‘We need to talk to the Connors. They’re the most likely ones to have it in for Anthony. Him being late to get to their house and all.’
I sighed. ‘Yeah, I guess I need to talk to them.’
‘Want me to go with you?’ Emmett asked.
I shook my head. ‘Naw. Don’t want to overwhelm them. Best do this one on my own.’
The Connors’ house used to be a real nice two-story on about four to five acres outside the city limits. But it had seen better days. When I pulled up the long driveway I noticed tall grass and weeds choking the yard and paint chipping away on the house. A shutter on one of the upstairs windows was askew. I wondered if it was lack of income – since both had quit their jobs after the home invasion – or lack of interest. Probably both.
I rang the doorbell but, not hearing anything ringing inside, decided to knock as well. It took a while for someone to get to the door, but I stayed as I could hear someone moving around inside. When the door opened, I could only assume it was Reba Connors standing there. I barely recognized her. This woman was twice the size of the former Reba, her face swollen up and vein-riddled, wearing a muumuu kind of thing, obviously without a bra because her breasts appeared to be down around her waist. Her hair was short and matted and there was a crust of something around her mouth.
‘What?’ she said, slurring the word.
‘Hey, Miz Connors,’ I said, trying a smile. ‘Sheriff Kovak here.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I wondered if I might have a word with you and Mr Connors.’
‘Why?’ she asked, her frown asking the same question.
‘Is John home?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ she said. She shrugged. ‘I been asleep.’ She turned and looked back into the house. ‘Oh, yeah. There he is,’ she said, backing away from the door. I moved inside the small foyer.
I could see John passed out on the couch in the living room. His head was on a throw pillow, his mouth open with harsh sounds coming out. One arm was flung on the floor, the other on the back of the couch. One leg was also on the floor, the other knee up. It was barely noon but it appeared these two were already plastered, or maybe just now getting up from the night before.
‘Could you wake him up?’ I asked Reba Connors.
‘Why?’ she asked and scratched her belly.
‘I need to talk to y’all.’
She nodded, went to the couch and kicked it. ‘Wake up!’ she said, her voice loud. Then she put a hand to her head. ‘Wow, that was loud,’ she said, then giggled. When she did I saw teeth missing in her mouth.
I couldn’t help remembering the woman I’d used to know, the county clerk who presided over the county with a gloved fist, always ready with a smile but never afraid to say no. She’d been a handsome woman, tall and big boned, but with her weight in check. Her husband John had been a court bailiff, good at his job, fast with a joke and a slap on the back. He hadn’t been one of my favorite people but he’d been an upstanding man – not this balding, bloated heap I saw on the couch. It was hard to believe that only five years could do this much damage.
‘You try,’ Reba said, pointing at her husband.
I went to the couch and shook John’s shoulder. It took everything I had not to recoil from the smell. John had his very own noxious odor, not to be confused with the one emanating from the house, or the one that wafted off his wife. If I’d been the vomiting sort, the smells in this place might have done it to me. And I’ve been in houses with dead bodies that have been marinating for a while. That’s how bad this place and these people smelled.
‘Wake up!’ I said, shaking him again.
His eyes finally fluttered open. ‘Wha—’
‘John, it’s the sheriff,’ Reba said. ‘He wants to talk to us.’
John pushed himself up into a sitting position. ‘Hey, Sheriff! Long time. How you doing?’ he said, smiling at me.
‘Just fine, John. Need to ask you and Reba some questions,’ I said.
‘Reba, honey, can we do that?’ John asked his wife.
‘Not hardly! We don’t have to talk to you. And we don’t want to talk to you! You owe us! We don’t owe you squat.’
‘Ma’am, if need be I can drive y’all to the station and you can call your lawyer—’ I started.
Reba let out an unladylike snort. ‘Lawyer? You think we can afford a stinking lawyer? With what, Sheriff? We spent all our savings on lawyers to sue y’all for what y’all did to us. But it’s all gone now. Everything’s all gone,’ she said, and sank into an overstuffed chair.
‘You talk to me now, Reba, or I haul you and John down to the station.’ I grabbed John’s arm and stood him upright, where he swayed a bit but kept smiling at me.
‘Wait! Wait!’ Reba said, holding up one hand in surrender. ‘We’ll talk to you here, OK?’
‘Reba doesn’t like to leave the house,’ John said, and belched in my face. I let his arm go and he sank back down on the couch.
I stood above them for a minute, then pulled a straight-back chair in from the dining room and sat down. ‘I’m real sorry about what happened to y’all, and real sorry we got here too late to stop what happened. But what happened was the fault of the two creeps who did this to you, not the fault of my deputy.’
‘The two creeps y’all never found ’cause your deputy was so late. You know they raped me?’ Reba said.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said.
‘You know they tore me up and I can’t have babies now?’
I cringed inside. ‘No, ma’am, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.’
‘You know they pistol-whipped John?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘You know he’s got brain damage from that? That’s why he can’t work? Did you know that?’
Again, I cringed. ‘No, ma’am, I didn’t know.’
‘And I can’t leave the house. At first I tried and tried, but I can’t step outside. Used to have a real nice garden that I tended.’ She stood and looked out the dirty front window. ‘See it now? Just weeds. Just like our lives. We’re just weeds,’ she said, her voice low.
Damn, I wanted the county to pay them every damn penny they asked for. Maybe more. I wasn’t blaming Anthony, but these people needed help.
‘Is John getting disability?’ I asked.
‘Our finances are none of your business!’ Reba said. I decided to let that go.
‘We’ve been having some problems down at the sheriff’s department,’ I said, trying to stay on track. ‘Mostly minor stuff, like notes and nasty toys. But the brake lines were cut on Anthony Dobbins’ wife’s car.’
‘Anthony Dobbins?’ Reba said, turning around. ‘He’s that black deputy who got here late, huh?’
‘He was the deputy who arrived on the scene, yes, ma’am,’ I said.
She frowned. ‘Why would somebody want to hurt his wife?’
‘We’re thinking some kind of revenge, ma’am.’
‘Oh!’ she said, light finally dawning on her. ‘You think John and I did stuff to y’all and messed with your deputy’s car?’
‘We’re following up on all possibilities,’ I said.
‘Like everybody your deputies screwed over? Got to their place late or not at all? Ignored evidence and maybe broke a few laws themselves?’ she said.
‘Ma’am—’ I started.
‘I was the county clerk for Prophesy County for over ten years, Sheriff. You think I didn’t read the reports? You think I didn’t know all the screw-ups you and your deputies have done over the years? You and the police department? But it wasn’t the police department I called when my husband and I were invaded by the hordes, Sheriff. It wasn’t the police department that got confused and went to the wrong address. It wasn’t the police department who got here so late my husband was barely alive and my body had been ravaged for life!’
‘Ma’am—’
‘Oh, shut up!’ she said. She sighed. ‘I haven’t been out of this house in five years. I can’t prove it, but it’s
true. John doesn’t know how to cut his own meat, much less cut somebody’s brake lines. Just go, Sheriff. Leave us alone.’
I looked over at the couch. John was fast asleep. I got up, put the chair back in the dining room and left the house, thinking maybe that DUI John Connors got a while back and the drunken phone calls he’d made to my house hadn’t been due to alcohol at all. Just maybe a result of brain damage.
‘It wasn’t the Connors,’ I told Emmett when I got back to the shop.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Trust me. It wasn’t them.’ I had no desire to go into what Reba Connors had told me. I didn’t want to check it out either, but I knew I had to get a search warrant to see the medical records on the two. I wondered if John was receiving Social Security disability? Reba hadn’t answered my question about that – probably because it was none of my business. But he should be getting something. He was certainly entitled. And maybe Reba too. I’d check into that – my business or not.
‘So it’s on to Maudeen Sanders’ kin,’ I said.
‘You know they had nothing to do with it!’ Emmett said with a little heat in his voice.
‘We don’t know that,’ I said as gently as I could. For Emmett, this was personal. He might not have known Maudeen or her brother and daughter, but it was still personal. And it had more to do with Emmett’s daughter than Maudeen’s.
‘We should be following up on these others!’ he said.
‘And do what?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know!’ he said, the heat in his voice rising this time. ‘Have Holly do something with the computer. Check their movements. Alibis, shit like that!’
‘Well, we could do that—’ I started, but Holly burst into the room.
‘Dalton needs you at the hospital!’ she said.
‘His mama? What’s going on?’
‘One of those bridge ladies died,’ she said.
‘From his mama’s cooking?’
Holly shook her head. ‘Poison,’ she said. ‘And the Longbranch police just took Mama Pettigrew into custody.’
The delays and other problems that became apparent months back when the Longbranch Inn was taken over became a priority with the county commissioners when Milt and his whole department threatened to quit if something wasn’t done about it. The fact that at that time they only had a coroner – a funeral director by trade – and not an actual ME was changed right away. And with the arrival of Dr Thurman, a modern young man who demanded equally modern equipment, came all the stuff needed to do various tests. One of those tests detected poisons and identified the kind, which was why the police were talking to Mrs Pettigrew.
‘We just need to talk to her,’ Charlie Smith, police chief of Longbranch, told Dalton.
‘Y’all can do that right here!’ Dalton said, standing squarely in front of his mama.
‘It’s all right, honey,’ Mrs Pettigrew said. ‘If I cooked something bad I need to know about it.’
‘Ma’am,’ Chief Smith said, ‘the tox screen on Miz Jameson came back. It was arsenic poisoning.’
‘Now wait just a damn minute!’ Dalton said.
‘Language, Dalton!’ his mama said. To the chief, Mrs Pettigrew said, ‘Arsenic’s like a poison, right? How would that get in my peach melba?’
‘That’s just it, ma’am, someone would have had to put it in there,’ Chief Smith said.
‘On purpose?’ she asked, wide-eyed.
‘Are you trying to say Inez Pettigrew intentionally tried to kill Enid and Doris?’ demanded Neva Keller. ‘That’s just crazy! Inez might be a lot of things but she’s not crazy. She’d never hurt either one of them and that’s the God’s honest truth.’
Mrs Pettigrew reached behind her and took Neva’s hand. Neva moved closer to her, putting her free hand on Mrs Pettigrew’s shoulder.
‘Dalton, it would be best if we went to the station—’ the chief started.
‘Not on your life!’ Dalton said. ‘I’m taking Mama home!’
‘And I’m helping him!’ Neva Keller said.
Just then the automatic doors to the emergency department opened and Milt and Holly came in. Holly ran up to her mother-in-law and embraced her. Milt walked up to Chief Smith.
‘Hey, Charlie,’ Milt said, holding out his hand to the chief. ‘How you doing?’
‘Fine, Milt. How’re you?’
‘Just great, except for some stuff we got going down at the shop.’ And he proceeded to tell the chief of the pranks and the more serious cut brake lines.
‘Hum,’ the chief said. ‘Miz Dobbins and that new baby OK?’
‘Shook up mostly, but OK,’ Milt said. ‘I think that might put Miz Pettigrew’s troubles in perspective.’
‘You think this here has something to do with that?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’d bet on it. Somebody put poison in Miz Pettigrew’s food, but instead of her getting it, somebody else did.’
Dalton grabbed Milt’s arm. ‘You mean this asshole was trying to kill my mama?’
Holly and Neva moved closer to Mrs Pettigrew, wrapping her in a cocoon of protection.
‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ Milt said.
The chief was shaking his head. ‘Well, don’t that beat all. But, you know, Milt, I’m thinking I need to look into this a little more. I can’t say Miz Pettigrew didn’t have anything to do with this.’
‘Well, I sure as shit can!’ Dalton said.
‘Dalton, language,’ Mrs Pettigrew said automatically, her voice muffled by the bodies of her two protectors.
‘I’m thinking the best thing we can do right now, Charlie, is let Dalton take his mama home. He’s a deputy and he can keep an eye on her until we can rule out her having anything to do with it,’ Milt said.
‘Milt!’ Dalton said. ‘You know my mama—’
Milt patted Dalton on the arm. ‘I know she didn’t have anything to do with it, Dalton. But she needs to stay in one place while you and me prove it to the Chief, OK?’
Dalton nodded his head. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘But not her home,’ Charlie said. ‘Her home is a crime scene.’
‘I’ll take Mama to our house so Dalton can help you,’ Holly said to Milt. ‘If that’s OK, Sheriff?’
Milt nodded.
‘I’m going too,’ Neva Keller said. ‘Who’s gonna call Enid’s and Doris’s families?’
‘We’ll take care of that,’ the chief said. ‘Y’all go ahead and take Miz Pettigrew home.’
Holly and Neva didn’t wait for another dismissal. They were out the door quickly, practically carrying Inez Pettigrew between them.
Me and Dalton followed Charlie Smith to the Longbranch police station. The police station was located in the county courthouse. The sheriff’s department used to be in the space across the hall from it, but we got moved to the ‘new’ location back in the mid-sixties and the police department took over both spaces. It was still too small. That’s the thing about a growing town: the more people move in, the more problems you get. And more problems meant more police officers and more deputies to handle those problems. The city council had approved more police officers but the county commissioners were still being right stingy on the matter of more deputies.
The county courthouse was pretty damn old and smelled of mold and rotting wood. But it had high ceilings, dormer windows and wrought-iron stair rails. It was a pretty place if you held your nose. The inside of the police department didn’t fare much better than the rest of the building. It had been painted that institutional green they used back in the sixties – the last time the place was painted – and it was flaking off in spots that revealed the yellow paint of a previous era. The wood railing of the counter was chipped and scarred, and the linoleum on the floor was buckled and stained. A nice reminder that moving to the cinder-block building outside of town had been a good idea for the sheriff’s department. But I’m not sure a nicer building made up for the lack of deputies. The city and the county seemed to have opposing priorities.
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We followed Charlie into his private office. I hadn’t seen the place since it had been Emmett Hopkins’ domain quite a while back – before politics had booted him out and he came over to the righteous side: i.e. the sheriff’s department. The room hadn’t changed that much over the last decade or so – same green paint, same regulation metal desk, maybe a new swivel chair. The only real difference was that Charlie had a nice-looking ivy plant on a bookshelf with tendrils running around the one window, and there were pictures on his desk. One, about ten years old, showing his wife and two sons, and newer ones – one of his wife, her hair lighter than it had been in the other photo, one of his oldest in his Marine uniform and one of his youngest in his football gear in the same stance I’d had my picture taken when I was his age. That picture of me had been on my mama’s dresser until the day we buried her, when I put it in a drawer so as not to have to look at it any more. There were three more pictures on Charlie’s desk – all of ’em of a little accident called Cherie. She was five years old and the apple of her daddy’s eye.
‘So,’ Charlie said, settling into his chair behind his desk while me and Dalton took a couple of visitors’ chairs. ‘You got any suspects?’
‘Lots,’ I said. ‘We’ve been concentrating on people who might hold a grudge against the department, or perhaps a specific deputy. Anthony Dobbins had a couple of cases that might blow back on him, but now, with Dalton’s mama thrown into the mix, I just don’t know.’
‘I shot that Permeter fellow and his brothers got pretty mad,’ Dalton said.
I nodded my head. ‘I’ve got both of ’em at the shop now,’ I said. ‘I’m just not sure either one of ’em’s bright enough to pull off any of this.’
‘They may not be bright,’ Dalton said, I thought a little defensively, ‘but they’re sly. Sly’ll get you about as far as bright.’
He had me there. ‘And they’re going after relatives, not the actual deputy, right?’ Charlie asked. I nodded again. ‘So it makes sense they’d go after Dalton’s mama.’
‘Yeah,’ Dalton said. ‘They probably didn’t know about me and Holly getting married.’ I saw panic in his face. ‘You don’t think they’ll go after Holly next, do you?’
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