How to Fetch a Felon

by Cat Clayton

  “What do you mean?” I slipped into a pair of jeans and pulled a gray sweater over my head.

  “He called your cell when you were in the shower. When you didn’t answer, he called mine.” He dried himself off and dressed. “Apparently, Lloyd refused to listen to our advice and called the house earlier to check on Stoney. Your dad’s about to blow a gasket. He’s insisting on speaking to Lloyd. I told him to wait for me and I’d go with him. He’s convinced himself Lloyd’s behind the gifts. I hate to say it, but I’ve got a bad feeling.” He fumbled with the buttons on his uniform shirt.

  “Okay, go. I’ll be behind you in a few.”

  He grabbed his cell, gun belt, car keys, and jetted down the steps. The back door slammed below.

  I heard a noise coming from the living room, and Cuff barked.

  “Cuff?” I whistled.

  Yes, Chiquita? He came trotting into the bedroom, his head twisting in curiosity. Taffy followed him, nipping at his ear.

  “What is going on out there? I thought you didn’t feel good.”

  Cuff barked, his tail wagging. I feel like a million dollars today. No pain. Must be the steroids.

  “Oh that’s great news, little buddy!”

  He and Taffy dashed out of the room, playing a good ole’ game of chase.

  I snatched my keys and purse from the counter. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Okay, Chiquita!

  Someone’s feeling like himself today, I thought.

  I opened the back door and collided into Jackson.

  “What the heck? I thought you’d left!” I rubbed my forehead where I’d smacked into his chest.

  Dark, fierce eyes met mine. “Your father’s not answering his cell. And when I called the house, Stoney said he’d left.”

  A voice came over the hand radio on his belt about a disturbance at Orsack’s café.

  Jackson turned the volume up.

  “Be aware the former police chief, Randall Lamarr, is the suspect involved with the assault,” a male voice said.

  “Ten-four,” a female voice responded.

  “Ferfucksake,” Jackson said and let out a weighted breath.

  “Oh my goodness!” I nearly choked on my words.

  “I’ll drive,” Jackson said.

  We jumped into the Camaro and raced out of the driveway.

  The word assault whirled through my mind. What in the world had Pop gotten himself into?

  I SAT PETRIFIED IN an uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room of the Buckleville Police Department. Lenora, the kind desk clerk, had already offered me a box of tissues to mop up my tear-streaked face, a cup of water, and her heartfelt understanding about the trouble Pop faced. Unfortunately, he’d found Lloyd at Orsack’s having breakfast with an entire room full of witnesses.

  Things did not look good.

  According to the witness statements, Lloyd had defended himself only by pleading his affection for Stoney, which further angered my father. Lloyd tried to block punches and verbal rants until he finally threw himself to the ground, yelling over and over, “I give up!” Thankfully, Pop ceased his attack when Lloyd went down, because kicking a man when he’s down is plain unacceptable. Or maybe he’d exhausted himself. Maybe he realized the huge error of his ways. Or maybe, sense finally struck him in the head. For whatever reason, I’m so glad he stopped. I truly believed my father had the ability to kill a man with his bare hands if he wanted to.

  Lloyd, now at the urgent care clinic’s emergency trauma center, had suffered a broken nose, a cut to his cheek, and two black eyes. Lenora called for me to check on his status ten minutes ago.

  The front door blew open and Buddy Carver marched in, sporting camouflage coveralls, a camo ball cap, and an annoyed expression on his green, brown, and black painted face. He had the Willie Jess Robertson of Duck Dynasty thing happening. A stench trailed after him as he tromped past my chair, like he’d bathed in deer urine. Deer hunters in Texas took their sport seriously.

  I pinched my nose and listened to him barking at Lenora.

  “You tell those officers, here’s a list of the folks and their phone numbers we sat with at the soccer game. They said they’d be happy to speak to your men and tell them I was where I said I was, watching my daughter play ball.”

  Lenora took the paper he slammed on the counter. “I will let them know. Thank you, Mr. Carver.”

  Buddy pulled his ball cap low over his face. “Like I told the officers, I had nothing to do with that crook’s death. And unless I’m under arrest, I’ve said all I’m gonna say!” Bellyaching about wasting his precious time, he turned and stormed out the front door.

  Lenora peered over at me. “He’s a grumpy bug, isn’t he?”

  I nodded. I hoped for the Carver family’s sake that the autopsy results proved Ziggy died from alcohol poisoning and not foul play. I had a strong feeling the only thing Buddy Carver was guilty of was being frustrated and angry over being ripped off on purchasing a lemon of a car.

  I texted Daniel the bad news about Pop and asked him to check on the pups. He sent me a sad face emoji. Within seconds, a photo came through with all three: Daniel, Cuff, and Taffy taking a selfie with their antlers on. I typed, adorbs, and hit send.

  Next, I called Gertie to check on both her and Stoney.

  “Who’s this? Speak up. I can’t hear you!” Gertie shouted into the phone.

  Oh, sheesh. “It’s me! Steely!” I whispered harshly.

  “What?”

  I mashed the phone into my stomach. “I’ll be outside a moment, Lenora.”

  She gave me a thumbs up as I pushed open the front door of the station. Outside, I resumed my call. “Gertie, it’s Steely. How are y’all?”

  “Oh, it’s you. We’re fine. But good gracious, why were you talking so low? I could barely hear a word you were saying.”

  “Sorry, I was in... I’m down at the police station.”

  “Why?” I heard the concern in her voice.

  “Um, Pop’s been arrested.”

  Profanity spewed through the phone. She darned near filled an entire swear jar in a single phone call.

  “Gertie, calm down.”

  “I’m on my way!” she yelled.

  “No, Gertie! I got—”

  She didn’t let me finish before she hung up on me.

  Oh crap! Here comes trouble, I thought.

  Chapter 10

  Trouble was an understatement.

  Twenty minutes later, Hurricane Gertrude gusted through the front door of the police station, huffing and puffing, threatening to blow the place down, unless they released her son this instant!

  Lenora stood up from her desk. “Mrs. Lamarr, your face is red. Did you walk here? Do you need some water?”

  Gertie marched up to the front counter, her chin barely meeting the edge. She pointed an arthritic finger at Lenora. “If you must know, I didn’t walk, I ran. Now, what’s this about y’all arresting my son?” Her raspy voice was breathy.

  I approached her from behind. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay! I just ran four blocks. Give me your puffer thing,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “But you don’t have asthma.”

  “Gimmie!” She clapped her hands at me.

  I reached into my handbag and thrust my inhaler at her.

  She ripped off the end cap, took a long puff, and handed it back. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. “There. I feel better already.”

  “You do?” Lenora said, coming around the counter. “You don’t look so good, Mrs. Lamarr.”

  Gertie clutched her chest. “I need to sit down.”

  Lenora dragged a chair over to where I supported Gertie. We both assisted her in sitting down. Gertie’s head slumped toward her chest, her breathing still labored.

  Jackson barreled out of the back through the swinging doors. “What is going on out here?” He looked at me, Lenora, then at Gertie collapsed in the chair. “What the hell? She okay?” He rushed around the coun
ter.

  “She ran all the way here. I think she’s winded is all,” Lenora said, patting Gertie’s head.

  I bent down and peered up at Gertie’s flushed face, her eyes closed. Short, quick breaths expelled out her nose. “Gertie?”

  No answer.

  “Mrs. Lamarr, are you okay?” Jackson asked, bending down beside me.

  Daniel whooshed into the front door, dragging Stoney behind him.

  “Ohmygod! Is she dead?” Daniel squeaked, his eyes bulging. “Gigi!”

  Stoney started crying.

  Gertie whipped her head up and around like the girl from The Exorcist, setting her sights on Daniel. “I told you to stay put! Don’t you ever listen? Stoney has no business being in a police station in her condition!”

  Daniel’s wide eyes filled with tears. “I... I couldn’t just sit there. The suspense was killing both of us!” He interlaced his arm in Stoney’s. His wounded voice broke my heart.

  Gertie growled in frustration. “I shouldn’t have called you. You’re not even family!”

  “Hey! Not nice!” I snapped at her. “And were you faking a moment ago?”

  “No, I wasn’t faking! I nearly died running here!”

  Chief Becker burst through the swinging doors. “That’s enough! This is not a circus, people! Everyone but Ms. Lamarr, I mean Steely, out of my department. Now.” His thunderous voice boomed inside the room.

  “Chief Becker, my grandmother isn’t feeling well. Is there anyone who can drive her and my sister home, please?” I asked.

  His fierce glare landed on me, his lower jaw grinding back and forth. I wanted to disappear. Without a reply, he whirled around. Before he shoved through the swinging doors, he bellowed, “Lenora, get those women a ride home! Jackson, bring Steely back to interrogation two!”

  I perched on the edge of a metal chair across from a fuming Chief Becker in interrogation room two, a folder open in front of him. I waited to speak until he addressed me. I’d never been in this situation before, but somehow, I knew the best thing for me was to keep quiet. I focused on the wall behind him, counting the dark scuff marks on the dingy ivory paint. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...

  “Did you hear me?” he asked, causing me to slip from the chair.

  “Sorry, sir?” I grabbed the metal seat and readjusted my bottom.

  He raised a well-manicured eyebrow at me. Chief Becker was a good-looking, tall cowboy with a smooth face, light brown eyes, and a cocky attitude. I didn’t make it a habit of ticking him off.

  “I asked if you knew why you were here?” He picked up the black pen beside the folder and opened a yellow legal notepad to a clean page.

  “Because y’all arrested my father for attacking Lloyd?” Even though I knew I’d given him the correct answer, I formed my reply as a question. My heart thundered inside my chest.

  “Exactly. I don’t like to arrest former police officers, especially not a former chief of police. So, I brought you in to see if we can come together, a meeting of the minds so to speak, and figure out what we can do to prevent this from happening again.”

  What on earth does he expect little ole’ me to do? For the life of me, I couldn’t come up with a reply, except, “I’m sorry, sir?”

  He set the pen down and folded his hands on the desk. “Why do you keep apologizing?”

  “Because I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

  “Ms. Lamarr, I want you to tell me how we can keep Randall out of trouble and away from Lloyd Madden. He’s convinced Mr. Madden is the one sending your sister those weird baby gifts, which I understand another one arrived today.” He flipped a page in the folder, read something, and returned his gaze on me. “Now, the gifts seem harmless, but I understand your father’s concern for your sister. She’s been through a rough time. Randall’s convinced she’s being stalked by Madden. What do you think?” He picked up the pen again.

  “Well, I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t know Lloyd Madden all that well, but he doesn’t seem the stalker type. I could see him giving my sister gifts, and he has shown interest in her, despite my father’s disapproval.”

  Chief Becker scribbled on his legal pad. “Go on.” He nodded without looking up.

  “He also caught someone, a man who got away, peeking in her window.”

  “Yes, I recall. Do you think it was Madden?” He glanced up.

  I shook my head. “No, it makes little sense. I don’t think Lloyd wants to harm my sister, nor do I think he’d peek through her window at night. I believe it’s someone else. The gifts and the peeping Tom.”

  “Who do you think it is, Ms. Lamarr?” he asked, a curious expression forming on his face.

  “The guy who held her captive all those years.” Until the words were out of my mouth, I hadn’t realized I’d come to that conclusion.

  “What makes you think it’s Larry Cole?”

  “Larry Cole?”

  “Yes, well, we’ve discovered the guy is only using that name as an alias since we can’t find any record of him. But it’s the name she gave to the police in Houston. He’s the man who your sister had relations with while she was living there,” he said, flipping through the folder. I realized it must be a folder on Stoney.

  “It seems you have your facts wrong, Chief Becker. She wasn’t living in Houston. She was there against her will.” The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Forgive me for my tone, but I am terrified for my sister and very concerned for my father.”

  “No offense taken. Let’s say near the end of her captivity that she chose to stay. I understand there was extreme manipulation, and her situation was awful. I believe she made the best choice she knew how to make. So, you think Larry Cole has come for your sister?”

  “I think it’s possible, yes.”

  “Interesting. You know, Ms. Lamarr, despite my disapproval of how you go about getting information sometimes, I appreciate your determination to get to the bottom of situations.” He jotted down a few more things. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’re releasing your father, but I need you to talk sense into him. He cannot go around assaulting people.”

  Letting him go? I was grateful but confused. “But he attacked Lloyd and put him in the hospital.”

  “Your father’s a lucky man. Someone’s watching out for him.”

  I clutched the heart locket at my chest.

  “My officers returned from getting Mr. Madden’s statement at the emergency room. He refuses to press charges and says he completely understands your father’s anger. Lloyd swears it’s not him, and he’s concerned for Stoney’s safety too.”

  “So, you’re just setting him free?” I jumped up from my chair in excitement.

  “Isn’t that what you want, Ms. Lamarr?”

  “Well yes, but I’m shocked. I thought he’d be in a world of trouble.” I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “He should be. He’s lucky Mr. Madden isn’t pressing charges. Keep your father calm, out of trouble, and allow us to do our jobs.” He stood up, closing the folder. “That’ll be all, Ms. Lamarr. You can wait for him out front.”

  “Thank you, Chief Becker.” Strange how my father and I have reversed roles in the past few months. Usually it’s me he’s keeping out of the doghouse.

  “Don’t thank me. Mr. Madden is the one you should thank.”

  JACKSON DROVE POP HOME. I wanted to check in on Stoney and have a chat with my father. Their relationship required healing and reconciliation to establish peace in the house. The need to help them weighed heavily on me. But first, I had to check on Daniel.

  I hustled down Main Street to the shop and discovered the front door locked. I dug inside my handbag and found my keys. Cuff and Taffy slid around the front counter as I flipped the door lock. I pulled the door open to discover a quiet, almost empty lobby. April Schirmack sat in a chair, reading a book.

  “Hi, Steely,” she said, folding the corner of her page and closing the paperback.

  “Good morni
ng. Does Daniel have Ranger in the back?”

  “He sure does. I think he’s almost done,” she said.

  Chiquita, I am feeling so good. I am hungry. And I have to pee. Cuff stood in front of me, panting and wagging his tail. Hunger, feeling better, and frequent urination were all signs the steroids were working.

  “Cuff, I’ll take y’all outside in a minute.” I walked around the counter and glanced at the schedule on the screen. It appeared we had a fairly open day. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to speak with Daniel.”

  Is it about why he’s been crying since he returned, Chiquita?

  I glanced down at Cuff. Daniel has been crying?

  Yes, Chiquita, he has.

  Oh, dear. I shuffled into the groom room.

  With puffy eyes and a tissue stuffed into his nostrils, Daniel held the clippers with precision, trimming Ranger’s beard. I still can’t believe Gertie snapped at him. She’d had no right to call him and ask him to watch over Stoney while she ran up to the police department. Keeping an eye on Stoney had been her duty. Poor guy.

  “Hey, friend,” I said, approaching his work station.

  “Hey,” he said without looking up. He continued to perfect Ranger’s coat.

  “He looks fabulous. Best clip you’ve ever done on him.”

  “You don’t have to say that.” His voice sounded like he had a stuffy nose. He switched off the clippers and picked up the red bandana bow.

  “I know. I meant it though.” Wow. He was taking Gertie’s lashing to heart. “I’m sorry for the way Gertie yelled at you back at the station. Stoney was her responsibility, not yours.”

  “Her snapping at me is only part of why I’m so upset,” he said, meeting my eyes.

  I covered my mouth to keep from giggling at the tissue wad.

  “Do you think this is funny?” he asked, stabbing his sides with his fists.

  “No. It’s... well, you’ve got the tissue,” I pointed at his face, “and it looks and sounds funny.”

  He yanked the tissue from his nose and tossed it into the trashcan. Ranger licked his hand, and Daniel resumed tying the bow around his neck. He gave the pup a friendly pat on the head.