“Yeah, right, so when he comes out to the car, he’s expecting to see me, but instead he gets an eyeful of Fuck and Suck Sally. He totally lost his shit. Straight up busted his ass trying to get back out of the car.”
The deputy waited for the sheriff to laugh, but it didn’t happen. He just stared at the younger man blankly, as if he were trying to gauge his level of stupid.
“Is this remotely leading to why we’re sitting in my office this early on a Sunday morning, when we both would clearly rather be somewhere else?” He pushed his own hat up a few inches, leaned back in the swivel chair, and crossed his arms.
“It was funny,” Choctaw insisted. “I guess you had to be there.”
“I guess so.”
“Anyway, now the ball’s in Chester’s court to get me back, and that brings us to last night.”
“Finally.”
Choctaw took off his hat, pushed back his shiny black hair, and reseated it deep on his brow. “So I’m out on patrol, and I’m letting Chester ride along with me.” Choctaw put up both his hands palms out to fend off another dirty look. “I know you don’t like that sort of thing, so don’t bother sayin’ so.”
The sheriff bit down on his lip and sighed through his nose. He took off his hat as well, freeing a head of bushy, rust-brown hair, and set the hat on his desk. “Go on,” he said, scratching at his temples where his hat had been pressing down and where the first hints of gray were beginning to appear.
“Chester is all on my case about stopping at the Texaco on 56 to get some chew and whatnot.” The deputy paused and thought on what he’d just said. “You know something, boss? I should have known right then. He normally wants to go way out to Pollard’s Corner so he can sneak peeks at Old Man Pollard’s daughter working the counter. She just turned eighteen, you know, but I swear she looks a lot older than that. I don’t see how Old Man Pollard—”
“Focus, Deputy.”
“Right. Anyway, I should have known something was off about that, but I missed it.”
“The world’s finest detective.”
“Whatever. So I pull into the Texaco, and Chester hands me a few bills and asks me to go in, like I’m his do-boy, but whatever, he’s lazy, I know that, so I go inside.”
“Where was Chester?”
“In the car.”
“You left Chester in a county-owned vehicle?”
“I trust the guy, boss.” Choctaw was spectacular at missing the point entirely. “So I go in and leave the engine running.”
“You left the engine running in your patrol car with a civilian in it?”
“Yeah, boss, like you ain’t never done it.”
The sheriff pulled at his beard. “Go on.”
“Yeah, like I was sayin’, I walk in and wouldn’t you know it, there’s this dumb-shit crackhead with a peashooter .22 holding up the place. I about shit and fell back in it. I knew looking at him he wasn’t from around here.” He raised an eyebrow at the sheriff to emphasize the perpetrator’s darker persuasion. “A brother, probably picking up some quick cash on his way back to Atlanta.”
Because all brothers originate from Atlanta. Everybody knows that.
“Talk about terrible luck, though. What an idiot. Anyway, he gets all freaked out seeing a deputy of the law walk in, so he aims that little toy pistol at me. I’m like, ‘Dude, what the hell? I’m a cop. Put that thing on the counter and assume the position.’ I’m sure he knew how to do it, probably been doing it his whole life.”
“You know, Choctaw, for a minority like yourself, you sure are quick to profile.”
“I’m only fifty percent American Indian, boss. The rest of me is one hundred percent good ol’-fashioned redneck.”
“That makes a hundred and fifty percent.”
“Right.”
The sheriff sighed again. He doubted there was any American Indian in there at all. Choctaw’s skin color was tinted enough to notice only if it was pointed out to you. He could even be Mexican, but whatever.
“Did you draw on him?”
“Had no time. As soon as I tell him to put his gun down he starts getting all jittery and starts popping off rounds into the ceiling. Drop-ceiling panels and dust start raining down all over the place and I couldn’t see nothing. I drew my gun then, but I didn’t shoot it.”
“Then what happened?”
“In the pandemonium, this jackass bolts. Before I know it, he got around me and made it outside. As it turns out, this idiot is on foot, so he hops into the first car he thinks he can haul ass in.”
“Your running patrol car?”
“Yup. By the time I get outside after him, he’s tear-assin’ out of the parking lot.”
“Where’s your friend?”
“Chester?”
The sheriff spoke into his lap. “Yeah, Chester.”
“Chester is totally oblivious to what’s going on inside, because he’s too busy exacting his revenge for the goddamn blow-up doll.” The deputy leaned forward in his chair. “Get this, Chester stashed two big-ass bags of packing peanuts behind the Texaco ice machine earlier that day, and that’s why he was so hopped up about stopping there. As soon as I walked inside, he went and dumped ’em all into my patrol car.”