“Fu—screw ’em,” Bib said. “They don’t owe you nothing, do they? Sure, some of ’em would be glad to see you go—nut cases like old Wally, or a few of your grandma’s neighbors. But it’s the same for all of us—heck, Stu Sawyer’d love it if I skedaddled. The man resents me for being able to keep my job subject to the approval of the city council, while he’s gotta go through the whole rigmarole of getting himself elected every couple of years, depending on the whole county to still be liking him come election time. He can’t even go after any pot growers close to election time, for fear their families’ll all join forces, down to the last second cousin seven times removed, and vote him out of office. And that’s not to mention anything serious.
“Why do you think they didn’t do anything much when A
