The Deacon Needed Killing by Bill Fitts

The Deacon Needed Killing

byBill Fitts

Kobo ebook | February 25, 2014

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I was staring at my cell phone when a noise began to penetrate my concentration. Looking around I wondered what it could be. Friar Cat had disappeared--much like I wished I could do. I looked down the road and saw a car approaching.
It was a police car.
Technically it was a deputy sheriff's car not a police car, but I was glad to see any car out here and a law enforcement officer was like a gift from heaven. The car stopped and I started toward it. The siren yelped and the headlights flashed. I froze in place. That was not a come-hither signal.
Whoever was in the car wanted me to stay put and I was immediately convinced that staying put was what I wanted to do. What I had wanted to do all along, if I'd thought about it--and I hadn't. This wasn't the friendliest of greetings by Lee County's finest.
If you'd asked me what I'd expected, I'd have said something about the deputy pulling up beside me, making some folksy comment about how I must be lost, and asking if he could help, then being horrified that I'd found a dead body. My friends in law enforcement back in Jemison County would be laughing at me hard enough to bring tears to their eyes. What was I thinking? That this was the Andy Griffith show?
While I was standing there shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I remembered reports of deputies being shot down for doing nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I noticed that the car was tan with dark brown lettering. The body color matched the color of the dirt road. Good thinking. If you'd run a white car up and down these unpaved county roads it would have been that color anyway. Then I remembered some stories that involved innocent bystanders. I stopped fidgeting.
The driver's door opened and a man got out of the car carefully shielding himself behind the door. He was talking on a hand-held microphone and glancing around the area. I could see the coiled wire that led from the microphone to the police radio inside the car and could hear, but not understand, the voice of the dispatcher. I wondered at the antiquated equipment the Lee County sheriff's department was still using. Though to be fair, it was working while my smartphone was useless--except to take pictures and play music and games--important stuff like that.
Judging by how much of him was shielded by the car door, the deputy was around five-six or -seven. His left hand held the microphone in front of his mouth and I couldn't tell what he had in the right--it was hidden behind the door. His uniform was khaki and looked pretty standard--his hat didn't have any braid on it and he had chevrons on his sleeve--so he wasn't the sheriff. I doubted the orange sunglasses were regulation but who knew. I warned myself not to bring it up. The uniform was neat, he was fit, and from the way he was acting I was in the hands of a cautious, seasoned professional. I felt myself calming down.
On the other hand, I was probably making him wonder. I had stopped when warned, hadn't moved since then, and wasn't squawking about my rights, who I was, who I knew, how much I contributed to the policeman's benevolent fund, or complaining. That meant I must know the routine--either because I'd been in trouble before or--something else.
He lifted his right hand--it was empty--and made a few cupping motions with it. Kurt Snoddy, police chief of Archibald, Alabama, had used the exact same gesture for pretty much the same reason. I started forward, moving slowly and deliberately, keeping my hands away from my body. I couldn't see the guy's eyes because of those damn sunglasses, but that's why he was wearing them. He didn't want me to know where he was looking. I got within nine feet of the car when he held up his hand and I stopped.

Title:The Deacon Needed KillingFormat:Kobo ebookPublished:February 25, 2014Publisher:Bill FittsLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:1941387004

ISBN - 13:9781941387009

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