Sylvia 25

Sylvia 25

I wore the cap from the parking lot of the plaza.  I would have worn it out of the store, but that would have looked a little odd.  Like walking across the parking lot in a deputy’s uniform with a thug’s knit cap.   I couldn’t fit my current baseball cap I had over the knit cap.  

Since I couldn’t wear both, I carried the knit cap in my hand.  My first stop was to head back to the station for a larger baseball type hat.  I figured with the shaved head and all, the Chief Deputy would be thrilled for me to cover it, eve if it meant a larger hat.”

“Tell me Sylvia, what possessed you to shave your head?  Please do not say sand fleas,” he suggested.

“Chief Deputy my hair is so thin that when it gets wet it looks like a wet mop.  I am not joking it looks like shit.  It was wet for three days straight and I just lost patience with it.  I have decided to let it grow back, but only to about an inch in length.  That’s why I need the knit cap and the larger ball hat,” I said.

“Someone said you were thinking about a tat for your scalp?” he asked.

“I thought about it, but I want my hair about an inch and that would hide the tat,” I explained.

“I can concur with the short hair, the knit cap, and even the flat chested look, but the tat I would have had a problem with,” he said.

“Well, it won’t be an issue.  By the way I’m not trying for a flat chested look.  I am simply wearing a full support bra just in case I  have to run,” I said.  “Between that and the Kevlar, flat is what you get.”

“Whatever, if you want to look like a guy you better be prepared to fight like a guy,” he said.

“I hope I can fight better than the guy I’m fighting,” I said honestly.

“Good point,” Webster said.

From the Sheriff’s supply room I went home to my motel room to change.  I removed the uniform, and replaced it with worn jeans and a white tee shirt.  I had also removed the elastic contraption called a full support or sports bra.  I didn’t replace it with anything.  I wanted the guys to know I was a girl.  They would be better able to tell, when I finally got more hair.  My scalp was covered with what on a guy’s face would be a two day growth.  In other words just a shadow of color.

Once I was comfortble I pulled up a TV show from the night before on the computer.  It was a silly comedy, but it was also what I was in the mood to see.  I started the next day’s coffee while I watched the show off and on.  I reheated a large cup of the brew from the day before while counting the minutes until I could break my fast.

I planned on the roast beef sandwich as my meal for the day.  Since it was from the store’s deli, I expected it to be pretty good.  They had made it for me with no lettuce or tomato, so it should microwave well.  I had lots of little take out packs of condiments, should I really need the taste of tomato.  More likely it would be barbecue sauce or maybe even taco sauce, the hot one of course.

I hung out on the computer until 8PM then I went for a walk through the lounge.  “Hey Sarah, is everything quiet?” I asked.

“Yeah but it’s a little early,” she said.

“Well I have to get up at 5AM, so I’m headed to bed early.  If you need anything call the Sheriff.” I said.

“Okay, I can do that,” she informed me.  “Sleep well.  By the way since you shaved your head have you had any offers to share your bed?”

“Why? are you thinking about doing it to?” I asked.

“Lord no,  my hair is my one good feature.  I was just curious,” she said.

“I have had no fewer offers.  Let’s put it that way.  The guys who wanted to screw me before still do, but no new ones,” I informed her.  “Now I’m going to bed to let my hair grow.”

“Sweet dreams,” Sarah said.

“Thanks,” and with that I was out the door.  It took me more than a few minutes to fall asleep.  I spent the time wondering what had caused the big change in finances for the Allen family.  I wanted to know what Allen did for a living.  The loud behavior described by the neighbors seemed to have started about the same time 7 year old Jennifer went on the school’s free breakfast program.

It also looked as though Gypsy started hanging out at the clubs around the same time.  Was something going on at home she needed to get away from, or was she just pissed because her husband was up to no good at home.  I was sure Simpson was trying to run all that down.  To be honest, I wasn’t sure that he was but I sure hoped that he was.

I would bet my wide ass that Monk knew something.  A woman in a club will talk to the man who is buying her drinks.  Most of the time she will tell him a lot more than she realizes.  I should talk to Monk myself, but Simpson would be justifiably pissed.  Not only would it call his ability into question, but it would put us back at each other’s throat.

I would have to give it some serious thought before I stepped into that pile of steaming camel dung.  However if I bumped into Monk at the lounge, I could certainly have a conversation with him.  A really wide ranging conversation I would expect.  I almost picked up the phone and tried to find Monks number.  I didn’t, because I needed to sleep and I needed to give that plan a lot more thought.

The next memorable thought I had was the clock buzzing in my ear.  I didn’t jump out of bed, but I did make it out of the room before the front desk called.  I was well into my run, when I heard the sound of a car crash.  I ran toward the noise and got to the scene before the occupants of the cars got out to assess the damage.  I was also on the cell phone calling for a deputy to come investigate.  My plan was to not even admit that I was a deputy.

The plan got scrapped when the driver of the almost new pickup truck opened the door then stepped into the middle of the road.  “You stupid son of a bitch, didn’t you see me?” he asked the guy in the small Korean car.  He didn’t even ask it the man was hurt.

“Deputy Sheriff Porter step back please,” I said to the pick up driver.  “Are you okay,” I asked the driver in the Korean death trap.  Since the car had crumpled around him, I guessed that what they said about them was true.  ‘Korean cars are a real bargain, if you don’t factor in the hospital bills’.

“I think so, I do smell gasoline though,” he said.

“Turn off your ignition.  Hang in there help is on the way,” I said.  The pickup driver was moving away from the car.  “If I were you, I wouldn’t leave, I do have your tag number.”  Actually I didn’t have it, but he didn’t know that.

“It was his fault and the air stinks of gasoline,” Pickup driver said.

“You can give me your driver’s license, then move back away from the car,” I said quietly.

“Bet your ass I’m going to move back,” he said.

“Look friend there is no need to upset the guy who is trapped in that car.  Just stay calm and things will work out.” I said to the pickup driver as he handed me his driver’s license.

It was at that moment that the first patrol car pulled onto the block.   “He is trapped and the car is leaking gas.  He got the ignition turned off, but I don’t know.  Do we have the rescue guys on the way?” I asked.

“Yes they are five minutes out and rolling hard.  Looks like he is going to have to be cut out of there,” the night shift deputy said.

I nodded just as the pickup driver said, “Listen there is nothing I can do  here.  I called my wife.  She is coming to take me to work.  She can handle all this other BS after.”

“You are not leaving the scene until we get this sorted out,” the uniformed deputy said.

“Bullshit, he was speeding and hit me when I pulled away from the stop sign.  That’s all there is to it.” the driver insisted.

“It’s fine that you called your wife, but now you need to call you boss or whoever and tell them you are going to be late,” the deputy said.

“I haven’t done anything and you can’t hold me here,” the driver said.

“Listen you jerk,” I said.  “That guy over there may not get out of this alive and you are showing your ass over a few minutes wait.  Just shut the fuck up or I’m going to go all Geronimo on your ass.”  I said it very quiet so I wasn’t sure even the deputy heard it.  Of course he was grinning so obviously he heard.  I went back to stand beside the Korean tin can.  “So what’s you name?”

“Name is Edward.  I don’t think I can reach my driver’s license,” he said.

“That’s okay,  I’ll get it when you step out of the car.  So Edward, surely a good looking dude like you is married?”

“Yep and got two kids.  I sure hope I see them again,” he said.

“You will, if it gets too dangerous, me and the deputy will just reach in and pull your good looking ass out.” I said.

“So why don’t you do it now?” he said.

“It’s that socialized medicine hon.  If I make things worse, the government will have my ass.  I can’t afford to lose my pension.”

“So you are going to wait till you see something really bad, before you pull me out?” he asked.

“So far there is no reason to risk making it worse.  By the way what happened out here?” I asked more to take his mind off than anything.

“He pulled out of that stop sign in front of me.  I wasn’t speeding, but I couldn’t get the car to stop in time.”

“Since you are better looking, I’m going to believe your version.  Of course, it is that deputy over there who has to write the report.  Not to worry, I’m sure I can convince him.”

The siren wailed as the rescue truck and ambulance pulled onto the block.  I hung out and helped them as much as I could.  We got Edward out.  Even though he was pretty beat up, it looked like he would be okay.  The ambulance pulled away before the pickup driver approached me.

“You got to know it wasn’t my fault.  He was speeding, I swear he was.” he said.

“You know you are one lucky man.  It looks like you won’t be charged with vehicular homicide.  That carries a ten year sentence in state prison.  So consider yourself lucky and use your right to remain silent.”

I took the good advice and called in that I would be late.  Sergeant Michaels told me not to worry.  I had been on the clock since my 911 call.  Then he said the most unusual thing.  “You know Porter some people are always stepping into shit.  I’m afraid you are one of them.  I would not want to be your partner.

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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6 Responses to Sylvia 25

  1. Walt says:

    i don’t understand Michaels’ comment either. I don’t think he would know Sylvia jumped all over the pickup driver unless the other officer squealed on her. Also it sounds like he did a “California Stop” at the stop sign. Ok, that is an old one. It’s where you tap your brake and your car stops for a second to give the appearance of stopping yet you are rolling right on through the stop sign.

    Added Edward and unnamed pickup driver to cast.

  2. cindypress says:

    I think it is based more on all the things she runs across that aren’t your typical boring ride around stuff. Things seem to happen around Sylvia. She found the doomsday club for instance. Not something most cops would even bother with. All Michaels really knew is that she was running and ran onto an accident. She was in the pick up and possible lawsuit thing as well. Lots of stuff for a month or so on the job.

  3. demitheus says:

    WOW! Sylvia really stepped into the manure pile, now she has the brass thinking she is bad news

    • cindypress says:

      I think she is going to be maybe be friendless. She is young and might be looking for a tough chick persona. She is after all one of the new breed of chicks who have seen combat. not quite sure how that works out. I wonder if her infatuation with the Steve McQueen myth will play out as well.

  4. KO says:

    Nice details, thoughs and diversity in the last couple of chapters. Always a treat to catch up by reading a couple in a row, although I’m disappointed when I get to the end of them. Must mean that I’m looking forward to more!! Thanks for the daily dose of your writing, it really is something that I look foward to!!

    • cindypress says:

      I find that I can handle this new episode style better than the story that just ran for days. If I can wrap up a thought in a day it really does make it easy. I’m glad you can enjoy the short episodes.

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