Chief Miller sat quietly at his desk, no closer to solving the Martha Camp or Ruth Anderson murders, when his desk phone began to jingle, “Yes Buddy?”
“Thomas?” The soft voice asked.
“Nancy? I miss you so much darling, please forgive…” he broke down and started to cry openly.
“No, don’t apologize, I’m the one at fault. I was…”
“Don’t say it, we both…” Thomas was wiping his tears from his face.
“I want to come home, please, can I…?” Nancy was crying as she now pleaded.
“Yes, yes, yes, I love you so…”
“I love you too,” she gushed, “I haven’t been able to sleep or …”
“Me either, can I come get you?”
“Oh god, yes! I’ll be waiting Thomas! Please hurry!”
“I’m on my way baby!” Leaping to his feet, he raced out into the hallway, down and out the front entrance to his police cruiser. Flipping on the red light and the siren, he burned rubber as he raced to reclaim his true love. Never again would he allow himself to place his needs above those of his one true love.
Mayor Carver just happened to be looking out his window, as Miller dashed to his patrol car, and blasted off with lights and sirens blaring, “For heaven’s sake, now who’s been murdered?” he said aloud as he crossed himself.
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SAINT CLOUD GAZETTE
REPORTER JONAH MCGREGOR FIRED
Due to the outcry from the Mayor, Chief of Police, and local Clergy, concerning Jonah McGregor’s fraudulent mishandling of newsworthy events. An investigation of misconduct by the News Editor was forthcoming. It determined, after a close examination of his deficient journalistic methods, McGregor was indeed negligent in his reporting, and was summarily terminated from the Saint Cloud Gazette.
The Saint Cloud Gazette wishes to apologize to its readers for any content that was of an inappropriate nature.
Story by: Clark Monroe, News Editor
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Doc Otis sashayed through the open office door and plopped himself down right in front of Brent. With a huge smirk on his face, he dropped the Gazette on his desk and said, “Guess who’s back from Connecticut, and none too happy with what’s been printed in his paper while he was gone?”
Brent read the headline, “Halleluiah and Amen brother! That little pissant finally got what’s comin’ to him. Thank you Jesus!” He could hardly contain himself; it was the first good news he’d had in weeks.
“I thought you’d like that,” Doc said, making a big deal out of trying to wet his parched lips.
His old friend took the hint. Reaching into his lower drawer, he retrieved his nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels. Setting up two glasses, and after filling them to the brim, he pushed one over to Doc.
They clinked them together as Doc offered up a toast, “May Saint Cloud return to her former glory someday.”
“Here, here,” Brent added as they downed the first of several drinks.
“You know, I was always afraid that McGregor kid was gonna lay in to me next, in his silly paper.” Doc burped.
“You and me both…I was just waitin for that dopy yahoo to put a big headline about me bein ‘Mayor of Spooksville,’ or some such malarkey, yes siree, I truly was. Hey, let’s go see Clark and shake his hand for bootin’ that, no-good ninny right out the front door. You up for it Doc?”
“Is the bottle comin’ with us?”
“You darn tootin it is.” Brent laughed.
“Well, my good fellow, lead on.”
Off they went and even broke into song along the way, singin’ the only song they both knew the words too, ‘Jingle Bells,’ and it still bein early August.