176.

He Announces the Problem With a most eloquent Holy fucking shit.

It is then I notice the flashing red and blue lights coming up fast behind us. Holy fucking shit is right.

Down go the windows, nothing obvious about that, but the damn truck smells like a den of promiscuous skunks.

Mick doesn't have a choice except to pull over.

This could go a number of ways, from a simple ticket to a trip to county lockup. I hope it's Option Number One.

But as the cop-- a burly deputy sheriff-- strides purposefully closer, my heart slides down into my gut.

Poor Mick is white.

Do something!

177.

Do Something?

Is he talking to me?

"Like what, exactly?

I.

dunno. Tell him you'll give him head?

Hmm. Nah, "Just shut up and don't panic."

Believe it or not, he shuts up. As the cop reaches **

the window, he sniffs.

Uh, license and registration.

Mick digs for his wallet, reaches too quickly toward **

the glove box. The cop's hand dives in the direction of **

his holster.

Easy now, he urges.

Open it slowly **

What? Is bethinking gun?

"No problem, Officer," I say.

He looks across Mick, to me. Instant recognition.

Hey. Aren't you Kay Gardella s daughter?

Damn news conference!

What can I say? "Mm-hmm."

178.

This, Too, Could Go A number of ways, depending on how the guy feels about Mom.

Maybe even how he feels about Daddy.

Both of my parents carry plenty of baggage--both good and not so- with local law enforcement.

See, before Mom ran for Congress, she was a county supervisor.

Not everyone was always happy about the decisions the board made, especially when they involved money. Still, she has always been a fan of law enforcement.

As for Daddy, his decisions aren't always favorable toward the arresting officer, although Mom is right. He's a reasonable judge who does the best he can within the structure of the law.

So, depending on too many variables to have a clue, the outcome of this particular encounter is unpredictable.

And beyond all that, it just may come down to how much of a tight-ass this particular cop happens to be.

179.

Unfortunately It's so tight it squeaks when he walks. He takes Mick's information back to his patrol car. We watch in the rearview mirror as he radios in. This is not looking particularly good.

Back he comes, hand dipping toward his hip and what's attached to it.

He stands back from the door.

Please exit the vehicle.

Okay, really, really not good. We exit the vehicle and Mr. Policeman gestures for us to move to the front of the truck. I am an idiot!

Holy shit. My dad is so going to be pissed!

"I.

noticed a definite odor of marijuana in your vehicle.

Have you been smoking pot this afternoon?

180.

Can't see how lying is going to help at this point, but I'm not real keen about admitting it either. I shake my head **

just about the time Mick is dumb enough to say, Yeah.

Which seems to amuse Deputy Dawg.

I should probably haul your ass in just for being so stupid, Mr. Moron....

That's Morona, with an a, replies the moron(a) in question.

The cop pretends to look at Mick's license.

Oh yes, I see it now. Well, Mr. Morona, you wait right there for a minute.

Ms. Gardella, would you please come with me?

181.

Not Sure Where This is headed, but I trail the deputy to his car, out of earshot of Mick.

The cop gives me a hard glare, then softens.

What exactly do you think **

you're doing? This is too stupid for words, you know that, right?

I nod and finally glance at the name pinned to his chest.

Deputy Carson. Familiar.

Okay, here's what I'm going to do. You go get whatever is stashed **

in that pickup. I'm going to write Mr. Moron a a ticket, sixty in a forty-five...

Holy crap. He's going to let us walk. My eyes must betray my disbelief.

182.

I'd probably do things differently, but Kay deserves to win that seat.

Won't happen if the press gets hold of the news that her daughter is a stoner.

Kay? Sounds terribly informal. Exactly how well does he know her?