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Chapter 5
The village square was empty as Tom sat down on the bench. Once again he scanned the storefronts. Soon, in a small niche between The Trading Post and Commerce Bank, he spied a brightly painted sign proclaiming Pittman Realty. Inside that small cubicle sat one Brenda Pittman, Tom Mayer’s immediate future.
Behind him, Tom heard a car door shut, and he glanced around to see a large police officer step out of the Bronco. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Tom stared into the mirrored sunglasses of Luther Pittman.
“You got business here in town, Junior?” The gum-chomping officer towered over Tom, smiling and intimidating him as he hooked his thumbs in his Sam Brown belt.
No purpose would be served by confrontation with this man. He was too large. But Tom couldn’t allow himself to be incarcerated, so he had to be conciliatory.
“No sir, I was only resting for a minute, enjoying the scenery here in town. I’m not looking for trouble and I’ll move along now, if that’s okay.” Tom tried to stay calm, hoping his explanation would suffice for this lunatic.
“Yea…. I know, you like us so much you thought you’d see if you could find a few trinkets to remind you of the ‘scenery’ here, right, Junior?” Luther was grinning. This was fun. “I don’t suppose you got some identification, do you?”
“Can I reach in my sack? It’s in there.” Tom motioned slowly towards his sack.
“Why sure, go right ahead. But be very careful what comes out of there. I wouldn’t want no accidents on account of my misinterpreting what you got in your hand…” Luther’s threatening tone left nothing to Tom’s imagination.
The Virginia driver’s license had been expired for six years, but the picture gave a reasonable facsimile of Tom, and he hoped it would be enough to convince Luther that he was not a fugitive.
“Why are we enjoying the pleasure of your company today, Mr. Meyer?” Luther was staring into the distance now, suddenly appearing disinterested in the conversation.
“I’m on my way to Diamondback Ridge. My family owns a small place up there.”, Tom lied. It was the only plausible explanation he could manufacture. He did know of a cabin in that area, but it certainly didn’t belong to his family.
Luther was tapping the ID against the fingers of his left hand, as if trying to decide whether he was buying this story. Tom decided to make a pre-emptive strike.
“I’m not a thief, Sheriff. I did dishes at the diner across the street in return for a meal. Now that I’ve got a full belly, I intend to move on, if you allow me to.” Tom immediately regretted his confrontational tone.
“Is that so? You’ve gotten to know the Queen Crone of New Carruthers, have ya’? Maybe I don’t want you to leave with that sort of experience being your last in our fair city.”, Luther mocked. His face was close enough that Tom could smell his breath. Tom offered no rebuttal, fearing further consequences from this nut case.
“Well, I guess that’s punishment enough for any man for one morning”, he continued. “but let me give you a little friendly advice. When the sun sets this afternoon, be somewhere else. I don’t give a flying flip where, either, so long as it ain’t in Addison County. Can we agree on that, Junior?” The twisted grin had returned to Luther’s face as he handed the license back.
No words were necessary. Tom nodded quickly, picked up his backpack and started walking, preferring no eye contact. He heard the Bronco’s door close and as the sound of the engine broke the relative peace of the morning, Tom walked away from the square onto a side street. A quick glance backwards provided a glimpse of the Bronco disappearing into the alleyway behind the storefronts containing Pittman Realty. From this vantage point, he also watched Fudge Hershey walk towards the square. Tom felt a chill pass through him. Destiny’s child was not meek and mild.
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