Rust On the Razor by Mark Richard Zubro Page B

prong on a Saturday night. Question is, did the sheriff know?”

    â€œOr anyone else in town?” I added.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNobody ever mentioned or noticed your frequent and regular trips to Atlanta? Some high-ranking county official like the sheriff didn’t stumble into the bar one night, catch you, and threaten to expose you?”
    I tried watching his eyes as he answered.
    â€œNobody I knew ever showed up. I made money, that’s all.”
    â€œSheriff didn’t get suspicious that you were living beyond your means?” I asked.
    â€œI put the money into an account in a bank in Savannah. I haven’t spent any of it yet. I’ll use it to buy a decent house when I get married.”
    â€œPeople will wonder how you could afford it,” Violet said.
    â€œMaybe I don’t plan to live in this town forever.”
    Violet drove onto the interstate toward Atlanta. Cody stared out the window at the scenery for several minutes.
    â€œTell me about the sheriff,” I said.
    â€œI know you want to try and save your ass,” Cody said, “but I think you killed him.”
    I sighed. “I’m working from the accurate premise that I didn’t and I need information. Aren’t you at least concerned with justice in this? You dance in a gay nightclub, you can’t be as prejudiced as a lot of these people.”
    â€œFaggots are pathetic. Pawing at me. Hoping for a little hug back. It’s disgusting.”
    â€œHow nice they tip you,” I said.
    â€œYeah, well.”
    â€œWe’ll keep your pretty face and your prejudices out of the paper if you talk. If not, we may or may not believe you about being straight, but Burr County is going to think you’ve gone over to the minions of Satan, no matter what the truth is.”

    He placed his fists against the dashboard and stretched his arms straight. Then he twined his fingers together and cracked his knuckles one by one.
    Finally he said, “Sheriff didn’t tell his deputies a lot of secrets. Burr County Sheriff’s Department runs pretty much like any other small county. We give out traffic tickets, keep teenage rowdiness to a minimum, hassle with domestic disturbances, deal with break-ins and burglaries. County fair is kind of work for a week each year. We’ve got ten guys full-time, with two black guys to handle crime in the black community. Sheriff goes around with them around election time asking for votes.”
    â€œThat still happens?” I asked.
    They both glanced back at me. “You got a better solution?” Cody asked. “You want white cops going into the black community to make an arrest?”
    â€œGood to know white cops are afraid of something.”
    â€œIt isn’t fear. It’s just sensible.”
    I decided not to debate police-department procedures in the South.
    â€œTell me about the sheriff.”
    â€œOkay to work for. Like any boss, he had his good days and bad.”
    â€œWhat about the bad days?”
    â€œHe might chew your ass out for doing something stupid, but if you did your job, he was okay.”
    â€œAnybody in the department that he particularly didn’t like?”
    â€œNope. Everybody sort of got along.”
    â€œHow about in town?”
    â€œTown’s pretty peaceful.”
    â€œCome on,” I said. “Man like that has to have enemies. Who were the tough cases in town? People who had grievances against him.”
    â€œWell, we got Jasper Williams. He’s sort of the town nut.”

    â€œGod, yes,” Violet said. “He is one crazy bastard.”
    â€œHow so?”
    Cody said, “He’s sort of one of them skinhead Nazi types. He’s never been to Germany but wants to go real bad. He hates Jews, blacks, and faggots.”
    â€œHe’s not in the Klan?” I asked.
    â€œHe’s too nuts even for them,” Cody said. “He lives about a third of the way into Thomas