.
"Run for City Council?" Jerry Davis blinked his eyes. "I don't understand, Sheriff."
"Now, Jerry, it's not a matter of runnin'. More like a nice, easy stroll," Lucas said. "You heard about that terrible misfortune that happened to Councilman Stiles, didn't you? The car accident?"
The man pursed his lips distastefully. "Heard he'd been drinkin'."
Lucas tilted his desk chair back. "Well, that's a matter of public record by now, I expect. Drinkin' and drivin' will take a man straight down the devil's road, Jerry. All sorts of terrible things can happen there." Lucas grinned as he recalled an instance involving a certain physician by the name of Crower. "Anyway," he said, bringing his chair gently back to the floor, "with Mr. Stiles's tragic demise, there's now a vacancy on the City Council. The mayor will be appointin' someone to take his place and fill out the rest of his term. I'm goin' to suggest the mayor appoint you." Lucas jabbed a finger in the banker's direction.
Jerry shifted in his chair. "Well, I 'preciate that, Lucas, but I really don't have an interest in politics. Besides, I'm still workin' at the bank." He laughed. "Where would I find the time?"
"Where does anyone find the time?" Lucas folded his hands on the desk. "Most everyone on the council is just plain folks like you, Jerry. This ain't a big city with fancy politicians wearing thousand dollar suits. I've seen everyone from teachers to barbers hold a seat there at one time or another."
"Well, Lucas, I was expectin' to take it easy this next year," the man said, picking imaginary lint off his shirt sleeve while avoiding the sheriff's eyes. "You know I retire in a year..."
Lucas Buck stood and walked around to the front of desk. "That's right, Jerry. You get a pension, don't you?" He perched on the edge of the desk as the man nodded. "Be mighty hard to collect that pension if you're in jail for embezzlin' money, now wouldn't it?"
"Whaaaat...what are you talkin' about?" Jerry paled and rose from the chair. "I never did such a..."
"Sit back down, Jer," the sheriff said. "Wouldn't want you to have a heart attack." When the older man obeyed, Lucas smiled. "A number changed here and there would make even the most honest man look bad. And a couple of huge deposits in your own personal account, well, that'd look mighty suspicious." Lucas's smile widened. "I don't think you want to be spendin' your golden years in a jail cell with a roommate who's lookin' for love in all the wrong places."
"But..."
"Now, Jerry, cheer up. It ain't like I'm askin' you to sell your soul." He laughed. "It'll just be for fourteen months. When it's over, you'll be out of politics and be able to take your pension and do whatever you like."
Jerry stared wide-eyed at the sheriff. He opened and closed his mouth and finally said, "What'll I have to do?"
"Good man, Jer." Lucas stood up and clapped the man on his shoulder as he walked past. "It's simple, really. You go to the meetings and if I tell you to vote a particular way on a piece of legislation, you do it. And," he leaned and whispered into the back of Jerry's head, "you don't do anything foolish, like accuse the sheriff's department of mismanagin' its money and tryin' to cut our budget."
Lucas stood and opened his office door. "You do that and everything'll be just fine."
The account manager nodded and mumbled as he walked out the door.
Lucas followed the man out to the front of the station. "Now I expect to get an invite to your retirement party, Jer," he called as the man left. Jerry Davis stopped mid-stride, hunched his shoulders and continued out the door. The sheriff turned around and surveyed the station. "Floyd!"
"Yessir, Sheriff." The deputy quickly rose from his chair, bumping his knee on an open desk drawer.
"Where the hell's Ben?"
"Run for City Council?" Jerry Davis blinked his eyes. "I don't understand, Sheriff."
"Now, Jerry, it's not a matter of runnin'. More like a nice, easy stroll," Lucas said. "You heard about that terrible misfortune that happened to Councilman Stiles, didn't you? The car accident?"
The man pursed his lips distastefully. "Heard he'd been drinkin'."
Lucas tilted his desk chair back. "Well, that's a matter of public record by now, I expect. Drinkin' and drivin' will take a man straight down the devil's road, Jerry. All sorts of terrible things can happen there." Lucas grinned as he recalled an instance involving a certain physician by the name of Crower. "Anyway," he said, bringing his chair gently back to the floor, "with Mr. Stiles's tragic demise, there's now a vacancy on the City Council. The mayor will be appointin' someone to take his place and fill out the rest of his term. I'm goin' to suggest the mayor appoint you." Lucas jabbed a finger in the banker's direction.
Jerry shifted in his chair. "Well, I 'preciate that, Lucas, but I really don't have an interest in politics. Besides, I'm still workin' at the bank." He laughed. "Where would I find the time?"
"Where does anyone find the time?" Lucas folded his hands on the desk. "Most everyone on the council is just plain folks like you, Jerry. This ain't a big city with fancy politicians wearing thousand dollar suits. I've seen everyone from teachers to barbers hold a seat there at one time or another."
"Well, Lucas, I was expectin' to take it easy this next year," the man said, picking imaginary lint off his shirt sleeve while avoiding the sheriff's eyes. "You know I retire in a year..."
Lucas Buck stood and walked around to the front of desk. "That's right, Jerry. You get a pension, don't you?" He perched on the edge of the desk as the man nodded. "Be mighty hard to collect that pension if you're in jail for embezzlin' money, now wouldn't it?"
"Whaaaat...what are you talkin' about?" Jerry paled and rose from the chair. "I never did such a..."
"Sit back down, Jer," the sheriff said. "Wouldn't want you to have a heart attack." When the older man obeyed, Lucas smiled. "A number changed here and there would make even the most honest man look bad. And a couple of huge deposits in your own personal account, well, that'd look mighty suspicious." Lucas's smile widened. "I don't think you want to be spendin' your golden years in a jail cell with a roommate who's lookin' for love in all the wrong places."
"But..."
"Now, Jerry, cheer up. It ain't like I'm askin' you to sell your soul." He laughed. "It'll just be for fourteen months. When it's over, you'll be out of politics and be able to take your pension and do whatever you like."
Jerry stared wide-eyed at the sheriff. He opened and closed his mouth and finally said, "What'll I have to do?"
"Good man, Jer." Lucas stood up and clapped the man on his shoulder as he walked past. "It's simple, really. You go to the meetings and if I tell you to vote a particular way on a piece of legislation, you do it. And," he leaned and whispered into the back of Jerry's head, "you don't do anything foolish, like accuse the sheriff's department of mismanagin' its money and tryin' to cut our budget."
Lucas stood and opened his office door. "You do that and everything'll be just fine."
The account manager nodded and mumbled as he walked out the door.
Lucas followed the man out to the front of the station. "Now I expect to get an invite to your retirement party, Jer," he called as the man left. Jerry Davis stopped mid-stride, hunched his shoulders and continued out the door. The sheriff turned around and surveyed the station. "Floyd!"
"Yessir, Sheriff." The deputy quickly rose from his chair, bumping his knee on an open desk drawer.
"Where the hell's Ben?"