Sheriff Porter 43 (edited)

Sheriff Porter 43

I called Tomas the night before and he came over to add the two eight foot poles across the room.  When he was finished, I had a room that was twenty feet by eight feet.  It had a pole at the end where I hung my clothes.  I also had a small chest of drawers that sat under the pole.  It shortens the closet by about two feet.  But the six foot high bar with a shelf above had more than enough room.

Tomas’s minor renovation left Osborn with exactly the same space.  She seemed quite satisfied with that space.  She used her packing boxes as a dresser under the clothes bar.  I could remember the garage apartment, and there was very little difference in the bedroom.

Osborn and I had been up and running at first light.  We did the run then went home to shower.  We managed all that before our meet with Tomas.  After he finished the two poles, we took my truck and went to Jeremy’s gallery.

“Jeremy you remember Osborn here.  She has decided to come to work for me,” I said.

“Good for you both,” Jeremy said.  “I don’t suppose you will be interested in your gallery space any longer?”

“To be honest hon I hadn’t even considered what to do about it.  Have you got a chest of drawers for Osborn here?” I asked.

“Of course I do.  Come along child,” he said leading her upstairs to the furniture gallery.  “I could hear voices coming from them but I tried not to listen.  Then they started to giggle and I began to worry.

“Well we found something, but it will take all of us to move it,” Jeremy said.

“Only if you tell me what all the giggling was about,” I demanded.

“Then I guess we shall have to manage alone,” Osborn said and immediately she and Jeremy began to giggle again.

“Alright you two win,” I said as I went upstairs.  Jeremy carried the empty drawers down stair while Osborn and I struggled with the bones of the 1930 style chest of drawers.  It was similar to my own chest but shorter.  Mine was four drawers hers was only three.  It was almost a foot shorter than mine as well.  It was mahogany though so it matched.

We took the opportunity to stop at Reggie’s for a workout.  Since we both wore sweat suits it was obvious that we had expected to stop there.  We beat on the bags for an hour then left.

“So Osborn you get a full vote as to where we put the investigative business.  So where do you vote?” I asked.

“It’s only been one day, why don’t we wait a week then discuss this,” she suggested.

“Why don’t we start kicking around ideas then decided next week or later,” I suggested.

“Okay, there will be more to see and do in other states,” Osborn said stating the obvious.

“Agreed but I really like living in this state.  Hell I like living here, but the winters are too cold for a skinny bitch,” I said.  “How about somewhere on the coast?”

“That is the second time you have mention the coast.  I think you are getting yourself locked into the beach scene.  Is there any reason we can’t go down there and visit for a while before we decide?” She asked.

“Actually that is a first class idea.  We have to be here till Friday for the big lottery drawing and then the money will be transferred to my bank.  You have to agree to never tell anyone.  Not that it makes any difference to us, if the people know.  Rita has sat up an irrevocable trust to dispense the money for ten years.”  I might get sued, but they most likely would be too ashamed to sue.  Nonetheless I am going to stand in front of the lotto sign holding a giant check for fifteen million.”

“So you are taking it all at once?” she asked looking confused.

“Well kinda the lotto people will deposit fifteen million in a trust.  The trust will then transfer five million into my bank account.  I will sign over a check for one million for attorney fees which are somehow tax deductible under the trust agreement.  Then the trust will withdraw the first year’s taxes on four million dollars of unearned income.  Believe it or not that is almost two million.  The trust is supposed to somehow work out a lower tax rate then return whatever part of the two million they can save me.  These guys managing the trust are supposed to be the best.

“The checks are supposed to come rolling in one a month.  I am to decide how much I want to roll back into the trust but frankly that’s just too much bullshit for me.  The trust officer is to keep a minimum of 50k in my bank at all times.  That’s all I really care about.  If I want to buy a house or a car I send them the details and they put the money in the account.  That is all except the first two million I am going to just fucking play with.”

It all sounded good, but not trusting anyone completely was how I had stayed alive so far.  I intended that it stay that way.  I paid the Geek’s financial Geek to keep an eye on the administrator of my trust.

The Geek’s Geek ran a consulting company to do just that one thing.  He set tag, gates and computer dead falls in place to warn him when anything out of the ordinary happened with my trust.  It was a double blind system that I had to rely on till I acquired a better understanding of all that money crap.  All that was for later, for the time being it was just try to enjoy the two million.

To be honest I didn’t really understand any of it.  I just trusted the people I trusted.  I made sure that they all knew ‘they didn’t want to fuck me’.  Failure was acceptable once screwing me was never acceptable.

So Friday finally came.  I helped with the farce, that I was just the luckiest woman in the world on that day.  Then all the mechanics that Rita worked out came to pass.  Blessed be the name of Rita, I thought.

“So what you gonna do with all that money,” Rita asked after the ceremony.

“I’m going on vacation for a couple of weeks to the coast.  Then I’m going to sit down, have about ten drinks, and decide where I go from here,” I said.

“Sounds like you.  You know you could do some good with that money,” Rita said.

“Oh are you setting up a scholarship fund with your money?” I asked.

“Hell no, I’ll going to pay off my college loans and buy a fancy car.  Maybe even a condo.  You know one in that new business park.  I can have the office downstairs and live upstairs.  Maybe get a boyfriend.  You know for cover,” she said.

“For cover?” I asked.

“Yes Silvia, I’m gay.  The only reason I never flirted with you, is that I’m also a racist,” she said with a laugh.

“Well fuck me,” I said in total surprise.

“Not a chance,” she said.

After my photo op with the Elections Board, and my coffee with Rita, I headed back to County Seat and my friend Melissa Osborn.  Osborn was my friend and nothing more at that moment.

It was afternoon when I got home.  Oz could have gone with me, but she chose to cleanup her affairs back home.  I assumed that meant turning in her badge & gun etc.

I called her on the phone, when I was twenty miles out, ”Hey Osborn, want to meet me at the pub in about half an hour for dinner.  They are having the meat pie that Nita does so well?”

“Sylvia you are a piece of work.  You just got fifteen million dollars and you are going to the same place for dinner you always go,” Osborn said.

“I’m still the same person Oz, and I still like the meat pie at the pub.  You coming or not?” I asked.

“Of course I’m coming.  You couldn’t keep me away,” she said.

Jeremy came down from the upstairs apartment to join us for dinner.  Nita was as young and fresh as ever.  I had aged the full two years since being elected Sheriff, but not Nita.  She was still fourteen more or less.

“So Sylvia, what are your plans for tomorrow?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes Sylvia, what are our plans for tomorrow?” Osborn asked.

“Well it’s to early in the year for a cookout, and I would like to do something for the county even on this short notice, but I have no idea what,” I replied.

“We call Red Henson for a hot dog lunch,” The Brit said.

“You better watch him Jeremy, he might have a romance going with Henson,” I suggested.

“Bullshit, I just know he can come up with five hundred hot dogs overnight, if you need them,” The Brit said.

“If Mike doesn’t have anything going on, he might can get his family to do the cooking and prep work,” I said.  Mike owned Mike’s family catering.

“How many hot dogs you gonna serve?” Osborn asked.

“Well we would serve a couple of hundred before we packed it in.  If we get that many customers,” I said.  “Well it’s four let’s do it what the hell.”

I called Mike first.  “Mike you cooking anywhere tomorrow?” I asked.

“Nothing at all on the schedule, you got something for me?” he asked.

“I need you to set up a Flash Mob lunch tomorrow at noon in the town square.  If you get a ticket I’ll pay it.  Just come in ready to cook.  Just start the hot dogs grilling and set up a table full of fixings.  Hit the square at noon, and we will be there to help.”

“Sounds doable, how much am I furnishing?” he asked.

“Hold on a second,” I said to him.  I turned to The Brit.  “He wants to know what he has to bring.”

“The grill and the paper plates, the tea and the cups and ice for it,” The Brit said.  “We can pick up the rolls, mustard, ketchup, and that red relish you like.”

I passed on the plan to Mike and added some finely chopped onions to his list.  He could cut onions paper thin.  The Brit had Red Henson on the other line.  “Plan for 300 dogs,” he shouted to me.

“Did you hear the crazy Brit?” I asked.

“Alright I will have the truck sitting by the square and ready to go at noon,” he said.  “You are going to hand me four hundred dollars before I set up the grill?”

“I am,” I said.  When he was off the phone I said “Peanuts,” and laughed.  Osborn posted the Flash Mob notice wherever one posts it for a town the size of County Seat.  I preferred to slip into the square after midnight and put up a sign on the side of the park away from the courthouse.  There would be downtown shoppers all morning before we showed up.  After that it would be word of mouth and a larger banner Osborn was painting.  Rita the lawyer got an invitation and a heads up in case I got arrested.

We left the Pub after midnight.  I had only two beers and Osborn not much more.  That being the case we drove home.

Osborn had tapped into my Internet connection so she dropped her service.  That being the case I wasn’t surprised to find her sitting on her bed with a small TV table pulled up beside her bed.  “Just checking my mail.”

“Go to the storage building tomorrow and get one of those disposable laptops up there.  Set it up with whatever you need for business use and stay off your personal laptop for our business.  Okay?” I asked.

“Sure, I’m just emailing a few friends about the Flash Mob lunch,” she explained.

Edited by Walt

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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4 Responses to Sheriff Porter 43 (edited)

  1. jack says:

    Dam your stillon a roll two in one day . Thanks Great chapters.

  2. cindypress says:

    was getting writers constipation. had to clean out a little.

  3. bigguy323 says:

    As damages, the money would not be unearned income. It would TAX FREE!

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