Hando’s Dilemma

Hando sat on his cot with his head against the wall. He’d already spent Christmas in the cell and it didn’t look like he was going to get out. Marce hadn’t even tried…not that he blamed her. He’d had a lot of time to think and actually wished he hadn’t defaced the Jew’s building. It’s something he would have done in Melbourne and been congratulated for, Melbourne seemed a long way away. He couldn’t go back and now he couldn’t go forward.

He had been surprised to see the Jew, earlier in the day Richie Roberts had been by to see him; asked a lot of questions, mostly he hadn’t answered. The guy was a solicitor and had offered to represent him. What a joke…still he was going to need somebody to get past the assault charge. What the hell was an American Jew doing here anyway…he shouldn’t have come.

Marce hadn’t been back…he figured she was gone…Marce he missed her. He put his head in his hands. I fucked up, he told himself and now I got to do whatever it takes to get out of it. Here was that damned deputy back again with dinner…he hated her. The Sheriff …he didn’t mind him so much…he’d been straight up with him…looked him straight in the eye and explained his situation. His situation didn’t look good…what was it the Jew said…something about counter assault charges against the big bloke for punching him out while he was handcuffed. He was smart, the Jew, maybe…oh what the hell was he thinking.