Sheriff Porter 137 (edited)

“It’s possible but this time it is to shut down a company, who is milking the taxpayer like their own personal cash cow,” the senator said. “We need to get evidence against them and you can do it.”

“I can’t do an undercover operation without a lot of back up and I frankly don’t have it. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to decline the job,” I said into the phone.

“Let me say this one thing to you, Electric Motorcar Company,” the senator said.

“Why do you think that would interest me?” I said.

“Someone told me you refused to work for Mr. Evans,” the senator said. “I’m going to send my aide down there to talk to you. You will recognize the aide from your last trip. I don’t expect you will want to be seen in Washington with me.”

“You know I met with Evans?” I asked.

“You don’t have to be working in the plant to get the goods on Evans,” he said. “Just talk to Gilmore.”

“Sure, but I doubt I will change my mind,” I said.

“It will give us a chance to use our frequent flier miles, so it’s no loss,” he said.

The next day in the afternoon Happy Gilmore came to town. Happy was a Gorgeous Blond, very tall with porcelain skin. She was what every little girl hoped to look like when she grew up. When she graduated Harvard Law school, she could have been either a Victoria Secret model or a lawyer. She chose to be a politician’s aide which was a little of both I suppose.

“Well if it isn’t Hilary aka Happy Gilmore?” I asked.

“So it is Sylvia you skinny ass bitch,” she said and hugged me.

“So the man sent you to talk me into doing his dirty work again?” I asked.

“You were well paid last time,” she said reminding me that I walked off with the ransom money.

“Yeah, but I have to buy my own health insurance,” I said smiling. “That really does a number under Obamacare.”

“Come on I’ll be your controller it will be fun,” she said.

“Happy, a congressional investigation could take months. It isn’t likely to be solved in a few days which is what I am used to. I have a business to run here,” I said.

“Come on, there is nothing here you can’t delegate to someone who lives down here,” she observed.

“It isn’t that simple,” I replied. The look she gave me told me she would never let go of it.

“It is that simple. If it was six months ago and it was the Swamp Dog you would find a way,” she said. It was the ultimate argument.

“But you aren’t Swamp Dog and it isn’t six months ago,” I said. “Happy I don’t need the money, why should I do it?” I asked.

“Because you need to work and this is important,” she said. “It was never about the money for you. It was always about the challenge. I know, because I’m the same way. We can do this and shove it right up the FBI’s nose.”

“Happy, I’m going to regret this I know, but okay give me a week to close down here and I’ll meet you in Stanleyville TN on the 10th. The closest McDonald’s to the center of town at 2 PM,” I said.

“How do you know you can do that? You don’t have a airline schedule,” she said.

“I won’t be flying. The McDonald’s will be easy to find,” I explained. “After I go under it might be harder to arrange a meeting, so lets make this one meaningless to an observer. There is no reason anyone will be watching either of us at the moment. We will have to make some arrangements. I’ll set it up and let you know what is what. Be prepared to brief me with all you know, and all you want to know. You have ten days Happy, if you change your mind, it’s a no harm, no foul till the last day. If you wait too long then I expect to be paid.”

“You will be paid, so I meet you in McDonald’s and we set up the protocols for the transfer of information?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said to her. “Just hold on till I clean up here and then I’ll see what I can do about the Electric Car scam.”

“So, I can tell the Senator you are on board?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we need a strategy. I’m going to be working on that over the next ten days,” I said. I also intended to work at putting what was left of my plans on autopilot. That ended her visit.

“Brit, I’m going to do a little job for a friend in Washington,” I said it when I got to the pub.

“I hope you mean Washington on the West Coast, not that swamp where the capitol is,” he said.

“I’m afraid not, but I won’t be working in Washington, so there is some saving grace,” I said.

“So what do you need us to do,” Jeremy asked. He knew that I was heavily involved in the revitalization of the ‘Bayview Block Arts Center’ as I had come to think of it.

“I’m going to have to put it on hold for a while. I can get EZ to pick up the rents, if I have any trouble. I certainly don’t expect any. I will get the bookkeeping service to inform EZ if there is,” I said.

“You know I can handle it,” The Brit said.

“Yes but EZ won’t have to cooperate with them the next day,” I said.

“That is true,” Jeremy said. “You haven’t forgotten those window ornaments have you?”

“No Jeremy I promise I will start on them when I leave here. Don’t take anymore orders for the decorator things till I get back,” I explained. Just like the old man enterprises, Jeremy had begun to process my web orders.

My only really regular customer was the Swamp Dog complex. They ordered the ID tags regularly for their new men. Also the dog tag was popular with the Washington Crowd, who they did business with. The necklace had a cool picture of the Swamp Dog on one side and their emergency contact information on the other.

While I waited for the prints I had promised Jeremy to come out of the laser engraver, I went on line and pulled the Ebay advertisements. With everything in my life paid for and my minimal approach to life I could probably live on the profits from my online sale of engraved items.

The rents on the building would definitely pay me enough to easily live my life style. No wonder the trust manager told me to settle with the state for bonds. I never did anything with the trust.

So the engraving was shut down and the rents were all paid to the Bookkeeping Company who channeled them to my bank. “So who is my Account Manager this month,” I asked the receptionist who sat behind the desk.

“Ms Porter I’m Willy,” the old bald guy said.

“I have a new manager every time I come in,” I said.

“Well there might be a lot of turn over, but you don’t come in often either. I was your Account Manager for several months and I never saw you. Anyway what can I do for you?” Willy asked.

“Well Mr. Willy it’s like this. I plan to be away on a trip, so I can’t do the day to day management of my assets. What I would like for you to do is keep track of the rent checks and monitor the conditions of the finances. I have a physical Property Manager, I think. I will give you his number if anything happens with the money part of the business that needs doing, just give him a call and explain it. If we work out a compensation package I will send you the details. Is that a doable plan?” I asked.

“It is indeed yes,” he admitted. “Just send us an email or call me and I’ll take care of it all.”

“Good,” I said. My next stop was EZ’s small compound out in the sticks.

“EZ,” I shouted when I went inside his office and found no one there.

“Damn, I never thought I would see you here,” EZ said to me.

“It’s business. I’m going to be out of town for a while. I’m not sure how long. If you are really through being pissed at me, I have some work I need done,” I said.

“I can’t do all that computer shit Wilson did for you,” he said.

“That’s not want I need this time,” I said.

“What then?” he asked.

I explained the deal with the bookkeeper and then I explained I wanted him to visit the property about once a month or so and just walk through. “That applies to everything but the apartments. As long as they pay their rents and you don’t hear any complaints from the neighbors let them do their thing. If you want to evict them, I’ll give you a power of attorney for that.”

“Well we can do that. You want to discuss fees?” he asked.

“Not as long as it’s reasonable,” I admitted. “If I’m not back by grass cutting season arrange for that and pass the cost to the bookkeeper.”

I felt like I had a handle on it, not ten days later but just two days later. On the morning of my third day of preparations, I rode the pedal trike with the assist motor to the airfield then went up in the plane. I wondered why in hell I had agreed to do the Under Cover or UC job for the senator. I probably just needed to work on something new for a while.

I thought about that while I soared about the heavens with the prop feathered. I was looking forward to the latest wrinkle in the fabric of my life. I supposed I should make up with Osborn and Wilson since I pulled them from their ordinary life to live this crazy life of mine. Osborn couldn’t even handle it for a month. It at least took Wilson almost two years to decide there were other things more important than my life.

I spoke into the wind at 5,000 feet when I said, “Fuck em they both had a choice.” They just chose to do the wrong things. Wilson should be pretty well off financially. I paid him his police lab salary plus a 30% bonus on the special jobs we did. I decided to pay him a visit soon. That was if Mel didn’t piss me off. Maybe Wilson and I could work things out somehow.

The air currents were treacherous but I got the Canary down anyway. I didn’t have to cut the grass in the winter, and there was no snow, so the strip maintenance was next to nothing. I didn’t worry about the solar charging units since there were so few lights around the strip and the camera use was minimal. EZ had talked me into a new alarm system. It was made of a solar light with a motion detector included. But this one also triggered an MP3 player with the sounds of two Pit Bulls attacking. I had no idea whether it worked or not but I knew it would work for me.

I rode the trike back home with the motor in contact with the wheel. When I got to the barge/house I took a shower inside. I knew that in less than a week I had to have the place winterized and my ass on the road. I wanted to talk to Wilson before I left but I knew I had plenty of time. So after I was dressed I took the Electric Hub Motor Trike out for a ride. I thought of it as the Hubby Trike.

Edited by Walt


About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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7 Responses to Sheriff Porter 137 (edited)

  1. The Mage says:

    This I don’t like!!! S. going in w/o a support system! Dangerous!!!!!!!! 😦

  2. jackballs57 says:

    I live 75miles from dc and I can smell the crap from here.

  3. Tubachoir says:

    Cindypress, you have great fans, A good reflection on the author!

    • cindypress says:

      I think it is more a reflection on the interaction between my readers. I have always said my stories are a bit about my writing and bit about their comments. I learn something from my readers more than they do from me actually.

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