Clearance Glee was waiting on the bench where the public sat when killing time until they were called in to see the sheriff.
But Butchy Hench, the deputy assigned to answering the phone and manning the front desk, pointed at me the second I walked through the door.
The sheriff would be out with the gout for another week at least. Butchy and I were holding down the fort the best we could, but with only the two of us, and the whole county to look after, saying we were spread thin was an understatement.
"There he is, Clearance," Butchy said.
I knew by the smirk Butchy wore that this wasn't my lucky day.
First Cephas.
Now Clearance.
Maybe Cephas had been psychic when he'd thrown those dry turds my way.
At least, the aroma of fresh dung was not something else I had to deal with.
"Take a seat, Clearance," I said, sitting down at my desk.
YOU ARE READING
Cain's Mark
General FictionA short story about a small town deputy in 1952 who is tasked with interviewing a backwoods moonshiner in the case of a missing youth.
