by Marja McGraw
“So you shoved your father off a four story building and killed him.” I was repeating her story to her, wanting to see if hearing it said by someone else would snap her out of it. It didn’t.
“You got it,” she said too casually. “And then you two came along snooping into things. Nick is dead and buried. You were about to open things up and someone might take another look at my father’s death. I couldn’t have that.”
“You murdered Balesmon, too, didn’t you?” I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it come from her lips.
“Of course. If you two got together, then my life would have been over. My father taught me well. I used gloves and a baseball bat that I found in my neighbor’s trash, and covered my tracks. No one would have ever linked me to that old man.”
Opal became very quiet. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told me that she was probably reflecting on what she’d done.
Me? I was praying that traffic would be light in case things came to a head while we were in the car. Or that it would be heavy and we’d be stuck next to a California Highway Patrolman.
My first request was answered. There was plenty of traffic behind us, but the freeway was mostly clear in front of us.
“Sandi, are you a good driver?” Prudy asked quietly.
Turning to her, I wondered why she’d ask such a question. She was staring intently at the gas pedal. She moved only her eyes when she glanced from my face to the pedal.
I understood and gave the car a little more gas, watching the needle move from seventy miles per hour up to eighty. Opal didn’t notice. Nothing unusual about speed on the L.A. freeway.
Forty-five
I pushed the pedal a little harder. The needle moved to eighty-five. This is Los Angeles. A Nissan passed me like I was standing still.
I quickly glanced at Prudy. She was staring straight ahead and holding on to the edge of her seat.
Opal nudged my ear with her gun. “Slow down. You’re going too fast.”
“No,” I said, pressing harder. Ninety and moving up. An SUV passed me.
“I said to slow down,” Opal repeated.
“And I said no!” I heard a horn honking behind us. No police unit in the rearview mirror. Must be Sharon. No, she wouldn’t have caught up to us.
The second part of my prayer was almost answered. I saw a patrol car stopped and a cop giving someone a ticket. He didn’t see us as we flew by.
“Slow down!” Opal sounded nervous.
“Give Prudy your gun,” I yelled.
Ninety-five. Prudy groaned.
“No! Slow down!”
“No! Give Prudy the gun!”
“No!” she squeaked, fear filling her voice.
We were flying. One hundred miles an hour. The needle kept moving. The wind pushed against the car, but it hadn’t begun to rain yet. I was scared. Couldn’t let Opal know. No one else passed me. Prudy gripped the dashboard. The wind blew debris across the freeway.
“Give Prudy your gun!”
“No! Slow down right now!” Panicky voice coming from the back seat.
“No! Get rid of the gun!”
“No!” Pure terror in her voice. She waved the gun at me. “Are you trying to kill us?” She was screaming at me.
The car began to shimmy. The steering wheel vibrated. “If I slow down you’ll kill us. Give the gun to Prudy or we all die.” No more talk. Concentrate on the road.
One oh five. One oh six. Traffic coming up in front of us. One oh seven.
Flashing lights behind us. Loudest siren I’d ever heard. I glimpsed Opal dropping her head when I glanced in the mirror. I lifted my foot from the gas pedal, relief overwhelming me.
“Give the gun to Prudy,” I said loudly.
Nothing.
“I said give the gun to Prudy,” I repeated. “The cops are right behind us.”
She did.
Ninety-eight, and slowing. I tapped the brake pedal as lightly as possible and we slowed more. I pulled to the side of the freeway as soon as I could.
Prudy emptied the bullets out of the gun. She held it out the window by the barrel as the cop approached us with his gun drawn. She dropped it. The ammunition clinked as she dropped that, too.
Prudy and I climbed out of the car with our hands up. Opal remained in the back seat, crying.
More patrol cars pulled up, lights flashing and sirens winding down.
We gave the highway patrolman a short version of the story and he handcuffed Opal and placed her in his patrol car. Another officer left us talking and radioed in to the station. They called L.A.P.D. to verify some of what I was telling them.
Sharon pulled up not long after that. “I called the police,” she said.
“I see that,” I replied. “Thank you.”
“I saw that woman climb into your car before you and your friend came back out of the house. I knew something was wrong. Did I do the right thing?”
“Who are you?” the cop asked her.
Sharon grinned at me. “Her worst nightmare turned into her fairy godmother.”
Forty-six
Prudy and I were taken to the station. The situation was confusing, but we finally sorted it all out.
I received a speeding ticket. Actually, there were a few other charges included on the citation, like exhibitionist speeding, but I tried not to think about that wild ride.
Sharon was waiting to drive Prudy and me to my car, which had been towed at the request of the Highway Patrol.
“You have my gratitude,” I said. “And you’re still going to have the exclusive story, with all the inside details I can give you. I can’t tell you all of it right now, but I will. Soon.” I proceeded to give her the basic story so she could turn something in to the newspaper.
When she dropped us off, she had her cell phone out and waved goodbye as she spoke to her editor.
Driving home, Prudy and I talked. She was elated about solving the case, but she was sad at the same time. “Poor Opal. If Nick wasn’t already dead, I’d say he should be tarred and feathered for what he did to his daughter.”
“Amazing what people do to each other, isn’t it?” I agreed with her. We drove in silence for a few minutes.
“Brian, it’s over. You can rest now.” That was the last thing she said before dozing off on the ride home. I figured it was finally time for her to rest.
Pete met us at Dolly’s house. He was waiting for us on the front porch. “Rick called me. He heard something about your chase on the scanner. The Highway Patrol called him to ask about Balesmon. And they asked him to verify that you weren’t a nut. Are you okay?”
“Thanks to Sharon, everything is fine.”
Pete looked surprised. “You and Sharon are friends?”
“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say friends, but she sure came to the rescue this time.”
“So what happened? Are you really okay?” Pete looked me up and down as though expecting to see damage.
I told him the whole story, with Prudy adding her version. Dolly, Stan and Felicity had joined us, asking for details, all talking at once.
“Wait,” Prudy said. “You’re wearing me out. We’ll talk about this in the morning. Okay?” She sounded exhausted, but she was preening in her fur coat, waving her cigarette holder, oddly reminding me of Bette Davis and the way she flipped her hands around in some of her movies.
Dolly and Prudy headed off to bed and some much needed sleep.
Stan and Felicity took off, heading, well, I didn’t know where. I heard Felicity mention the continuing search for her mother, and Stanley was apologizing, saying that sometimes “these things take time.”
Pete spent the night. We settled on the couch and he held me close. It had finally begun to rain and I listened to the sound of water dripping for a very long time. I could hear Pete and Bubba snoring, a comforting sound, before drifting off.
~ * ~
The next morning I prepared a special breakfast for Pete. No particular reason, but it felt right.
“Sandi, I mentioned a future with you recently, but it wasn’t the right time to talk about it.” He cocked his head and looked into my eyes.
“And?” I managed to say before sucking in my breath.
“And now it feels right.”
The doorbell rang. “Hold that thought,” I said, not wanting him to be interrupted once he got started.
I found Dolly standing on my front porch. “I wanted to let you know that Prudy called her son and told him the whole story. He’s cutting his trip short and he’ll be home tonight. He wants to talk to you.”
“Guess I must be in trouble, huh?” Like Junior wouldn’t mind me taking his mother on the wildest ride of her life. Yeah, I was in trouble. “I’ll be over in a while to talk to you and Prudy. Right now I’m fixing breakfast, and Pete wants to talk to me about our future.”
Dolly raised her eyebrows, grinned and pushed up her glasses. “Gotta go.”
I returned to the kitchen to find Pete talking to himself. He stopped when he saw me.
I began turning bacon, afraid it was going to burn.
“Sandi, are you listening to me? I’m trying to talk to you.”
“Yes, Pete. I’m listening.”
“If we were to get married, we wouldn’t have to worry about not having enough alone time. What do you think?”
“Is that a proposal?” I asked. What a silly question.
“Yes, it is. Will you marry me?”
“Can we have a long engagement? I still have some independent oats to sow.”
Pete laughed. “Yes, we can have a long engagement, but not too long.”
“Hmmm. Let me think about it.”
“Oh, this is ridiculous. Either we have a future together or we don’t. I asked a simple question – ”
“Not a simple question,” I interrupted.
“Well, I thought – ”
I couldn’t keep a straight face when I turned and threw my arms around his neck. “Of course I will! Let me call my mother, and – ”
“Your mother? Do we have to tell her? Maybe I should rethink this.”
“Not on your life. It’s a done deal.”
Pete grinned and I hugged him again, already planning the wedding in my mind.