Well now I was in a quandary. I had fucked Suzy's friend Judy and I thought I should probably follow up with a phone call. But what would I say? 'Gee, it was great bending you over in my coach and fucking you silly?'
Come to think of it, that didn't sound too bad. At least not to me. But I've never been really good at solving the riddle that is woman.
In the end, I decided to just give her a call a couple of days later.
"Hi Judy, it's Mike Lowerey," I said.
"Mike?" she answered, "good to hear from you. I was wondering if you'd call."
"Wonder no longer, here I am."
"Good," she said, "how's your head?"
"Not good," I said, seriously, "it may need further treatment."
"I'll bet," she laughed, "tell you what, take me to dinner and I'll at least take another look at it."
"How did you know?" I answered, "that's kinda what I had in mind."
"I know you can't see me but I'm wearing my surprised face," she laughed again, "what night?"
"I was thinking more like Saturday morning." I asked.
"Saturday morning? Odd time for dinner," she said.
"You ever been to Keystone?" I asked her.
"No."
"I've been itching to get out of town for a day," I said, "so I got my brother-in-law to loan me one of his motorcycles. We can go to Keystone and have breakfast overlooking the lake, then do some cruising in the mountains and be back here before dark."
"Hmmm, a motorcycle? I've never really been on one. I'd be a little nervous," she said.
"Well lucky for you, I have," I assured her, "a LOT! I'll take care of you."
"I dunno. You may have to buy me a drink," she said.
"Play your cards right and you might get two," I quipped.
"Oooooh, big spender. What time?"
"I'll pick you up at 9am," I answered. "wear jeans, boots and a long sleeve shirt. I'll bring the jacket and helmet."
"Okay. See you then."
Hanging up, I thought that went pretty well. But I must admit, my innermost thoughts were of Judy in the coach, and that beautiful daughter.
***********************
The Placerton airfield isn't an airport in any sense of the word. It's just a landing strip with no tower or controllers of any kind. There are two hangers on one end where owners can tie or house their small, private planes. But nobody guides their exits or arrivals. There's no need, since I'd bet there's no more than two takeoffs or landings every day.
I drove my coach onto the tarmac and waited for Ray. I just hoped my timing was right.
I had done my groundwork—drove through town making sure I was seen. I even asked a local cop how to get to the airfield. Now it was just a matter of time. As we waited, I explained the plan to Eve, making sure she understood it completely. I climbed on the roof and extended the satellite dish so it could be seen from the ground. Then I went inside and fine tuned it until I had internet reception. A few moments later, I could see Ray's Beech Bonanza descending and setting down smoothly on the runway. He taxied toward me and I radioed him to turn around and stop behind the coach, which would block him from being seen from the street, about 1/8 of a mile away. When he was in position, I explained what my plan was, asked Ray to keep his engine running and told Danny to come over to the coach. I gave him a baseball cap to wear.
Just as I hoped, a local police car appeared at the driveway with lights and siren on, driving towards me. I waited a few seconds, then told Ray to start taxiing. He moved into sight from behind me and I told Danny to run out of the coach and get aboard the plane. Then Ray hit the gas, started down the runway and seconds later was airborne.
The police car pulled up at my RV and Ricky and his father, Sheriff Thompson got out and watched the Bonanza as it smoothly climbed, then banked into a turn west. I came out the door of the coach with my hands up and said "Sorry Ricky, she's gone."
He turned to me with rage in his eyes and started toward me. His father looked at him, saying "Ricky, I'll handle this."
Turning to me, he said "My boy tells me you beat him, stole his guns and tried to kill him."
"Does he now?" I said, looking at Ricky, "your boy's a liar."
"You son of a bitch," Ricky spit at me as he came toward me, "I'll kill you."
I held my ground with my hands in the air and Ricky hit me, knocking me to the ground. "Ricky, that's enough!" barked Sheriff Thompson, as I slowly got to my feet. Ricky backed up and I noticed a pistol in his belt.
"Let's all go down to the station and we can get everybody's version of the events," said his father.
"Okay, but you're not gonna like what you hear," I said, "your idiot son tried to murder a young woman, then came to my RV on state property and pulled a gun on me. He even fired a couple of rounds."
"That's a lie," shouted Ricky.
"He's drunk right now and drove up and down Wilson Peak in that condition. Now, since he's already served time for two felonies, is on probation, and in this state, possession of a firearm by a felon is a violation of that probation, I'd say he's in deep shit. In addition, he just assaulted me while you stood by and watched." I calmly said.
Sheriff Thompson looked at me for a minute, then smiled.
"You're right, that's a whole lot of serious charges," he said, "unfortunately for you, there's no proof of any of them."
Now it was my turn to smile.
"Don't be so sure," I said, "if you look up to the corners of my coach, you'll notice little video cameras blinking at you. They've not only recorded this conversation, they caught the whole incident with moron boy here earlier. If that goes public, it won't look real good for you or him."
The three of us just stood looking at each other a few seconds. Then Ricky started heading toward the door of the coach.
"Boy, where are you going?" Sheriff Thompson asked.
"I'm gonna get those tapes so he can't use them against us," he said.
"Only one problem with that plan, Jethro," I said, "there are no tapes. Look on the roof of the coach, you'll notice a satellite dish. Every bit of this footage is uploaded to a cloud storage server as it's shot."
Father and son looked at me blankly.
"If the pilot of that airplane doesn't hear from me within an hour of landing," I continued, "he's gonna forward that footage to another friend of mine, Greg Ingellson."
"Who's that, your lawyer?" Ricky sneered, "big fucking deal."
"Oh I forgot," I said, smiling at him, "you probably know him as Sonny."
The Sheriff's head snapped around to me.
"Sonny Ingellson? The governor?" he said.
"I served with him in the Navy. And I was a guest at his inauguration," I said with a smile, "I don't believe Greg will take kindly to the way I've been treated here."
Sheriff Thompson stared very hard at me for a few seconds. Then he broke into a smile and began to chuckle, which turned into a full belly laugh. He turned to his son and said "Ricky get in the car," as he headed back toward his cruiser.
