Another day in this hellhole.
Haven’t seen anyone from Middle Valley in quite a while with the notable exception of my lawyer, that is, and he isn’t really helping matters at this point. I don’t think I have his full attention, even when he’s sitting five feet from me. I’m not sure his heart is in it.
Alone with my thoughts, I feel like I’m going crazy. I need to speak to someone, a professional. I mean, how do you square the notion of being the Sheriff, a pillar of the community, with the idea of being a murderer – and getting away with it?
How do you square the shame I’ve brought upon my hometown? I know every street, every house. I know everyone here – their lives, their secrets, things they wouldn’t want others to know.
Things a Sheriff should know, and, in all likelihood, will never know again.
Regrets? Yeah, a lot. My life may be over.
I don’t know whether to blame my time in the City or the man whose name I’d prefer never to hear again, Armand.
The music industry had not been kind to me – playing sax had not been as lucrative as I’d been led to believe it could – but oh how it loved Mick Righteous. Armand had single-handedly turned him into a household name promoting music that could best be described as one step away from nails on a chalkboard.
So by the time I met him, the bills were stacked higher than a sycamore. I had became a regular at the racetrack bar and, hoping against hope that I’d get lucky, I became intensely obsessed. I’m sure Armand could see that I was hurting, an easy target.
He had done well managing Mick and others, he said. After a few drinks, he was fully aware of my situation, including how much money I’d lost, including the fact that I didn’t know how – or if – I’d ever recover.
When I mentioned that I was heading home to be Sheriff of Middle Valley, starting over from a life that hadn’t worked out, he mentioned Mick’s connection to Cassie and that he’d recently paid her a visit. For reasons that remain a mystery to me, Armand immediately offered me a sizable loan and I jumped at it.
What a relief, I thought at the time. Maybe this is what I needed to turn things around.
We met again at the racetrack bar, which is when Armand gave me money. While he seemed genuine when he said he hoped we would develop a close working relationship, I now believe he saw an easy mark.
No side career in music – his thinking was in another direction. He and Mick were not on good terms – it sounded serious but he didn’t elaborate.
At that point, all I knew is that I had few bucks in my pocket, and I was feeling better. That was enough for me for now.
Jenny Page