Spencerville

power, Cliff Baxter was still Cliff Baxter. And knowing how small towns worked, Keith was sure that the county sheriff, kin to Cliff Baxter, would just deputize the stupid bastard for a dollar a year, and he’d still have his gun and badge.
    Gail continued, “As a member of the city council, and, I think, the only elected official here, I want you to know that I extended invitations to all the other elected officials in the town and county, but their response was to call a joint meeting of the city council and the county commissioners at the courthouse. So I don’t think any of them are here.” She looked around and said, “If any of you are here, please stand and come up to the dais. We have room.”
    No one stood, and Keith was impressed with Gail’s showmanship.
    Gail said, “I’ve asked the Spencerville Gazette to send a reporter tonight. Is he or she here?” Gail looked around the church. “No? Could that be because the newspaper is owned by the mayor’s family, or because Baxter Motors is the biggest advertiser?”
    Several people laughed and there was some applause.
    Keith saw that Gail was enjoying tweaking some prominent noses, and he was sure she understood she was going to make more enemies than she had friends in her adopted community. Gail might spark the revolution, but neither she nor Jeffrey would lead it or have a place in any new regime. In fact, they’d remain outcasts, poor and friendless, cut off from their original hometown roots, alienated from the larger world they helped bring about, and now strangers in a strange land. They sort of reminded Keith of himself.
    Gail went on for a minute, speaking in generalities, then got down to cases, beginning with Chief of Police Cliff Baxter.
    She said, “In my dealings with Chief Baxter, I’ve found him to be, in my opinion, incompetent, ineffective, and dictatorial. But don’t take my word for it. We have several people here tonight who have volunteered to come forward with their own stories about Chief Baxter. Some of these stories will shock you, and it takes a lot of courage for these people, your neighbors, to tell you their stories. Most of what you’re going to hear brings no credit on the people who will speak, but they have decided to do something positive for themselves and their community. They will tell you about corruption, bribery, bid fixing, voting irregularities, and yes, as you already know, sexual misconduct.”
    Gail knew when to pause and listen to the murmurs and startled sounds coming from the good citizens of Spencerville. Despite the fact that everything Gail said and was going to say was probably true, and likewise for the people who were about to speak, Keith had the sense that he was attending a seventeenth-century witch trial where witness after witness got up and told stories about one of their neighbors. The only thing missing was the defendant.
    Gail made a few more remarks, then related her own story about Cliff Baxter regarding his illegal file on her and ended with, “I’m bringing a civil suit against him and will subpoena that file and make it a public record. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of. My past is known to many of you, and I’ll let you be the judge. I cannot and will not be blackmailed. Furthermore, I’m considering pressing criminal charges against Mr. Baxter, and I’ve spoken to the county prosecutor about it. If I can’t get justice in Spencer County, I’ll go to Columbus and speak to the state attorney general. I do this, not for myself, but for everyone in the county who has been the subject of illegal investigations and file-gathering by the police chief.”
    She looked out over the audience and said, “Some of Baxter’s victims are here tonight, some wish not to be identified, and I’ll respect that decision. Some have volunteered to come forward. So without having to listen to me any longer, I’ll introduce our first volunteer, and she can speak for herself.” Gail looked into the first row and nodded.
    Hesitantly, looking as though she wanted to be anywhere else on earth, an attractive young woman stood and made her way to the dais. Gail greeted her with a warm embrace and said something to her as she steered the woman to the microphones.
    The woman stood silently a few seconds, and Keith thought she looked pale and frightened. She cleared her throat several times, then said, “My name is Sherry Kolarik, and I’m a waitress at the Park ’n’ Eat in