Part 4:  It’s Bo Time!

Timmy had informed me of two things. One, the meetings go down on Tuesday nights, and two, I best go the long way back to Franklin to avoid the speed trap.

I ordered the two piece meal. It came with a biscuit and I splurged on three sides of which I will keep hidden between Me, Jesus, and Shitonya. God bless you Shitonya, you didn’t even hesitate to put extra icing on that Boberry.

I sat inconspicuously in the corner, trying to avoid the ensuing coma and diabetes. About that time the Mayor strode in, still dressed impeccably and still sipping on a fresh mint julip. He quietly went to sit at a booth without ordering food. I immediately admired his self-control. He sat for a good ten minutes, sipping on his drink and glaring at the security cameras constantly.

About that time, the manager came out to his table, and asked “Is everything to your satisfaction?”

“I’ll be satisfied when we start breaking ground,” I overheard the Mayor say. “I got these two writing tickets so fast, one of ‘em is claimin’ he needs disability for carpal tunnel. I ought to fire his ass for incompetence not to mention he ate all ten pieces of that box meal you sent over last week. I still ain’t got over that. He doesn’t seem to grasp what’s at stake here, which is one thing, but you don’t eat another man’s chicken!”

“How are you on funds?” asked Gustavo, which I could clearly read on his name badge now.

“Them speeding tickets, they’re filling up the town’s accounts nicely. I reckon we pulled in close to $300,000 last year, and we’re on pace to damn near double that this year. We should have enough to do what we need to do within the next two months. We got some major problems though. The damn District Attorney is threatening to throw all our cases out, cause Johnny Law done went to the Cop Pig Pickin’ about a month ago back in town and pissed off all kinds of people. I told him to lay off on the tickets for that night since we had some important people in town, and he goes and writes parking tickets for everyone at the event. The DA, the Sheriff, Trooper Johnson, Trooper Parr, you name it, they got tickets. Trooper Johnson made Johnny piss himself though afterwards, that’s about the only ticket he tore up. Boy was out of work for two weeks after that, I ain’t know a boot could go up that far. He’s got to go. He threatens this whole operation.”

“So relieve him of his duties,” I overheard Gustavo comment.

“I oughta, he’s a good earner though, but now I got the DA threatening to throw out all our tickets in court. But then again, that sumbitch did eat all my damn chicken. To hell with it, I’ll figure out somethin’. Anyhow, I got to be goin’ I got a town to run.”

As he ambled out of the restaurant, I glanced over at Shitonya. Seeing as how we’d already established a rapport with Boberry icing, I figured I’d chat her up a bit. Turns out Shitonya was working the evening shift to put herself through college. It seemed disappointing and refreshing at the same time that she could do all of that while maintaining her clothing. I did convince her that should she want to earn a graduate degree, that apron would have to come off.

Shitonya informed me that the meetings between Gustavo and the Mayor were constant, but they were always in a hushed tone. “I can’t tell you much, I’m not sure how that guy gets away with having a firearm and a licka drink in the Bojangles, but he lets it happen. I could tell she was uncomfortable answering questions about Gustavo, so when she asked, “You want more Boberrys white boy?” I got the hint, took my biscuit, and bid Shitonya a good night.

Following the lead provided by Senior Editor, I called up Trooper Stanley Johnson. He was in the midst of another textbook traffic stop when he saw that familiar number pop up on his cell phone.

Over the years, Stanley had become as decorated of a police officer as they come, once even pulling over Barack Obama as he came through town. “Just doing my job,” he says. He’s also managed to track down dangerous criminals and prison escapees over the years, all while being named Jivewater’s Sexiest Man Alive. It came as no surprise when he agreed to meet me for dinner at the Golden Corral he helped save.

“Sorry Moe couldn’t make it,” Stanley starts with, “he’s on administrative leave right now. Nothing serious, he’ll be back, but everyone is getting a little jumpy lately so if you discharge your boot in someone’s hind end they send you home for a week to investigate. He was justified, the reports will show it, but he sends his regards.”

I ask him what kind of bills they rack up with all the boot stains they must incur as an occupational hazard, which he deftly knocks down with, “The marks and stains don’t come off. They are permanent. It’s like a tattoo of sorts, like this one here, Sherman Ditz.” He shows me a faded, but still definitely brown with red trim spot on the tip of his right boot.

As he helps himself to a second helping of Golden Corral’s famous mac and cheese, Trooper Johnson clears the air on how he views Newsoms’ Police situation. “Newsoms Police Department makes policing into fundraising. They write tickets to bring in supplemental revenue.  It’s not about safety with that mind frame. Policing for profit made a swing in the favor of the community that the PD wasn’t even serving. Police take another shot on the chin by being represented by criminals hiding behind tin stickers the ‘town’ calls badges. Newsoms PD has experienced nothing but trouble with hiring personnel. Perhaps the real police should handle it.”

An older woman then approaches Johnson, with the Jivewater Sexiest Man Alive issue. “Oh my God, it is you!” she exclaims at Stanley. “Can you please sign my copy, hey you, take a picture of us!” she demands. Stanley obliges, signing just above his “night stick” as to not ruin her keepsake. “So..,” she continued, “is that digitally enhanced?” Never flinching, Johnson shoots back with a wink, “I guess that’s something that only me, the good Lord, and Mrs. Trooper Johnson will ever know. Drive safe out there ma’am.”

I divulge what I’ve learned about Bojangles coming to Newsoms, and was a bit caught off guard by his response. “Bojangles is an outstanding establishment. The personnel there are polite and courteous to all of us. They love their Troopers. And I’m southern, so of course I like chicken.”

He also felt there would be a sharp decrease in speeding violations in Newsoms. “Everybody would be at Bojangles for a Bo biscuit or some all you can eat chicken for $7.99.”

About that time, his radio cracked, “We got a 10-56 in downtown Franklin causing a 10-53, troopers be advised.”

“That would be me, good luck with your report, I’ve got a friend on the Newsoms town council, name’s John Roberts. Look him up and tell him I sent you.” He glanced over at the pristine buffet bar on his way out, delivering a smile of satisfaction.