Truth does not Need to Convince (Cumberland Saga)

“Sue-prize! Sue-prize! Sue-prize!” Deputy Canina said in her best Gomer Pyle voice.

She had just gotten a call about a party who wanted to report a stolen vehicle just two hours after she had overseen a vehicle winched onto the flat-bed of a wrecker, not more than two miles from where the call originated.

The caller was not able to tell the 9-1-1 operator the street address but the GPS coordinates that read out on her center-mounted computer placed it just about where the “Amish” people lived.

“Well, that should be interesting” Canina thought.

This time, the boulder in the middle of the drive had been removed and she was able to navigate her cruiser up to the top of the plateau and she parked in the middle of a turn-around loop. She did not have to wait long before a woman who appeared to be wearing nothing more than a very large, man’s tee-shirt and flip-flops showed up.

A weedy looking man poked along behind her as if he had no desire to interact with the police. He was wearing pajama bottoms and dollar-store flip-flops. They were definitely not dressed for the sixty degree temperatures and the intermitent mists.

Canina ran down her window. “Did you report a stolen vehicle?” Canina asked.

“Yes. And I know who stole it and you need to arrest him!” the woman’s voice grating like fingernails an a chalkboard. 

Canina had long ago come to the conclusion that most people had the voice they deserved, that strident, dissonant speaking voices were cultivated at a subconscious level.

Another thing that got Canina's back "up" was that she did not like to be told what to do. “First, I have to take a report and gather information.”

When people pushed her buttons Canina had learned to follow policy as exactly and as precisely as she had been taught at academy. Maybe even MORE precisely. It gave her something to focus on rather than her visceral reaction to “the public” she had been sworn to serve.

Canina ran up her window and reported her location. Then she turned off the cruiser. She slowly and meticulously gathered up all of the items she would need to collect the information. A wicked thought seeped into her mind...Miss Shrieky Voice really would have a chance to chill.

Stepping out of the cruiser, Canina asked the woman’s name and asked if she had any ID. “Darcy Johnson...and my ID is in my car.”

Canina nodded her head and slowly tapped on the touch-pad. “Just got this and I am getting used to it” she said trowelling on the “hick” voice. What she said was totally true. It was a 4th Gen, fully integrated law-enforcement “tough” computer full of proprietary software. While it wasn’t bullet-proof, it was bullet-resistant and would slow most pistol bullets down enough such that penetration would be limited to 2”...enough for a couple of weeks off work or so the tech-rep joked.

“Can you hurry it up?” the man asked. "Its freezing out here."

“Make and model” Canina drawled out, voice as slow and thick as syrup.

“It is a Jeep Liberty” Darcy said.

“Year?” Canina asked.

“2002” Darcy responded.

Canina was 99.9% sure she knew exactly where that vehicle was but she would get to that in her own, sweet time.

“Where did you last see your vehicle?” Canina asked as she slowly read down the list of questions.

The man stood behind Miss Johnson and wrapped his arms around her, pulling the now-damp tee-shirt tight, presumably to stay warm. As Canina had guessed, that was all she was wearing.

“There he is. Arrest him!!!” Darcy shrieked, exitedly pointing at a middle-aged man who was walking between a couple of the dilapidated houses. Canina looked up and saw a lean, deeply tanned man of below average height. He shot her a quick glance and kept walking. His clothing was plain and showed signs of wear and careful patching.

“Why do you think he stole it?” Canina asked, curiosity having gotten the better of her. “Did you see him do it?”

Something didn’t add up. A couple of urban slut-puppies lodging with the Amish? That went together like oil-and-water and as a cop she didn’t like those kinds of riddles.

“I didn’t have to. He told us to leave and when we refused, he said ‘then we will take care of it.’” Darcy said.

“Why didn’t you leave if you weren’t wanted here?” Canina asked.

“We have a lease. I want to show it to you. Then you have to arrest him” Darcy demanded.

Canina knew that Darcy was lying. Her training officer had drilled into her that when somebody starts giving you way more detail than is strictly necessary then they are hiding something or trying to ‘prove’ a lie to you. Canina didn’t know exactly what Darcy was lying about, but she knew it was something.

Best to play dumb. Nobody ever expected cops to have a brain.

Canina slowly reached up and started slowly scratching her scalp like she needed to in order to think.

“Well, I been trained that my job is to catch criminals and not get involved in civil law. Your gonna have to get a lawyer and take him to court iffen you got problems over your lease” Canina advised Darcy.

“But I’m thinkin’ that if you file in this county, the judge is gonna wanna know why you and that fella signed a lease iffen he was just gonna turn around and throw you out?” Canina pointed out. “Maybe youl’d be better off filing it in whatever city you came from.”

“That doesn’t matter” Darcy evaded. “He stole my car and you have to arrest him!” 

"What is your address...." Canina kept to her script. "And where did you live before that..."

Finally, Canina decided to stop playing around. Darcy’s lips had turned blue and the Joshua's teeth were chattering. Yes, she had collected his info, too.

“Is the license plate of your Jeep KMG-8279?” Canina didn’t have to reference her notes. One thing that you quickly pick up in law enforcement is the ability to memorize a dizzying number of license plate numbers.

“Maybe. I don’t know” Darcy said. “I might have a picture on my phone. I don’t know. Why?”

“I am pretty sure your vehicle was towed by Snider’s Towing and is sitting in their impoundment lot in Dayton” Canina said.

Darcy perked right up. “Hey, can you give us a ride to go pick it up?”

Canina vigorously shook her head. “Nope. Against policy. You are going to have to call an Uber or something.”

“Do you have the number for Snider’s?” Darcy asked.

“Just use your phone. S-N-I-D-E-R-S in Dayton, T-N” Canina said.

Before Canina drove around the loop to get her cruiser pointed down the drive toward the public road, she called in to the station. Something was tweaking her intuition. There were just too much parts that didn’t seem to fit together.

“Hey, what can you tell me about the white, Jeep Liberty KMG-8279?” Canina asked the impoundment clerk.

“We got some hits on the license plate from the National Crime database. The vehicle was involved in several ATM smash-and-grabs in Nashville and Huntsville” Cindy told her.

“Do tell” Canina replied.

“The Sheriff said that he’d appreciate it you had some time to do a little bit of digging around. The perps might still be in the neighorhood” Cindy added, helpfully.

Everybody liked to stay on the Sheriff’s good side and Canina owed him a solid. He had tipped her off about the 14' jonboat that had been a late-addition to the County's confiscated property auction. Canina was the only bidder and she had picked it up for a song.

“I just might be able to help you out” Canina replied. “I am going to live-stream on channel 37. If things go froggy I damned well better have some help showing up speedy-quick.”

And then before Cindy could reply, Canina muted the audio-speakers and opened her door.

Shouting at the backs of the couple who were shuffling, zombie-like, toward one of the greenhouses, Canina yelled “I just talked to the Sheriff and he told me to give you a ride into town. He reminded me that we are supposed to protect and SERVE.”

Darcy smiled at Joshua and said “Told you these fncking hicks would help us out.”

As they neared the running cruiser, Canina asked "Don't you need to get a key?"

"Nope" Darcy said. "I have a secret key taped to the inside of my gas door."

“Sheriff said you gotta ride in back but first I gotta give you a quick frisk to make sure you aren’t carrying any weapons” Canina shrugged. “Insurance regulations.”

It was a very quick frisk. They just weren’t wearing much that could conceal a weapon.

They settled into the back, so grateful for the heat blasting out of the vents they barely noticed the smell of old vomit and urine.