Grab Life by the Balls

The three kids got done with their bumper car ride and immediately asked to go get some cotton candy, corn dogs and sodas, to which I figured 'why the hell not'?

On our way to the food stands I caught site of something incredibly odd. I saw Dean Strobe walking around with his two children, Brandon and Brynne. The kids appeared happy but Dean still had the appearance of having just lost his best friend.

But weirdest of all was the fact that walking behind Dean and his kids was Dean's wife, Mercedes, walking arm in arm with another man. And if memory served me, it was someone absolutely no damned good - Brad Weston.

Brad Weston was nothing short of an opportunist and a snake in the grass. He was one of those men who had a reputation and it wasn't a good one. I'd have to say that most women would probably find him physically attractive but I would hope like hell that his personality and general attitude towards women would be one hell of a turnoff.

Dean saw me standing there. He looked at me and just nodded me a 'hello' and kept on walking with the kids. The kids seemed happier but not by much and were at least distracted by the games and rides and Dean steered them in the direction of a ticket booth.

Mercedes and Brad saw Shannon and me and immediately walked over to us giggling like teenagers.

"Hey, Shannon!"

"Hi, Mercedes." Shannon smiled but it was obviously forced.

"Hello, Pat. I don't think I've seen you since you got elected sheriff. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Mercedes," I said, forcing a smile. I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on with her, Brad and Dean. Whatever the hell it was Mercedes and Brad seemed to be all for it while Dean was the odd man out. "Funny we should all run into each other like this."

"Totally! Brad decided to come over and hang out with us for the day and we all decided to have some fun at the carnival."

"So how do you like being the head motherfucker in charge now, Pat?" Brad asked me with a shit-eating grin with a punch to my left arm. I could see Shannon was taken aback by the crude remark. Brad was also ogling Shannon from head to toe, which made me want to crush his windpipe.

"So far so good. It has its ups and downs just like any job. But I'm happy to be able to serve the people of this county," I said, rehashing a line from my campaign.

"Yeah, except now you can kick some serious ass and pretty much do whatever you want, right?"

"Well, Brad, even the sheriff is not above the law," which was true, even though I had bent more than a few rules in the past to save my ass and protect the public interest. "By the way, where did Dean and the kids go?"

Mercedes' demeanor sagged a bit. "Oh, I think they went to get tickets for the rides. We should probably catch up. Nice seeing you all!"

"See ya later, sheriff!" Brad said, punching me on the shoulder again. I simply returned a half-smile and a nod. I really didn't like the way he had been eye fucking Shannon while we talked.

When they were out of ear shot I looked at Shannon and said, "How exactly do you know Mercedes?"

"She's on one of the hospital foundation committees."

"What was the deal with Brad Weston?"

"I have no idea," she said. "This isn't the first time I've seen them together, though. But it is the first time that I've seen them together like that with Dean and the kids around."

"I think I have a better idea of what Dean's problem is," I said to Shannon who nodded back.

"Brad Weston is trouble, I can certainly tell you that. He has a real preference for the ladies, especially those who wear a ring on their finger," Shannon added, pointing to her engagement ring.

"Well, let's get the kids a bite to eat and have some more fun," I said, changing the subject.

I did look back one more time and saw Dean Strobe standing along the fence surrounding the Tilt-A-Whirl that his kids were riding. Mercedes and Brad continued to stroll along the midway, only now they were overtly holding hands. Dean appeared to be staring at them longingly and then caught site of me staring at him. I nodded to him and gave him a wave, which he returned before turning his attention back towards his kids.

We spent nearly two hours at the carnival, eventually just caving in and buying the kids the unlimited rides wrist bands. I also farted off nearly $150 on carnival games for the kids, making sure that each of them brought home a prize or a stuffed animal that they could have bought for a total of about $20 in any store. But they were happy and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

It really didn't even bother me that much that Clarissa and Shannon seemed to have gotten along so well. Maybe I had underestimated Clarissa's ability to change back to the girl she was when I first knew her. Although I could never trust myself enough to allow me to love her romantically again, perhaps I could at least learn to trust her as a friend. She was still the mother of my two boys and I wouldn't change that for anything.

I had been chatting with a friend of mine, Neil Lomax, while Shannon followed the kids around the carnival. As soon as Neil and I were finished, Tom Wellington showed up and managed to really spoil my otherwise fantastic mood.

"Are the kids enjoying the carnival?" he asked.

"They're having a ball," I said, trying to be polite. "Where's Clarissa and the rest?"

"They're still over at the craft show and getting ready to head over to the Civil War re-enactment. Apparently, Martin is a history buff."

"What brings you back this way?"

"I have some other appointments on my schedule this weekend, Pat. I have a business to run and don't have the luxury of working government hours."

I bit my tongue - for the moment at least.

"So I hear through the grapevine that you have a grand vision of replacing the sheriff's department with some palatial structure on the north end of down town." Tom was talking unusually loud for a one-on-one conversation. As I glanced around, I could see people looking at us and it dawned on me what he was trying to do. He wanted an audience.

"We are looking at ways of improving our facilities and delivering better service to the people of Mason County, yes."

"At a cost of $30 or $40 million dollars?" he asked, smirking.

"Well, Tom, I'm not sure you can really put a price tag on public safety, can you?"

Tom's smirk disappeared. "I think part of a sheriff's job ought to be wise stewardship of the public funds, Pat. Don't you?"

"I can assure you that a new public safety center will be an exceptionally good use of public funds and will, over time, actually contribute to a steady decrease in operating costs, compared to what we're doing now."

"How can you possibly find some kind of a net margin in a $40 million project that has absolutely no hope of generating any kind of a profit? That's just not good business, Pat."

Jesus, I wanted to gut this guy like a fish right about now. "I realize, Sheriff, that you don't have any experience working in the private sector," he droned on, "but I do. And I think fiscal responsibility has to be one of your top priorities."

"My top priority, Tom, is protecting the public. That is what the sheriff's office is for," I emphasized. I had to tell myself over and over not to let this guy get the best of me.

"I should think you could improve your facilities for half of that, Pat. Focus on the sheriff's office, that's your jurisdiction. All the rest of this nonsense in your proposal is just pork. And there's enough pork in your proposal to make everyone at this carnival a ham sandwich." Tom's jibe actually got a few people laughing, which really irritated me.

"Well, that's your opinion. But my proposal is going to go forward as is because it is the right thing to do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to spending time with my family."

"You're going to force me to run for sheriff again, Pat," he said as I walked away.

I just pretended I didn't even hear the remark and headed back towards Shannon and the kids. I could hear a random citizen tell Tom, "Way to go, Tom! You tell 'em!"

Shannon and the kids were near the Ferris Wheel and munching on funnel cake. "Hey, babe. Hang out with the kids for a few minutes, would ya? I gotta go chew on a guy's ear about something important. I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay," she said, kissing me quick. "Hurry back, though, okay? The kids want to go on a few rides with you."

"Count on it!"

I made my way back towards the spot where Tom Wellington and I had just had our exchange and I could see him walking down the street towards the edge of the carnival. I speed walked to catch up to him but not so much as to draw attention. I followed him a short ways and scouted out areas that I could get him out of the public eye, if possible.

When Tom was running against me for sheriff, I had Tonya do a little off-the-books research on Tom's background and was startled by what I found. I didn't use the information at the time, since I was so sure I was going to win the election that I didn't think it was really necessary. However, since the election, Tom had been trying to make a bit of a name for himself by serving as a one-man watchdog against the sheriff's office.

He had been questioning every move I had made, every dollar I spent, and it was starting to get annoying. The fact that people had reacted to our brief conversation told me that people might actually listen to Tom and his half-assed ideas about how to run a law enforcement agency if he decided to run against me in the next election.

Contrary to most people's beliefs, you don't actually have to be a certified law enforcement officer to run for sheriff. All you have to do is win and take a very abbreviated course from the state law enforcement academy within your first six months on the job.

Tom took a shortcut through an alley near down town, presumably to head back to his car that was probably parked near his down town office. To my amazement, he was actually listening to an MP3 player as he strolled and never heard me approach from behind. There was absolutely no one around to even watch us.

I grabbed Tom by the shoulders, spun him around and then shoved him forcefully up against the brick wall of one of the building lining the alley.

Tom quickly yanked out his ear buds. "What are you doing?!" he demanded.

"The question is, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm walking back to my vehicle sheriff. Is that a crime?"

"I'm not talking about now. I'm talking about your little stump speech back at the carnival."

"Is it wrong for an ordinary citizen to question the activities of our elected officials? I'm pretty sure that's what the Constitution is all about, sheriff!"

I leaned in closer. "I'm only going to say this once, Tom. Back...the fuck...off!"

Tom smirked and chuckled. "Is that some kind of a threat, Pat? Get me in a dark alley and threaten me? If you think that's going to silence me then you've obviously greatly underestimated me."

"Threaten you? No, Tom. I'm not going to threaten you. I have no time for threats. They're meaningless. I'm here to make you a promise."

"A threat? A promise? Coming from you, Pat, it's the same thing."

"Bullshit. A threat would be me telling you I'm going to bitch slap you right across the face and then not following through on it. A promise, on the other hand, is me telling you that I'm going to bitch slap you right across the face and then..." SMACK! came the sound as my right hand made contact with the left side of his face, "actually DOING it. Do you understand the difference now, Tom?"

Tom reached down and picked up his dark rimmed glasses that my hand had wiped clean off his face while he gently caressed the left side of his face.

"You...you just...you just assaulted me, Pat!" he seethed. He was also scared shitless.

"Nah. That was me just doing you a little favor."

"How is that doing me a favor? I could sue the absolute HELL out of you for this!"

"Yes, you could. But you won't," I said calmly.

"What's going to stop me?" he demanded, struggling to keep his growing rage and fear under control.

"I am," I said, menacingly, as I moved just inches from him. "You see, Tom, I have a serious problem with local businessmen who think they can run a law enforcement agency better than me just because they happen to be a semi-successful entrepreneur."

"I'm a damned successful businessman," he spat.

"That's your opinion. But the fact remains that you don't have a damned clue how to run the sheriff's office. The citizens of this county need this new public safety center. The police outgrew their offices years ago. The fire department operates in a building that has been added onto like a jigsaw puzzle from when it was built during the time they still used horses.

"And I don't need some jackass to come along and try and talk the public out of voting for this plan - a jackass like you!"

Tom was still trying to regain his composure. "And what makes you think I'll stay quiet about this, Pat?"

"McKinness Deerfield."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "McKinness Deerfield? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

It was time to drop a bomb of reality on Tom Wellington. "You had a growth fund that you started in your office that was stocked around 90 percent with shares of McKinness Deerfield."

"So? I'm a financial planner and securities trader, Pat. I have numerous funds that my clients purchase shares of for their retirement plans."

"Yes, you do," I continued. "But McKinness Deerfield was different. McKinness Deerfield was once one of the fastest growing energy companies in the country, having developed numerous and highly profitable oil fields up in North Dakota and highly profitable gas fields out in Wyoming."

"What does their success have to do with this, Pat?"

"It has to do with you, Tom. I know for a fact that you graduated from the University of Oklahoma with Derrick McKinness, the CEO of McKinness Deerfield and the son of the co-founder of the company, Devlin McKinness. You and Derrick also happened to be fraternity brothers in Tau Kappa Epsilon.

"Furthermore," I continued, "I happen to know that you and Derrick McKinness continued to remain quite close over the years. I also happen to know that you owned almost forty percent of the McKinness Deerfield stock in your growth fund."

Tom was calming quickly. I could tell that he was amazed by how much I knew about his McKinness Deerfield connections, although he tried to throw me off. "What do you think you know about my investment funds, Pat? I've never seen you in my office. You've never bought one piece of stock from me! How could you possibly know anything about my business?"

"Because I make it my business to know these things, Tom. And because of the fact that two of my deputies, Lance Bowe and Russ Daniels happened to buy into that stock and lost over $10,000 each. That might not be a lot of money to you, Tom, but it's a helluva lot for a law enforcement officer.

"Last fall, just before the election, McKinness Deerfield unexpectedly filed for bankruptcy. It all centered on a major embezzlement that was perpetrated by none other than Devlin McKinness, the co-founder himself. He's in his mid-80s and knew damned well he was never going to see the inside of a prison cell at his age and state of health."

"Big deal, Pat. That made news around the country. You're not telling me anything that everyone doesn't already know."

"Yes, but what everyone actually DOESN'T know, is that you sold every last piece of stock that you owned in McKinness Deerfield personally and then completely divested everything out of your hedge fund that was heavily invested in McKinness Deerfield and left your local investors holding the bag."

"Selling stock is not a crime, Pat."

"But selling stock within 48 hours of a major energy company filing for bankruptcy and facing MAJOR federal fraud and securities violations IS a crime, Tom - especially when you were forewarned about the events ahead of time. They have a name for that, Tom. It's called insider trading. Can you imagine how the Securities and Exchange Commission might feel about this if they knew?"

All Tom could do was just stare at me in abject horror and shock. He desperately tried to think of something to throw me off his scent.

"You don't know anything, Pat. I know trading and security laws better than you could ever possibly HOPE to know them. Your little drama show doesn't scare me in the least bit!"

"You're right. I don't know the laws that well. But I know people who do. And I also happen to know for a fact that you were tipped off by Derrick McKinness personally."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"As I said before, Tom, I make it my business to know these things. And I have proof, in the form of email correspondence that you knew in advance."

The reality of it all was beginning to set in. "The only way you could know that is if you somehow hacked into my email servers." My silent stare gave him the answer he was looking for. He started chuckling. "You're an idiot, Pat! Even if you wanted to, you could never prosecute me for this. Hacking my email would get every last piece of evidence thrown out in a court of law!"

"You're right, Tom. But it wouldn't be me prosecuting you. Just knowing what I know and giving an anonymous tip to the SEC might just be enough to get an investigation started. Then, with the intimate knowledge I have from your correspondence with Derrick McKinness, my good friend the United States District Attorney Lane Danielsen could really blow the lid off the whole thing and launch an investigation with the full weight and power of the United States Government behind him.

" At a bare minimum, with what I know, you'd be looking at five to ten years behind bars at Club Fed! Hell, Martha Stewart got convicted for less!!"

Tom was dead in the water. He knew he didn't have any cards left to play. "Sheriff, please," he pleaded.

"Oh, now you're going to address me by my lawful title? We were on a first name basis just a minute ago."

"Sheriff... I'm asking you. No, I'm begging you. Please... don't turn me in. This will ruin me. I'll do anything you ask me to. Okay? If this is about me seeing Clarissa, then..."

"Oh, please, Tom. This isn't about Clarissa. She and I are divorced. She's free to see whoever she wants to, even a douche like you. What I want, Tom, is for you to keep your goddamned mouth shut. I want you to mind your own fucking business for a change and not try and chat me up in public so you can trash all my efforts for making this community safer. And your days of running for sheriff are over."

"I understand, Sheriff. In my... exuberance and... enthusiasm for wanting to give back to my community I may have... overstepped my bounds, okay? Maybe we can work together on this. If you show me your plans for the new public safety center, I'd be happy to give you any assistance you might need."

"Oh, stop groveling, for God's sake. I don't need your help. My plan is just fine the way it is. I just need the public's support in getting it passed this fall. And it won't be as expensive as you think. I have a great feeling that I'm close to landing a grant that will pay for a huge part of it."

"Oh, that's...that's great! Just great! Really, really tremendous, Sheriff!" Tom was in full suck-up mode now.

"Just mind your business, Tom. This is the only warning you're gonna get. Piss me off one more time and your ass is headed to Leavenworth."

I turned and headed back down the alley to return to the carnival. As I rounded the corner I could see Tom Wellington squatting down with his back against the wall and his head in his hands obviously coming to grips with his near-brush with a lengthy prison term.