Besides, he added, Bem doesn’t have a police force and the ex-officio city marshal moved away nine years ago and didn’t leave a forwarding address. But the stranger was persuasive and he did have a badge and an official looking Federal Undercover Agent I.D. that strangely showed only his first name, his height, weight, and the color of his hair and eyes. The latter two items had been marked through a couple of times and different colors penciled in. The man explained that he wasn’t concerned about people’s prescription medicines, he was here to help rid the town of illicit drugs. He had extensive experience, he said, and had helped several small communities rid their streets of drug gangs.

The acting deputy mayor was confused by the man’s use of the term illicit drugs. He said he didn’t think Bem had that problem either, although there were rumors that one local man had tried one of those little blue pills that were suppose to, well, you know, improve his manly functions. Apparently it was only a rumor because the man’s wife still had her nasty disposition.

The stranger offered a couple of telephone numbers the acting deputy mayor could call and verify his credentials and get references from other towns the man had helped. He got in his car, a big late-model sedan with several radio antennas and a light bar, and said he would be back later that night to go to work on Bem’s drug problem.

The acting deputy mayor now was in a quandary and wished desperately that one of the other acting deputy mayors had been on duty that day instead of him. Normally, the mayor doesn’t have much to do so everyone in town had volunteered to take turns as acting deputy mayor until his honor, the real mayor returned.

The acting deputy mayor watched as the stranger drove away in the big white car, blipping the siren once as a doe with two fawns started to cross the road in front of him. The acting deputy mayor thought about what the stranger had said and wondered if he should convene an emergency town meeting. The regularly scheduled town meeting was not due to convene for another eight months.

The acting deputy mayor knew he had to make a decision, on his own, since the crime-fighting stranger was coming back in a few hours.

The smart thing to do, the acting deputy mayor reasoned, was to first check out the man’s credentials and references. Dialing the first of the two numbers the stranger had provided, the acting deputy mayor heard a woman start to answer with the standard “hello” then say “Uh, I mean Office of the Federal Multi-jurisdictional Task Force, Eastern Missouri District.” The acting deputy mayor explained the reason for his call and the woman responded with confirmation of the stranger’s identity and a glowing account of his accomplishments in the fight on drugs in small towns.

Completing that call, the acting deputy mayor dialed the second number the stranger had provided and heard a woman answer “U.S. Clearing Center for Undercover Federal Agents.” He got basically the same response from that woman, whose voice sounded surprisingly like the first woman’s.

By now the acting deputy mayor knew what he had to do to keep this valuable federal undercover agent from wasting his time and the public’s money in Bem.

When the stranger returned, the acting deputy mayor told him about a town a few miles east that supposedly did have a drug problem and that his time would be better spent there. When the stranger asked for directions, the acting deputy mayor said: “Go up Highway 19 and when you get to Owensville turn right on Highway 28. At Rosebud, you’ll hit Highway 50. It’s the first town past Rosebud.”

The acting deputy mayor felt good that he had found work for the stranger. He thought briefly about calling the mayor of the town the stranger was heading for and giving him a heads up, but decided he probably wasn’t in his office anyway. The stranger could explain it all.