Sheriff Porter - Cover

Sheriff Porter

Copyright© 2013 by carniegirl

Chapter 132

I waited two days to call the automaker's CEO on the private number Martin had slipped me. "My name is Sylvia Porter, I understand you have a problem," I said.

"It looks as though we have a huge inventory shrinkage problem. We also have labor relations problems simmering," he said.

"Well I'm not a labor relations specialist, but I might be able to help with the shrinkage problem. The best and fastest way to find out what is going on is to come into the plant as a simple worker, but one who has access to the whole plant. So tell me, do you think your present security is turning a blind eye to the thefts?"

"The thefts are so great there is almost certain to be someone in the security chain helping the thieves," he said.

"Then we do have a problem. I can invent a new me, but you have to get me hired. It would put up all kind of red flags, if you took a hand in hiring me for a low lever position, so it will need a special kind of back story. I'll work on it for the next few days and lay out the details. You and I will need to meet. If it looks okay, we can go from there."

"What's your price?" he asked.

"If I find out who and how, I want five percent of your last years loss. If I can't just pay the expenses of the operation. My fixed overhear is a thousand a week then there will be a cheap apartment to go with my cover. Fifteen weeks should be enough time to break this. There are times it might not be pretty, so decide do you want it to stop the theft, or to put people in prison?" I asked. "Don't answer now, wait till we meet."

"Alright after the first of the year I'll meet you. We have a family cabin on lake Watusi." he suggested.

"Fair enough I'll start work on the cover biography. Email me the time and directions to the meet," I insisted. Then I gave him my email address.

I guess I was a little surprised when Wilson came in to announce that the Restaurant was opening that night. I had heard nothing about the final days of preparation. I hadn't really wanted to be involved, since my building was complete and the fixtures for the restaurant purchases. Mel had singed over half her profit to pay me back the loan and to pay her rent for the upstairs apartment. Whatever she arranged with Wilson was of no interest to me.

I was glad to see the place up and running, so I agreed to help with the grand opening. "I'm going to ride the E trike as much as I can. It is getting chilly for sure," Wilson said.

"Yes, I can imagine," I said. "I would pull a banner behind the Canary but I think it is a little to underpowered for that. It is also shut down for the duration of the winter."

"I guess you can act as the official greeter, if you come down this afternoon about five," Wilson informed me.

"Sure why not," I said.

The restaurant had a pretty good opening. It wasn't great, but we were in it for the long haul. Mainly Mel had kept her overhead down, so the odds were good she would make it on some level. She might not be ready to franchise it, but it looked like a good opening to me. The place was half full most all night. Occasionally it was even almost full, so I considered it a success.

I helped transport more hot dogs from Mel's kitchen to the buffet where people were served form the grill cook. All the dogs were grilled before they were served. It was a fairly efficient system. Wilson played cashier and since he was good with money, I expected it to be and honest count. I noticed a couple of very well built young men with scars in the place at one point. I immediately thought of the Swamp Dog crew. Since they came and went in the swamp, I didn't know any of them and that would not have been unusual. Hell they could just as well have been fishermen.

We closed down and cleaned up from ten to midnight. I left Wilson and Mel to go upstairs and to bed. "Wilson before I leave I need you to spend some time tomorrow working on a new background for me. Something close to my own life but not the Sheriff part. Some private security type background. Minimum wage kind of work history, but lots of it.

"Right Boss I'll be in at noon and start on it if you aren't around," Wilson suggested.

"Good that will work," I said. I turned my attention to Mel when I shouted back to her, "Good night Mel."

"Good night Sylvia," she said. I could have put her failure to say thanks to her being tired, but she was always like that. She just expected someone to take care of her, and so far it had worked that way for her. I didn't want to dwell on it because it really pissed me off at times.

I went home, then fell right in bed. I was exhausted, from all the trike riding, staying on the move pretty much all day, and the few hours of lifting and carrying pans about the restaurant had all worn me out. It was a different kind of exercise. Like the men with all the muscles on those TV game shows They look great, but have no stamina.

I had learned long ago that a bulky body is a liability on a ten mile walk through the hot dry desert. It just caused them to dehydrate faster. Dehydration was the killer in the sun. I had seen a lot of pretty boys pass out on their as their first few days in the field. I had also seen some scrawny ugly little fuck, who carried a B.A.R, just walk away and leave his pretty ass to die.

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