Page 323 - NIXBOOK

I’m in the WalMart security office, with a prisoner in custody. He had been caught shoplifting, the police were called, and now
the dispatcher is telling me that the guy has a warrant for his arrest. The thief is a little too smug when he said he knew all about
that one. “It’s from Jefferson County, and it’s non-extraditable.” His theft was not big enough to justify going to the Kitsap
County Jail, so I called the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office. Asked a JCSO Deputy if they want this guy at all. Oh! They do! They
will gladly meet me on the Jefferson County side of the Hood Canal bridge, if I want to drive their guy there. Why, sure. No
problem. The smirk on the smug thief’s face disappeared hella quickly when I told him that I was going to take him to Jefferson
County, so he could get his day in court.

Before me on the exam table lay a dead naked human body. Okay, actually it was covered with a white sheet. Across from me
was the county coroner, because this was back in the days when the county was small enough that we didn’t have an appointed
medical examiner, we had an elected coroner, and he was letting me witness an autopsy. Because this was back in the days when
it was okay, if a police officer asked nicely, to watch an autopsy up close. I had asked nicely and permission was granted. The
sheet came off, the tools came out, and the coroner went to work. “I actually knew this guy,” he told me as started opening the
chest. “We went to school together a long time ago..” I had thought that the procedure would be equal parts fascinating and
disgusting. Turns out not quite as fascinating and not quite as disgusting as I had imagined, but still pretty interesting. “This
fella had a reputation for being a chronic alcoholic, I expect his liver will be completely destroyed..ah yes, here it is..”

My knock at the door was answered by the homeowner, which was not a good move on his part because he had a federal warrant
for his arrest. He asked if he could take a quick shower before he got hauled off, and I was in an agreeable mood that morning
so I inspected his clothes and the shower, and let him have 3 minutes to freshen up. Then off to jail we went.

Crazy Molly had wandered away from home again. As usual, she only went downhill to the nearest gas station, where she could
easily be found, just sort of hanging around. Sometimes with a cat or two in a carrier, sometimes in a raincoat, usually just in
her nightgown and bathrobe and slippers. Molly was in her 70’s, and dementia was her only real constant companion, because
her husband had kind of stopped caring to track her down every time she escaped the house. I had the new officer take her
home, because I had already had my turn several times that year so far.