PATIENCE by Joe Doe AN EXPERIENCED SHERIFF TEACHES HIS YOUNG DEPUTY THE IMPORTANCE OF RESTRAINT. "I don't understand why we don't just arrest her, Sheriff," the young deputy said. "She's sitting right there!" The tubby old Sheriff smiled indulgently at the folly of impetuous youth. "Patience, son," he said, softly. "Don't rush a good thing. Now is the time to watch and wait. Let me enjoy my waffles." The two lawmen had first seen the leggy redhead driving down the main road in her convertible. As soon as he saw her in his binoculars, the deputy had wanted to pull her over. But the older and more experienced Sheriff had insisted that they wait. They had trailed her to the local diner, where she'd ordered a Diet Coke and a piece of melon. The impatient and anxious deputy had a cup of coffee, while the portly Sheriff ordered the "Breakfast Belly Buster." "But we don't want her to get away!" the deputy said. "She's not going anywhere till I say so," said the Sheriff. "I run this whole damn county. Now pass the syrup and enjoy the view." The deputy looked over his shoulder again at the young woman, who was reading a book as she picked at her fruit. She was certainly a looker, tall and slender with long red hair. She was wearing a short denim skirt and a pale green half t-shirt with the word "YALE" on it. White socks and sneakers completed the outfit. "This is your first day," the Sheriff observed. "After thirty years I've learned that there is no rush. Haste makes waste. Not only do you make mistakes, but you don't enjoy the experience as much." "It's kind of like fishing," the Sheriff said, warming to the subject. "Some guys load their boats with gizmos and do-dads and sonar. If you're going to do that you might as well just buy your fish at the store. Myself, I like to sit in the boat, and drink my beer, and enjoy the day. If you get a little nibble, don't pull her in too fast. Let her tire herself out at the end of the line. Get to know her." He nodded, sagely. "Believe me," he went on, his speech slurred by a mouthful of waffle. "Giving her a little line'll just make dinner that much sweeter." The deputy craned his neck, trying to look under her table. Her knees were slightly parted. If he could just get his head down and over, he might be able to see her panties! Suddenly the knees snapped together. "May I help you?" asked a cool feminine voice. The deputy was so entranced it took him several seconds to realize that the source of his throbbing erection was now speaking to him. "I said, 'MAY I HELP YOU?'" the annoyed woman repeated. The deputy stared slack-jawed at the glaring woman. After a pregnant pause, the Sheriff interrupted the silence. "No, ma'am," he said, smoothly. "My partner thought he saw a spider on the floor by your foot. But it was just a speck of dirt. Sorry to disturb you. Go about your business." "And you go about yours," she hissed under her breath and returned to her book. "Freaking Mayberry towns," she muttered. "First Goober at the gas station...now Andy and Barney at the diner. Freaking porker police." The Sheriff smiled and sipped his coffee as the woman cursed under her breath. "You see, son, I always let them have their way at first," he murmured, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard. "It gives us something to talk about while I'm paddling their cute little behinds at the office. And, of course, it'll just make it all the more satisfying when I finally slide my Willie into her smart little mouth." He slathered more butter onto his waffles and chuckled. "She may have all the answers now," he snickered. "But it's hard for a girl to talk when her mouth is full." The deputy nudged the Sheriff as the girl rose to leave. But the Sheriff ignored him and continued to munch on his bacon. "No hurry, son," he said, the syrup dribbling down his chin. "A girl like that's undoubtedly going back to the highway. She sure isn't a local. We'll catch up." Three blueberry muffins and four pancakes later, the Sheriff used the radio in his squad car to call for a status. "She's a graduate student at Yale, Sheriff," the voice on the radio crackled. "She told Oscar at the filling station that she's on her way to visit her granny down in Florida. Scholarship student.... Doesn't look like she's got any powerful friends or relatives.... Doesn't own a gun, either." "You see, son, by waiting I was able to find out all kinds of useful information," the Sheriff intoned. "Last thing a man wants to do is try to slap the cuffs on some sort of Mafia hit woman or some idiot senator's daughter." He belched and adjusted his belt. "You don't want to pick on someone who can fight back. I never arrest criminals -- they're too dangerous and difficult to handle. Only nice girls go to the prison farm." They quickly caught up to the young woman's car, which was poking along the main road on the way to the Interstate. "Why don't we arrest her?" the deputy asked. "Still waiting on a question I have out. But don't worry. If the answer is what I think it is, she'll be doing naked squats before lunch." "Now, when we stop her, we'll use the speaker to order her out of the car. We'll tell her to leave her purse on the passenger seat. You go check that first. We need to make sure she doesn't have any damn mace! Second, I want you to check and make sure she's as juicy a target as I think she is." "What'll I be looking for?" "Make sure she doesn't have too much cash or too many gold cards. Check to see if she has any credit card receipts that'll make her easy to trace to this area. Most folks around here know better'n accept a card from a girl I might target...but, you never know. And make sure there ain't a picture of her standing next to the freaking President in her purse." "And if she's powerless?" the deputy asked, anxiously. "Then we'll slap on the cuffs and take her back for her strip search." "On what charge?" "Suspicion of prostitution," the Sheriff chuckled. "It'll help knock her down a peg or two. Plus it'll help her ease into her new life." A voice crackled over the radio, and the Sheriff picked up. "I just heard from Abdul," the dispatcher's voice said. "He said they'd love to have an American redhead at next month's auction. They promise she'll fetch top dollar!" The Sheriff thanked his dispatcher and turned to his deputy. "Hit the pinballs." Susan's heart began to race as she saw the flashing blue lights behind her. She double-checked her mirror. As expected, the FBI chopper was still barely visible in the far distance behind her, tracking her every move. The skilled special agent had been afraid that that damn doughnut-munching Sheriff was never going to pick her up. And, unless she was arrested, she'd never find out who his overseas contacts were. But at last her hard work was paying off. "It's all just a matter of patience," she said to herself, as she slowly pulled her car over onto the shoulder of the road. END Edited by C. Lakewood