public services

        A group of seven men stand in a circle deep in the woods outside Blottstown’s city limits. All of them in their mid to late forties except for the one sheriff’s deputy who was the first on the scene.
    “Oh Geez! What am I going to do? You guys know its an election year right? You haven’t forgotten that yet?” the irate mayor screamed.
    “Mayor sir, the press doesn’t know about this, yet. We can keep it under wraps until after the election,” the sheriff said.
    The police chief added, “They aren’t local. We checked.”
    The detective on duty nodded, and said, “Sir we want to back you as much as we can. Just don’t panic. I will be on this case. They don’t have to be found,” he mimed quote marks with his fingers, “until later.”
    “They have been dead for a while, at least a day or so,” the coroner said as he flicked a cigarette into the woods.
    The young deputy who was the first on the scene said, “I don’t get what the big deal is here. There are two dead hookers way out in the woods. How can this hurt your reelection? Also who is that guy?” He asked as he pointed to the only person out side of the circle.
    “That’s Charles. He is a cleaner. He takes care of messes.” The Mayor said, “I brought him in. Murder isn’t that big a deal here. It’s the hookers! We have a moral obligation to the citizens of this fair city of ours. Murders keep the people in line. Fear is a great motivator. Now hookers, they are just tacky.