Chapter 6

Wendy ran into Chief Handy as she was leaving the school with her notebook full of quotes on Margaret Horner. The general consensus at the school was that she was a major bitch. She new she was the daughter of the richest man in town and let everyone know it.

Wendy didn't like talking to cops, who she believed were the supreme symbol of the male oppression of females, but she said, "Are you the cop that arrested Margaret Horner?"

The Chief thinking she was a student brushed her off with a look and said, "Go away, little lady. I'm busy."

Wendy wheeled into his path and glared up at him. "I may be short, but I not your fucking little lady. Got that cop!"

She had the Chief's attention now. He looked squarely at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Wendy Walters, reporter for the Citizen. I'm doing the story on the Margaret Horner arrest. Were you the one who busted her?" She repeated the question, it was an article of faith with Wendy that all men were intrinsically stupid, and rarely got an idea the first time it was laid before them.

"I'm Chief Handy, the police chief of Black Mountain. Are you new in town? You work for Bob Jamison?"

"That's not what I asked you."

Chief Handy's irritation plainly showed at the small woman in pigtails solidly blocking his path. "Yes, I arrested Margaret Horner."

"Who do you think planted the pot in her locker?" Wendy was taking a flyer; she thought she might sucker the Chief.

"I couldn't tell you." The Chief wasn't talking.

"So you do believe someone planted the pot?"

Backing up the Chief said, "I didn't say that."

Wendy was all over him, "but you implied it."

"We have no hard evidence that the marijuana was planted in her locker." The Chief was lying, but he wasn't going to tell this pain-in-the-ass reporter about it.

"But, you have some evidence then the pot was planted?"

The Chief was getting steamed, "What makes you think the pot was planted?"

"I talked to a lot of kids in this school and none of them has ever seen or heard of Margaret Horner smoking pot. One thing that is consistent is that Margaret Horner was a royal bitch and pissed off a lot of people by how she acted. So I figure someone decided to take her down."

Wendy was smiling, as the Chief sputtered, "No comment."

The short woman muttered, "No brains, is more like it."

The Chief grew in size, "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"I forget Chief. I saw you talking to the football coach. Do you think he planted the pot? He looked pretty mad when he was talking to you."

"No, I don't think the Coach planted the pot; now get the hell out of my way."

She stood her ground in front of the Chief, "You walk around."

The Chief was now seriously pissed off. He was angry and tired. He popped the snap on his service revolver holster; the little 102-lb woman was the topping on his day. "Move."

She looked up at him completely unafraid, "No. You go around."

He pulled the gun from his holster and centered the site on the bridge of Wendy's nose. "Move."

Wendy looked down the bore of the .357 Magnum and said, "Fuck you, Chief."

The barrel of the gun trembled, the Chief clicked off the safety and pulled the hammer back. "Move."

"Get fucked." Wendy would have rather died than given in to the pig wanting past her. He reminded her too much of her father. She suffered more than one bruise for her attitude toward belligerent males.

After ten long seconds, the Chief pointed the gun skyward and eased the hammer down. He pulled out his radio and called for backup.

"What do you think you're doing Chief?" Wendy had thought she had won the standoff.

The Chief glared at her. "Calling for backup. I don't trust myself to arrest your sorry little ass."

"You're arresting me? On what charge?"

"On the charge of 'I fucking want to' that's the charge." The Chief's face was a red as the stripes on the American flag flying overhead in the school yard.

"Yeah, right." Wendy came from the north and didn't know the power southern sheriffs had in their communities.

"Listen, you little cunt, I'll find a cell in the jailhouse so far from your lawyer it will take him a week to walk back and find you."

Wendy's bravado began to fade when the first of the sirens came into earshot. "You're not really going to arrest me?"

"You fucking bet I am." The Chief saw her fear starting to grow. His anger faded replaced by a warm glow of pleasure.

"You can't arrest me I haven't done anything!" She was moving aside now, hoping the Chief would just walk by, but no such luck, the Chief wasn't going anywhere right now.

"You ever been arrested, Missy? We take your fingerprints, we photograph you, we strip you and a large female jailer with a very short hair cut does a full cavity search, and then we put you in a cell. Then you get to call your lawyer."

"No, you can't do this. I haven't done anything!"

"Honey, things don't happen too quickly in the south either, It could take you nine or ten hours to get that chance to call your lawyer. A lot can happen in ten hours." The Chief licked his lips and smiled at Wendy as Bud pulled up in his patrol car. Nick was right behind him in another.

"What's up, Chief?" Bud was looking at what he thought was a high school student.

"She fucking kicked me. We were having a talk and I must have said something she didn't like so she assaulted me."

"Right Chief, Miss, would you please put your hands behind your back?"

Wendy looked at Bud and bolted. She ran for her car. Nick was a step quicker and had a better angle than Bud and tackled her before she got ten steps.

Nick pulled her to her feet and looked at the concrete burn down her cheek. It was bleeding, and she had small flecks of concrete in it. He picked her up by her arms and dropped her over the back of the patrol car. He quickly slapped handcuffs on her and began running his hands over her body searching her. She started screaming when his hands rubbed hard on her crotch. "Police brutality," she shrieked.

As Nick held her down the Chief strolled over and leaned down by her ear. "Oh my, I guess I'll have to add fleeing from arrest and assaulting a police officer.

She screeched, "Fuck you. You goddamn pig. My lawyer fill fucking crucify you."

The Chief laughed. "Put her in the car and book her."

Nick tossed her in the backseat of his black and white. She bounced around inside and screamed. Nick opened the front door and leaned in. He coldly informed her, "If you don't fucking stop this I will drive you out into the woods, I'll fuck every hole you have and then dump you in the fucking river."

Wendy quieted down while absorbing this. She glared at him.

He responded, "Good," and shut the door.

Nick walked over the to Chief. "Do you really want her booked?"

"Fuck no, just put a scare in her for a few hours, and then drop the charges and let her go."

"Right, Chief." Nick got in his cruiser and headed for the county lockup. Bud went back on patrol. The Chief drove off too, never realizing that he had forgotten to tell Nick the little lady he had just arrested was a reporter.

Handy needed space to think. The interview with the coach had gone badly. Lombardo was right. Lacking photos of Lombardo screwing a player at midfield at high noon he was fucked and had no case. No one would take his word over Lombardo's.

Then that crazy reporter for the paper jumped in front of him. What the hell was up with her? He knew all the reporters on the Citizen. I hope she enjoys her evening.

He had a case that was damn trouble and going home wasn't going to give him space. Anything he talked about with his wife would be all over town before the last commercial on the six o'clock news. He drove eight miles out of town to a white two-storey house in the corner of a cotton field. He parked his squad car around back so he wouldn't be seen from the street.

He rapped on the unlatched screen door and waited. Alice Robinson, his secretary answered the door. "Chief, come on in. What brings you out here?"

"Alice, I want to talk to you about the Horner arrest today."

His secretary knew the Chief had a big problem with the case. He never drove out to her small cotton farm to discuss an easy case. After working as his secretary for twenty years and with the department for thirty she was the department's institutional memory.

"I got some coffee on, Chief."

"Alice, you make the best coffee in this county. I'll surely have a cup." He sat down at the yellow-topped kitchen table that was a wedding present from Earl's parents. He had died of diabetes about five years ago so she lived out in the country alone except for the days her five daughters would bring out her grandbabies. She had six displayed in large pictures on her desk at the station.

She pulled two china cups her mother had handed down to her from a cupboard with a glass door. She set them on the kitchen table. A white porcelain pot cooked on the stove. It was always cooking on the stove. She poured the coffee and figured the Chief would start when he was ready.

The Chief took a slurping sip and set the cup down. "Hmm, Alice, that's as fine as ever."

She smiled and said, "Thank you, Chief."

The Chief knew it was now his turn. "Alice, I am about ninety-nine percent sure that the Horner girl is not guilty."

"Why did you arrest the little bitch then?" Alice knew of Margaret's reputation.

"At the time the evidence was pretty powerful. A pound bag of pot sniffed out of a locker is pretty good evidence, Alice."

"I suppose so, Chief. Then why do you think she's not a druggie?"

"Jack Gardner, the principal of Black Mountain High, called me on the phone yesterday morning and told me he had a student with drugs in 'his' locker. Doesn't sound like he was talking about a girl to me, yet we find drugs in her locker and no where else."

"You know, Chief, Gardner's had a career of shady plans and operations. He had to have something on some of the school board members to keep his job after he sued the district to get the money to build the new school. He's as slippery as a water moccasin." Alice refilled their cups.

"What bothered me was how someone could move the pot from one locker to another. I talked to a woman in charge of the computers at the school. She not only told me who had access, but who had asked for locker numbers and combinations during the day. Jack Gardner asked for the locker number and combination of a Sean Avery about the time he called me."

"That asshole. Pardon my language, Chief."

He laughed and went on, "Then just before we show up with the drug dog a janitor asks for the locker number and combination of Sean Avery and Margaret Horner within a couple of minutes of each other. We then find the pot in Horner's locker."

"So you think Gardner planted the pot and the janitor moved it?" She poured the Chief a refill.

"No, Jack Gardner would never have done this himself. He would have used a middle man."

Alice sat down by the Chief. "Who?"

"I'm pretty sure Coach Lombardo planted the drugs in the locker."

"Whooee, Chief. Why would Lombardo plant drugs in a student's locker? You've got a witness, don't you?"

"Yeah, but it's the janitor that moved the drugs. He says he saw the Coach plant them. He moved them to Horner's locker to get back at her for insulting him. He's a midget."

"Have you talked to Coach about this?"

The Coach laughed wryly. "Yeah, but it didn't go very well. He said that no one would believe a janitor's word over his. Basically, he told me to get fucked."

"Yeah, I can sure see him doing that." She chuckled well aware of what the town thought of the football coach. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I think I'm going to get a warrant for the janitor and the Avery kid. There's not much of a case against the kid, I mean no one, except the janitor, claims to have seen the pot in his locker, so I'm just pulling him in for questioning with a charge hanging over his head to find out why Jack Gardner would be trying to get him busted. The janitor's in real trouble. Gerald Horner will put pressure on the D.A. to nail his ass for trying to frame his bitch of a daughter."

"There's no way to bust the coach?"

"I sure don't see one. Unless I come up with video tape of the coach planting the drugs I can't touch him. No one would believe he did it."

"I have to agree there, Chief."

"And now I have a reporter poking around, asking questions. She saw the Coach and I arguing, and now she thinks I think the Coach planted the drugs."

"Well, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I can't prove it."

"Chief, what if you encouraged her to think the Coach planted the pot. If it got into the papers you might scare him or Gardner into doing something to give away the game. Can you get in touch with the reporter tonight?"

"Uh... yeah, I know right were she is." The Chief squirmed in his seat.

"Chief, what did you do?" Alice could see that the Chief did not want to talk about this.

"She lipped off to me after I talked to Lombardo, I was in a bad mood already, and I had her arrested."

Alice sat back in her chair. She growled, "Land's sakes Chief, what ever got into you to toss a reporter in the slammer. She's gonna get you for this Chief."

"Shit, I know, Alice, it's just that she's a little bitch and she provoked me. Damn, I must be getting old."

"Is she still in jail?"

"I told Nick to hold her until about nine, and then drop the charges and let her go."

"Well, Chief, if I were you, I would go by the jail and pacify her. She's liable to be rather pissed by now. I think if you leveled with her and made sure she didn't quote you, she might stir you up a hornets' nest."

The Chief stood up and drained his cup. "As usual, Alice, you're right. I'm going to stop by the jail and talk to her." They walked to the screen door. "Have a good night, Alice. When you gonna see those babies of yours."

"Oh, Wanda's stopping by this weekend with Hayward and Antoine. They're five and six now, and they love the farm."

"That's good Alice. Family's important."

"That it is, Chief, you take care of yourself."

Allissa Avery, after her run in with Jack Gardner's cock slept most of the day away. She had a dream where Jack Gardner came to her house with Sean's tutor. Sean and the tutor left for Sean's bedroom and she and the principal stayed in the living room and fucked in front of the TV. Allissa lay back in her bed and rubbed her pussy while, in her fantasy, the tall, handsome principal ate her warm, wet cunt. She always masturbated before going to work. It took some of the edge off being around naked women all night. She worked the bar at the Candy Land Lounge, just off Route 5, south of the Interstate. The Candy Land was just outside the city limits to avoid some of the more unenlightened laws of Black Mountain in regards to public nudity.

After she worked herself to a satisfying orgasm, though in her opinion, Jack made her cum much harder than she could make herself cum. She got up and pulled a short robe around her flushed body and checked to see if Sean was home-nope-time for a shower. Without Sean around I don't have to worry about him peeking or walking in. He's been reading too many "I fucked my mom" stories on the Internet. Like that's going to happen.

She turned on the shower and hung up her robe behind the door. In the mirror she caught her reflection. Standing up straight she cupped her DDs. In the mirror she caught her reflection. Holding up her tits she knew they didn't ride as high as they used to, but they still made her money. Her tips were still generous. The customers loved to buy drinks just to watch her tits bounce when she mixed them. Shaken martinis were a favorite of her customers. She made sure the sisters bounced while she shook up the drinks.

Her hips weren't fat. They still fit in the hot pants she wore ten years ago. She slapped her ass. It still attracted those special customers who came to see her once for twice a month and helped her pay her house trailer rent.

Allissa stepped into the shower and washed away Jack's scent and semen from her body. Half the time she spent in the shower was devoted to shaving her pussy smooth. She loved the feel of a smooth pussy, on her or another woman, without stubble and freshly coated with lotion. Allissa sometimes took a break in the strippers' dressing room if one made it plain that she wanted a taste of Allissa. She loved to offer up her pussy for a frustrated stripper.

She poured a generous portion of lotion in her hand and rubbed her pussy lips and pubic area. You never know who might be down there during a shift. Allissa usually worked with Andre, a French bartender, who, if business were slow, would warm her up under the counter. Between the beer cooler and the sink was a three-foot empty space. Andre loved to slip in here and Allissa would stand in front of it watching the bar crowd, and he would pull her hot pants down and eat her up.