"Your name is Greg Morgan Daniels. You were born in White Plains, New York. You're thirty-three years old. You're somewhat of a genius too, not quite as smart as me, but pretty smart, none the less. You invented a new relay for computers that increased their efficiency thirty-five per cent. You sold it to Microsoft for six million dollars and five per cent royalties. You married your high school sweetheart, Phillys, beautiful girl. By the time you were 24 you had three children, two boys and a girl. You went on vacations in Tennessee...a driver, drunk and high oon pot ran a stop sign doing better than 90. Passers by managed to pull you from the car. They couldn't do anything for your wife and children. They didn't burn, they were already dead. The driver had already had his license suspended and been picked up three times for driving without it. But he was a local politician's son, and they kept giving him probation.
You joined Parents Against Drunk Drivers and successfully lobbied for new federal regulation requiring that states treat repeated drunk drivers much more harshly. No more probation or second offenses but considerable prison time. You've had two other girlfriends...Suzie, blonde bitch with an attitude, who was only interested in spending your money for more important things and Caroline, who was an all right girl that couldn't deal with being a dedicated law enforcement officer's girlfriend. I wouldn't have any problems in that line, at all!
Oh, your ambidextrous, won't use condoms, you've been shot in the foot, and a man grazed your skull with an ax. You've written two books under an assumed name, comical farses of detective stories. You're working on a third one. The other two were very good sellers. How do you ever find the time?"
"I put two or three pages a day into the computer," the sheriff answered, "before you know it, it's done. Do you mind telling me how you got all that information?"
"I called an old friend," his host answered. "Had a file to me in two days!"
The sheriff nodded. "You know, don't you," he continued, "if we were married, if we were intimate it would make no difference. I would carry out my duties towards your people vigerously."
His host looked hurt. "I would expect you," she snapped, "to do nothing else! If you were ordered to arrest me I would expect you to do it, unless you had legitimate arguments NOT to!" She looked at her watch. "I've really got to get going. What do you think? A quiet ceremony here the 8th? An intimate night at a hotel, then back to our duties keeping our relationship a secret until this unfortunateness is over?"
The sheriff shook his head. "You're SERIOUS!" he sighed, "You're absolutely SERIOUS!"
His host nodded. "Do you want to..." she hesitated a moment. "Do you want to see more, to see if you're interested? It's all real, I'm not padded or anything."
"No!" the sheriff answered. "That dress shows quite enough! If we are to appear in pubic together, I would appreciate a little bit more modesty in the future."
The girl giggled. "Don't want other men to see what you're gettin', huh? All right, this isn't really my style anyway. Most of the time I'll be in my Speaker's robes, but I'll let you know, once I close the curtains at night, I don't bother to wear much at all!"
"As long as the curtains are closed!" the sheriff answered. He too looked at his watch. "I'll think about this," he promised. 'But seriously, why me?"
"Intelligence," his host answered, "honesty,, and caring. It's very hard to find the three together."
"There's just one thing I'd better mention," the sheriff put in. "There's colored blood in my family."
"Cool!" his companion answered. "It will add to our children's heritage."
The sheriff smiled and rose. "Did you and the, did you and The First Speaker ever..?" he asked.
His host laughed. "No! Oh, I wanted to. I had the hots for that man like you wouldn't believe! But he said no....TWICE! Don't believe ALL the stories you hear. Everybody knows he likes women. But he doesn't take advantage. I'm a virgin."
"OH!" the sheriff answered. "I've really got to go."
His host rose and took him to the door. "We'd better not leave together," she suggested.
"No, we hadn't," the sheriff agreed. He quickly drove back to his home. "This is crazy!" he muttered, "SHE'S crazy! I'M crazy to even think about it!"
But all he could think about as he went to sleep was that tight dress, and it was all he saw when he woke up in the morning. A check in with the office told him all was quiet. Monday was NOT going to be a good day!
Judge Wentworth was a man who believed that the solution to all problems was compromise. The sheriff didn't think he was going to get away. When he got in his office he found a stranger. "Can I help you?" he asked.
The man showed an ATF badge. "We've got a team working in the area," he remarked. "My superior has told me to advise you. Forty pounds of dynamite has disappeared from the construction company where George Moore works. He's been questioned but swears he knows nothing about it. But we're pretty sure he has it, and intends to do something with it. We have him under twenty-four hour surveillance, but we wanted your people aware, as well."
"Jesus!" the sheriff moaned. "Has that whole family gone nuts? Express my gratitudes to your supervisor. You know George is a pilot, don't you? I think he's got a plane somewhere."
"It's gone!" the ATF man answered. "We're trying to find the God damned thing! Gotta go!"
The sheriff nodded, as the man departed. He didn't like this! He didn't like it at all! Forty pounds of dynamite could make an awful big hole, a DAMNED big hole!

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