Authors: Florence Osmund
The sheriff lay face-up, pants halfway down, his eyes shut and teeth clamped tight in a grimace. He rubbed his right side.
“CJ!” Lee cried out. “Can you bring a blanket or something to cover him up?”
CJ entered the room with a tablecloth. She threw it over him and asked, “Is he okay?”
Lee nodded and walked over to the sofa to remove the set of handcuffs from the sheriff’s utility belt.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Just for our protection until we figure out what to do with you.”
“Go to hell.” The sheriff attempted to sit up, but instead winced in pain and lay back down again.
Lee attached one end of the handcuffs to DeRam’s left wrist, forced his arm through the leg of the radiator, and attached the other end of the cuffs to his right wrist, making it impossible for him to do anything but stay lying on his back latched to the radiator.
“What should we do?” CJ whispered.
“Let’s go in the other room.” Once out of earshot from the sheriff, Lee asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“You sound terrible.”
“I have a cold or the flu or something.”
“Where are your kids?”
“With Frankie. She’s watching them at her house so they don’t catch it. So what are we going to do with him? Should we call an ambulance?”
“We could, but he’ll be all right. He may have a headache for a couple of days, and his ribs may be sore for a while, but he’ll be fine.”
“What happens when we let him up?”
“Did he hurt you?”
CJ turned her head.
“Look at me. Did he hurt you?”
“He was forcing himself on me when you came flying in. Those are some kick-ass moves you have!”
“And the bruise on your face from last week? I can still see it.”
“He caught me at my car after work one night, and when I ducked to avoid him trying to kiss me, I hit my face on the edge of the car door. Bastard.”
“How did he get in today?”
“He said he wanted to talk.”
“And you let him in?”
“He looked sincere, and I thought I could handle him, so...”
Lee stared at her.
“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have let him in.”
“Do you want to press charges against him?”
“Like what?”
“Attempted rape. Assault. I don’t know all the possible charges.”
DeRam mumbled something from the other room.
“We can call the police, or the sheriff’s department. Who has jurisdiction here?” Lee asked.
“The sheriff...but even though Bern is from another district, they all know each other, and...”
“And what?”
“They all stick up for each other, turn a blind eye to certain things.”
“So why don’t we let the good sheriff decide what we do?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
DeRam let out another guttural noise and shouted, “Get me the fuck out of these cuffs!”
Lee led the way back to the living room and stood over him. “Not so fast, DeRam. We need to make a decision here, and you get the deciding vote.”
“Shut the fuck up, and get me out of these.”
“Be patient, Sheriff.” He paused long enough to make the sheriff grimace. “Now, we could call for an ambulance to make sure you’re all right. Of course, they would ask all sorts of questions, and I, being a witness to an attempted rape, would answer their questions with utmost candor. Then again, we could call law enforcement and make formal charges against you. Let’s see, attempted rape on her, assault on me with a deadly weapon. Have I left anything out?”
“You asshole.”
“Didn’t your parents teach you it isn’t nice to call people names?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“What’s your vote, Sheriff?”
“Look, CJ and I were just getting into a romantic moment when you broke down the door,” DeRam said, his tone contrite. He glared at CJ. “When she told me she didn’t want to go any further, I was going to back off. You just came in right before I had a chance to do that. Now take these cuffs off me. I’ll leave, and we can all forget this ever happened.”
“Excuse us for a minute, will you, Sheriff?”
Lee led CJ to the kitchen and whispered, “We have him in a sticky position, and he knows it. What do you want to do?”
“I want to let him go and forget it ever happened, like he said, but what about tomorrow...or next week...or next month? I’m afraid of what he’ll try to pull.”
“It’s not too late to call an ambulance. That would show we care about his well-being, but it would also open up an investigation.”
“I don’t know.”
Lee gave her a moment to think it through.
“I wish he would just go away.”
“I know. I do too.” He touched her shoulder. “C’mon. I have a plan.” He led her back to the living room and stood over DeRam, his slight body looming over the cowering sheriff.
“We’re going to let you go, DeRam. But I suggest you go from here straight to the public library and read up on black belt karate. You may find it interesting.”
“Just unlock these fucking cuffs.”
“Where’s the key, Sheriff?”
“In my back pocket, Winecrap.”
“Roll over.”
The sheriff grunted.
“Roll over, or I’ll do it for you.”
When DeRam didn’t move, Lee took his foot and rolled him over enough to expose his back pocket. He pulled the tablecloth over him to cover his bare butt and reached into one of his back pockets. He touched something soft inside and pulled it out.
“What’s this?” Lee held up what looked like a hand-rolled cigarette.
No response.
Lee showed it to CJ. Her grin said it all.
Lee stooped down to reach into the other pocket, retrieved the key, and unlocked the cuffs.
Once free, the sheriff scrambled to adjust his pants, and after getting up off the floor, grabbed his gun, knife, and handcuffs, all of which CJ had placed on the dining room table. He bolted out the front door, mumbling something inaudible on the way.
Lee and CJ stared at each other for several seconds, and when CJ looked as if she was going to cry, Lee hugged her for a brief moment before sitting down with her on the sofa.
“Look…he forgot his belt,” she said.
“I’ll take care of it. Are you all right?” he asked her.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get someone over here to fix your door.”
“Will you stay with me until that’s done?”
“Of course.”
“The phone’s in the kitchen. Hey, what are you going to do with the joint?” she asked.
“Nothing for now.”
Lee called his contractor and asked him if he would send someone over right away to fix the door and then asked if he could recommend someone to install a security system on the house and trim the tree in the back, the one Travis had climbed.
CJ had her head in her hands when Lee returned to the living room.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate him!” She raised her head up to look at Lee. “And the worst part is he’s so unpredictable, and there...I wish we could put a fence around where I live and work to keep him out. I just want to be free of him. Is that asking so much?”
He wanted to console her, put his arms around her, let her know things would be all right, but he knew he couldn’t promise that.
“No. It’s not asking so much.”
On his way out, Lee stopped his car at the end of CJ’s driveway, got out, and prominently hung the sheriff’s bulky utility belt on a low branch of a box-elder maple tree where the sheriff, and anyone else driving by, could easily see it.
15 | Bittersweet Victory
Two weeks after Lee had sent the letter to Stonebugger, he received a call from his secretary.
“Your request has been approved,” she said.
Did I hear correctly?
“Is there anything he and I need to discuss then?”
“No. I’ll put his response to your letter in the mail today.”
There was sadness in her voice. “Is everything all right?”
“Mr. Stonebugger lost his sister yesterday...to cancer.”
The news surprised him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Had she been ill long?”
“I’m not sure. Mr. Stonebugger is a very private man. All I know is he’s been taking care of her for the past two months.”
“How is he doing?”
“Not well.” Her voice cracked. “Apparently they were very close.”
“I’m sorry to hear that too. If there’s anything I can do to help...”
“He did ask that you keep him apprised of the progress of your friend’s work, the cancer research.”
“Of course, I will.”
“He said he couldn’t think of a more righteous way to increase the value of your land.” She paused. “Mr. Winekoop, behind Mr. Stonebugger’s gruff exterior is a man with a lot of compassion. He has a big heart.” Her voice drifted off to where Lee could barely hear her.
“If I send a letter of condolence to his office, will you see to it he gets it?”
“Yes, of course.”
It was a bittersweet victory.
* * *
Lee was halfway out the door on his way to tell Dr. Rad the good news when the phone rang. It was Dennis Freborg telling him the town had denied him the permit to build his house.
“But they already dug the hole. Are you aware of that?”
“You don’t need a permit to dig a hole. Because the plans were so straightforward, and I’ve designed so many other homes in Harvard, and Earl has built just as many, we took a chance getting started early, knowing we wouldn’t have any problem getting a permit.”
“Why was it denied then?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“No, but I can be.”
“Apparently, there is an old building code still on the books that requires each newly built home to be able to accommodate at least one horse-and-buggy in a building separate from the house that is of a certain size and construction.”
“What?”
“I knew there had to be some mistake, so I called the building department and talked to the person who issues permits. She cited the code for me. I asked her how many homes had been built in Harvard during the last fifty years and how many of them were required to build a stable for a horse-and-buggy. She said, and I quote, ‘I’m just doing what I’ve been told. If you have an issue with this, you’ll have to take it up at the next open city council meeting.'“
“Good grief. When is that?”
“Next one is in two weeks.”
“This is bogus.”
“Oh, it’s bogus all right. How do you want me to proceed?”
“Do we have any choice if we want to go ahead with the house?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Then let’s attend the next city council meeting.”
* * *
It was hard for Lee to resist the temptation to exceed the speed limit on his way to Dr. Rad’s house. Windows down and a George Michael song blaring on the radio, he put the house permit issue out of his mind for the moment and thought back a few years to when he had interned for Dr. Rad. He reveled in the thought of being involved in his research again.
He found Dr. Rad sitting on a rocking chair in the far corner of his small, cluttered back porch, staring into space.
“Dr. Rad?”
The doctor gave Lee a faint smile. “I was just thinking about you, Lee.”
“That’s good, because I’ve been thinking of you, too. I have some wonderful news.”
“Hmm?”
Lee told him what he was able to offer: a lab and greenhouses designed to his specifications and fifty acres of land for his research. Then he told him about the Johns Hopkins researcher interested in meeting with him to discuss cancer research. It took Dr. Rad several seconds to respond.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but while I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, I don’t know if I can go through it again. And for that reason, I have to—”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“I wish I were.”
The heaviness in Lee’s chest made it difficult to get the words out. Dr. Rad’s talent, his past research, his beliefs, his passion—he couldn’t bear to think of it all going to waste. “You can’t give up now.”
“It’s not like I haven’t given this significant thought, Lee. It was one thing to be financially supported by big companies and the university, but for you to support me, an individual, a friend, what if I fail? I would never forgive myself.”
“Fail at what? When is medical research a failure? ‘It doesn’t matter if you prove it right or prove it wrong, the value is in the proof.’
You
taught me that.”
“Perhaps being away from it for so long has eroded some of my self-confidence.”
“Well, you can’t let that happen. That’s all there is to it.”
“Lee, I don’t know what to say to you. I have spent practically my whole life dedicated to plant research, clawing my way to finding a cure for, or better yet, a prevention for cancer. More people criticized my work than praised it, but that didn’t stop me. But when the rug was pulled out from beneath me in December of ‘86, I felt that was the end, not only to my research, but to my life in a way.” He looked past Lee and paused for a moment. “Tell me something, why do
you
believe in me?”
Lee stared into Dr. Rad’s eyes, beyond their surface. “Because you believed in yourself.”
Lee took a few minutes to think of the right words.
“I had a nanny once who used to say, ‘All you need in life are two things: curiosity and confidence.' Back then, I didn’t understand it—I was too focused on what I thought was expected of me by others to understand self-confidence. Then I met you. I watched you work. I witnessed the outcome of your thought processes. I felt your passion. Sure, I saw how frustrated you got with the roadblocks you faced, but that didn’t stop you, and that’s when I realized you were what that saying was all about. And I wanted to be just like you.
“Dr. Rad, you can’t give up—there’s too much at stake here. And I’m asking you... No, I’m begging you not to give up on me.”
Dr. Rad clasped his hands together and slowly raised them to his lips.
“When do we start?” he asked.
16 | “What Do You Want from Me?”
Lee and Dennis arrived a few minutes before the open forum portion of the city council meeting was supposed to begin. They waited in the hallway until the doors to the meeting room opened. The woman who opened the door seemed surprised to see them standing there.