After a lecture on minding my own business and avoiding dangerous situations, my brother gave me a general idea of where I could find Bobby Marshall.
“He lives in the trailer park off the highway,” he said.
“There are a few, Vic. Can you be more specific?”
“The one that starts with Green. Green-something.”
Probably not helpful, but I’d have to wait and see. “Thanks. I’ll call you on my way home.”
“Just be careful, Gina. Bobby’s a nice guy, but that area… it’s bad.”
“I’ll have Daisy with me,” I said. “And besides, we’re only handing out flyers for Trevor’s election.”
Vic snorted. “Daisy’s about as helpful as a hole in my head. She’s cute and all, but she’s no guard dog.”
“Hey!” Daisy yelled. “How dare you! You big dummy!”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, wishing I hadn’t put the call on speakerphone. “Talk to you soon.”
I hung up while Daisy began to pace.
“I can be vicious when I want to be!” she grumbled. “Next time I see Vic, I’m going to be super mean to him and show him how wrong he is.”
“You’re a great dog,” I said. Pursing my lips together, I tried to hide my smile. If someone ever broke into my house, I knew Daisy would be the first out the door and I’d be left to fend for myself.
“He’s going to be sorry he said that,” Daisy continued. “I’ll be diabolical to him.”
“I can’t wait to see that.” I stood and headed to the kitchen. “Let’s get you into this harness and go see Bobby and his neighbors.”
She followed me and stood still while I got her suited up. “I wish I could be a service dog,” she said. “I feel very important wearing this.”
I kissed her nose. “You’re very important to me, with or without the vest.”
“I’m going to be so good while we’re out,” she said.
“I’m very happy to hear that.”
Whether or not that was true remained to be seen.
Once I got out onto the highway, the drive only took about fifteen minutes. I found the Green Tree Trailer Park without trouble. The huge green and white sign with the arrow had been helpful.
I drove in slowly and found a parking spot by the office. Kids ran around and rode bikes on the main road. The trailers were tidy and pots of geraniums and pansies seemed to be everywhere. “Why did Vic say this place is dangerous? It seems pretty nice to me.”
“Me too,” Daisy said.
I turned to face her. “Do you remember our plan?”
“Yes. We’re going to hand out flyers for Trevor, and when we find Bobby, I’m supposed to sniff him and remember the smells.”
“Good girl.” I reached over the seat and gave her chin a scratch. “And you’ll be on your best behavior, right?”
“Yes, I will because I’m a good girl, like you just said.”
“Excellent.”
I exited the car and opened the door for her. After she jumped out, I clasped the leash to her vest. “Ready?” I whispered.
“Yuppers!”
For a moment, I debated whether I should visit the main office, but decided against it in case they had some no soliciting policies in place. I could always claim I was unaware of such a rule and apologize later. Even when I did in fact note the sign on the office front door stating no soliciting, I ignored it.
We walked up to the first trailer and ascended the wooden steps. As I tapped on the door, Daisy sat down.
“Look at me, Gina!” she said. “Just like a service dog! I’m sitting!”
I smiled and nodded, not wanting anyone to hear me have a conversation with my dog. An elderly woman answered. Short and thin with a heavily lined face framed by shoulder length gray hair, a cigarette hung from her lips while a plume of smoke emerged from the door.
“Yes?”
“Hello, there,” I said while trying not to cough. “My name’s Gina, and I was hoping to have a moment of your time to talk about our current sheriff and the options we have available in the upcoming election.”
“Why do I care who’s sheriff?” she asked.
“Well, we need a sheriff who is honest and has integrity. I’m afraid the current one is lacking in both of those attributes.”
“I don’t even know who it is.” She waved the smoke out of her face. “And I don’t care.”
“Ma’am, do you have kids? Grandkids?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Why, yes, I do.”
“If they were to get into trouble with the law, wouldn’t you want them to have a fair chance at proving their innocence?”
As she jabbed the cigarette in my direction, she said, “I got one boy in jail down in Phoenix. He robbed a place in Sedona and was as guilty as the day is long. He deserves to be there.”
Of course he did.
“But what if he didn’t do it?” I asked. “Would you rather have a sheriff that gives him a fair shake, or one that railroads him because it suits her needs?”
“Are you telling me he didn’t rob that place in Sedona?” she asked.
“I have no idea if he did or didn’t. But if he were innocent, wouldn’t you want someone in office who would work to prove it?”
She took a long drag. The gray tip of ash fell onto the wooden porch and I quickly stamped it out. “You’re going to catch your house on fire,” I said.
“I would want someone to prove him innocent,” she replied, totally ignoring my fire comment.
“Then you’ll want to vote for Trevor Hutchinson in the next election.” I shoved a flyer in her direction. After taking it, she glanced over it. “He’s an honest man, and one that should be sheriff.”
“I don’t even know who our current sheriff is,” she muttered again, shaking her head.
“Her name’s Mallory Richards.”
“And she’s bad news?”
I nodded. “She tried to railroad my son for a crime he didn’t commit,” I said. “And I’m desperately afraid she’ll do it again to someone else.”
“Gina, I’m bored,” Daisy said. “This lady stinks like smoke and cat pee. But I don’t see the cats. That means they could jump out at any time and eat my face. Cats are scary, Gina. Can we go now?”
With a nod, I hoped to convey that we would be leaving soon. “Just give it some thought,” I said to the woman. “Do we really want a sheriff like that in office?”
“Now you got me wondering if my kid was innocent,” she muttered as she stared at the paper. “But I kind of doubt it. He was trouble from his first breath.”
“Well, I hope you’ll think about what we’ve discussed,” I said, getting ready to take my leave. “Thank you for your time.”
I hurried down the steps and turned to wave as we made our way to the next trailer. Two boys, one with black hair and one blond who were riding bikes, stopped and wanted to pet Daisy.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t want your grimy hands all over my pretty fur.”
“She’s a service dog in training,” I explained to the kids. “When she has her vest on, she can’t be touched.”
“Yeah. That too,” Daisy said.
One of the kids groaned and I apologized once again. Then it occurred to me that maybe these kids knew where Bobby Marshall lived, so I asked.
“You won’t even let us pet your dog, but you want us to tell you where someone lives?” the blond boy sneered. “Forget it.”
“They aren’t very helpful,” Daisy said. “Should I be diabolical and bite his ankle?”
“Okay, well, thanks,” I said. I wrapped Daisy’s leash around my hand one more time in case she tried to follow through with her threat.
While the blond boy biked away, the dark-haired kid stayed back, waiting until his buddy was out of hearing range. “Why do you want to know where Bobby lives?” he asked.
“We just need to speak to him,” I said.
“The last guy who wanted to talk to Bobby beat him up.”
Very interesting. “Did you happen to catch his name?”
“No. He was big, though.”
Who would want to beat up Bobby? The first person who came to mind was Knuckles. “Did he ride a motorcycle?”
“Yes. When he left, his hands were all cut up.”
I recalled Knuckles scarred and scratched up fingers and hands at the diner. At the time, I’d wondered if he’d acquired them from fighting or from working with his hands. I was more inclined to lean toward fighting, especially with this new information.
“Did the gentleman you saw on the motorcycle have long black hair?” I asked.
The kid squinted and glanced into the sky. “I think so. Yeah, he had a ponytail, now that I think about it.”
“Can you show me where Bobby lives?” I asked.
“Are you going to beat him up?”
I shook my head. “Like I said, I just want to speak with him. I want to make sure I have a chance to talk to everyone in here about the upcoming sheriff election.”
“My dad calls the sheriff bad words,” he replied. “Lots of them.”
I chuckled and handed him a flyer. “So do I. She’s not a good human. Tell your dad to vote for Trevor.”
He took the paper, then glanced over his shoulder. “Bobby lives in the brown trailer. Third one from the end.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
As he rode off to catch up with his friend, Daisy’s nose twitched in the air. “I smell hamburgers, Gina. And now I’m hungry.”
“You’re going to have to wait,” I muttered. “Let’s stop at a few trailers on the way to Bobby’s and hand out flyers.”
Most didn’t answer, so I left the paper under doormats or tucked into doorjambs.
“Do you think that’s going to do any good?” Daisy asked. “I know a hamburger would do me good.”
“The more people recognize his name, the better the chance he has to win,” I replied. “So, we will continue to inform and educate people.”
“I don’t know, Gina. My experience is that you irritate people when you talk about Trevor for Sheriff.”
Inform, educate, irritate… whatever. People needed to know what a horrible person Mallory was and get rid of her.
“It’s too bad his name isn’t Sam,” Daisy continued. “Sam for Sheriff sounds so much better than Trevor for Sheriff. It rhymes.”
Of course, she was correct. I still hadn’t invented a catchy slogan for him.
We walked over to Bobby’s trailer and climbed the steps to find a small white table with two old wooden chairs and hamburgers sizzling on a barbeque.
“Ohhhh,” Daisy said. “Smell that, Gina. I think we just discovered the portal to doggy heaven.”
“Please don’t try to eat them,” I whispered as I knocked. “Remember, you’re a service dog in training.”
She sat at my feet and lifted her nose to the air.
“You need to smell Bobby, okay?”
“Okay.”
A man in his thirties with a mop of brown hair opened the door. As I smiled and searched his face for bumps and bruises, he asked, “Can I help you?”
“I was wondering if we could talk about your position at Hold Your Horses,” I said. “And I also wanted to know who you are going to vote for sheriff?”