightful, now haven't I?
"Point taken," replied Harry with a nod.
"And that Columbiano."
"Columbiano?" Harry raised his eyebrows as Leonard had just done; in a sort of monkey see monkey do way.
"Yeah the Columbian neck tie lady that was killed last."
"Oh yeah ? oh yeah." Harry tried to play it off like he knew what Leonard was saying from the start.
"Well she was just plain white trash wasn't she?"
"Didn't know her really," replied Harry as noncommittally as possible.
"Well take my word for it Barnsdall's better off without her. In fact Barnsdall's better off without all of 'em; save those kiddos.
Harry shook his head in agreement; more out of habit than in true belief in Leonard's ideas.
"Ya know what Harry?"
"What's that Leonard," Harry continued to sound quite interested even though his attention was waning.
"I think maybe we should be less worried about these killings and more glad to rid ourselves of these bad folks. That's what I think!" Leonard watched Lorain as she passed by again. He waited for the soft breeze she made, to smell her perfume.
"Good point Leonard," replied Harry with another sip of coffee.
When Will It All End?
This is what I heard Ronald Mason did
Ronald has always thought of himself as an intelligent person. Even as a young child he knew he was gifted. As a point of fact; he was, and is. Some people may mistake his confidence in his reasoning ability for arrogance, but he never let that stand in his way to achieve his goals. Opinionated and honest, sometimes to a fault, he holds his politicians and civil leaders accountable. Not the kind of person to be swept off his feet by a charming or slick politician, Ronald Mason differs from most of the voting public. He looks into the candidates, goes out to meet them, even get to know them. He's a tough customer you could say. He's a hard man to please when he feels like his tax dollars are being mishandled. Politicians and public servants either learn how to deal with him or they take the fall, because being on the wrong side of Ronald Mason is suicide to a public career.
Ronald had been thinking, not talking; just thinking for some time now. He's been perplexed by the murders that have been happening in Barnsdall, but at the same time he's felt as if he's given Chief of Police John Long the benefit of the doubt. Ronald feels like if there is a lone serial killer out there it's really not Chief Long's fault. He thinks a single nut case is almost impossible to thwart. Ronald likens any lone killer to Lee Harvey Oswald, Sirhan Sirhan, The Son of Sam, James Earl Ray, or Charles Whitman. He recognizes the near impossibility of stopping a single person, working alone, with a strong intent to do harm. You can't really blame the police for the acts of these types of people. However, Ronald feels different if he thinks the police aren't following up on leads properly or timely. In other words Ronald Mason gives no breaks for incompetence or laziness. He feels Chief of Police John Long is now exhibiting both of these traits.
Ronald has a way. His way is to ensure he is heard when he speaks. He finds speaking without the absolute certainty of being heard is futile; along with being a complete waste of his precious time. In order to ensure he is heard, Ronald rarely speaks alone. Instead he chooses to first rally support to his cause and then speaks for that cause. In this particular instance, Ronald first needed to make his way about town, door to door, to make sure he had the most folks on his side as he could get.
"Ghmmm," Ronald Mason cleared his throat just after firmly knocking on the front door of his first house. He felt like a man on a mission; a mission to ensure the safety of his community. He liked the thought of leading such a charge.
"Well hi Ron, how are you today?" Mrs. Drumright opened her front door wide to invite Ron in.
"I'm fine Mrs. Drumright and you?"
"Just fine, would you like to come in?"
"Sure, I won't take up much of your time." Ronald had a letter size manila folder in his hand. As he sat down to talk with Mrs. Drumright he opened the folder and took out a petition that read:
We, the citizens of Barnsdall, are concerned about the recent events in our community. The murders that have occurred have put the fear of God into us all. We've looked to our civic leaders to resolve this matter. We've been left wanting.
Our Chief of Police has failed in every material way in regards to putting a stop to the killings as well as capturing whoever is doing these terrible acts. Due to this fact, we are requesting the removal and replacement of Chief of Police John Long.
Recognizing that Chief of Police John Long is not a Sheriff, not elected by the voters and simply an employee of the city, he can be removed by the Mayor. This is our request and our demand.
Respectfully submitted by:
Under the "respectfully submitted by:" line was room for many, many signatures. Ronald intended to get hundreds, and for Mrs. Drumright to be his first; well the first after his name he'd already signed.
"Mrs. Drumright ? now I know you're as concerned as I am about what's been going on in our community."
"Yes Ronald, yes I am."
"Well good then, I'm hoping you'll take a moment to read this petition and provide your signature ? your signature to do the right thing under the circumstances." Ronald had a serious and concerned look on his face. He knew he was selling his point well. He felt good about that.
Mrs. Drumright took quite some time to read, and it appeared she reread the petition numerous times, before she took a deep breath and looked out the window. Ronald provided her with all the time she needed. He knew how to handle situations like this. You get folks on your side; you rally them, by empathizing with them, making them empathize with you, with your position. You can't rush it.
Ronald reached out and took Mrs. Drumright's hand in his, ever so gently, and said: "Mrs. Drumright we must protect our families ? our children. We simply must."
"I know Ronald, I know, but this is a pretty big step."
"Doesn't what's been happening merit such a large step Mrs. Drumright?" Ronald's voice was so very calm and soothing.
"I suppose it does Ronald," Mrs. Drumright shook her head and glanced at him, then down at the floor. Ronald was sure she was going to sign his petition, but she just wanted to make sure he knew she felt real bad about it; felt real bad about what she was doing to a long time friend and servant to the community; John Long.
"Take all the time you need to think Mrs. Drumright. Would you like me to gain some other signatures before you sign yours? I'm certain there will be many folks signing today. By signing first you show your caring for our community." Ronald felt this nudge would get her going. It did.
"No, no Ronald that's OK. I sure appreciate you caring so much about our community. We need more nice folks like you that will take charge and do the right thing for us all." Mrs. Drumright smiled a
t Ronald and then glanced down to sign the petition. Ronald strategically had a pen at the ready.
"Thank you so very much Mrs. Drumright. You are doing a great thing. With this and many more signatures we are sure to see action taken. We all just want the murders to stop."
"That's right Ronald, that's what we all want. God bless you son, God bless you." Mrs. Drumright lowered her head as she shook it from side to side, she looked upset. Ronald thought she'd be fine.
With that Ronald made a quick, but polite, exit. After all he had a lot more signatures to get. He found each signature he added made the next signature quicker and easier to achieve. Like a gang mentality, once someone saw how others were in agreement with the petition they just followed right along like sheep. It wasn't long before Ronald had fifty signatures. The next day another seventy-five, the next over one hundred more, and Ronald just kept going until he had several hundred signatures. He was now the leader of a great cause; for the people.
Once Ronald had all his signatures in order he took a few days to think, and rethink, how to approach Mayor Tolson. He wanted to approach Joe in a way that would ensure a positive response; that would be action.
First Ronald thought about calling up to city hall to set up an appointment. He rethought this because he didn't want to be just another meeting to the Mayor. Next he thought about just walking into his office and asking to see Mayor Tolson. Next he thought he should do this, only demand instead of ask. He shot both ideas down as too disorganized and even rude. He didn't want to tick off Joe Tolson, he wanted his support.
Ronald decided to take a more personal approach. After all he's known Joe for years and really had no reason to be completely formal with him. Ronald decided to simply ring Joe up at his home and ask if he could stop by and see him; possibly that same evening. He was sure that a calm and collected, friendly, approach would give him his best opportunity at success. Success is all Ronald wanted; sweet, unconditional success.
"Hello," Betsy answered the phone in a soft and pleasant voice.
"Well hi Betsy, this is Ronald Mason ? how are you today?" Ronald smiled while he spoke to ensure his voice carried that smile through the phone line.
"Hi Ron, I'm fine and you?"
"I'm well Betsy ? I've heard you've had some great success on the school board recently," Ronald remembered Betsy had recently become a member of the school board and believed stroking her pride would not hurt a thing.
"Well yes, actually ? I feel I'm bringing a fresh perspective to the board and really believe my ideas are being heard." Ronald thought she was quite optimistic, possibly even blissfully ignorant; as his experience with public boards was far less about being heard and more about the politics of carefully saying the right thing; in other words, try not to say anything that anyone takes offense to unless you wish to have a very short tenure. He knew she would figure this out eventually; one way or another. He wished he cared about it as much as his polite tone implied, but he didn't.
"I'm sure you'll make a real difference for our community; a positive impact."
"I'll do my best Ron. So what have you been up to lately?"
"I suppose I've been worrying a bit more than usual, but probably no more than any other resident of Barnsdall; you know in regards to our problem." Ronald sounded less cheery and more serious now; but still somehow refreshingly polite.
"Oh yes, yes I know what you mean Ron. I've been worried sick at times. I know Joe has been too, although he puts up a good front most of the time; ever the tough guy you know." Betsy provided a soft, somewhat forced, chuckle.
"Speaking of Joe, how's the old fart doing these days?"
"Oh he's fine, he's right here do you want to talk to him?"
"Well Betsy if it's not a bad time, hope I didn't catch ya'll at the dinner table or anything."
"No Ron, this is a good time ? Joe phone honey," Ronald could hear her handing Joe the phone and whispering: "It's Ron Mason".
"Hi Ron how are you?" Joe sounded pleasant, but his heart rate increased a bit as he knew that any call from Ronald Mason had to have something involved in it that would make his life more complicated. He knew Ron nearly always wanted something from him, and every other civic leader he could get an audience with.
"I'm fine Joe and you?"
"Superb"
"Have you been getting in any fishing lately?" Ron wanted to ease into inviting himself over.
"Well with everything that's been going on in town I really haven't had the time." Joe's voice was polite but with a twinge of cynicism, expecting the pleasantries to turn into something more direct, and likely stressful.
"I understand Joe ? I understand. Say Betsy mentioned that this might not be a bad time for you, do you think I could swing by your casa in a bit; bend your ear?"
There it was, thought Joe, Ron was looking for something; likely some job to be done or some rant to be heard. Joe tried to use his tone of voice, rather than his words, to register his dissatisfaction with such a meeting. However, as far as Joe could tell, Ron just didn't get it, or more likely chose to ignore it. "Sure come on over Ron," Joe finally said.
As Joe hung up the phone he gave an exacerbated look to his wife. "What is it," she asked.
"Don't know yet hon, but you better put on a pot of coffee because that Ronald Mason can be quite long winded when he gets going." Betsy hopped to it.
Joe made his way into the living room and plopped down in his easy chair. He thought about the recent events in his town. Being the mayor of the new murder capital of Northeastern Oklahoma wasn't what he signed on for. He couldn't imagine what else Ron would want to talk about; hell no one in town wanted to talk about anything else, why should Ron be any different. The whole subject just bored him. Not that he didn't think it was important, and terrible; but rather he just felt it was out of his control. If that damned Chief Long would just do something!
It was just under ten minutes before the door bell rang. Betsy answered the door while Mayor Tolson put on his best politicians face; confident and upbeat with optimism oozing from every pore. Joe usually liked to leave that face at city hall, but not this eve.
Joe could hear howdy do's coming from the front door and walking into the kitchen. Betsy was being the gracious host that made her a supreme asset as a politician's wife; Joe appreciated that. Joe often appreciated this about his wife above all other things; he enjoyed feeling Betsy had a purpose to him ? to help further his career. It rarely crossed Joe's mind that his desire to have Betsy for this reason could easily be viewed as selfishness.
"Joe honey, Ron's here ? would you like to come into the kitchen or meet in the ?" Joe strolled into the kitchen with a smile and a stretched out hand.
"Hi Ron, good to see you," Joe gave his signature firm hand shake with the other hand on the shoulder. He felt this was a little less formal than the two handed handshake some politician's use. His shake was more howdy than hello, he thought. Oh he used both methods but preferred the more relaxed greeting in his home.
"Thanks for inviting me over on such short notice Joe." Joe immediately thought how Ron really invited himself over, as opposed to any invitation from him.
"Oh that's fine, it's just good to see you Ron. Why don't we settle in the living room, I think Betsy has some coffee on, would you like a cup?" Joe gave a look at Betsy that said: "get busy now", but not in a rude way. Betsy did "get busy".
"Sure that would be fine, thanks Betsy," replied Ron with a nod. They made their way into the living room as Betsy made her way to the coffee pot.
Once seated, Joe in his easy chair and Ron on the leather sofa, Joe noticed that Ron had a large number of papers with him. He'd noticed he was carrying something when he first met him in the kitchen, but was just now registering the size of the something.
Betsy brought in the coffee, and a smile. Joe and Ron sipped and talked small for a few minutes. Then Ron began to make his move.
"I h
ave something here I'd like to show you Joe," said Ron as he slipped the top page off of his thick stack of papers.
"What's that Ron," replied Joe as he sat his coffee aside.
"Let me just start by saying we, the folks in the community, are all very concerned about what's been going on, as I'm sure you are as well."
"Of course."
"I've been talking with folks in town and we really believe something should be done. I'll let you read this." With that Ron handed Joe the petition. He then leaned back on the sofa prepared to provide Joe with a long moment to take it in.
Joe read the petition with a calm expression on his face. It didn't appear to faze him a bit. In fact it didn't, as he had been expecting something like this from Ron since he took his call earlier. He had enough time to expect the worst, so this didn't surprise him a bit.
Once finished reading and reflecting Joe looked up at Ron, saying: "So from the looks of that stack of papers over there you have quite a few signatures."
"Yes Joe ? I do ? hundreds actually," replied Ron with a twinkle of pride in his voice.
"That's quite a statement about the community's concern isn't it ? all those folks signing such a document?" Joe leaned back in his chair, looking very composed.
"Yes, I think it is Joe," replied Ron, again with that sound of pride. He thought he should be proud of himself; after all he put this whole thing together.
"How's your coffee Ron? Need a refill?"
"No, no I'm fine thanks."
"I'll be right back. I'm going to go freshen up my mug." Joe left the room and Ron sat quietly awaiting his return.
Ron figured Joe just needed a moment to plan his response. He thought things were going well.
Upon Joe's return he looked even calmer than before. This surprised Ron a bit and Joe could see that surprise on his face. Joe decided to wait Ron out, make him make the first move. It didn't take long.
"So Joe what do you think? Find any flaws in the logic of the petition?"
"No Ron, I really don't. I think you've stated your case quite concisely."
"Including that you have the authority to remove the Chief?"
"Yes Ron ? yes, including that."
"Good then. Surely with this many folks expressing their concerns," Ron held up the fat bundle of signatures, "You will be prompt to take action."
"Well let's not get a head of ourselves here now Ron. I may be able to do just that, but I will need time to think."
"Ok, I understand ? what's your timeline then?" Ron wasn't going to let go of the subject that easily.
"I'll put it to you like this Ron ? no matter what I can do; I will do the right thing."
"And what's that Joe?"
"That's what I'll be using some time to think about. I think you have a very good point, and you've done a fantastic job of gaining community support for your point. I appreciate your caring for our community. I'm sure we can find a way to resolve this that won't let you or anyone else down." Towards the end of his statement Joe had the tone of voice that said: "now this conversation is over, thank you for your time". He wasn't rude at all, just very clear that he'd said enough.
Ron grasped that he'd said and done all he could at this point, so he made a speedy exit. He wished Betsy a good evening, shook Mayor Tolson's hand firmly and off he went. He left the petition and signature pages with the Mayor; of course Ron had copies of his own at home just in case he'd ever need them.
By Day or By Night Page 13
