Sheriff S’ugeidée was tired after an all night threesome he had with two middle aged mainland hookers. He paid them and send them on their way before driving to work at dawn. He looks at the plaque on his wall “Fraternal Order of Bear Skins.” People think it’s a similar to the Masons or Elks, where ww2 vets drink and talk about going on vacation to Hawaii. It’s not, he would not be Sheriff if people knew its true dark deeds. It was not a club you could join, you had to be selected and its members go back to the early Russian hunters around here who took Native wives.
The Bare Skins it should be called. A couple times a year they bring in a truckload of girls from Vancouver, straight off shipping containers from the Orient, Central America and Eastern Europe. They film home movies and do it all on the back of the tax payer. Many famous and important people were guests at these parties. Him being head of the Lodge made him far more important than the Sheriff gig. His current wife was from Ukraine, a hotspot for the slave trade. The Sheriff was like Henry the 8th. When he tired of a woman, she went away and he ordered a new one mail order.
He was thinking about Cynthia Malvo and how much trouble she could cause if left alive. She had made statements about being followed by a police car. That part of the report was swept away in the Detective’s findings. They were spinning their wheels not sure where to look. He didn’t like it. Cynthia was put up in a motel nearby. She was a bad drunk, could be lured out into a lonely place then silenced. It couldn’t be him, she may remember him. Maybe his piece of shit son could be useful to gain pick her up in a bar, or force his way in her room. His sons name was Lev Arkhangelsk who calls him self Aqualung. Was back from 5 years in reform school and already picked up an underage girlfriend and had been vandalizing the town. A good for nothing tweeker who caused trouble every day of his life.
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He was stupid like his mother. A blonde hooker he picked up in the Puget sound when he was working there as a insurance broker. She came to the USA to be a model and ended up doing porn up and down the west coast, stripping and still spoke very little English. He picked her up with his floral use of the Russian language which was rare for Americans to speak. She moved into his house and picked up bad habits like blow, racking up credit card bills and fucking young men in his bed. He tolerated her long enough to have a son, who he has a contemptuous relationship with. Only comes home to ask for money or to borrow a used car. Like his mother, he may need to strangle him with an electric cord if he causes any more trouble.
The Sheriff heads over to the junk yard to check on his son, and the over all state of the facility. Getting to the gate the 2 mongrel beasts that usually would be barking and trying to jump over the fence were silent. Somewhere else in the place. He sees the blue van his son uses. One of those old 70s style custom jobs with a lounge interior. Undoing the chain and rolling back the gate one of the dogs Malphas comes and peaks his head from the last row, nervous and darts back behind piles of crushed cars. The other attack dog, Balam is nowhere to be seen. The neon sign for “Beaver Falls Tow” is blinking out, was struck by lightning the week before.
Sheriff S’ugeidée walks hesitantly towards the car crusher and metal shredder in the back. He hears some whimpering and is shocked to see a naked woman covered in stab wounds come running towards him expecting help. She runs into his arms in a tight embrace and he sees his scumbag son come strolling out of the control shed splattered with blood and naked except for boots, smoking a cigarette and says casually. “Saved you one.” The Sheriff smiles in a sneer, throws the victim to the ground, cuffing her and walking her towards the stairs to his love shack in the basement of the pump house.