The big black and white Chevy cruiser belonging to our esteemed former Chief of Police (complete with spotlight and whip antenna), is parked right in front of the door to my office, and I think to myself, Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?
Red is bent over at the waist; legs spread stiffly apart, hands in his pockets, staring intently at the big cork bulletin board that runs along the left wall of the office, above the bank of file cabinets. A white, straw cowboy hat is tipped back on his head, and he’s wearing Western boots, making him appear even taller than his six-feet, five-inches. He appears to be studying the missing person posters that adorn the board’s scarred surface.
“What’re you looking for, Dwight? Family member?”
“Hey, Chief!” he says, straightening up to his full height, and spinning around with a grin on his face as wide as a number 10 envelope. “Very funny,” he says, with a chuckle. “Very funny” (he hates when I call him Dwight).
“Thought you might enjoy that,” I say.
“Actually, I was just hoping I could be of some help with that case…you know…the girl. You did say it was a girl, right?”
“Yeah. It’s a girl, alright. What kind of help were you thinking of?”
“Well,” he says, the grin growing wider, “I was Chief around here for almost twenty years. I’ve got sources…If you know what I mean.” The last sentence hangs in the air like a bean fart.
“Actually, Red, believe it or not, we’ve got things pretty well under control. But, don’t think I don’t appreciate the offer.”
The big man moves closer, and I can swear I detect the odor of garlic on his breath, even though it’s only just past nine in the morning. Or, worse yet, maybe it’s masquerading something even more offensive. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Ya know, Matt, I might be an old codger, but there is some value to that. Folks around here know me; trust me, even. I was just thinkin’ I might take a few of those missin’ person posters around; show ‘em to folks that might have seen somethin’. Maybe been keepin’ it to themselves. Lord knows, it couldn’t hurt none. Whadda ya say. Huh? Deal?”
The “trust” thing is still rattling around inside my head. He sure has a way of getting to me. But, maybe I’m being too sensitive. He certainly seems sincere. What harm could it do to let him help? At least it’ll keep him out of the office.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Why don’t you make copies of some of the more recent ones and see what you can find out. After all, I’m not exactly overloaded with manpower. Hell, I’d really appreciate the help.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Nancy, standing in the doorway separating her office from mine, screwing up her face in a look of disapproval. I give her a conspiratorial wink, and she turns away in disgust. “But, right now, if you don’t mind, Red, I’ve got a bit of paperwork that needs to be done.”
“Hey, no problemo, Matt,” says Red. “I’ll just make those copies, and be on my way. I appreciate you lettin’ me help. You won’t be sorry; you’ll see.”
Five minutes later, with the freshly made copies in his hand, Red rushes out the door, fires up the cruiser, and is gone in a burst of dust and gravel.
In less than thirty seconds, Nancy appears in the doorway, hands on hips, a scowl painted across her face. “What was that all about?” she inquires.
“What? Red?”
“You know very well what I mean, Matt.”
“Look, Nancy, don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him? He certainly seems to have changed a bit. At least, I think he has. Why don’t you cut him some slack?”
“’Cause I know him too well. Tigers don’t change their spots.”
“It’s leopards,” I reply.
“Leopards, tigers; who cares? You know what I mean. Maybe it’s working with him all those years. He’s just plain mean.”
“Now I know you’re exaggerating,” I say. “I think you need to chill out a bit.”
“Maybe so,” replies Nancy. “But, just the same, you need to be on your guard.”
“I’ll take it under advisement. Now, can we just stop talking about Red and start getting some work done?” Instantly, I regret my choice of words. But, it’s too late.
“Fine. Fine,” she says. “I’ll just get right back to work!”
Before I can utter a syllable, Nancy turns and is gone. Ouch!
After slowly consuming a cup of hot chocolate over a twenty-minute period, I figure it’s finally safe to enter Nancy’s domain without fear for my life. As I walk through the doorway, I’m met with a surprise. Nancy is busy arranging a huge bunch of roses in a crystal vase.
“Secret admirer?” I ask, with a smile.
Nancy blushes a shade deeper than the roses. “Actually,” she says, “they’re from someone that you seem to think you know better than I do.”
“Oh, really? And, who might that be?”
“Mr. Dwight Buckner.”
“Wha—”
“Now, don’t say a word. I know exactly what you’re thinking…and it doesn’t need saying.”
“I rest my case.” I can’t help but smirk.
Nancy points a finger toward the doorway. “Out,” she says. “Out!”
We spend the rest of the day doing the “avoid-each-other” tango, until at last it’s time to go home.
“Night, Nancy.”
“Night, Matt,”
Tomorrow’s a new day.