The Villain

The Villain.

He was the Sheriff of Greystone County and recent events have greatly traumatized him. I’m the cause and have added another scalp to my collection.

He is a gentle soul and the biggest upset he previously had to deal with was a squabble over boundary fences on Aston’s farm. He engineered an amiable settlement with Aston and Grieg both happy.

I started in a neighbouring county in my late school years- at first selling trading cards then graduating to E’s and weed. My parents were to blame. Mum was a drunk and if I didn’t do the shopping and didn’t cook dinner, there was never any food for me, as was often the case because Dad didn’t leave enough money, and the General Store had long since cancelled our credit note. Dad was rarely home as his work, driving herds of cattle to land upstate, for agistment, kept him busy for weeks on end. When he did come home, he shook Mum, made her take a shower and put on clean clothes, and we did the washing and filled the trash bin with all the bottles. For a few days we ate decent food as Dad was a much better cook than I was.

Trading soccer cards was very successful, but the lower ladder drugs were very much more rewarding. I went to Johnson County to buy them and sold them for a good profit. I don’t know how many youngsters succumbed to drugs as a result of my sales, but I really don’t care. I found I could supply their cocaine and heroin too, and left that dumb-ass school to further my career. I used Dad’s utililty to drive up-state for the pick ups and was soon supplying Greystone county with all their goodies.

There was never any remorse on my part. It served them right. I never touched the stuff myself, except the weed, and you’d be surprised how many influential and high-class idiots were sniffing cocaine and shooting up heroin. The more important in the community, the more pricey their supplies, and they knew they were also paying for my silence.

I moved out of home. Mum and Dad didn’t even notice, and I bought a small cottage downtown. For a few years it was just the drugs that I sold, and then another big money venture.

I think the sheriff got a whiff of the drug trade but no-one objected and his young son was one of my best customers.

It was my next venture that really made him sit up and take notice. I bought an old Georgian mansion and had a great time renovating and prettying it up- the main rooms with chintzy wall paper and glorious low-light chandeliers, and the beds of course- four posters with silk sheets and embroidered pillowcases. It wasn’t hard finding the girls and boys. I advertised in distant counties and soon installed seven ladies and three gentlemen- to suit every sexual preference. People could pay for in-house services, including two of the ladies for S&M, or hire a beautiful partner for some special occasion. Even the priest paid to have a lovely lady on his arm for the annual thanksgiving festival.

And no trouble from the Sheriff. His son was a lost cause and was often off his face in some saloon. You could see he was troubled, but what could he do.

The money flowed in rapidly, but I soon got bored. I had two offsiders peddling the drugs and I found a delicious madame to run the house for me.

What next? By now I’d developed a thick skin and really didn’t care what trouble I stirred up in the county. There were a few hopeless coke and heroin addicts and even high class people like barristers and teachers used coke socially. And the same ones would shamelessly high an escort.

Sitting back in an armchair at my beautiful rolltop desk, I contemplated my future. What would I do next? Suddenly a flash of genius! I could start blackmailing the biggest users. That old priest was number one. The church was pretty wealthy and he easily raided the collection money each week.

It was a pity I couldn’t somehow get at the Sheriff. But he wasn’t taking the bait. Yet….

Until his wife got involved. She was lonely when Graham was gone for a few days overseeing some real estate deals in the top end of the county. She booked Leonard, a smooth swarthy muscle man- for company, and even in her own home, while Graham was away.

That was the last straw. Graham caught her out. Returning earlier than expected one Friday, he saw a limousine parked in his driveway. Which of Sue-Anne’s friends drove a limousine? He couldn’t recall. He walked up to the door, put in his key, and walked in. ‘Sue-Anne, where are you?’ A scuttling noise in the bedroom surprised him and when he entered, he found Sue-Anne hastily drawing her dressing-gown around her bare shoulders.

‘You Ok?’ he asked. It was not like Sue-Anne to still be in bed after lunch.

‘I’m Ok honey, just let me shower and I’ll come down. I just had a headache and decided to sleep it off. Go and put on the kettle please.’

‘Sure, I’m having a sandwich, I didn’t get lunch, would you like one too?’

That would take five or ten minutes she thought, and she quickly turned on the shower and showed Leonard the back door, and gathered up his shoes and socks that Leonard had left behind in his haste. She stuffed them in the dirty clothes’ basket and ducked into the shower to wash away his cologne and the traces of their dalliance, she threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and joined Grahame in the kitchen.

Unfortunately, there were two wine glasses and an empty Shiraz bottle on the sink. And what remained of a white line of coke.

‘Who’s been here?’ asked Grahame.

‘Oh, only Gloria’ stammered Sue-Anne.

‘Does she drive a limousine?’

‘Why, I don’t know. Why do you ask?’

‘There was one parked in the driveway when I got home.’

Sue-Anne was not a good liar, and broke down into a flood of hot, salty tears. Grahm had a horrible premonition, and she quickly confirmed it. Wasn’t he a good enough lover? Why did she need another man to wine and dine her and make love to her? And in their very own bed!

Grahame tried to react calmly, but he was angered by her confession and sat on the edge of the table in silence.

‘Say something!’ cried Sue-Anne. Tell me how hurt you are. Don’t hold it all in. I’m so sorry. I do love you Grahame and all I can do is apologise and tell you it will never happen again.’

Now Grahame exploded. The cocaine he could maybe understand and forgive, but not Leonard and Sue-Anne making out in his bed. He stormed out of the house, leaving Sue-Anne in tears.

I was totally unaware of this and Annette, the madame, was surprised to see me come into her parlour that afternoon.

‘How’s business?’ I asked.

‘Great,’ she said, ‘And you’d never believe it, but the Sheriff’s wife Sue-Anne is our latest client.’

Good God, that’s pretty dangerous I thought and my mind was full of possible outcomes and disasters. I didn’t want the Sheriff against me.

But over the next weeks, Grahame began arresting the drug dealers and the prostitutes, and scaring away all my clients. I could continue my blackmailing business from a distance. No-one knew it was me. One night I had Annette close down the sex mansion and put a For Sale sign, with a postbox number for the seller. It sold quickly and I made a big profit.

But I realized it wasn’t the money I craved, it was the excitement of breaking the law and making people pay for their delights.

With a large bank account, I moved interstate,- and started over again.