I figured my next stop—’fore I headed out to Best Buy—ought to be the sheriff’s house, to fill him in on the investigation. Sheriff Rooney’s been pretty much housebound the last two years, after his stroke. That didn’t stop folks reelectin’ him last year. Mrs. Rooney—Martha—an’ I campaigned for him with the slogan IF IT AIN’T BROKE, DON’T FIX IT. It probably helped that there’s almost no crime in the county, an’ the sheriff’s main competitors were Rufus “Ruthless” Groggins, head of our local KKK chapter, an’ Diamond Jim “I’ll cover all bets” Bradley. They split the block of voters likely to elect a crook between ’em, so Sheriff Rooney won by a West Wheeling landslide—twenty votes. Both Ruthless an’ DJ called for a recount, but the town council, which is also the county board, don’t like to waste their time or money on lost causes.
Martha let me in the kitchen door with a cheerful, “Good to see you, Homer. You’re just in time for lunch.”
I hung my hat on the peg by the door an’ said, “Mornin’, Sheriff,” to Ben, who was sittin’ in his wheelchair by the table.
The sheriff didn’t say nothin’ back. Since the stroke, he can’t move his right side or talk worth a damn, but he’s developed into a world-class listener. I filled him in on recent events an’ gossip while Martha put a couple more pork chops in the skillet an’ peeled a few extra taters. In no time, she’d laid out a spread made me feel I’d died an’ went to heaven. Ever since my ma moved to Florida for her arthritis, Martha’s got my vote for best cook in the state. Odd thing is, she’s also a dead shot with any kind of weapon. Ben an’ Martha’s been married nearly forty years. They had three sons. The oldest was killed in ’Nam. The other two grew up, married, an’ moved away. They don’t come to visit much.
Ben can feed hisself pretty well if Martha cuts the food up for him. She did, an’ we set to packin’ it away. After we finished, I helped Martha clear the plates. While she made another pot of coffee, I took out the pi’ture the Reverend Moody’d give me an’ tole Ben, “I plan to run this by Merlin Willis, over at Best Buy, see if he can’t blow it up into one of those ‘Have you seen this man?’ posters.”
Ben grunted like he thought that was a good idea. Martha just smiled. When I finished my coffee an’ took my leave, the Rooneys were just sittin’ down to watch Marty Stouffer on their satellite TV.