What the system lacked when he entered it was a broker, a central clearinghouse where a citizen could come to offer a favor for a favor, where a man could come to sell his soul.
From these humble beginnings, Cliff Baxter started keeping notes, which became files, which became gold.
Lately, however, a lot of people he didn't like were getting too involved in the system. Schoolteachers, preachers, housewives, even farmers. Already there was one woman on the city council, Gail Porter, a retired college professor, a nosy bitch, and an ex-commie. She got elected by a fluke, the guy running against her, Bobby Cole, getting himself caught in the men's room of the Toledo bus station. Cliff hadn't paid any attention to her until it was too late, but now he had a file on her thick as a lamb chop, and she'd be out on her ass in November. Women like that didn't appreciate the system, and Cliff knew if she stayed, there'd be more like her to follow.
The mayor was his cousin, the city council and county commissioners were men he knew, and every one of them had to run for election. But Cliff Baxter was appointed, and as far as he was concerned, he'd been appointed for life. The fact was, if he ever lost his job, he could think of about a hundred men and some women who'd go for his throat, so he had to hold on tight.
Cliff Baxter was not unaware that the world had changed and that the changes were coming across the borders of Spencer County and that they were dangerous to him. But he was pretty sure he could keep it all under control, especially since the county sheriff, Don Finney, was his mother's cousin. Don had only two deputies to patrol the whole county, so he and Cliff had an understanding that the Spencerville police could leave the city limits whenever they wanted, just as Cliff was doing now. It gave Cliff a lot more latitude in dealing with people who lived outside of town, like the Porter woman and her husband, and like Mr. Keith Landry.
So he'd keep a lid on things for a few more years, then, with thirty years in and his kids out of college, he could skip across the border into Michigan, where he had a hunting lodge. Meantime, he had to eat his enemies even when he wasn't hungry.
The part of him that was shark could smell blood in the water a mile away, but he smelled no blood on any of these new people, including Gail Porter. He'd shown her his file on her once, thinking he could get her in line, showed her all he knew about her left-wing activities at Antioch College, and some stuff about boyfriends that her husband wouldn't appreciate. But she told him to roll up the file, put a coat of grease on it, and shove it up his ass. Cliff had been more than pissed off, he'd been almost homicidal. If people weren't afraid, how was he going to keep them in line? This was a little scary.
The part of him that was wolf sensed danger before any other animal in his woods had an inkling of it. In the last few years, he'd noticed these new people sort of circling around, sizing him up like he was fair game instead of the other way around.
Then there was Annie. Little lady perfect who usually wouldn't say shit if she had a mouth full of it. Then all of a sudden, she gets the idea of checking up on him, then comes that close to blowing his head off. "What the hell's goin' on around here?"
He'd been working on these problems when this new thing came along. "Goddamnit! People after my ass, people after my job, and now my own wife tries to kill me, and some guy who used to fuck her shows up. Hey, God, what'd I do to deserve this shit?"
He wondered if Annie knew yet that her old boyfriend was back in town. Maybe that's why she tried to kill him. But that didn't make sense. She'd go to jail before she could fuck him. No, she didn't know yet, but she would, and he'd watch for it. It did occur to him that maybe she had no interest in Keith Landry, and he had no interest in her. Still, he didn't want this stiff cock around town.
He realized he couldn't watch both of them forever, but he'd watch for a while, and maybe catch them. If not, Landry was still going to get fucked, but not by Mrs. Baxter.
Cliff was a pro at lovers' lane busts, and in the old days, before kids started screwing in the houses of working parents or in motels out of the county, he'd grabbed a few every weekend in cars or abandoned barns. He had a sixth sense for knowing where they were and catching them naked or at least half-naked. This was the part of his tough job that he enjoyed, and if he thought about it, a night like that always ended with him going to one of his ladies' houses with big Johnson trying to bust out of his zipper. Sometimes he took Johnson home, and a couple of times Annie would comment that he must have been cruising lovers' lane. "Yeah, she's got a smart mouth." Too damned smart for her own good.
All this thinking about sex was getting him cranked up.
Cliff Baxter turned back toward town and drove into the south end, the part of town that was literally on the wrong side of the tracks. He called headquarters and said to Blake, "Takin' an hour. Beep if you need me. In fact, beep in an hour so I can get onta where I'm gonna be."
"Right, Chief."
Baxter pulled into the cracked concrete driveway of a wooden bungalow and used an electronic opener to raise the garage door. He parked the police cruiser inside the garage, got out, and hit the button to close the door.
He went to the back door and opened it with a key. The kitchen was small, dirty, and always smelled like bad plumbing. Annie, at least, for all her other faults, knew how to keep a house.
He took a look into the untidy living room, then walked into the first of two bedrooms. A woman in her mid-thirties lay sleeping on her side on top of the bed sheets, wearing only a T-shirt. The room was warm, and a window fan stirred the hot air. Her white waitress uniform and underwear were thrown on the floor.
Baxter walked up to the bed. The T-shirt had ridden up to her hips, and Cliff stared at her pubic hair, then regarded her big breasts and the nipples pointing through the pink T-shirt. The shirt said, "Park 'n' Eat — Softball Team."
She had a good body, good muscle tone, and good skin if you overlooked a few zits and mosquito bites. The short hair falling over her face was blond, but the hair on her crotch was black.
The woman stirred and turned on her stomach. Cliff looked at her rounded rump and felt himself getting hard. He reached out and squeezed a handful of cheek. She mumbled something, then rolled over and opened her eyes.
Cliff Baxter smiled. "Hey, good-lookin'."
"Oh..." She cleared her throat and forced a smile. "It's you."
"Who'd you think it was?"
"Nobody..." She sat up, trying to clear her head, then pulled the T-shirt down to cover herself. "Didn't know you were coming."
"I ain't come yet, sweetheart. That's why I'm here." She forced a smile.
He sat on the bed beside her and put his hand between her legs, his fingers entering her. "You havin' a wet dream?"
"Yeah... about you."
"Better be." He found her clitoris and massaged it. She squirmed a little, clearly not enjoying going from a sound sleep to having a man's fingers in her within sixty seconds. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing. Got to go to the bathroom." She slid off the opposite side of the bed and went out into the hallway.
Cliff wiped his fingers on the sheets, lay on the bed fully clothed, and waited. He heard the toilet flush, water running, gargling.
Sherry Kolarik was the latest in a long line of women that had begun before his marriage, continued during his courtship of Annie and through his engagement and all through his marriage. They never lasted too long, and he never had a real heartthrob, a girlfriend, or a full-fledged mistress — they were all just sport fucks of short duration. In fact, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was incapable of any real relationship with a woman, and his ladies were simply targets of opportunity — the town sluts, women who ran afoul of the law, desperately lonely divorcees, and barmaids and waitresses who needed a little extra cash — the lower elements of small-town American society; they were all easy marks for Police Chief Baxter.