The chronological order of my stories is as follows:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series, The Swap series, Interludes 6-10, The Murdered Football Player Series, Case of the Black Widow series, Teresa's Christmas Story, The Case of the Black Badge series, A Case of Revenge series, Teresa's Summer Race, The Trilogy series, Dark Side Of The Force series, Caught In The Act series, Case of the Murdered Bride series, The Credit Card Caper series, The Hot Wives Investment Club series, Seriously Inconvenienced series, Case of the Paper Trail series, Christmas Mystery Theater, The Porno Set Mystery series, The Medical Murder Mystery series.

The Eightfold Fence, Ch. 01-03.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

*****

Part 6 - Sheriff Daniel Allgood (continued)

Daniel had his gun out and was trying to return fire, but he was aware he'd be firing toward the populated street, while the perps' bullets were flying to the left of the gym towards the empty fields of the Fairgrounds. They also were using semi-automatic fire rifles against his service revolver. Daniel had to keep his head down, and he was wondering how he was going to get out of this when he suddenly heard two shots behind him, followed by silence... and two masked men lying dead on the pavement.

Whirling around, he saw his wife Melina on the fire escape ledge, having just fired two shots with the pistol in her hands. He did not know that her record of shooting from that ledge remained perfect; he was just grateful she had been perfect in her aim on this night.

She was looking down at him and he said "I'm okay." He heard her gasp "Thank God!" then she went back inside the building, only to reappear moments later and come up to him as a crowd was forming. She slipped the 9mmP pistol into his hand, which he made sure to hold to put his prints on it, then pocketed it.

"We need to call the Iron Crowbar." Daniel said after ordering everyone to stay away from the bodies, and checking to see if they were still alive: they were not.

"An excellent idea. I couldn't agree more." said a tall, titian-haired man in a trenchcoat and full-brim hat and carrying a red crowbar, as he came up behind the Allgoods. I walked past them and begin examining the bodies for evidence as the crowd began chattering about my presence there. I was not surprised to find the total lack of IDs, but a set of car keys on a ring with a push-button-lock fob was in the pocket of one of the men.

"Anyone see anything?" I called out. "Please come forward if you saw anything that could help us." No one did; they'd all rushed out from inside the gym and the shops of the strip mall.

Two Town & County Police cruisers barreled into the parking lot, blue lights blazing. Patrol Officers Roy McGhillie and rookie Officer Phil Goodwright were in one car. Sergeant McCombs and Patrolman Davis, a black cop who'd been working with Vice units, were in the other car.

"How the hell did you get here before we did?" Sergeant McCombs snarled at me. He was not the best of my Force, and I'd had my eye on him for some time.

I resisted an even more acid and personal comment, and settled on "I'm just that good, Sergeant. Always keep that in mind." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Melina try to keep from grinning, but her sparkling eyes betrayed her amusement.

"Okay, who shot the perps?" asked McCombs, trying to take over the scene.

"I did." said Sheriff Allgood, coming out from behind me. McCombs could not hide his shock.

"Sheriff!" he gasped. "They were shooting at you? I thought they must be shooting at the Commander..." His voice trailed off as if a thought had come to him.

"No, they came after me when I pulled into the parking lot." Daniel said. He produced the 9mmP pistol. "I used this personal weapon to defend myself." Sergeant McCombs reached for it, but I intercepted it.

"I'll hold this until the MCD officers get here." I said. McCombs was not MCD nor was he a Commander; therefore, I was making it clear who was in charge. "You guys do crowd control, try to get this crowd to disperse."

A few minutes later, Sergeant Rudistan and Senior Patrolman Morton arrived, and I quickly put Rudistan in charge, to McCombs's silent chagrin. I bagged the pistol and gave it to Rudistan, then asked Daniel to come with me. I first took out the car keys I'd taken off the perp and pressed the 'lock' button. Nothing happened.

"Okay, let's try the parking lot across the street." I said. We crossed over, followed by Melina, and I pressed the 'lock' button twice. A car horn beeped. It was a car in the middle of the lot.

"Let's check it out." Daniel said, moving forward.

"Hold on, Sheriff." I replied, literally holding him back. "We need to see if it's booby-trapped. It's not like perps to bring their car keys with them; they usually put them on the tire under the side-paneling." Daniel nodded as I got on the radio and asked for Sergeant Seymour to be brought to the location. Sergeant Seymour was an outstanding explosives-sniffing dog.

Fifteen minutes later, Sergeant Seymour and his handler arrived. I gave Seymour a good petting, seeing as I love spending a few moments with members of my K-9 Corps whenever I can, and thinking that I should get a dog myself. Laura would kill me if I did, but it'd be nice to have a dog.

Then Seymour's handler had him sniff all around the suspect car as well as other cars nearby. He detected no explosives. Still, I asked everyone to stand back as I approached the car myself.

"Okay," I said, unlocking the door, "let's see if there's anything of interest in here." I slowly lifted the door handle and then opened the car. No explosions greeted me; always a good thing. I quickly searched the car. There was nothing inside the car nor in the trunk, but there were some airline tickets in the glove compartment.

"Hmmm," I said. "From the City to Birmingham, Alabama... through Atlanta." I added: "There's an old joke that when people in the South die and go to Heaven, they have to change planes in Atlanta."

"It's no joke." said a voice behind me. FBI Special Agent In Charge Jack Muscone walked up to us. "I've gotten to know every inch of Hartsfield International Airport in Atlanta over time."

"What brings you here, Jack?" I asked as Jack shook hands with Daniel and Melina.

"We got a lot of chatter in Atlanta about something going down." said Jack. "The two guys who are now being transported to your morgue came up on our search of flight manifests between Atlanta and the City. We got their car rental and then had to get a warrant to trace the GPS in the car, and I just got here, but obviously late for this party."

"Glad you're here, all the same." I said. "Okay, let's wrap this up. Sheriff, you'll have to give a statement, probably to Rudistan unless Internal Affairs wants to have fun interviewing their old boss. I see no reason why this won't be called a 'good shoot', and quickly resolved."

"Let's go talk." Jack Muscone quietly said to me as everyone went to work. "Somewhere private. Like my office here in Town."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was late, nearly four o'clock in the morning of Tuesday, January 13th, when I got back to the Mountain Nest. Jack Muscone had come with me. Carole, Jim and little Daniel were asleep. Laura and Melina were talking on the sofa in the den by the warmth of the gas log fire in the fireplace.

"Daniel will be here soon." I said. "The official record, which will be authored by me personally and reviewed by the Inspector General of the SBI, says that the Sheriff's return fire caught the two perps dead center in their chests, killing them in what will be determined to be a 'good shoot'."

"We've been able to move quickly, and we got a lot of information." said Jack Muscone. "The perps are so-called 'good ole boys' from Opelika, Alabama. Known to the FBI and BAFTE as gun runners for white supremacy groups. They left their wallets and cellphones in a locker at the City Airport; the TCPD Crime Scene team found the key to the locker hidden in the car, and I had my guys rush it to the City Airport. We secured not two but four wallets and cellphones."

"Two of the IDs corresponded to the dead perps." Muscone continued. "We put out an APB, and the State Highway Patrol picked up the other two guys, who were driving back to the City from here. We took them to FBI Headquarters in the City, and they pretty much started talking immediately. They were watching the Allgood residence, while the two that died were watching the gym, knowing the Sheriff would show up at one or the other location eventually."

"Did they say who hired them?" Melina asked, her face showing nothing, dead to all but an intention to administer Justice...

"Yes." Jack said. "They waived their rights to counsel and silence, and in separate interviews told us it was Harold Malone that hired them, that they'd been part of a drug-running scheme he was overseeing. Their stories matched, too. We checked their cellphone records, and a picture of Daniel Allgood was sent from a burner phone in Malone's home county in Alabama."

Laura and Melina nodded, then Jack said "Laura, can I talk with you in the kitchen for a moment?" They went into the kitchen and I sat down by Melina.

"Good shooting." I said quietly. "As always, of course."

"What makes you think it was me?" Melina asked, trying not to grin mischievously.

"As I said, these two guys had bullets in the dead-center of their chests," I replied, "and Daniel can't hit the side of a barn, so sorry. But someone else I know... can."

"Too bad I had to shoot them." Melina said. "They sounded like good white guys."

"I think you did the right thing." I said. "It was your husband they were shooting at. Of course, in all those years nobody tried to shoot your ex-husband..."

That got me a slap on the shoulder, but Melina then said "Tell me this: your face looked skeptical while Jack was telling us Harold Malone is behind this. What do you really think?"

"That this is way too sloppy." I said. "Malone was careful about cell phone use, and he knew all the dead zones when he was here in Town. And those two surviving perps were a bit too eager to talk about Harold Malone. He may indeed be behind trying to kill Daniel, but there are some... strangenesses."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So," I asked my wife as we got ready to go to work without bothering to go to bed, knowing that we'd have to catch naps on our respective office couches to catch up on sleep, "can you tell me what Jack Muscone wanted to discuss with you?"

"Sure." Laura said. "Jack said they got onto these guys so quickly because of their white supremacy connections, but they also have another connection that hasn't really shown up before: gun-running. These guys have been using gun shows as cover to transport weapons all across the South, including Texas and Oklahoma, and the Midwest. He wants me to check some connections through my CIA contacts."

"And why does he want my favorite CIA officer to be checking on this?" I asked. Laura got my meaning: this was a domestic thing.

"Because international gun smuggling is the forté of our friend Henry R. Wargrave." Laura replied. I needed to hear no more to connect those dots.

Part 7 - Councilman Reginald B.F. Lewis

"Next is Councilman Reginald B.F. Lewis." said Cindy Ross to Phyllis. "He represents the mostly-Black regions of Town. He fancies himself the local version of the Reverend Jesse Jackson, but I know personally that he's not respected by the real power players of the Black Community." Cindy was remembering the Iron Crowbar's meeting with 'T-Square' and the shadowy figure known as 'The Teacher'.

"I believe my son was speaking directly with Councilman Lewis during the conversation with the eight people in the room." Phyllis said.

"That is correct." Cindy said. "I asked Don if Lewis was part of the subterfuge, but he said Lewis wasn't, that he used Lewis to get the information out to set his trap. As to Lewis himself, he's good at trading political favors in a way that he gets what he wants, but the other side may or may not get what they want. He also makes sure that his constituents provide him with cash in exchange for favors... like that crooked pharmacist Abel Fillmore that recently got thrown to the Federal dogs. Last but certainly not least, Lewis is quick to throw the race card if he feels it's to his political advantage."

"So do you think he's our Crime Master?" Phyllis asked.


"I'd think it's the 'Teacher' guy before I'd think it was Lewis," Cindy replied, "but there is no doubt that Lewis is well-connected, could arrange for one group to do something for another group and in a way that helps himself. I can't count him out..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" blared the lovely redheaded reporterette at 7:00am on Tuesday, January 13th. "Channel Two News has learned that the attempted shooting of Sheriff Daniel Allgood last night was committed by known white supremacists from Alabama. It is not clear why our Sheriff was targeted, but the FBI took two other men into custody last night, and are holding them in the City. The FBI is giving no further information at this time."

Bettina then rehashed the attempted murder of our Sheriff as the screen showed a parking lot full of blue lights flashing on police cruisers. She ended with this scalding line of remembrance: "This is not the first attempt on Sheriff Daniel Allgood's life in the past year. He was wounded in a home invasion while running for Sheriff last year, and has been targeted by assassins in the past..." I listened as Bettina rehashed old news, wondering why she was bothering to do so.

Unfortunately, the lovely redheaded reporterette was not finished. "Channel Two News has also learned that one Nicole Stanton, a resident of the City, was found dead over the weekend in the resort Lake Amengi-Nunagen area, very near the property of former Town resident and business executive Michael Burke. The FBI was called into the case, as the murder was committed on Federal lands, but they have given KXTC no details of the crime nor of the progress of their investigation. As always, KXTC will bring you breaking news immediately. This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News."

"That leak has to be from within the FBI." said Cindy Ross.

Martin Nash's face showed skepticism at that. "Maybe, but the FBI is pretty good about not leaking stuff. And why talk about the Lake Amengi-Nunagen killing? Why leak that, much less report on it here locally?"

"Media Lady there really wanted to make sure to mention Mr. Burke's name, too." Joanne Cummings astutely observed. "Commander, what do you think? Commander?..."

I didn't reply. I had just heard something I knew in my soul was important, and I was deep in a reverie...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cindy Ross had called in and said she'd be late for work, citing a plumbing issue at her home. So my 8:00am meeting was with Lt. Perlman and Lt. Teresa Croyle.

"Lorena Rose has been tracking a drug ring that distributes through prostitutes. She's gone undercover twice." Teresa reported. "We cross-checked with the FBI on that girl that was murdered up near the Burke cabin over the weekend, but she wasn't involved. Funny thing, though... the FBI is acting kinda funny about that case: nobody will discuss it with us, though they finally gave me what I wanted to know."

"That may be because my nephew Todd is involved." I said. "I think they're trying hard to keep me, and therefore all of you, out of the loop. Don't sweat on it, and keep me informed about Lorena's investigation. Anything else?"

"I'm keeping Lorena as far away from Sharples as possible." Teresa said. Lorena hates the guy anyway, calls him 'Fat Ass' in front of everyone, but he was asking someone else about what she was investigating. I called him out and told him that investigations other than his own were none of his business, but that only seems to have strengthened his resolve to find out what's going on. Lainie in I.T. has put traces on Sharples' computers and police cellphone, which Sonali has not been told about. Commander, I don't know if I'm running a Vice Squad or a CIA cell, what with all the spy-vs-spy stuff."

"I hear ya. Definitely keep Sharples away if someone is going undercover. Do you have a case for him to work on?"

"I thought about that." said Teresa. "My first thought was to give him little-shit stuff, but then I had the idea to have him investigate some of the political corruption issues going on in the Tenderloin District. If anything might the Union to stop supporting Sharples, it might be him finding out something about their political patrons." I could not help but grin at that one.

"We'll see." I said. "It's a good idea, and if he goes to them and asks for payoffs, then we have a shot to get him there. At the same time, it all but puts him right where he wants to be. Oh well..." I changed tack: "Tanya, what do you have?"

"Internal Affairs has formally taken over the assassination attempt on the Sheriff, and plan to push it up to the County's Inspector General's office." Tanya reported. "But even that is for nothing, as the FBI came in and basically shut us down the whole way around. And I've observed that our Police Commander needs a power nap after being up all night."

"No doubt about that." I said tiredly. I ended the meeting and the ladies left. A few minutes later I decided to walk down the hall to the Duty Desk to examine the written logs there, something I frequently did in order to keep abreast of the tactical situation in my County at all times. I was not meaning to eavesdrop, but a conversation caught my attention.

The door to Perlman's tiny office was open and Teresa was inside the door. I heard Teresa say "We've been training for the marathon, but Cindy's coughing gets worse every day. I finally stopped her this morning and told her to either go to the doctor or ease off for a few days..."

Why was I getting a feeling of foreboding about this? I wondered as I continued on my way down the hallway...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 9:00am I told Helena that I was taking no calls nor visitors unless it was a truly serious emergency. I then lay down on my sofa in my office and took a nearly three hour power nap.

I was going to call Todd and Jeanine and arrange to talk with them, but great minds must've been on the same wavelength because at 2:00pm Helena buzzed through a call from Jeanine. She and Todd wanted to talk with me. So I moseyed on over to her law office, where she and Todd were waiting.

"We received separate calls from the FBI this morning." Jeanine said. "They want to interview us, formally, about Nicole Stanton's death."

"Okay, what's the issue?" I asked.

"I called Jack Malone about it." Jeanine said. "He said it wasn't his team on it, that it was some special team the Deputy Director assembled. What Jack might not have known is that I'm familiar with this kind of 'special team investigation'... these guys have a way of probing where they shouldn't, and trying to create guilt rather than simply investigate it."
"What we need, Uncle Don," said Todd, "is your advice on what to do about this."

"First, let us, the three of us, talk about this... family to family, privileged." I said. "I need to know exactly what happened. You don't need to tell me every sexual position you were in, but I need to know if either of you were ever alone, if Michael or Cherie or Nicole was alone for any length of time, and such as that."

I listened as the two of them gave their joint and separate actions throughout the night. I could not see any timeframe that allowed any of the four in the house to leave and accost Nicole, nor contact anyone via cellphone, as both Todd and Jeanine said no cellphones were used at any time within their presences (and that had been confirmed by the FBI).

I also inquired to the presences of Cherie and Nicole. Both Todd and Jeanine were surprised they'd been there, and Jeanine said Michael had hired them to 'entertain' Todd while she and Michael made a baby... except that she was already expecting.

"Now I know where you get your dirty mischievous streak, Todd." I said. "Your dad is a sneaky dog."

"Don't I know it." Todd said, grinning. He was like Sergeant Rudistan: nothing ever was serious to him, it seemed.

At the end, I gave my advice: "Guys, it's up to you." I said. "But you both should insist on other lawyers being present as your respective legal counsel at any and all questioning, and you should not go to any FBI office for the questioning. Insist they come to you, and if you think the questions are getting personal or trying to lead you into implicating yourselves into something, take the Fifth. Don't fuck around. I don't know what's going on, but play no games with these people until I do find out what the hell is going on here..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" said Bettina on the morning of Wednesday, January 14th at 7:00am. She was not shouting as loudly as she normally did. "Channel Two News has learned some details of the yesterday's meeting between Councilman Reginald Lewis and Sheriff Daniel Allgood, who is showing no signs of any worries following the attempt to assassinate him the night before."

The television screen showed Daniel and Lewis sitting side-by-side in chairs in Lewis's Town Council office, facing the camera and chatting sideways to each other. As always, I wondered if the Media were really so stupid that they thought we believed the two were actually talking, as opposed to the reality of a very-much-staged sit-down for the Media cameras.

As the screen showed both Daniel and Lewis shaking hands, using all four hands, and smiling just a bit too hard and brightly, Bettina said "Mr. Lewis and Sheriff Allgood have agreed to work on improving communications and having much closer cooperation between Town & County law enforcement and the Black community."

Then the tape showed Bettina interviewing Lewis, who was saying "I am very glad that the Sheriff understands the special needs of the Black community as well as their concerns about police abuses, as demonstrated in other parts of the Nation. The Sheriff is committed to ensuring that what has happened elsewhere won't happen to our people here."

It was stiflingly quiet in the MCD room as we listened. Theo Washington, who was black, was shaking his head. Joanne Cummings, decidedly white and blonde, looked innocently skeptical. Martin Nash had the same implacable look he always did.

Then Bettina's interview with Sheriff Allgood came on the screen. He said "As you know, Bettina, the Police Department has implemented precincts, allowing us to serve all our Citizens in all parts of the Town & County with more flexibility and more attention to those areas and issues that require a fast and proper response. Of course the Police Department here will tolerate no abuse of citizens of any ethnicity, and I believe Commander Troy and his Officers have demonstrated that extremely well..." I liked the way Daniel made sure to use the word 'citizens'.

"Sheriff is name-dropping, Commander." Cindy Ross said, somewhat acerbically, when she heard my name being used by the Sheriff for political purposes. Just as I was about to respond, the Duty Desk Sergeant came in.

"Commander Troy," he said, "there is a call for you from FBI Agent Muscone. He said to tell you it's 'vitally urgent'."

"Thanks, Sergeant." I said, quickly getting up and going to my office to call Jack. 'Vitally urgent' was code between us that it really was 'drop-everything-for-this' important.

"Hi Jack, whaddya got?" I asked when he came onto the line. I nearly dropped the phone when he gave me the news...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I called Lt. Teresa Croyle and Detective Julie Newton into my office. I knew that these two ladies would be the most impacted by what I was going to tell them.

"What's up, Commander?" Teresa said, then peered at my somber face as I had them sit down.

"Ladies, I will get right to this." I said, my voice grave and serious. "I have just been informed that your former Captain here at the TCPD, Harold Malone, was found dead early this morning."

"Oh my God!" Julie exclaimed, tears forming in her eyes.

"What happened?" Teresa asked. "Heart attack?"

"No." I replied. "He was murdered. I don't have many details, but he was found on the grounds of a farm outside his home town down there, shot in the head at some time during the night last night."

Julie had begun weeping, and Teresa put a hand on her shoulder as I continued. "The two of you are excused to go to his funeral, which will be down there in Alabama. In fact, I'd like for you to go as the official representatives of this Police Force, and I'll fully expense it."

"Sir, would you excuse me a moment?" Julie asked. She was about to break down.

"Certainly." I said. Julie left. Teresa was about to go also, but I stopped her. When she came back close to the desk I said quietly "Find out what you can about what happened and let me know. But be careful, and consider yourself to be in... 'hostile territory', for lack of a better term."

"Yes sir." Teresa said, understanding.

"Teresa, I know Captain Malone really mentored you before I got here." I said. "My condolences to you."

"Thank you, sir. If you'll excuse me, I'll go make sure Julie is all right." Teresa replied. I dismissed her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Nice little piece on the news this morning." said the rapper 'T-Square' to Reginald Lewis. They were in Lewis's office in the heart of his district, not far from the Old Mill where Police Precinct 2 Headquarters was established. 'T-Square' would have been barely recognizable to his music fans: he was wearing an expensive suit, looking every bit the money-making businessman that he was.

Also in the room was the Reverend Joseph E. Williams, pastor of the A.M.E. Church, and a de facto co-leader of the Black Community's political leadership with Councilman Lewis.

"It was interesting." said Lewis. "The Sheriff himself asked to meet me, and have the Press there for a photo-op."

"Oh really?" said T-Square. "What did he want?"

"Keep this under your hats, gentlemen," Lewis said, knowing that neither would, "but he said the FBI believes that the attempt on his life Monday night was by White Supremacists. The Media is already reporting on it as if it's true, and the Sheriff wants the County to know that he has our interests at heart."

"And does he? Really?" asked Rev. Williams.

"I always thought he did during his campaign." said Lewis. "At least to the point he's not going to work against us. But we'll find out in the near future. It's the type of thing we can use to make sure we have our say and can bend him to our will if the time comes to do so."

"When the shit starts spattering," said T-Square, the quietness of his voice lending a chilling aspect to his words, "that Sheriff is not going to be anywhere around. We all know who we're going to be dealing with: the Iron Crowbar."

"What about Precinct Captain Thompson?" asked Lewis, mentioning the black police officer. "Won't he be the public face of the Police if and when anything with our People come up?"

"For a day or two." said T-Square. "But my man told me that the I.C. is the real deal in this County. My man says the I.C. is the only man of true importance, that he is the one we have to think about."

"The only man?" asked the Rev. Williams. He was thinking of a shadowy figure that was more legend than a real man, who was a coordinator of crime that made 'The Teacher' look like a rank amateur.

"Yes, the only man." replied T-Square, knowing what and who Rev. Williams was talking about. "The I.C. is the top cat in this County, make no mistake about it."

"So why did they try to shoot the Sheriff the other night?" asked Rev. Williams.

"Hell if I know." said T-Square. "But I'm hearing that these White Supremacy groups are starting to get organized... there's some common thread starting to pull them together. That's not good for us and our plans, brothers."

"No, it's not." said Reginald Lewis. "I'd like to know who is organizing the Whites in this County now. Harold Malone was 'The Man' when he was here, but he's gone now."

T-Square's face showed nothing, hiding his concern and knowledge. 'The Teacher' had told him about the other presence in the County, known only as the 'Shadow Man', and had admitted that he (The Teacher) was scared shitless of this shadowy figure, who was believed to be behind several groups of organized criminal activity. The Teacher suspected that this entity, whoever he was, could easily organize militant racist Whites against the upcoming Black agenda... if that was his goal.

Part 8 - Councilman Pastor Raymond Westboro

"Okay," said Cindy, "the next name on the list is Pastor Raymond Westboro of the First Baptist Church. He is also a Town & County Councilman."

"Church pastors have access to a surprising amount of information." Phyllis said.

"Yes, and this particular pastor has been friendly with the Oldeeds Organization for some time, giving him further connections." Cindy said. "However, while Don has not eliminated him from the list, Don did go visit Pastor Westboro... alone. If Don thinks Westboro is our 'Big Boy', I don't know if he'd have done that."

"True." said Phyllis. "Do you have any other information on him?"

Cindy said "He's pretty well-travelled for a local church pastor, even if it's a large church with a regional and even State-level following. He's attended seminars and religious functions all over the Nation, and politicians... of both parties... are frequently inviting him to give invocations at various political functions, which suggests he can talk to people at these events."

"And what else?" Phyllis said, seeing that there was more.

"Last, but not least," Cindy said, "Pastor Westboro has been openly critical of the Town & County Police, and especially Commander Troy since he came here. If our 'real Moriarty' wants to get rid of the Iron Crowbar by means other than house fires, Westboro's bully pulpits of his church and his Council positions are pretty good ways to press home the attack..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On the morning of Friday, January 15th, Pastor Raymond Westboro rose from his chair behind his desk as his guest was brought to his office.

"Ah, Steven, come on in!" said Pastor Westboro. "Fully recovered?"

"Yes sir." said Ikea, shaking hands with the Pastor then taking the seat being offered to him. "I've been back at work for a few weeks now, also. They had me in Midtown, mostly doing desk work and catching up, but in the last week they've started sending me around to other places, mostly the City, but also to Southport and Madison County. They said I'll mostly be in the City during February and March."

"Hmmm..." said Westboro. "Your 'friend' Commander Troy is scheduled to be in Midtown, to work on the SBI legislation with the Governor and politicians. Clearly they do not want you to have contact with him, accidental or intentional."

Ikea's face darkened at the name of his nemesis, the man who had physically nearly destroyed him a few months before, and who had apparently thwarted his near-success in bringing the murderer of his idol, the Reverend Jonas Oldeeds, to Justice. "Perhaps, sir." he said politely. Having agitated Ikea, Westboro now brought him back to the lure.

"I'm sure you were as sorry as I was to hear of the passing of Harold Malone." Westboro said. He saw Ikea's face light up, unable to hide his pleasure at that news.

"Yes, that was unfortunate, wasn't it?" Ikea said. "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving man."

"Ye-es." said Westboro. "Well, Steven, I'm so glad you've recovered and have returned to the SBI Narcotics Task Force. But the reason I asked you to stop by today is because I want you to consider something else... becoming a Police Chaplain, perhaps the Chaplain of the SBI. Troy once mentioned it to you, possibly sarcastically, but I really think you are ready for such a position, and it would be a most valuable thing for both of us."

"Yes sir," said Ikea, "I've been thinking of it since you mentioned it to me when you visited me in the hospital a few months ago. I've applied to Seminary in the City and I'll be starting during the Summer semester."

"Excellent!" Westboro said. "Now, tell me what your leader, Director Jack Lewis, plans for the Narcotics Task Force and the SBI, especially if his side loses the legislative battle... as they will."

"Sir?" asked Ikea, startled.

"Oh, I can tell you privately, knowing you will keep this between us." said Westboro. "The Governor and the Iron Crowbar are going to win the battle. Katherine Woodburn is too green, too inexperienced, to help her side carry the battle through. But it will be okay, you and Director Lewis will simply have to make lemonade out of lemons."

"Yes sir." said Ikea, having not yet fully processed what he had just been told.

"By the way," said Westboro, "I'm expecting you to have dinner with me in the City on Saturday evening. We're going to have a special guest: Reverend Robert Patterson, who is poised to take over the Oldeeds Ministries. I am sure it will be an... informative evening..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The weekend had been quiet and uneventful, except that the FBI tried to spring themselves upon my nephew and his wife, 'encouraging' them to visit FBI Headquarters in the City for interviews about the Nicole Stanton murder. Tina Felton, representing the Burkes, had told the FBI to make appointments with her clients, where they would have legal representation present at any and all questioning. The FBI was 'not amused', and were apparently retrenching in their pursuit of the case. I then heard that Michael Burke had also retained legal counsel and had refused to talk to the FBI except on his terms.

On Monday, January 19th, Teresa Croyle was sitting in my office, discussing her trip to Alabama. Cindy was also there.

"It was sad, Commander." Teresa said. "It was kind of like Pete Feeley's funeral, though not as large because there aren't as many people where Captain-, er Chief Malone was living. And no black people came to the funeral or the procession to the cemetery... all whites."

"How were the people down there?" I asked.

"Friendly enough to us." Teresa said. "Mrs. Malone was nice to me, a bit formal with Julie. A lot of the police there were asking us about his career up here, and I gave them the nicer aspects of him."

"Of course." I said. "Now, what did you learn about how he was killed?"

Teresa hesitated, sucked in her breath, then began: "This much I found out. The Phillips Plantation is an old plantation house that's still in decent repair though no one lives there anymore. Someone leased the land from the family to grow peanuts, soybeans and cotton, and the house has been used as a guesthouse from time to time."

She continued: "One of Chief Malone's officers was kind enough to drive me to the site. The so-called front yard of the plantation house is rows of peanuts. About 200 yards to the right side of the house as you face it was where his body was found. His patrol car was parked right behind the house. There were a lot of footprints, obviously of the officers investigating the murder."

Teresa continued: "No one could tell me why Chief Malone was out in the field, and people kind of got quiet about it. Someone, one of the town wives, suggested he'd gone out there to see if kids were doing something or if a drug deal was going down. As for the Police, they said he had not given any forewarning that he was going out there, had not called in for help. He was only found when an anonymous phone call came in to the Police Station at 4:30am, saying his car was at the site, and they found him fairly soon afterwards."

"No information on possible crime activities in the area?" I asked.

"No sir," said Teresa, "and again, people got quiet when I asked about it. I didn't press because I wanted them to think I only wanted to know what had happened to my mentor, but I think they knew more than they cared to reveal."

"How was Julie?" I asked.

"She held steady for the most part." Teresa said. "I talked to her some on the flight down. She was pretty quiet on the way back. I'm pretty sure she and Captain Malone were... close, if you know what I mean."

"I do." I said. "Teresa, let me ask you this: did anyone, other than Mrs. Malone, act as if they knew Julie, or did she seem to know anyone there?"

Teresa thought about that. "No sir." she finally said. "We were both total strangers to everyone... except Mrs. Malone, of course, and some of the people who came from our County's First Baptist Church that had known the Malones. My understanding is that the Church has a 'funeral delegation' for former members who have since left Town and died elsewhere, and the Church pays for the trip..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tuesday, January 20th. The Town & County Council were meeting in formal session. After their public business, taking complaints from the Townspeople and such, they called for Executive Session, to discuss the structure and personnel of the Public Service Department and its various branches. Promotions and pay raises would be discussed.

Most of it was pro forma, with the proposed promotions and raises of uniformed Police and Fire personnel being approved by rote. Malinda Adams objected to the lack of women being promoted, per usual, and Edward R. Steele asked why once again there were no promotions proposed for EMTs. But otherwise, it was pretty straightforward.

"Captain Charles is retiring," said the Mayor, "and we don't have to formally approve it, but his replacement is going to be hired from the outside." The mayor named the replacement and his sterling record. Though not fully necessary, the Council passed a resolution approving the hire by voice vote.

Then came the discussions for the position of Police Chief. And that's when the fights started.

"Okay," said Mayor Larry Vaughan, the People's Choice. "We have several good candidates for Chief of Police. Unfortunately, the best one of all, Commander Troy, has declined to consider accepting the position."

"Good." said Malinda Adams, the uber-feminist. "It's only a matter of time before we're going to have to defend a police brutality lawsuit on his behalf. He carries around that crowbar, even has one of his Lieutenants carrying one. It looks like our police are a bunch of thugs, not the Peace Officers they are meant to be."

"I agree that it's good that Troy is not going to be considered." said Kelly Carnes, who was a very rich trophy wife and also claimed to be religious."

"All the more reason to ask Commander Troy to reconsider and become Chief." replied Dagmar Schoen, John "Jack" Colby's ally. Dagmar and Kelly were bitter enemies, on the Council and off of it.

"I have to agree with Ms. Adams," said Pastor Westboro, "that Commander Troy, despite his brilliant successes, is not the proper choice. My reasons, however, are not the same. I believe he will be an FBI Agent before too long, and we'll be having this discussion all over again."

"He's turned down the FBI, but accepted a consultant position." replied Jack Colby in the deep baritone voice that totally belied his slender, wiry cowboy frame. "Why in the world would he leave now?"

"Okay, guys," said Mayor Vaughan, "I want to get out of here before sunrise, and we already know the Iron Crowbar is not going to become Chief, at least not this year. So let's see. Our candidates are Precinct Captain Susan Weston, Lieutenant Harold Bennett, Captain Robert Brownlee, Precinct Captain Holsom 'Hal' Briggs, and Lieutenant Scott Peterson. They've all applied except Bennett and Weston. Bennett was nominated by Sheriff Allgood, and Weston by Councilwoman Malinda Adams."

"We should consider a woman for the Chief position, even if we have to hire from outside the local Police Department." said Malinda Adams, as if needing to defend her nomination of Weston. "A woman would best lead our Peace Officers in their mission."

"In that case, I nominate Commander Troy's wife." said Jack Colby. "She's the only woman in this town that can handle the Iron Crowbar." That drew some laughter.

"Be careful." replied J.P. Goldman, the wealthy bankster. "I might take you seriously. Dr. Fredricson is an amazing woman."

"The sexual deviancy professor? She's a whore." said Kelly Carnes venomously.

"Watch your language." replied Colby, staring daggers at Carnes. It was a direct threat.

"I'm sure that Mrs. Carnes is extremely familiar with whores." said Dagmar Schoen. If looks could kill, Kelly Carnes would be under arrest for murder for the look she gave Dagmar, who stared back with equal hatred.

"Enough!" said Mayor Vaughan. "Good grief. Okay, folks, you have the names. We're going to eliminate at least a couple of them tonight. Okay, let's go around the table. Malinda?"

"As I've said, I'll only consider Captain Weston." replied Malinda Adams.

"If I may," said Thomas P. Cook, "I'd suggest that Lt. Scott Peterson, while an able Media Relations Officer, is far too inexperienced both in field work and administration." There was general agreement.

"Okay, so Peterson is out of the running." said the mayor. "At this point in time, I want to bring up something. We also need a Deputy Chief, and I'd prefer to promote from within than hire from outside for that position. The Deputy Chief is third-in-command, after the Chief and Commander positions."

"I think we should change that." said Kelly Carnes. "The Deputy Chief should be second-in-command, ahead of the Commander."

"There's a reason it's the way it is." hissed Dagmar Schoen. "The Commander is in charge of the Officers. The Deputy Chief is an Administrator, not the leader we expect the Chief and Commander to be."

"Folks," said the Mayor, "I remember when we created this structure when the Town and County merged. We never really expected to fill either Commander slot. Griswold jumped us good when he had us put Troy in the Commander slot, and I think it was an excellent move on Griswold's part... but I digress. The reason it's the way it is, is because the Deputy Chief is like a military Executive Officer: he's about 'beans and bullets', supplies and administration. The Commander is in charge of the Officers, all of the Officers, on the Police Force, as well as the Operations Officer. I will not entertain changes to that." And that was the final word on that subject.

"I can tell you right now," said Ian McGhillie, whose son was on the Police Force, "the new Chief must be someone his officers respect."

"If I may, ladies and gentlemen," said Pastor Westboro, subtly taking charge of the others, "I've studied all of these candidates thoroughly, as well as a few from outside. We can talk about those for the Chief position later. I do agree that we should promote our Deputy Chief from inside."

Westboro continued, his voice seemingly soft but deceptively strong and commanding: "I believe Precinct Captain Weston is well suited for where she is, gaining experience for the future. Lt. Peterson is indeed too young. Precinct Captain Briggs is too laid back; he's merely waiting for his retirement. And that leaves Brownlee and Bennett. Brownlee is an excellent administrator. Bennett is good, and a bit older man. He had field experience as a younger officer that Brownlee did not acquire. I believe Captain Brownlee would be the best choice for Deputy Chief."

Reginald B.F. Lewis finally spoke up: "I agree with Pastor Westboro on that. I also have not heard discussed an important aspect of this conversation: the Police Union." A small groan was heard at this bringing up of something they'd wanted to avoid. "I can give assurances that the Police Union will strongly support Captain Brownlee's nomination to Deputy Chief."

Pastor Westboro had not said out loud what he knew to be true: that Brownlee and Commander Troy did not like each other and would be very antagonistic to each other. But Kelly Carnes had no problem bringing it up as she said "I think Captain Brownlee would be a wonderful counterweight to Commander Troy. Brownlee won't let Troy run away with things like Troy has been doing. Brownlee will keep Troy in line."

"He'd damn well better not do so at the expense of the ability of the Police Force to do its job." replied Dagmar Schoen.

"Okay, let's take a ten minute recess." said the Mayor. "No use of cellphones. When we get back, we'll consider filling the Deputy Chief position. There will have to be a second reading, so we'll have to meet next Tuesday and make it official, but we'll decide before we go home."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, January 21st. John 'Jack' Colby had called the night before and asked me and Daniel Allgood to have breakfast with him and Dagmar Schoen at 6:00am at his Country Breakfast Diner. The food was delicious... the news was not.

"It's Brownlee for Deputy Chief." Colby said. "Partially to keep him out of the Chief's job, which Kelly Carnes wanted. But it was hard to argue with his years of administrative experience and Union ties."

Sheriff Allgood looked over at me. My eyes were downcast. "Damn." was all I said.

"Don," said Dagmar, "you're still Acting Chief, and always over him, never behind him."

"That's not the problem." I replied. "It's that Brownlee is just about the worst possible choice. He's a paper-pusher because he's always been too incompetent to be a field officer. He's a vindictive son of a bitch, and in his position, he can cut off our supplies, cut our training, and make things a living hell for me, and- oh shit..."

"What?"

"He'll be in charge of I.T., too, won't he?" I said, looking up at Colby.

"Not for now." said Colby, avoiding what we all realized was coming. "You're still I.T. Supervisor, as you never gave up the position."

"Jack," said Allgood, "I've already heard from the Union about it. They want I.T., at least the physical part of it, under the Deputy Chief and out of Commander Troy's hands. And structurally, I can't argue with them. I'm grappling with I.T. for all the Public Service departments, so I'm holding the Union off, at least for now. But Don, be prepared for the coming war on that."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There was tension at Police Headquarters. I don't know how people find out things so fast, but Brownlee's impending promotion was already known. Brownlee himself was strutting around Headquarters, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

I didn't think the day could get worse. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Just after 9:00am, my personal cellphone rang. It was my wife Laura. "Don," I heard my wife say, her voice solemn and quiet, "you need to come up to University Hospital, right now. Teresa brought Cindy in earlier this morning. Doctor Morgan called me and said he needs to talk to you."

It took every bit of strength I possessed not to drop the phone. "I'll be right there." I said. I rushed out, telling Helena I was going to the Hospital. I tore out of the parking lot, blue lights blazing, sirens blaring. I might have driven like a maniac through Town.

Once at University Hospital, I went up to the floor where I knew the examinations were being done. No one tried to stop me. I got to a room and, looking inside the slender window in the door, I saw Cindy Ross sitting on an examination table. Teresa Croyle was sitting next to Cindy, her arm around her friend. Cindy's head was bowed low; I could only see the top of her platinum blonde head.

Just then Dr. Morgan came around the corner, his face somber. "Ah, there you are Commander. Would you please step into this other room with me?" Fear welled up in my soul as I followed the doctor into the next-door room.

To be continued.