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that far away. I suspect some of you have already done a little bit of it already. When you’re in any of our stores, look for groups of two or three people to start with—that is, if they’re strangers. Obviously, if you know who they are, chances are there’s nothing going on. But be very suspicious if they’re strangers and one of ’em is tying up a salesclerk, and the other two are in a different part of the store. What they’re up to is creating a distraction so the others can stuff things into their pockets or purses while no one’s paying attention. And that’s another thing—really big purses or bags can sometimes be a tipoff that somebody’s up to no good.”
    Justin Brachle, who sometimes went by the nickname of “Stout Fella” to his wife and most of the club, was quick to respond, raising his hand. “Sheriff, I don’t wanna sound like a typical dumb male here, but there are a whole lotta purses out there. For instance, my wife, Becca, has all sizes that she uses for just about every occasion under the sun. I mean, all I need is one measly wallet. We men aren’t fussy about that kinda thing. So, how big is really big?”
    That brought a wave of titters from all the members, and the sheriff enjoyed a laugh as well. “Good question. Just use your judgment here. If something seems really outta proportion, it might not be a bad idea to keep an eye on whoever’s carrying it around.” Then the sheriff ’s tone grew more serious. “Now don’t get me wrong here, folks. Just go about your daily bid’ness and don’t get paranoid. We’re not innerested in any citizen’s arrests here. Most people out there aren’t criminals, but we just want y’all to report anything that seems outta the ordinary or suspicious. You just tell us what you saw and then let us handle it from there.”
    The pregnant Becca “Broccoli” Brachle, as she was known to the fans of her now-defunct radio recipe show, followed up her husband’s question. “Can you tell us what some of the most popular stolen items are in general?”
    The sheriff briefly squinted while trying to conjure them all up. “Well, we do find that makeup, eyeliner, lipstick, high heels, scarves, and things like that tend to get shoplifted a lot.”
    Maura Beth sounded a bit skeptical. “So, are you saying that most shoplifters are women?”
    The sheriff snickered. “No, men do more than their share. I think crime is an equal opportunity destroyer of the economy.”
    â€œWhat do the men tend to take?” Maura Beth said, somewhat reassured.
    â€œElectronic stuff. Cell phones, watches, laptops, that kinda stuff. There’s a lotta fencing that goes on.”
    Maura Beth continued to press. “Tell us about your most unusual case here in Cherico—that is, if you can.”
    The sheriff was laughing heartily now. “Sure can. A few years back, we caught a cross-dresser who was puttin’ together outfits for himself. Shoplifted a girdle, pantyhose, high heels, and such, and I do believe when we caught him he had just about every one of those items on while he was doing some honest, pay-for-it shopping dressed as a woman. Turns out all he really wanted to do was go buy lotsa girlie things without people lookin’ at him like he was crazy. But he told us he needed to get that first round of stuff without all the embarrassment—thus, the shoplifting.” The sheriff winked a couple of times as he surveyed the crowd. “Actually, he made a real handsome woman, if you wanna know the truth.”
    Stout Fella’s laugh sounded like a couple of high-pitched hiccups. “Does that cross-dressing fella still live here?”
    â€œNope, we cut him a break because he was underage. But he still did a little juvie detention center time for all the stuff he stole. By the time he got out, I believe