Chapter 82

" ... But now, we've got a problem that we need to iron out between the three of us," Jeff said looking hard at both men.

"That's sounds serious, Jeff," Dave said.

"Hell, it is. We've got a young man in there visiting with Alesha who blew his truck engine as he was coming to save Joyce. The problem is that he's too damn proud to let me buy him another truck. Heck, I would set both Jesse and Alesha up for life if I could get away with it. It's frustrating to have the money and not be able to help those two. I think we'll get away with a 'grant' for Alesha to go back to school, but what am I going to do about Goodman?"

Tate looked over at Jeff. "I've been thinking about the same thing. I have a little money in my discretionary fund at the department. I could get his motor rebuilt if I threw in a little extra."

Jeff quickly sat up in order to look more directly at the Sheriff. "What if your discretionary fund suddenly got one hell of a lot bigger?"

Tate just grinned at him.

"If I can't buy him a new truck, how about a complete rebuild of this one. Say, carry it to the dealer and tell him to make it like new."

"New, as in?" Dave said.

"New interior, repair any dents, new paint job, new sporty rims, new tires, new engine — not a rebuilt one — front end, transmission, new windshield, if its four-wheel drive, do that too, a really nice stereo system ... everything. Make it like new, literally. Oh, and an extra set of snow tires and wheels for winter."

Dave shook his head. "I know of a better outfit to do that than the dealer. Dealers usually charge a ridiculous amount of money for parts. And, granted, some of the parts will have to come from a dealer, but a lot of them won't. With a project like this, we want someone who is proud of his finished work. This guy is good. He won't stiff us with the price, and he's a true craftsman. He has a garage/body shop combination, and he restores antiques as well. Although, Goodman's pickup doesn't fall into that category, I'll bet he would still jump at the chance for a true restore to Jesse's truck. Especially if the guy realized that this is for the deputy that helped save Joyce. Heck, everyone who has turned on a radio or TV lately, knows about that."

"See why he's my project manager?" Jeff laughed.

Dave just grinned and went on. "He's not cheap, but he does what he says he will do. You should see his shops. They steam clean every vehicle before it even goes into the shop. He insists that all his people clean up their work area every day before they leave. They have, literally, a place for everything, and everything is in its place before they go home for the day. He's a stickler for perfection, and he doesn't just talk the talk, either.

And they do a thorough inspection of the work before it goes out. I've watched them do this, and they're serious about the inspections. He says that he is in business for the long haul, that satisfied customers will be the repeat customers who will keep him in business."

"Damn. Can we hire this guy?" Jeff laughed.

"No," Dave joined in with a chuckle of his own, "but I already have several like him, one of whom is a finish carpenter who needs to get back in your bedroom to put up the molding."

"As soon as we get past this thing with Joyce, we'll finish up in there. I had almost forgotten about it," Jeff answered, realizing that Dave was every bit as much of a perfectionist in his own way as the shop owner.

"You might have forgotten, but I doubt if Diana has," Dave allowed.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Jeff agreed

"But how are we going to do this?" Tate asked.

Jeff grinned at the Sheriff. "Well, you will be eating supper with him in a few minutes. Afterward, you can get him aside — assuming that you can get his attention from Alesha long enough — and tell him about your discretionary account. Just don't take no for an answer. Tell him that his motor is the county's responsibility and ask for his keys, meanwhile, bullshitting him about the money. As soon as you talk him out of the keys, we'll send a wrecker and get started.

"You can tell him that you sent the truck to Denver to a friend of the family who runs a garage, and it might take a couple of weeks, but the guy does good work. We will just keep stalling him until the truck is ready."

"I'll call the shop in Denver and set it up first thing in the morning," Dave broke in.

"He's going to have a fit when he sees it, and it won't take him long to realize that you are the one who financed the restoration," Tate mused.

"Yeah, well, it will be a done deal then. He might fuss and jump up and down a little, but we'll make sure that Alesha is here and knows about it ahead of time. I doubt if he'll raise too much hell with her to calm him. We'll make sure that Alesha asks him for a ride in his new truck right off the bat. He'll be sunk by the time he gets back from the ride, if he even notices the truck while he's out," Jeff laughed. "Also, sooner or later, he'll figure out how much Joyce means to us, and maybe that will assuage his ego a little about accepting the money that went into the truck restoration."

Tate grinned at Jeff. "I think this will work. Hell, like you say, it will be a done deal by the time he finds out. He's a proud young man, somewhat of a loner from what his Lieutenant tells me. But the same Lieutenant also says that if he needs something done, he knows that Goodman will get it done right the first time. He's number one on the Sergeant's exam, too, and the slot is open. But I have plans about that. I have a commendation ceremony that's overdue for another deputy. I'm just waiting for Joyce to get back to work before we have it — particularly since she's going to be one of the ones to receive an award."

Tate glanced out the window. "Looks like the rain is slacking up a little."

Dave laughed. "Better look again, Sheriff. Looks like those drops of rain are changing shape and getting awfully white."

Tate grimaced. "I brought the four-wheel drive just in case. I guess the weather report is going to hit it for a change."

"Soup's on," Diana announced on the PA.

Goodman held Turcott's chair for her to be seated. As Alesha sat, she thanked Jesse with a smile, then turned to Diana. "This is the last time I sit on my rear while everyone is preparing our meal. I'm fine now. The nausea isn't bothering me anymore, the dizziness is almost gone, and I think my hearing is going to completely come back. It's getting better all the time, and even the ringing in my ears is almost gone."

Diana grinned at her, eyes sparkling. "So, you've just told me that you still have some dizziness, some ringing in your ears, and your hearing is still giving you problems. You can come sit and talk with us while we work," she said, "but let's wait a couple of days before you get too frisky."

"That's what I've been telling her," Goodman broke in, "but she's feeling guilty for not helping."

Alesha grinned a little, "Okay. But I'm not an invalid and I want to do my part." Absently, she reached for the Sheriff's hand on one side and Jesse's on the other, then bowed her head.

Quickly catching on, Tate took Turcott's hand, then his wife's. His wife grabbed his hand and her sister's, the Matthews and Hensons completing the chain around the table. Jeff said the blessing this time.

Later, as the conversation lulled for a moment, Evie caught Tate's eye. Very seriously, she said, "Sheriff, I got a ticket the other day. Think you could take care of it for me?"

Dave frowned, hesitating, a fork of food almost to his mouth. She has been out by herself a few times lately. Strange, though, that she didn't mention a ticket. That's really odd. She's never gotten a ticket in her life. She's always fussing at me to watch how fast I'm driving. Then he saw the quiver of the side of her mouth.

"Well, I, uh..." Bracing himself, Tate continued, "I'm sorry. I hope I don't offend you, but I don't 'fix' tickets. Actually my people write very few of them. We're too busy answering calls and with us short on manpower, we don't have anyone working full-time in traffic."

"Well, it was worth a try," Evie laughed.

"Sheriff," Dave broke in, "She's messing with you. She's never gotten a ticket in her life, and if she did, I'd rag her for the next ten years, as much as she rides me about staying below the limit and coming to a complete stop at stop signs."

Tate blushed, totally amazing Evie. "All right, young lady. You got me with that one. I was sitting here wondering how I was going to say that I didn't 'fix' tickets, without making you mad at me, never even considering that you were kidding." Chuckling self-consciously, he winked at her.

"Well, it was worth a try," Evie laughed. "I might get one some day."

Tate smiled back. "I'm not wearing my uniform this evening, and I even left my off-duty gun in the SUV," he hinted.

"Do you get tired of people talking about law enforcement?" Evie asked, assuming that's what he meant.

Tate chuckled as he accepted a platter of chicken from his wife, took a chicken breast and passed the food to his left. "I guess that a lot of people are a little uncomfortable around a person in uniform wearing a gun and the gear. Even when I'm in plain clothes, they know that I'm armed. Most don't have the foggiest notion what a cop really does, so they try to make me feel like I'm part of the conversation by asking about tickets."

Tate paused to take a sip of his iced tea, then looked at the glass again. "Wow, that's good." After a moment, he continued, "We were standing around after church the other day, just talking before leaving. There was a lull in the conversation, and I guess the pastor wanted to make sure I felt included, or something. He turned to me and asked, 'So how many tickets did you write last week?'"

Tate accepted two biscuits from another platter, then passed it on before resuming. "I know the man was just being nice and trying to make me feel like part of the group, but I just couldn't help it. I looked him in the eye and tried to seem thoughtful. Finally, I said, 'I think I did write a ticket about... three years ago, but then I wound up voiding it when I found out she was the pastor's wife.'"

When the chuckles died down, Tate continued, "I never did tell him I was kidding. I can just imagine the conversation they had on the way home."

Evie grinned at him. There was a delay in conversation as everyone filled their plates, then, she said, "Joyce hasn't told us much about her job, so since we have the boss here, tell us what cops really do."

By now, the Sheriff's plate was full and the food kept coming. "Goodness, I don't have room for anything more. But it all looks good," Tate said.

"You shouldn't have gone to this much trouble," Virginia added, speaking to Diana.

Diana laughed. "Oh, if you stop by tomorrow, you'll see some of it again. But if we prepare a variety, then we can all have our favorites more often. Besides, we added little more than we usually have. Frequently we just put the food on the steam tables and let everyone serve themselves, but we decided to put things on the table tonight."

The Sheriff glanced at Evie. "About what cops really do, well, big departments like Denver probably have different percentages of certain calls. Most of ours are outside municipalities, of course. But there are several unincorporated towns that we serve, and technically we can answer calls anywhere in the county, incorporated or not. But then I suspect that we received more calls for stock on the highway than a big city would," he kidded. "Although, I heard some of the Denver police laughing about a big bull squaring off at a Crown Vic. The city has expanded until they have areas that overlap farms and ranches.

"Each shift has calls that are more indicative of that particular time of day. For instance, night shift will, of course, answer more prowler, alarm and burglary calls. Day shift will answer more report calls where the store owner comes in to work in the mornings and discovers that his business was broken into during the night. Evening shift will generally answer more fight calls, DUIs, and domestic calls. Calls for assistance from vehicle breakdowns happen almost twenty-four hours a day. Probably more during daylight hours, but late at night when businesses are closed becomes a hassle for the person involved, and for the deputy and dispatch trying to find a garage, or solve the problem in some way.

"Domestic disputes are a large percentage of both the evening and night shift's calls. They are a lose-lose for the deputy. You generally can't make people happy when you answer those. Someone goes to jail if there is any sign of violence. Usually the man. Then the wife has to get him out of jail, and there is a fine when they go to court, which adds to the family stress. And those calls are dangerous, as Joyce can attest.

"One thing about our profession, you never know what to expect. It can go from boredom to chaos in a heartbeat."

"Amen to that," Joyce laughed, then looked astonished as she realized that she had just laughed about something that had decidedly not been funny a little while ago.

Tate noted her response and inwardly smiled, knowing that she was truly beginning to heal.

"One of our deputies answered a wreck call a couple of months ago. It was raining heavily and the caller had said that there was a car overturned in a ditch. The deputy, as luck would have it, wasn't far away. When he got there, he did, indeed, find a car upside down in a ditch — a ditch that was rapidly filling with water. The driver was unconscious, hanging by his seatbelt. The deputy couldn't get a door open due to them being jammed with the car sitting mostly on its roof. The problem was that the car was quickly becoming a death trap with the rising water pouring in.

"He broke out the driver's window and was holding the man's head out of the water so that he could breathe while at the same time the deputy was trying to get his knife off his belt and open with one hand. By the time he managed to cut the seatbelt and get the guy free and out the window, both the deputy and the driver were half drowned.

"He managed to pull the guy out of the ditch, despite the man weighing nearly three hundred pounds. Three hundred pounds of 'dead' weight should probably have been impossible for the deputy to drag out of that car and ditch by himself, but he managed somehow. After rolling him onto his side and getting the most of the water out of him, the deputy breathed for him a few times to get the guy started back breathing on his own. Of course then the inevitable happened and the deputy got decorated," he grinned, not wanting to say vomited on while everyone was eating.