Chapter 70

Dan Richards' turn:

I can do this story biz again.

Let's see ... Oh, yeah. Knock on the door of the hotel room right before Cindy and I strip down for one of those 'somebody else's hot water' showers. That's one point where fate swung in our favor. I surmise that the impact of charges of consorting with an underaged girl would have been much more impactful had we both been in full 'consorting' configuration.

Instead, when I opened the door to reveal two of, Cindy's words. 'Bugtussle's Finest'. The name comes to Cindy from a Saturday filled with watching Beverly Hillbillies DVDs. Or Bugtussle, Alabama, or Bugtussle, Oklahoma, or whatever. But there they were. They charged me, cuffed me, read me my rights, completely ignored official documentation of a legal marriage, and they hauled me off to jail. I went quietly.

Kicking and screaming weren't likely to do me any good, and right now I feared I would jeopardize Cindy's status. I knew we'd get this sorted out sooner or later, but with Cindy loose, 'sooner' was the bet.

We got lucky. Supercop, the younger of the two officers, let her have her backpack, no questions asked. The last I saw of her was him putting her into the back seat.

I didn't see her at the sheriff's office. I did find myself fingerprinted and photographed and strip-searched, then put into a pair of orange coveralls. I tried to get a phone call, but that request was summarily denied. "You'll get to make your phone call tomorrow. It'll be better for you anyway. People will be awake." He smiled at his display of wit.

All I could do was wait. A holding cell. Me, a bunk, a toilet and a sink and a steel door locked in front of me. I considered myself fortunate.

Not even a book. I put myself in the most comfortable position I could find on a wholly inadequate mattress. I played things in my head. Ran through so many happy memories in my life, all the way up to two years ago when I decided to go for a swim after a day at a construction site. That's where I met Cindy. Playing those scenes, those first words, the conversations, the way we came to be together. It was nothing short of miraculous, and now it was being denied me.

I finally went to sleep. I woke up on my own, daylight not visible from the windowless holding cell. NO watch. Had no idea of the time. Dozed, drifted, until the hall door opened and another man came in and shoved a metal try of food under the door.

"Your breakfast."

"Thank you."

"Try it. You may take that back."

"I'm a veteran. I've endured meals in the middle of a sandstorm. I don't think your tray can beat that."

"Veteran?"

"Yeah. Army. Lieutenant, Engineers. Gulf War I."

"Really? I joined the army too late for that one and got out too early for the next one. Did you see anything?"

"I was, my platoon was tasked with blowing our way into Iraq," I said. "And then we followed 'em in, blowing up stuff they overran."

"Wow. Look, If you can't stomach that shit, I can go get you a McMuffin."

I looked at the congealing runny grits on the tray. "If you'd do that for me, I'll pay you back somehow."

"I trust you on that." He disappeared, twenty minutes later I got my McMuffin and a coke.

"Bless you, sir," I said. "What's your function here?"

"I take care of feeding prisoners, cleaning the cells, stuff like that."

"Deputy?"

"Nah, not yet. One day, maybe."

"Good luck with it," I said.

"Gonna need it. We pick up a couple of prisoners that the city caught last night. I'm gonna have to double up in some cells. I'll try 'n keep you singled up as long as I can."

"Thanks. I didn't get your name."

"Gary Spell," he said.

I stuck a hand out. "Dan Richards."

"I can't shake your hand while you're in there, you know," he told me, a little sadly, I thought.

"It's the thought that counts."

He left for other duties. I scooted back on my bunk and waited. That's all I had to do ... just wait.

Finally the hall door opened and Gary showed up with a guy who was decked out in his Sunday sheriffing togs.

"Mister Richards, I'm Sheriff Bruce Garber. This is the first of many apologies. Would you come with us, please?"

"Certainly," I said.

We ended up in a conference room. Two guys in suits at the other end of the table.

They rose when I entered the room. I was getting the full treatment – introductions. Handshakes. "Please sit down."

Older suit was the District Attorney. "Mister Richards, a horrible mistake has been made..."

"We tried to explain that last night."

"Yes, we understand that. I have your documentation here," the DA said. "It's as legal as it needs to be, although it's not the kind of thing I see every day. I suppose those deputies last night had never heard of such a thing."

"What I don't understand," I said, "is why they'd even come knocking. Cindy and I arrived the day before. We conducted business this morning and this afternoon. We enjoyed an evening here, a good meal, a drive around the countryside, all those things that child molesters usually do."

"Business?" he queried.

"Yes. We had a meeting with your local electric co-op."

"And you bring a sixteen year old. What's she do? Sit in the hotel room?"

"Hardly. I let her battle out the selection for a few protection schemes. That sixteen year old has a degree in electrical engineering."

"Excuse me. What?!?"

"Cindy, my wife, was, still is, an unclassified student at Auburn University. She is also a research engineer on a Department of Defense project. A month ago the Engineering Department stated in a letter that she meets the requirements for a baccalaureate in science in electrical engineering. They gave her the degree. When she walks across the stage in May, she'll get her official diploma for that as well as minors in mathematics and physics, and if she gets her butt in gear, she will receive a master's degree in electrical engineering." I smiled. I have reason to smile. It's a little redhead named Cindy.

The younger of the two suits was shocked. "You're serious?"

"If I had my computer, I could show you the PDF. Or you could call a couple of numbers at Auburn. They're quite proud of 'er. Astounded. But proud."

"So you're here on business."

"Yes sir. We'd be headed home today. Successful. Tennessee money is good money, too." I paused. "Now why did one or two of your deputies see a reason to come knock on my door? I thought that was a pretty nice hotel. Use the chain all over the country. They're seldom high-crime areas."

Sheriff Garber's head sagged. "They got a phone call. Suspicious activity. Old guy with a young girl hanging' on 'im. He put his hands around 'er waist ... Citizen was sure that there was a crime being committed."

"Okay," I said. "We tried to rectify the misinformation. You know, the combination of your citizen and that deputy last night could really be expensive."

Sheriff's head hung even lower. The DA spoke. "Yeah. You got us pretty much red-handed. All we can do is hang our heads."

I heard footsteps coming up the hall, the door opened and the sun rose in that conference room. Cindy was here. Same Cindy. Green eyes flashed when she saw me.

"That's her," I said. "She hides the bruises well, don't you think?" I don't think these guys were up for joking.

The sheriff stood and introduced himself. I'd stood because ladies had entered the room.

"Mister and Missus Henderson, thank you for your help. You may leave." His face changed pretty noticeably when Mister Henderson said, "We don't want to leave just yet. We have a report. Might not make much difference here, but we're going to give it."

I could tell by the sheriff's face that he was not expecting something that would help out his side of this case. I was right. He launched right into a description of my Cindy, Cindy exactly the way I expect her to be, under dire circumstances. Ended up asking for her business card so they could stay in touch. "I just wish we'd met her and her husband before this. We would've loved having dinner with them."

The sheriff was sagging even more. He motioned for her to sit. "Please sit, Mizz Cindy."

I know the difference between 'Miss' and 'Mizz' around here. I'm certain that the sheriff knows, as well.

The DA laid it on the table. Poor judgment. Mistakes made, then compounded.

"Uh, folks, my deepest, most sincere apologies," the sheriff said. "It's my deputy and my department and I must accept full responsibility."

"Excuse me. This is, like, OVER?" I interrupted.

"Yes, why?"

"Because." I stood, opened my arms wide, facing Cindy. The space-time continuum folded. That's the only way I explain her showing up in my arms. I hugged her and kissed her. Then I motioned for her to sit next to me.

As Cindy and I sat there, our fingers interlaced together while the sheriff and the DA went back and forth.

Finally the sheriff said, "If I had my druthers, I'd erase that last twenty-four hours."

Cindy jumped in. "No, sir. First, except for certain events," she paused to skewer the sheriff with a look, "this is a delightful town. Second, we had a great meeting with your local electrical co-op. Like I said, we'll be back. Lots of work. And two and a half, because my husband missed it, I met a delightful couple of people who take their religion seriously, giving refuge to the widow and the orphan, even though I was neither one. They had the best intentions, genteelly displayed."

She continued, "However. Your deputy Roy isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. He refused to give us his name, was rude when he didn't have to be, and I guess he dropped out of law school because we presented those documents and he just kept on charging in. I'm gonna have to work a while before I can get to forgiving him." I watched her face, but then I KNOW Cindy. Her expression upon mentioning that deputy had turned grim, but when she said 'forgiving', she was beginning to smile.

The DA detailed the phone calls and faxes that his office had received. Cindy's phone calls worked. Judge Charlie and his son were involved.

"Your step-dad? Judge Peebles?" he asked Cindy.

"Yessir. One of the finest people I've ever met," she said.

"He's got a way about him. He explained exactly what he'd done and cited Alabama case law. Very measured terms, too, but they were preceded by 'Your people put Dan Richards in jail? Not quite up to Pontius Pilate, but close. Have you talked to him? Or Cindy?'" He sighed, looked at the sheriff. "Your deputy managed to get my ass chewed by honorable men."

He looked at us. Really stared the sheriff down. "I know it's my county and all that, but you folks have a damned good case for wrongful incarceration. Like we don't already have money problems. Bruce, it might be a good thing, though. Those two arresting deputies could use some time patrolling on bicycle."

"Geez, James," the sheriff whined.

"Hey," the DA kept going. "Your guys set all this up. I'm gonna wanna have a talk with 'em myself, you know."