TOPIC = police in a hick town in the USA

EXCERPT
From a story titled
THE MECHANIC'S TALE
by Jim Stewart
inspired by the drawings of "Joe T."

 

When he'd first landed up in this one-horse town four weeks ago he was in no mood to make friends. His Harley had been almost trashed when a truck ran him off the road. The local Sheriff's office had given him a seriously hard time, refusing to file his complaint against the three young guys in the truck. They were ‘kin' and he was a stranger, a New Yorker and travelling in well-worn bike leathers and scuffed Engineer boots – so, somebody to be suspicious of.

Without the cash to buy necessary parts, he'd been lucky to get work of any sort. The owner of a run-down auto repair shop had grudgingly allowed him to store his battered bike and sleep above the office of the crumbing business.

Pete, the main character in this story is harassed by one of the local hard men ...

"Big Dunk's" kid brother was one of the three in the truck that started all Pete's problems, and "Dunk" had gone head-to-head with Pete during his first hours in town. In fact, one of Dunk's cousins was a Deputy in his uncle the sheriff's department. There was a time when this impressively built guy might also have gone into the police, but he could earn more money and would eventually own the gravel pits.

A gleaming new Harley Classic Special had appeared on the scene shortly after Pete's wreck, "Big Dunk" taking delivery with quite a show. No doubt about it, a deliberate gesture of contempt for Pete ... and the whole town knew it. Next came the new leathers; Dunk was suddenly strutting around town in immaculate, expensive leathers from Langlitz and knee-high boots which Pete recognised as Wesco ‘Boss' 20 inch hi-leg ... all paraded deliberately when Pete was on his way to or from the diner or grocery store.

Now a new power-trip is being played on the out-of-towner. Dunk arrives at the garage insisting that the mechanic does some minor adjustments to the new bike.
Determined to stay polite, Pete controls his resentment - but the small town bully begins to push things too far …

Sitting astride the bike, all togged up in his pristine leathers Dunk watches the mechanic stoop to inspect the front break cable ... and observes ...
“When I first saw you and your bike, I realised that was something I wanted to have; a bike and leathers. Never given it any serious thought before, a bike and biking buddies. Not that there's many likely candidates in this sad town. I guess you hang out with some weird characters where you live. New York is it?”
“Queens ” said Pete, trying to concentrate on the break-cable.
"Yes," mused Dunk, "My cousin showed me the file. Police always run a check on anybody involved in a local ‘accident'. Leokowski, isn't it. Yeh, Leokowski - borough of Queens. He was quite impressed by your record. Not that it matters to me, of course – but it's not something to get noised around the town. Your secret's safe with me,” he smiled.

The mechanic considered his options – and managed to generate a grim, quirky smile. Pete nodded before asking ...
“You like the idea of Big City bikers – taking no shit from anybody – getting into fights with other bike gangs and spick punks. Hell's Angels – but not angels at all, right? You like the idea of ruthless hard-men who obey no rules – welcome a bit of no holds barred rough and tumble?"

The leather-clad man leaned forward across the handlebars, closer to the now kneeling mechanic. Dunks gleaming heavy boot edged closer to Pete's crotch as he smiled down and observed quietly … “Tough - streetwise - ex-con.”

Their eyes locked and leather creaked as Dunk leaned even closer across the handlebars before saying softly ...
“I like to know who I'm dealing with Leo-whatever-your-fucking-name-is – and I'm used to bringing the best out in the men around me ... demanding the best effort. The gang who work the gravel with me know how to knuckle under, believe me. If you play your cards right, I could make the rest of your stay in this township … shall we say, interesting.”

Pete rubbed his grimy hands on the thighs of his oil-stained coveralls, thoughtfully.
“I'm sure you could,” he said quietly. Then, he licked his lips and seemed to reach a decision about the possibilities on offer. He nodded, and repeated “I'm sure you could … ” but his sentence seemed to be left hanging in the air, somehow incomplete - and the other man picked up the hint.

“On your first day in town in the Sheriff's Office,” said Dunk carefully, you were calling my cousin Jake, sir. You kept your cool pretty well. I would think you're not used to calling people, sir ... except in jail.”
Pete's eyes held those of the man towering above him, before saying ...
“Yes, that took a great effort, calling that dip-shit deputy, sir.”

And after a pause Dunk allowed himself a smile. “Yes, cousin Jake is something of a dip-shit – but more likely to get his shit-dipped into – if you follow me. When we were kids I was always the one making the running. Play your cards right … Leo … and we might have some high-old times together. Strictly on my terms, you understand. That's how it's always been and that's how I like it. Are you gonna fix that fucking brake?”
“Yes, sir!” said Pete with sudden resolution, “I'm going to fix everything.”

And he does. The Mechanic first jumps the bigger man and skillfully ropes him to a metal pipe, gags him and prepares to teach him a lesson - saying ...
"I need some special tools for this job” before disappearing into the room above the garage.

Left alone, Big Dunk begins to consider his predicament very seriously …

Immobilised against the metal structure, he began to exercise the considerable muscle-power of his upper arms ... but the pipe was rock solid and the roping totally efficient. Biceps bulged as shoulders wrenched from side to side. Dunk wished there was a mirror. In the gym, he and his cousin Tommy were a good advertisement for hard effort. Together they bench-spotted each another, encouraged and provoked one-another to greater effort – always challenging each other. They'd been kids together and always competitive. They'd shared some good times.

If Tommy could see him now, roped and muzzled with unshakable adhesive tape, would he leap to his rescue – or laugh like fuck and sit back to watch what happened next? He was a born voyeur. Running a gym was the ideal profession for Tom. He liked to watch tough men pushed to their limits.

But, his young cousin Jake and a couple of others ... now that might be a different story. This predicament was a serious breach of the law – but how would Officer Jake see it? Dunk had always had a weight and age advantage over his cop cousin – and had sometimes used it unfairly, painfully and much to the kid's resentment. Still, it had made him a tough little fucker, but if Jake and one of his buddies found ‘Big Dunk' in this predicament, they would perhaps risk exploiting their advantage?

It wouldn't be the first time they'd abused their position and made the most of the power that came with the badge. Usually, some poor fucker who had no way of fighting back. In fact, Dunk had aided and abetted in some unconventional local police activity – just for a laugh – and because he wanted to know what sort of thing cousin Jake and his buddy deputy occasionally indulged themselves in. Pulling over some unlucky traveller passing through the township, they'd cuff him on some pretext – then drive him, not to the station but somewhere secluded. They had ways of persuading any traveller that this was no place for strangers. Dunk had been delighted to see that young Jake's way of abusing a stranger was to do to him things Big Dunk had been doing to several of his ‘kin' for many years.

The idea that suddenly, he might be in line for some sort of pay-back, not only from this stranger – but from his own ‘kin' if the situation got out of hand. This disturbing reverie was interrupted when he heard the sound of heavy boots clumping down the wooden stairs. Pete had changed into his beat-up old bike leathers and boots - and looked ready for some serious action ...

For the complete text of this story see PRINTER FRIENDLY
For drawings by Joe T. go to STORYBOARDS

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