by Paula Boyd
"Just put the gun away, Mother. I'll be fine."
Lucille sighed and finally settled herself at the table. "Whatever you think best."
I glanced at the door, then back at my mother. Gun or no gun, I wasn't in all that big of a hurry to go outside. It was entirely possible that someone was waiting for us out there. "Do you think Leroy's in on any of this?"
She shrugged. "He did try to trap us and shoot at us."
Dewayne had told a variety of tales during our quizzing, but the one snide comment about me aside, I didn't get the feeling that he and Leroy were very tight.
"What do we do, Jolene?" Lucille said, a little edge of fear in her voice.
Yes, what? Best I could tell we had about two options. One, we could go walkabout and die from the heat or the riff-raff tailing us. Or we could use the one remaining tool we had available to us. "While I'm getting the phone out of the car, you be thinking about who we can call to help us. I'm going to try to call Jerry again, for all the good that'll do, but after that we need some serious help. Maybe we can call Deputy Marshall or Bob."
"You really think they'd listen to us?" Lucille shook her head and clucked her tongue. "You know good and well that Leroy has told them about the, um, radiator problem. You think they'd take our word over his?"
"They might. They might also trace our call and come haul us in," I said.
"Can they do that?"
"In a lot of places, yes. Here, I don't know."
"I don't think it's worth the risk."
Going out to the car to get the phone was a risk, too, but I didn't see a choice in the matter. Better to have the phone than not. I mentally plotted my course across the mine-strewn battlefield to the foxhole, or rather the ten steps across the grass burrs to the Tahoe. The only tree on the place was on the far side of Tahoe, so slinking behind trunks was out of the question. No, the options were definitely limited, and it didn't take a great thinker to figure out that I had to run to the car and back just as fast as I could. Complex plan, that.
I peeked out the cabin door, made sure the coast was clear, pointed my remote at the car, clicked open the latches and made a dash for the
Tahoe. I snagged the phone and was back inside the cabin within seconds--and nobody shot at me.
The unit had been plugged in and was fully charged so I turned it on, sat down at the table across from Mother, and checked for messages, something I hadn't done in a while. I had five.
The first two were from my daughter, who was all of a sudden desperate to talk to me. Over the limit on the credit card would be my first guess, but she could just really need some fine motherly advice. Hey, it was possible.
The third call was from my son, who really had just called to say hi. I smiled.
The fourth was from Leroy, who had somehow found my phone number. His message wasn't anything earth shattering, just your typical turn-yourself-in-or-die kind of thing that declined into a "I know where you are and I'm coming to get you" scenario. Mixed in there was also some gibberish about losing his job over this, and how Uncle Fletch was hopping mad. Old news.
The last call was from Jerry.
My heart leaped and fluttered all at the same time. I was thrilled to hear his voice, thrilled he was doing okay. I got over it rather quickly when he declined to tell me where he was. "In a safe place" was what he said, "with Amy and the kids" was what I heard. My stomach churned and I felt my skin turning green. I am not proud of this reaction, and to be fair, it doesn't crop up except in certain circumstances, most of which involve Jerry Don Parker.
The fact was that eyewitnesses said Amy had picked him up from the hospital. I certainly didn't know where she'd taken him, but I suspected she'd high-tailed it back down to Dallas. At least that's what I would have done. Park him at her mother's where he'd be safe and where she could take care of him. I wanted to throw up.
"Something wrong, honey?" Lucille said sincerely, tapping her nails on the glass table top.
I tried to look like everything was just peachy, but I do not have a poker face. I've also always been a lousy liar, so I didn't bother trying that route. "I think Jerry might be at Amy's mother's house in Dallas. I suspect his kids are there, too. One big happy family again, I guess."
Lucille thought on what I'd said for a few seconds then shook her head. "If Jerry Don did go with her, I'm just sure he had a good reason for it. You're just being silly again. You've got to quit thinking of yourself for a minute and think about what Jerry Don might be going through. You think he'd just run right off with his ex-wife after what she's done to him? And just what about that friend of hers? How does she fit into this? I sure haven't heard anybody saying they aren't seeing one another."
No, I hadn't either. And my mother was making some sense. The green monster had calmed down some, but it had left me neck-deep in self-pity and wanted to wallow in it. "Jerry sounded absolutely robust and cheerful in his message. Could be he's forgotten all about Amy's little dalliance. Forgive and forget for the kids' sake. Happens all the time. Probably for the best anyway. Get the family back together at all costs. I'm happy for him, really I am."
Lucille snorted and rolled her eyes. "Good Lord, Jolene. Why don't you just open a bag of chips and a Coke and have yourself a real good little pity party."
"Maybe I will," I said, knowing how I sounded and not caring. If I just allow myself to be pathetic, I get over it pretty quickly. I buck right up and become a generally decent human being. I propped my elbows on the table and my chin in my hands and hoped that the metamorphosis hurried itself along.
"I'm just sure you're wrong about all this," Lucille said. "Now sit up straight and don't slump."
I automatically straightened before I caught myself doing what I was told. Just to show that I did what I wanted, I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms. So there.
"He's not making a fool of you, Jolene. I know what it's like to be made a fool of, kind of feels like somebody jabbed an ice pick straight into your heart."
"Yeah, that about covers it," I muttered.
"Speaking of ice picks," Lucille said, her voice noticeably perking up. "Did you see that "Basic Instinct" movie?"
I scowled. "No more movie trivia, please."
"Oh, well, that's not the point anyway, is it?" She paused for a moment and pursed her lips. "But you know it kind of is. That Michael Douglas sure didn't know if he was being made a fool of or not, of course he could have been in the end, what with that ice pick under the bed and all. But he just kept right on acting like nothing was wrong. Only thing you can do. You have to hold your head up high and put on a good front even though you know good and well people are snickering behind your back. You just never let on how horrible you're feeling. And in your case, you shouldn't be feeling horrible at all."
Well, that made me feel a whole lot better. Now, not only am I a fool for mooning over Jerry Don Parker, who was now presumably back with his wife, I was becoming my mother. That we shared this commonality in being made fools of did not blanket me with warm fuzzies. In fact, it made me mad--really mad.
I uncrossed my arms with more spite than I intended and banged my elbow on the edge of the table. It was not funny. In fact, nothing was funny at all, especially the tingling spasms emanating from my elbow. And when I lose my sense of humor about things, it's time to get serious and play hard ball. There was one really good thing about getting to this point. When I'm mad, I'm not afraid. That does not equate to sanity, mind you, nor does it guarantee that I'll behave in a prudent and rational manner. It does, however, guarantee that I'll do something besides hide out in a cabin shaking like a rabbit.
"Mother," I said, shoving the chair up against the table. "I'll grab us a couple of drinks, you get your purse, gun, phone and whatever you think we'll need. We're outta here."
Lucille did not move from her chair. "We can't go anywhere, Jolene, your tires are all hacked up. I can't walk in this heat, not that there's any place to walk to."
I couldn't wa
lk in the heat either, nor did I intend to. "We're going in the car, Mother, now get in. I can't drive fast, but I can get us down to Bud's."
I had no idea what good that would do, but I was going there anyway. "Oh, and hand me the key to the wall safe. I'll be taking Dee-Wayne's money with me. Seems like he owes me a new set of tires. Wheels maybe, too. Hell, I may get myself a whole new car out of this before I'm through."
I grabbed the key from Mother, and marched into the new bathroom. It took only seconds to swing open the false fronted cabinet and drag out stacks and stacks of cash, mostly hundreds and fifties. I didn't take the time to count it, but it sure did look like more than the twenty-two thousand Dewayne had been expecting. I was neither amused nor intrigued by the new little clue. I was just plain pissed at the whole situation and had no qualms whatsoever about claiming the cash. That it was probably evidence in a number of crimes was not going to be my problem. Right or wrong, I'd do what I needed to do.
With our essentials in the car, I started the engine. Only when it kicked over did I realize it could have been vandalized too. Then I would have really been mad. I put the car in reverse and rolled back enough to where I could pull straight onto the road. I figured the less sharp turning I did on the tires, the better.
Mother buckled up and clutched her purse in her lap. "So what happens if somebody comes up behind us. With those cut up tires we can't outrun them."
"Shoot 'em," I said, not joking even a little.
I kept my foot on the brake, the normal pull of the engine making us go faster than I dared. I dropped the transmission into second and rolled along, the rubber thumping and grinding beneath the wheels.
Lucille's eyes were big and her mouth was in a pucker again, although this time it was more likely to keep her lips from quivering than from her usual attitude. I think I was making her a little nervous. Going a hundred down the highway is a thrill, but three miles an hour on a dirt road is terrifying. Or maybe it was my remark about shooting people. Either way, she didn't look to be having quite as much fun as yesterday.
"I'm not kidding, Mother. You get the Little Lady out and line up all your clips. If somebody comes after us, it's not because they want to ask us for dates. We're going to have to creep down to Bud's," I said, although creep was kind of a speedy word for what we were doing. "And I want to know the second you see anything coming toward us, even a cow. The store is only a mile or so. We should make it okay."
"Then what, Jolene?"
"Well, I'm going to try to rent Bud's car or pay him to take us to Redwater Falls so we can turn ourselves in, preferably to Detective Rick. I'd sort of forgotten about him, but I think he could be coaxed into listening to our story. It's the only chance we've got that I can see."
My phone rang, and we both jumped. I fumbled for the unit and hit the button. "Hello."
"You're in big trouble, Jolene."
Shit, Leroy. I tried to pretend nothing was wrong. "Leroy, I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"Cut the crap, Jolene. I ain't got time for your bullshit. You and that mother of yours better get yourselves into the courthouse right now."
The gravel crunched under the flat tires making noises like they were all about to grind to pieces, which I guess they were. Worrying about the tires was tops on my list, but I managed to respond to the genius playing sheriff. "I haven't done anything wrong, Leroy, other than be stupid enough to set foot in Bowman County, Texas, which is pretty damn bad, I'll tell you for sure."
Mother snorted and huffed at my disparaging comments. Leroy ignored them and I ignored my mother.
"I got me a killer on the loose," Leroy said as if he were king for the day. "And he's most likely after you and your mother. Ought to just let you get yourselves killed. You sure wouldn't turn a hand to help me."
I started to mention that I had removed brick from his head and hauled him to the hospital, but I saved my breath. "Here's the deal, Leroy, Dewayne Schuman has already tried to kill us today, about a half hour ago to be precise. Mother and I took exception to the notion and sent him on his way. Last I saw of him he was headed toward town with Velma Bennett tailing him."
"Miz Bennett? Are you sure?"
"White Lincoln Town Car. Didn't see the driver."
"Where are you?" Leroy said, excitement twittering in his voice.
"Why, so you can come arrest me?"
"Yeah, and keep you from getting killed."
"Like you care, Leroy. For all I know you'd kill me first. You and that uncle of yours are probably up to your eyeballs in one or another of the scams going on around here anyway. I'm thinking there's not much you wouldn't do."
"You got no right saying something like that, Jolene. You don't know a damn thing about anything that's going on around here. Not a damn thing."
"I know that Dewayne Schuman and the dead mayor had some sort of blackmail deal going, but I don't know why, or who else was involved. Was it you, Leroy? You and Uncle Fletch?"
He kind of growled. "Why don't you come on in, Jolene," he said, his voice getting sickly sweet as if trying to coax a toddler to eat peas. "We'll straighten all this out, and everything will be just fine."
I had some serious doubts about that. And Leroy could pretend to be nice all he wanted to, but I wasn't going to meet him no matter what he said. Besides, we were almost home free, metaphorically speaking.
Up ahead, surrounded by scraggly mesquite trees, was Bud's Beer and Bait Shop, its peeling clapboard siding and crooked sign calling to us with open arms. "Gotta run, now, Leroy. Things to do, people to see." I clicked off before he could respond.
As I fumbled with the phone, it rang again. I answered. "Listen, Leroy, I'm not talking to you anymore. Got it?"
"Um, Jolene, this is Susan. Susan Miller, Amy's friend."
Had somebody printed my cell phone number in the paper or on a wall somewhere, what? I glanced at Mother and covered the phone. "It's Susan. Amy Parker's friend."
Mother's eyebrows went up, but she just shrugged. After all, what was there to say?
"How'd you get my number?" I said, trying not to sound completely hateful.
"Amy. Well, actually from Jerry Don. Amy was going to call, but, well, I figured I should talk to you myself."
She was making about as much sense as everyone else around here. "This really isn't such a good time."
"I need to talk to you about Dewayne."
"Sorry, Susan, but he's not on my list of favorite people at the moment."
Susan sighed heavily. "Mine either. I do appreciate your going over to check on him yesterday. I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to pay you back for trying to help him."
I could hear the tires thumping harder and I knew we were ready to start slinging chunks of rubber in all directions. Bud's was less than three hundred yards away now, but the closer we got the more distinct the big white car parked in front of the store became. "Dammit."
"What?" Susan said.
"Listen, Susan, I'm kind of busy right now. I don't mean to cut you off, but we're having a little car trouble and I need to take care of it pretty quickly."
"That's okay, I understand. I just wanted you to know that Jerry's all right. I hate to see it happen, of course, but Amy was just really confused about things. I guess things all work out for the best. Of course, maybe not for you and me."
Whoa. What? What was going on? I did not like the sound of this not even a little. "Are you saying it's over between you and Amy?" And therefore between me and Jerry as well, my mind screamed.
"Afraid so. I'm doing okay with it, I think. I'll miss her, of course, but these things happen."
I was getting back to that really sick stage. "It was one thing for me to guess at this stuff and quite another to have it thrown directly into my face. What reason would Susan have to lie about any of this? Like she said, she was out on the cold just like I apparently was. I just sat there, creeping along, with the phone to my ear, completely dumbfounded.
&n
bsp; "Jolene," Lucille said, shaking my shoulder. "Get off the phone. We've got to do something."
I grabbed a few of my wits about me and made an abrupt sign-off with Susan. "What is it?" I asked Mother, trying to see the problem, other than the obvious.
Lucille pointed to the obvious. "I think there's someone sitting in the driver's seat of that car."
"I know," I said, not wanting to tell her whose car I thought it was, or that it was the same one I'd seen tailing Dewayne away from the cabin. We had little choice but to drive right up to the front of the store and park beside the big white sedan. "We have to go on. If I stop here, we're on foot. We're at least twelve miles from town and I've already ruined the wheels on the thing as it is."
"Pull up right beside her."
"Her?" I said, getting a little nervous at the gleam in my mother's eyes. Apparently she recognized a Lincoln Town Car when she saw one too. Just in case she hadn't, I said, "Her who?"
"Mrs. Mayor."
I groaned. Lucille was back to her assertive self and it wasn't necessarily a good thing. "Now, Mother, there's no use getting all upset."
"I'm not upset, Jolene," she said, sounding exactly as if she were. "I just think it's time Velma and I had us a real nice little talk."
I did not agree--for a number of reasons--one of which was that we didn't really have time for a catfight, and furthermore, I didn't want to be held liable for anything my mother happened to do. But I had to pull up to the store whether I wanted to or not. "Exactly what do you plan to say to the woman, Mother?"
Lucille unbuckled her seat belt. "Any damn thing I please."
I moaned and groaned, loudly, with various pleas in between, but it didn't faze her. She was out of the car before it rolled to a stop. I hopped out and followed her over to the white sedan, which was running. I just hoped Velma Bennett didn't get peeved and either shoot us or run over us.
Mother tapped on the darkened window with her fingernail and it began to lower. As the dark glass slid down, I was more than a little surprised to see a man--a man I recalled having a nice little chat with at the Dairy Queen.