by Dale Mayer
“No,” Angela said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t. I’m sure you remember how to print at least, if you don’t remember how to write.” And, with that, Angela stepped through to the back, where the women couldn’t hear her, and yet Angela could still keep an eye on everything and called the prosecutor.
When he answered the phone, his voice was hard and fed up. “I’m enjoying a Saturday afternoon with my family,” he said. “Why are you disturbing me?”
“Because I’ve got a problem, sir,” she said quietly, and she quickly laid out the problems.
“Good Lord,” he said, “is this all related to your deputies quitting?”
“Yes,” she said, “we’ve got a group forcibly trying to buy up property in town. I’m not yet exactly sure why, but I’m certain there is a compelling reason. Now I have two sisters who got caught doing something they shouldn’t have, who’ve been blackmailed and threatened, and one of them actually released my prisoners from my jail.”
He groaned, and then he laughed, and afterward he cried out, “Good God. That’s just too ridiculous to believe.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve got them both writing up statements, while I’m sitting here, keeping an eye on them.”
“And you have no deputies left?”
“None of my original crew, but I have one on loan,” she said. “It is my belief that my former deputies may have been subject to threats as well, but I have no proof of that. At the moment, what I need to nail down is what charges I can bring up on these two women, though it’s complicated by the fact that their mother is undergoing cancer treatment at home, and their grandfather is in a care facility with Alzheimer’s.”
He coughed into the phone. “And they didn’t think about that first?”
“It doesn’t seem that they thought about very much,” she said quietly.
He sighed heavily. “I’ll call you back. If you can, … if you need to detain them,” he said, “lock them up, and we can send somebody out to look after the mother.”
“That might be what has to happen,” she said. “What I don’t know is what kind of charges we’re looking at, how severe the charges will be, whether the sisters will be eligible for community service to resolve this.”
“And you know that’s not for me to call,” he said in a warning voice.
“I know that,” she said quietly, “but I also know that a lot of the charges are up to you, depending on what we’re actually looking at.”
“Do you really think they’re innocent in all of this?”
“No,” she said, “absolutely not. Do I think that they did this out of greed or out of malice? No.” She added, “Their initial misstep was to help their grandfather sign a property sales contract, when he wasn’t of sound mind to do so. I do believe they were trying to fulfill his wishes, to care for the mother and the grandfather, but they should have gone through a legal process. They were also getting pressured to wrap up the sale by these same men, who were the ultimate buyers, and who went on to blackmail and to threaten them.”
“Good God, what a nightmare,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m calling you. This one is above my pay grade.”
He snorted at that. “We’ve always had pretty easy dealings around here up until now,” he said. “I just didn’t really expect something like this.”
“Neither did I,” she said. “So give me a hand and help me figure it out. Let me know when you can.” With that, she hung up. She walked closer to the two women, with her fresh cup of coffee, and saw that Isabel had several pages written down, but Lana had barely started. “What’s the matter, Lana?”
“Well, I just can’t stop thinking about Mama.”
“Yeah, and I just got off the phone with the prosecutor.” Both women looked up hopefully. She shook her head. “He’s looking into what the options are, but we can always get somebody from town to come collect your mother and get her settled into a care facility.”
Both women cried out in horror.
Angela stared at them with a flat look and said, “Remember that part about not thinking about the consequences of your actions?”
“But you know Mama,” Lana said. “You’ve had many a meal at our table.”
“Yeah, and it breaks my heart to even think that her daughters would do this to her,” she said, neatly turning the tables.
Both women flushed. They looked at each other and sagged in place.
“And I know we’re not allowed to offer bribes or anything,” Lana said, “but is there something we can do to make this better?”
“Yes, Lana,” she said. “You two give us the information we need, and you cooperate fully. I can’t guarantee that you will get off though. Walking into a jail and letting the prisoners out is hard to overlook. I can’t guarantee that anybody’ll give you a lenient sentence or will let you do time at home,” she said, “but I can tell you that, if you don’t cooperate, it’ll be way worse.”
The two women sat sniffling together and bent their heads to work on their statements.
Angela stared at these women she had known since they were all children. And it just shocked her. Lana was a little older and had always been a bit of an irresponsible flake, but apparently neither sister had really gotten on with a responsible life, and that just blew Angela away. She was reminded of the way Isabel had acted when Bonaparte had inquired about her identification, and she wondered what that was about. Although being forced to hand over her ID did make things seem more real, more official. And likely made Isabel realize what a mess she was in.
There were all kinds of lessons in life, but these two had each gone down a rabbit hole of sorts and apparently didn’t see any way to get back out, making it worse instead of better. As Angela watched the two women weep over their statements, she felt like a heel, but too many things needed to be kept on course. She couldn’t be a friend right now.
If it had been anybody else as the sheriff, Angela would have been here, with the sisters, advocating for them, but Angela couldn’t do that now—and frankly wasn’t so inclined. She was especially disappointed that Isabel hadn’t told her that Lana was involved. That would have been a game-changer, so much so that Angela probably should have thought about it herself.
She pulled out her phone and checked for a text from Bonaparte, but there was nothing. She hated that even more. She knew it was too soon for him to have found, accosted, or even picked up one or the other of her escapees. And now that she actually needed four men to be picked up, she wondered if she should go grab Ronnie and former Deputy Johnson herself. She frowned at that idea, tossing it back and forth. If she locked the two women in the jail and put a padlock on it, that was possible. But if somebody came along and tried to cut that, she’d have nobody in the station to prevent it. And then she remembered her lack of a truck. She swore at that. Picking up the phone, she contacted the sheriff in the neighboring county. “Any chance you’ve got a deputy who can come over and sit in the jail to make sure nobody else gets out?”
“Yep,” he said, “we can cover that. I’ll have somebody there in about forty minutes.”
“Good enough,” she said. “I really appreciate it.” And, with that, she hung up. The two women looked at her in surprise. “What?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re getting help from another sheriff?” Isabel asked.
“Well, it depends on if the sheriff’ turns out to be on my side or not,” she said bluntly. “Apparently all my deputies have run for the hills and quit.”
At that, Lana flushed again. “He didn’t want you to know.”
“Maybe, but he didn’t come to me either, did he? Just like you two should have just talked to me,” she stated. “I’ve been the sheriff here for eight years. I’ve been your friend forever. I’ve lived here since birth.”
They both winced. “I know,” Lana said. “I told him that he should talk to you, but he didn’t think you’d understand.”
“Want
to know what’s hard for me to understand? It’s deserting a sinking ship and leaving the captain here to handle everything,” she said. “Johnson wanted a job, so I took him on and trained him, and I gave him that opportunity. Not only did he bail on me with the others but he allowed those keys to be used in a crime. You can bet I won’t be doing that again.”
“But that’s all he wants, you know?” Lana said quietly. “He just wants to come back to work.”
“Yeah, and he should have thought about that before allowing his keys to be used to release prisoners from the jail,” she said. “That won’t get him invited back. Nor you for that matter.” And, with that note of finality, she motioned at the statements and said, “Keep writing.”
The two women frowned and looked at each other but bent their heads obediently and kept on writing out their statements.
Angela crossed her arms and waited. Then she grabbed a pad of paper and started writing down notes on the case herself. She had a big case report to write up, and things would get very confusing very quickly. So the sooner she got some of the facts straight in her own head, the better. And every time she thought she had it all down, something new would come up.
And every time something new would come up, she would check her phone to see if there was anything from Bonaparte. And there never was. Finally she groaned, tossed down her pen, pulled out her phone, and called him. When there was no answer, she started to panic. Then she took several long slow deep breaths. This was Bonaparte. This was one of Levi’s men. She had to trust that he had this well in hand. If it were her deputies, that was a different story. But it wasn’t. It was Bonaparte. She slowly replaced her phone, took a deep breath, picked up her pen, and continued on her report, hoping she had made the right decision.
*
Bonaparte had already coasted past Johnny’s place. The gate was locked. No vehicles were in the driveway, and all the lights were off. He kept on going down to Ronnie’s place. Same thing. On a hunch, he headed back to Isabel’s, where Henry and Johnny had been picked up from. As to why they would go back there, Bonaparte wasn’t sure. Except maybe they expected Isabel to return.
As Bonaparte drove up, his instincts had him coming around to the back, where he parked. He also saw another vehicle there, parked off to the side. Thinking about that, he reversed and pulled around the corner again, so that anybody coming up to that vehicle wouldn’t see his truck. As soon as he was parked, and the vehicle was locked up, he headed to Isabel’s, going through the alley. Then he hit the public path and kept on walking toward the house.
As he approached, he stayed against the big trees along the back, while he studied the back wall. There hadn’t been any vehicles in the front, and, outside of the one that he found parked in the alleyway, he wasn’t sure who, if anyone, was here. It’s quite possible that vehicle belonged to somebody else. He stayed in the shadows, silent and waiting, to see if any motion occurred.
When soft voices drifted through the windows, he smiled and bolted toward the kitchen, snugging up tight against the wall. Somebody was in there, and Isabel was still at the station. From underneath the window he listened to the conversation.
“We should just take out the bitch,” stated a young punk, his voice whiny.
Henry.
An older, more granular voice snapped back in reply. “Once you start killing law enforcement,” he said, “you’ll bring everybody down on your back. It’s one thing to kill any Joe Blow on the street, but take out a cop? Then you get every other branch of law enforcement looking for you, and you won’t stay hidden for very long.”
Johnny.
“But she’s the one causing all the trouble. We got rid of all the deputies.”
“No, we convinced the deputies to leave their posts, and, in several cases, no way they’ll ever go back,” the older man said, with a snigger. “That’s the fun part, ruining lives.”
“Yeah,” Henry said, with enthusiasm. “I really like that part.”
What he really meant was he liked being in control and having power, instead of being the one downtrodden and being picked on all the time.
Bonaparte understood, but it didn’t make the punk an upstanding citizen. In this case, it made him a criminal. Bonaparte moved silently toward the front of the house, hoping he would hear a third voice, but, so far, he heard just the two men. But that didn’t mean Ronnie wasn’t here. Seeing nobody on the front steps, Bonaparte hopped up, and without warning, stepped into the living room. The two men were sprawled on the couches. They looked up at him in shock and then, with a delayed reaction, bolted to their feet. He confirmed them as Johnny and Henry, from earlier in the day.
“Well, there we go,” Bonaparte said, “the escapees. What do you know? Hands up.” The fact that he had a handgun didn’t register with the men. Johnny immediately reached for his gun on the coffee table, and Bonaparte winged him in the shoulder. He cried out, slammed against the couch, and stared at him in astonishment.
“Hey, you were going for a weapon against a law enforcement officer,” Bonaparte said smoothly, his gaze hard and watchful. “If you think this wasn’t a legal shooting, you’re wrong.”
But Henry swore at him. “You can’t fucking shoot us,” he said. “You’re nobody. You’re just another damn dumb deputy.”
“Yep,” he said, “I am. But I’m not one who scares easily. I’m not one who you’ll run off. And you definitely won’t ruin my life.”
At that, he flushed. “What are you doing, listening in on our conversations now?”
“No, not at all,” Bonaparte said. “It’s much more a case of you guys shooting off your mouths.” He walked over to where Johnny sat, his blood streaming over Isabel’s couch. “Hands behind your back.”
“I can’t,” he bit off. “I’m injured.”
“Oh, come on. It’s just a flesh wound,” Bonaparte said, as he pulled handcuffs from his back pocket. Ignoring the shoulder wound, he disarmed him and snapped Johnny’s hands together behind him, before shoving him back down on the couch. He turned to look at Henry, who was already sidling toward the front door.
“Go ahead, Henry,” he said. “Head for that door, and I’ll take you down before you hit the front gate.”
Henry stopped and looked at him, then looked at the front door and bolted. Bonaparte didn’t even waste time swearing and headed to the front door. He jumped all the porch steps in one huge leap and tackled Henry at the gate. Henry’s head smacked down hard on the sidewalk, and he screamed for help. Bonaparte hopped to his feet, grabbed him, and stood him on his feet, then handcuffed him and said, “Now you’re resisting arrest.”
He walked him back up into the front of the house, parked him just inside the door, then walked over, grabbed Johnny, and pulled the two of them out together, both swearing up a blue streak. Bonaparte ignored them and walked them around to the back of the house and over to his truck. He shoved them up into the back seat and slammed the door behind them.
“We can’t even buckle our seat belts,” Henry whined.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Bonaparte said. “That’s really not on my radar.”
“We’ll get you for this,” Johnny said, his voice low and ugly.
“Yeah? How’s that working out for you so far?” he said. “You guys are nothing but punks. Punks with nothing behind you. You think money will fix everything for you.”
“It will,” Johnny said. “Money always does.”
With their hands behind their backs like that, they were no danger to him. But he studied them carefully, as he backed out of the alley and headed toward the station. He put his phone on Speaker and called Angela.
She answered immediately. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m bringing your two prisoners back.”
“Now that is good news,” she said. “What about Ronnie?”
“No sign of him yet.”
“We also have to pick up Frank, my ex-deputy.”
“Oh.” Bonaparte
thought about it and then nodded. “I gather he’s the reason they got loose in the first place.”
“Well, him and Lana, yes,” she said.
“Okay, let’s get these two back in first,” he said. “Then I’ll go round up Ronnie. Let me know where to find Frank.”
As soon as Bonaparte hung up, Henry spoke up from behind him. “You’ll never get him. You know that, right?”
“Why is that?” Bonaparte asked.
“Well, he’s a deputy too, and you can’t arrest a deputy.”
“Well, he’s not a deputy anymore,” Bonaparte said, “and pretty soon he’ll join you in jail.”
Henry snorted at that. “That’s not normal.”
Bonaparte looked at the kid and shook his head. “You really are out of touch, aren’t you?”
“I’m more in touch than you are, old man.”
The old man comment stung a bit, but, considering Henry’s age, it probably fit from his perspective. Then again, it didn’t appear he had learned anything much so far or had been doing his learning in the wrong places. He certainly seemed to have a twisted view of how the law worked. But Bonaparte also noticed that Johnny didn’t say anything. Punching in a speed dial number into his phone on the console of the truck, he called Angela. “Johnny will need medical attention when we get there.”
“Did you shoot him?” she asked in a dry tone.
“Winged him in the top of the shoulder, as he was going for a weapon.”
“Jesus,” she said. “Too bad,” she whispered.
“I hear you,” he said.
“What about Henry?”
“He’s got a bloody nose that he earned trying to escape.”
“Of course he did,” she said. “He’s never been known to be all that bright.”
With that, Bonaparte hung up, laughing.
Henry started swearing at him. “That’s a lie,” he said. “That’s a damn lie. How dare she say that. She’s nothing! Nothing but a piece of ass.”
Bonaparte shook his head and said, “Wow, kid, you’ve really got some problems, don’t you?”