Fired Marshall: Richard’s Lame-Ass Jeans Chapter Six

Immediately after Madelyn and I had heard the radio broadcast from Bonham, we went back downstairs to join Daddy and Gloria for supper.
As we we wading through the ‘First Course”, the telephone rang. Gloria got up and answered, Returned to the table and announced, rather tearful,
“Madelyn has just lost her job.”
“How so?” Daddy asked.
“Richard’s Jeans was destroyed in a fire.”
Maddy and I exchanged knowing glances, subtly.
“Still on the line?” Madelyn asked Gloria as she went to the telephone.
“Yes,” said Gloria. Maddy went to the phone had some short conversation. Hung up abruptly. Returned to the table and cast me a sideways glance, meaning to say,

“Do NOT say a Goddamn Word.”

Message received.


Loud and Clear

About twenty minutes later there was a vociferous loud aggressive knock on the front door of Marcom Manor.

No “Friend of Marcom” Ever Knocks Upon the Front Door–Only Interlopers, and they could be shot.

Marcom Manor

I got up to answer.
It was the Fannin County Fire Marshall.
“Is there a Madelyn Marcom here?” he inquired.
“Sure” I said. “What do you want?”
“I need to ask her a few questions.”
“We are at supper.” I said.
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

I went back to our Norman Rockwell, sat down, poured some more ice tea…
“Who was that?” Gloria asked.
“Fire Marshall” I replied.
“Did he leave?”
“Naw. I parked him in the Parlor.”
“Dammit Lance! When were you gonna tell us?”
“As soon as we finished our supper.”
“What does he want?”
“He wants to talk to Madelyn.”
“Madelyn! You go talk to him. Now!”
Maddy got up and headed to the parlor.
Was I scared she would confess?
Oh Hell no!

Nevertheless, I got up and walked her to the parlor.

“Sister, don’t fuck this up.”
I got this,” was all she said.

To be continued.


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