Read At Witt's End for Free Online Page B

wrote it off to the booze. You're going to lose credibility just like he did."
    Lon turned his back on the men and walked over to the coffee pot. He pulled three mugs off the rack and filled them with coffee.
    "You need to hear my campaign strategy,” Carl said. “It's based on what the people need.” Drawing a sip of hot coffee, Carl spit it back into the mug. “Has this been brewing all morning? It tastes like mud. Make a fresh pot so we can have something decent to drink."
    "Yes sir, Mr. Sheriff,” Lon said. “Whatever you say."
    Carl ignored Lon's remark. “I'm bored with being a deputy. I need a challenge. I happen to know what the bigwigs in this town want. That will be my platform. If I act like I believe in what they want, I'm guaranteed a victory."
    Grabbing the brim of his cap and raising it off his head, Carl scratched his scalp with his little finger. As he replaced his cap, he elbowed Paul. “Word has it the sheriff isn't going to run again. He's useless anyway. If I'm lucky, I'll run against some dumb stiff who thinks he can do a better job."
    Lon slipped his Kevlar duty vest over his head. He reached around the corner and grabbed his shirt from a hanger.
    Disgusted at Lon's lack of interest, Carl waited while he buttoned his shirt.
    "Once I'm elected, I'm going to do what I want. I'm going to put them damn Indians back on the reservation where they belong.” Carl sat forward in his chair. “Our current sheriff,” he emphasized the word ‘sheriff’ by making quotation marks with his fingers, “isn't making them a priority. I know several council members who are upset with his attitude."
    "You're not going to build a campaign on an issue like that. Pinecone Landing's got one of the biggest diversity groups in the state. Besides, the Indians have their own judicial system. It's federal law. You'd be a fool to think you can change it. And why would you? It works."
    Paul piped in, “I think Carl's right. The sheriff is too lenient. We need someone in that office who's got big balls."
    "That would be me,” Carl said with raised eyebrows and a big grin. He watched Lon secure a wide leather belt around his waist and check the loops containing his cuffs and pepper spray. “I don't intend to change any laws."
    He jabbed his thumb skyward. “You know how them Indians talk about Father Earth and all that other holy crap. It won't be God they fear, it'll be me. That's the key. It'll be a cold day before they break any more laws in my jurisdiction."
    "You're going to get in a whole lot of trouble,” Lon said. “You mess with the tribal council and you'll be pulled from office before you know what hit you."
    "That's the trouble with you, Lon. You're such a pussy you've lost the ability to think on your feet.” Carl leaned forward and grabbed his mug. “That's why I'm going to be sheriff and you're not."
    "I don't want to be sheriff."
    Surprised at the anger in Lon's voice, Carl said, “Nobody's going to miss a few renegades from time to time. I know enough to cooperate with the tribal council. I'll even help them locate their missing brethren."
    "What makes you think they're the only ones who commit crimes around here?” Lon demanded. “Seems to me a few of your cousins were arrested last year."
    "So?"
    "If you look at the statistics, more crimes were committed by our locals than by the Indians."
    "Then I'll just have to deal with the jack pine savages, too, won't I?"
    "I guess,” Lon said. “It seems to me you're seeking revenge on the whole tribe because of an indiscretion on your wife's part. You'd be better off cleaning up your own backyard first."
    Carl was sick of Lon's blase attitude. Nothing ruffled him. Yet he knew under that calm facade, Lon's brain churned nonstop. “Give me some credit. I intend to deal with all the crime. My plan will get press in the local paper. That'll make me look good. If everything goes the way I expect, there won't be a criminal left in Pinecone Landing.” Carl