Sheriff Porter 105

Ramadamadingddong

Just before dark we took the Bicycle out of the bed of the truck. I checked it out and it looked fine. “Looks like you done good again, Wilson,” I said.

I got on the lightweight bike and took off on the slightly over five mile run. I left the bike in the pine thicket about a hundred feet from road. It was still a hundred yard walk to the Freight Company’s fenced building. I found a comfortable tree to lean against and wait. I waited in the bushes near the freight terminal for a few hours. Right on time at almost 4 AM, the importer threw a package over the fence. The spot he chose was in line with the laser pointer I aimed at him.”

I recovered the package, then placed it in the small backpack. The one I had purchased from Wal-Mart at the same time I bought the lightweight mountain bike. The five mile ride back to the grassed airstrip was a piece of cake. I had found the airstrip listed on the Internet. I had also arranged for fuel and a tie down spot at the small grass airfield over the internet.

I had to open the wings in the dark but I managed to get it done. I sat in the plane until the sun came up. When it did, I pushed the plane so that it faced into the wind. The canary yellow bird started to roll and very soon it took to the air. It had been in a very short roll out, which I found comforting on the strange field.

I flew the plane a few hours to another grassy field somewhere in the middle of Virginia. The little bird did beautifully. I found the spot easily thank thanks to the on board GPS. The system made navigation almost unnecessary. I was still thankful that it was taught at the flying school. You know if it can happen it will someday.

I wasn’t at all surprised, when I looked down and saw the candy colored truck. Wilson was waiting for me at the side of the small grass field. He hadn’t had to wait for sunup or me to recover the package. Since he had left as soon as he delivered the bicycle, he must have napped in the truck overnight.

He helped me secure the airplane before we drove off to New Jersey. The drive was uneventfully, since if there was anyone we had lost them. The combination of the hand off at the docks, the bike ride along the back roads and the few hours in the air, would have left anyone confused and frustrated.

It was a few hours later that Wilson sent the man who was paying us, the GPS coordinates for a diner just off the Jersey Turnpike. They were informed of the location for the transfer thirty minutes before it was to happen. Wilson also advised him that if he was late, we were going to be out of there.

We were on our second cup of coffee when an armored car showed up. I kept my hand on the butt of the .22 mag, until I compared the driver to his photograph. The picture had been sent me by the armored car company. I delivered the package to him, then Wilson and I had dinner. It was too late to make it back that night, so we drove south till we were about two hours from the grassy field. Then checked into a motel six.

“Wilson I’m so fucking tired. How about we drive out for pizza and bring it back with a six pack of beer,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” he said.

During the drive to the Pizza Place Restaurant Wilson asked, “Who do you think got that $250 bike?”

“I have no idea but I left it at that grassy field in SC with a note. The note said simply ‘use it in good health,” I replied.

We took the pizza to the motel. There we ate it while watching TV. I just didn’t feel like playing on the computer. We also went to bed early and left two beers untouched. Needless to say nothing happened between Wilson and me. It truly was as if nothing had ever happened. Which suited me just fine.

The next morning after breakfast, we drove the final two hours to the grassy strip where my plane was tied to the tie down rings buried in the ground. The guy who ran the place collected my fee for parking there over night. Wilson and I had brought five gallons of gas with us. I checked the milk bottle colored gas tanks. I could see that with the five gallons, we added, the small plane’s gas tanks were almost full. I took off figuring I would need six of the ten gallons to get me home. I had never flown that plane, or any plane as much as I had in those two days. That engine had been remarkably dependable. To say that I was happy with it would have been an understatement. I landed at my grass strip near New Wales and waited almost an hour before Wilson showed up.

“Hey Wilson are you okay?” I asked.

“Sorry I’m late, but the traffic was a bear,” he said.

“Well let’s get home. I want to go out to dinner,” I suggested. “We haven’t eaten a good meal since Monday and it’s Thursday now.”

“Good. Can we finally go to a hotel restaurant on Jefferson Island?” Wilson asked.

“Sure why not, as long as it isn’t some thing that only serves sushi or Indian. I want steak,” I informed him.

“Okay the ‘Steak and Rib’ in the Sea Breeze Motel,” Wilson said.

“Did you check to see if we had a deposit from our New Jersey friend?” I asked.

“Yes, 10K as we agreed,” Wilson said. “I moved $2,500 to my account. Is that okay?”

“You know it is. You get thirty percent after expenses. So $2,500 sounds fair to me,” I replied.

“Since I have to pay a share of the expenses, I think we should try to save money,” Wilson said.

“Oh, what do you have in mind?” I asked.

“We could share a bed,” he said.

“In you dreams bitch,” I said with a laugh. Of course we were both kidding. It made me wonder if Wilson had indeed blacked out during our storm party. It would be a good thing if he had.

So after I took a shower and washed my short hair, I dressed in my men’s cut business suit I had been forced to buy back in County Seat. I actually looked like a lawyer in that outfit. It made me cringe. Dressing for dinner was why I ate a lot of pizza.

“My god Wilson you do clean up well,” I said with a laugh. But he did look nice in his gray slacks and blazer. Even without the tie it was obviously a dress up outfit. He usually wore long shorts and a tee shirt with some wise ass comment printed on the front and back. I would never go out with him wearing the one that had the phrase ‘Mohammad was a pedophile’. Yes it was funny, but it was also likely to start a riot, even on Jefferson Island where radical Muslims were few except maybe working in the kitchens.

When he parked the Honda in the Breeze’s parking lot I was in my ‘not so bitchy mode’. “Wilson, I hate to admit it but I’m really looking forward to this,” I commented.

“I always knew you were a real girl at heart. If I worked hard enough I could bring that girlie girl inside you out,” he said.

“Oh you did?” I asked still being nice to him.

“Yes of course, it was just a matter of time,” Wilson said. “If I keep at it, I can get you to agree to a boob job.”

“Fat chance you sexist pig,” I said laughing. The waiter was very nice as he took our order. I ordered the large fillet with salad and a potato dish of some kind. All I knew was that it had a fancy French name. The waiter assure me it was similar to a baked potato but without the skin. It also had a few herbs and spices.

They had some fruit mixed in which I appreciated, but Wilson it seemed was a purist. I had to laugh as he picked out the fruit. Since they served only wine with the meals there I chose to go the iced tea route. It was acceptable though not great.

All in all the meal was very good. I enjoyed Wilson’s look of discomfort when I took the bill from the table to pay it. He obviously didn’t like the feeling it created. He did seem to appear a kept man. His puritan upbringing I expected, something I didn’t share. The check was way over what should have been allowed in a civilized world but I had expected it. I should have made Wilson pay his fair share as the liberals called it. Instead I handed the waiter my credit/debit card.

We were in the parking lot when Wilson said, “Do you realize without the Railroad B&B there is nothing to do in this town? Honestly you have to go to Ellisboro to that regional mall just to see a freaking movie.”

“Oh is there something you wanted to see in the movies? Something you can’t wait to come to TV or the Computer?” I asked.

“That isn’t the freaking point. The point is there is nothing to do,” he said.

“Wilson there maybe nothing you want to do, but there is plenty to do here,” I said. “Besides movies are way over rated.”

Wilson drove back to the barge house and right into the arms of a Carter County Deputy Sheriff. “Well hello there, can I help you?” I asked the young woman.

“Yes, could you wait right here for a second,” she asked while she made the radio call. I didn’t have time to slip the pistol to Wilson. I shrugged and went along with her.

“Would you mind, if I went into the office? I really need to pee.” Wilson asked. “We had some beers with dinner.”

“I would really prefer you didn’t,” the deputy said.

“Deputy, is he under arrest?” I asked.

“Well no,” she said.

“Then Wilson go take your piss,” I said staring right at the deputy. “Now unless I’m under arrest I am going to go change my clothes.” I simply walked toward the houseboat to see what she would do. I had a feeling she was stalling waiting for backup. I really wanted to get rid of the pistol in my shoulder holster and the derringer in the little clutch bag. Even though they were totally legal, I really didn’t need the BS that went with them.

“Stop turn around slowly with your hands over your head. I am placing you under arrest for simple assault on one Ahmad Ramadamadingdong. Not really but that was how it sounded. Another of the Sheriff’s cars had pulled into the parking lot just as she made her move.

“Shit here we go again. Wilson,” I shouted, “call Rita,” I said. I expected that this time Ahmad had taken out the warrant. I had a hard time believing that a Deputy would do such a senseless thing. “When you search me you are going to find a small revolver in a shoulder holster under my blazer and a derringer in my clutch bag.”

“Rita said not one fucking word till she gets here,” Wilson said to me with a smile. “She is probably looking forward to the visit.”

Edited by Walt

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Sheriff Porter 105

  1. Walt says:

    Hmmm is a Warrant requested by an illegal alien terrorist a valid Warrant? Guess we’ll find out when Rita chomps on a few heads.

    • cindypress says:

      Uncle probably isnt illegal just the driver of the car.

    • hartzog86 says:

      Illegal, Alien or terrorist. None of those would prevent you from swearing to a warrant in NC. Especially an assault warrant. The magistrate will issue a warrant out of a preponderance of caution especially if in any way could it be considered domestic. Its who ever gets there first gets the warrant, most of the time they wont issue a cross warrant (both sides get a warrant on the other side) if they know about the other warrant, and they wont issue one on a statement from an obviously intoxicated person.
      So you will need to
      1. have a pulse
      2. be able to explain what happened (reasonably sober)
      3. have the name and address of the person that assaulted you.

      Zog

      • cindypress says:

        Glad you weighed in. I have never heard of anyone being refused a warrant. Just for my own self I would think a magistrate would cya with this administration especially. You can go around whipping up on people just because of who they are but they should get them in court and send them home as well. But that ain’t gonna happen right now.

  2. jack says:

    Another great chapter. Thanks

  3. cindypress says:

    As always you are welcome.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s