We started calling him Count years ago, and I can not remember exactly why. It might have had something to do with counting inmates at the correctional facility, or it might have been a Dracula-like costume he wore for a Halloween party. Those choices would be too clever. More than likely, somebody fat-fi ngered his last name while typing, or mispronounced it in roll-call and the moniker stuck.
Count and I have a lot in common, and perhaps that
is the reason we began to hang out together. There is
considerable difference in our ages, almost 10 years, but
not in our collective experiences. We are both prior service
Marines, and we both currently serve in the National Guard,
albeit in different states. In addition, we both work for the
Department of Corrections. The odds against that would
appear pretty high to an outsider, but they are not if you
consider a few things. Count's local Army National Guard
unit is a Huey-helicopter maintenance outfi t composed of
about 15% prior service Marines. My previously mentioned
unit in the Air National Guard is also close, with an equally
high percentage of Marines. This may be because former
Marines in the Lincoln area do not have many reserve
options when they leave active duty. The closest Marine
reserve unit is in Omaha, and it would seem from insiders
that their primary mission is running the state's Toys For
Tots Campaign. Do not misunderstand me, Toys For Tots is a worthy idea, but it should not be the primary responsibility
of a Marine Corps unit that should be preparing for war.
In addition to that, the Omaha unit has nothing to do with
aviation. Marine Air-Wingers that return to Lincoln typically
change branches, if and when they enter the reserves.
The Department of Corrections nation-wide employs a
large percentage of prior service military people because the
nature of the business is security and managing prisoners.
Hell, the most important part of the interview is when they
ask, "Can you shoot a person?" Perhaps that is why the
department attracts a large percentage of Marines and
soldiers. In spite of my answer, "Where do you want him
shot?" they hired me anyway.
Other than our Marine Corps backgrounds, Count
and I are very different individuals, and have no grounds
on which to base our friendship. We were tight during
the fi rst several years, but ironically, Count's inability to
grow out of the juvenile behavior that humored him, caused
me to lose respect. We kept in touch, but drifted apart.
Our correspondence dwindled to an annual Marine Corps
reunion during the second week of November and a handful
of forwarded email jokes.
This story reveals how I realized that there is a huge
difference between real friends and drinking buddies, even
if they are my Marine brothers.
Count served in the United States Marine Corps as an
Avionics Technician on the CH-46E Sea Knight helicopter.
That much I know to be true. What follows is neither true nor false, but what I have been told. He claims to have been
trained as a door-gunner, and to have invaded the small
country of Grenada in late October of 1983, shortly after
his 19th birthday. I have caught him claiming many things
that he had no involvement with over the past few years of
"bar stories" so I would not bet my paycheck on any of his
proclamations. In fact, on occasion, I have heard him tell
stories that sounded remarkably like stories I had previously
told him. Most of the stories were lies when they came out
of my mouth, so I can not be terribly critical.
Count has more problems in his life than normal. He has
made some shady investment deals, and I have dipped into
some conversations he has had at work. After sharing some
of his fi nancial woes with the inmates, they have quietly
offered some money-making opportunities to him. I suspect
that he may be traffi cking tobacco to the inmates. I am not
too sure that Count will not be an inmate soon, but for now,
he just works there with me.
Count's worst problem came up just recently, and he
does not even know about it yet. I was contacted a few
months ago by a Mrs. Claire Mount, Count's wife. Claire
is an oxymoron. I should say her appearance represents
one. If you do not know what an oxymoron is, the best way
I can describe it is a term where words are used to describe
something contradictory or just the opposite of the root
word. I am not even sure my defi nition helps. Perhaps the
best way to explain it since I do not have a Webster handy is to provide you with examples. For example: jumbo-shrimp,
military intelligence, or she's pretty ugly.
Claire Mount's oxymoronic nomenclature: Petite
Bohemian. Claire was about 5' 110 lbs. You could not tell
by looking at her, but she worked her ass off (literally) to
keep the weight off. If anybody had a genetic predisposition
to be heavy, she did.
More than anything, Claire wanted her husband's love.
The trouble was, she had no earthly idea how to show him
that. For now, Claire wanted her husband investigated, and
she was not aware that I knew her husband. For all she knew,
I was a full-time Private Investigator. Had she known I was
an employee of the Department of Corrections, and a prior
service Marine, she would have defi nitely shied away from
using my services. You have learned enough about me to
know that cash is King. Claire paid me nicely, and I think if
I play my cards right, I may be able to add her to the list of
20-minute shags in the future if I prove her theory.
There is no "going-rate" for investigative services
in Lincoln, Nebraska, so I could charge just about any
reasonable amount. Mrs. Mount suspected that her husband
was cheating on her. I could have told Claire that Charlie was
cheating prior to being hired, but that might be detrimental
to my fi nancial outcome, and I was not sure just yet if I could
be a snitch. My fi rst real case as a private investigator would
be easy. The diffi culty would be deciding who to tell, and
what to tell, and when or if I could tell at all.
"Do you know why I'm here? Do you?"
"Did a fl are gun go off in your locker, or did you tape
someone's butt cheeks together?"