Chapter Five

Chief Deputy Buel Watson shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and looked at his boss. Try the salad bar next time instead of the all-you-can-eat buffet, he thought.

Buel compared his boss’ bulging belly with his own trim waistline. The sheriff almost dwarfed Buel. Politics was all about keeping some thoughts to himself, so he focused his anger on someone else.

He stepped to the office window and stood beside the sheriff. Below them, Coy Cox sorted through one of the large dumpsters on the Law Enforcement Center's parking lot. That dummy Coy gave Buel the creeps.

"Gary Don, I swear I don't know why you let that damn Cox retard run loose." Not that he particularly cared one way or the other. But Buel had to vent his anger on someone or explode.

Sheriff Gary Don Clayton shrugged. "Aw, he ain't hurtin' nothin'. Besides, I’ve got to take care of him. His mama was a cousin to mine, and they both made me promise I'd look after Coy when they were gone."

"Well, he gives me the willies. He looks normal enough, but when you talk to him you can tell he ain't all there. It's like them science fiction programs on TV where aliens sucked out somebody's brain and made 'em into a robot."

"Aw, will you cut that crap out? He's harmless, I tell you. He's just real slow. What folks used to call simple-minded before all this politically correct shit got started. He ain't never hurt nobody."

“I don’t like the way he just stares at me. Doesn’t say a word to me.”

“He knows you don’t like him. I think you scare him.”

"What's he do with all that trash anyway? Look at that goddamn cart of his--he's got boards and bottles and all kinds of junk in it. And he rides that bike around pullin' that goddamn weird lookin' cart like he was an animal himself."

Gary Don rubbed his florid chins and another frown crinkled his brow. "He ain’t hurting nothing. Leave it alone. Maybe he's happy the way he is 'cause he just don't know no difference."

Buel choked back the contempt surging through him. Sorrow at the way his life had turned out morphed into bitterness and anger. He no longer had any patience with dummies, and not much with anyone or anything else.

"Maybe so, but he still gives me the creeps. Oughta be locked away. I sure as hell wish I didn't never have to see him."

"Damn, Buel, I can't lock a man up just because he gives you the creeps," the sheriff said in obvious disgust.

Buel muttered under his breath, "Hell, you've locked 'em up for less."

Gary Don stood looking down at the parking lot. "Ha, that smart-assed Dixon just pulled in. Goddamn, I hate his hide. I've hated him since we were in grade school."

"Why'd you hire him then?" Buel inspected the tip of his toothpick, then replaced it between his teeth.

"I kinda like havin' Mr. College working where I can watch him. I'll bet he hates it. Folks thought he was such a great guy with his big college scholarship and all. Never lost his temper, always helpin' people. What a damned goody-two-shoes."

"Man, Goddard needs his help on that murder investigation. Dixon's the only other guy here with that kind of experience."

The Sheriff sent him a look that would melt metal. "For now, I'm putting that puppy Wells helping Goddard. Good training for him."

Braving his boss’ temper, he asked, “Why the hell not Dixon?”

“Smartass thinks he can move back here and work his way into the department. Bet he plans on running against me in the next election.”

Buel hoped so. “Why worry? You’ve got your own following.”

“Damn right. And I’ve got plans of my own.”

“You’re the local football hero, after all.” All the slob would ever be.

Gary Don pointed his index finger at Buel’s chest. “You better believe folks aren’t likely to forget I’m the one who made the winning touchdown and won the state championship for us in ’96. Don’t forget, I made All-State that year.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” How the hell could he? Gary Don reminded him often enough. Buel couldn't do anything about his stature, but he damn sure kept himself in top shape. He’d like to line up in phys ed class now and see who was the best athlete.

Gary Don brushed his hand across his face in concentration. “I wish I could nail that sonofabitch Dixon for something.” He laughed. “Wouldn’t the pen be a fun trip for that bastard?"

Buel blanched at the picture that sprang into his mind. With all the men Dixon had helped convict, he wouldn't last a week in the pen.