Under the Linden Tree by Kari H Sayers

Author:Kari H Sayers [Sayers, Kari H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Melange Books, LLC

20

Soliciting for a Hundred-Dollar Bill

My new “toy” arrived a few days later. It was cute, definitely a woman’s firearm with a faint rose-colored glow from the mother-of-pearl handle and soft pink rivets and other pink decorations. It was not anything like the guns I had seen in Wisconsin. I weighed it in my hands. It was extremely light, no more than a pound, and, according to the advertisement, it had a reputation for accuracy. Frightening to think about the power such a small thing had. After admiring it for a while, I took it down to the sheriff’s station to register it as instructed.

Vee came walking through the wood-paneled lobby on her way out just as I was entering. As usual, she looked very professional in her light blue suit and matching heels while I was in my gray work-out clothes. She stopped and greeted me.

“Is Ed here?” I asked casually.

“No, he left. We just came back from lunch.” She watched me and smiled condescendingly. “I’ll be happy to give him a message. I’ll see him again later.”

“No, thanks. That’s okay. I’ll speak with the deputy on duty.” I walked away and into the office, where a deputy sat at his desk. He gave me more forms to fill out in triplicate, and, as instructed, I scrawled my John Hancock in several places. Then I left.

Ed stopped by the house later, and I showed him my new acquisition.

He looked at it and picked it up, smiling indulgently. “Let’s go out to the range and try it out then,” he suggested.

“But I thought you were meeting Vee?”

He looked at me sharply as if taken by surprise. “Where did you hear that?”

“Well, one hears a lot of things in this small town,” I said a bit sarcastically, watching him. “But, actually, I saw Vee at the sheriff’s station earlier this afternoon.”

“Yeah, I heard you’d been there.” He paused. “We were going to some real estate dinner, but it was canceled.”

“Okay. Let’s go then,” I said and grabbed my purse, tucked my small “Chic Lady” inside, and we hurried outside. Ed’s marked car was parked next to my Subaru.

“Do you mind if we take your car?” he asked politely.

“No problem,” I said and took the keys from my purse. He got in on the passenger side, an unusual spot for him.

The traffic was light, and it didn’t take us long to get to the range. I parked next to the gate and we walked onto the grounds. Ed stopped to talk to a couple of young men who were standing outside the low, nondescript building before we went inside to get our earplugs and safety glasses. We lined up downrange, and Ed took out his gun, aimed, and hit the target smack in the middle.

“Wow, Ed! What a good shot!” I exclaimed. “But, boy, if law enforcement officers are such good shooters, why do we have so many police killings? Why don’t you guys just aim at the shoulders or knees, or something? That way the prey would at least survive.

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