Nina was just closin’ the post office for the weekend when I got back to town. She didn’t even wait ’til I got my car parked ’fore she was yellin’ for me to “come quick.” I took my time. Quick is not the way I prefer to come.
“What is it you’re so all-fired fired-up about now?” I axed her when I finally got parked an’ crossed the street.
“One of my Wanted posters is missin’.”
“Good Lord, girl. I got three missin’ persons, two murders, an’ truancy runnin’ rampant, an’ you want me to investigate a missin’ poster?”
“Well, who’d you s’pose’d take a Wanted poster?”
“Probably someone who wanted a target an’ is too cheap to buy one.”
“Nobody’s that hard up. Not to take a chance on me catchin’ him. It had to be someone didn’t want us to recognize the guy in the pi’ture.”
“Who?”
“How do I know?”
“Who was it a poster of?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Well, if you don’t even know whose pi’ture it was, how’m I s’posed to go after him.”
“I don’t know, Homer. You’re the sheriff. I thought you’d have some ideas.”
“Tell you what. You ’member his name, I’ll have the state cops fax me a pi’ture.”