Brewer’s address proved to be a duplex that had seen better days, in a neighborhood of duplexes that had seen better days. The grass was more than early March brown – it was mostly weeds and dirt. The siding was a pinkish orange brick that they haven’t used since the sixties, to my knowledge (and why would they? It was ugly then). The trim had been painted white, but when was obviously a very long time ago. We got out of my Jeep and went to the door. The doorbell had a piece of tape across it so I knocked on the door instead. No answer. I went to a window to peek in. The mini-blinds that covered the front window were in bad shape and a black-and-white cat had his paw on one slat, bending it down to look out. I had a feeling he did a lot of that and might be the architect of the mini-blinds’ new look. I walked up close to the cat and he backed down, so I peered through the opening into what appeared to be a living room.
Obviously John Brewer wasn’t married. There was a brand-new lounge chair, the only chair in the whole room, in front of the largest TV I’d ever seen, a TV tray next to the chair with a lamp sitting on it and an ashtray filled with butts. The cord of the lamp stretched tight from the TV tray to a plug in the wall. I had to assume that neither Brewer nor any guest ever went that direction, unless he went through a lot of lamps. Although where the guest would sit wasn’t obvious. The lamp wasn’t on, the TV wasn’t on, I didn’t hear any music and could see no other lights. I was beginning to think no one was home.
‘Can I help you?’ a voice said to my right, almost causing me to fall into the dead shrubs under the window.
I whirled around, as did Charlie, who’d been standing next to me, to find a frail-looking old lady standing there. Frail except for the revolver she held in a two-handed stance, aimed vaguely between me and Charlie.
We both stuck our hands in the air. ‘Ma’am, put the gun down,’ Charlie said.
‘We’re law enforcement, ma’am,’ I said and started to reach for my badge in my back pocket.
‘Move and you’ll lose your nuts,’ she said in a conversational tone of voice.
‘I was just gonna show you my badge, ma’am,’ I said.
‘Real slow,’ she said.
I did. I pulled my badge out of my back pocket slower than I’ve ever done anything. There was no doubt in my mind that this lady would shoot both of us dead if we even looked at her cross-eyed. I kept both my eyes open wide.
‘Toss it over,’ she said.
I did.
‘Now you,’ she said to Charlie.
He was as slow as me getting his out of his jacket pocket. He tossed it too.
‘Now sit down with your hands on your heads.’
We did.
She slowly leaned down and picked up one badge, looked at it, threw it back in the dirt, picked up the other, looked at it, and threw that one back in the dirt too.
‘So maybe you guys are real, or maybe you got these badges out of a Cracker Jack box. I dunno. And I don’t care. Why you snooping around here looking in Jackie’s window?’
Charlie and I looked at each other. ‘Who’s Jackie?’ I finally asked.
‘Jackie Brewer. The young man who rents that half of my duplex. Are you stupid or what?’
‘We thought that place belonged to John Brewer,’ Charlie said.
The old woman nodded her head. ‘Oh, I see. You are stupid. Let me explain some facts of life. Jack is a nickname for John. Jackie is the diminutive of Jack. Are you both following me here?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ we said in unison, both sitting on the cold ground, our hands on our heads.
‘So, as it seems I must repeat myself, what are you yard birds doing looking in Jackie’s window?’
‘Just wanted to see if he was home, ma’am,’ I said.
‘Not answering your knock is usually sufficient for most people,’ she said. She hadn’t let go of her two-handed stance with the revolver. I thought that at her age – somewhere around one hundred or so – her arms must be getting tired. But it didn’t seem to be the case.
‘We’re not most people,’ I said, trying for a little bravado. ‘We’re police.’
‘Not from around here,’ she said. ‘According to these badges. But that’s OK. I got the real police coming. We’ll let them sort this out.’
Charlie and I looked at each other. We should have notified somebody at Oklahoma City PD that we were here. We hadn’t done that. We could be in deep shit. Or just embarrassed to death sitting here on the ground with our hands over our heads and an old woman holding a gun on us.
We heard the sirens, then a squad car pulled to a stop in front of the duplex. Two officers got out, a man and a woman.
‘Hey, Miz Teal,’ the woman said. ‘Got you a couple of live ones, I see.’
‘Hey, Becky, Bruce. These two claim they’re law enforcement.’ She kicked the badges on the dirt toward the two uniforms.
‘We can explain—’ Charlie started.
‘Shut up,’ the woman said, bending to pick up the badges. She looked at one, handed it to her partner, looked at the other and handed that one to him as well. Then she looked at us. ‘Did you report in to anybody at HQ?’
‘Ah, not yet,’ I said. ‘We were headed that way—’
‘But stopped here first to do some peeping Tom stuff?’ she asked.
‘Well, we’ve got someone we need to question—’ Charlie started.
‘Bruce, get on the horn and get a detective down here.’ Her partner nodded and headed back to the squad.
‘I think you can lower your weapon, Miz Teal,’ the female officer said.
‘Good. My arms were getting tired.’ She lowered her revolver and turned to the officer. ‘You got this, Becky? Judge Judy’s about to come on. I never miss Judge Judy if I can help it.’
‘You go on ahead, Miz Teal. We got this.’
We all watched the old woman walk into her side of the duplex, then Officer Becky looked at me and Charlie, both with our hands still on our heads and our butts still on the ground, and began to laugh.
Jean MacDonnell was surprised that she hadn’t heard from Milt yet. It was almost time for dinner and she knew he was as excited about eating at that steakhouse as he was about seeing her and John. But where he was at that moment was a mystery.
When the knock came on the door of the hotel suite, she went to it with a reprimand on her lips, only to find Holly and Mrs Pettigrew standing there.
‘Mrs Pettigrew!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m so glad to see you!’ She ushered them in and asked, ‘How are you?’
‘Well, I shouldn’t complain,’ she said, settling down on the nearest easy chair. ‘I’m alive, at least.’
‘Well, thank God,’ Jean said.
‘More thanks to Him than anyone at that hospital!’ she said, making a tsk, tsk sound with a pursed mouth.
‘I’m so sorry you’ve had such a rough time,’ Jean said. ‘Can I get you something? We have juice and a few sodas, but I could make coffee.’
‘I only drink decaf,’ Mrs Pettigrew said.
‘Let me go look.’ Turning to Holly, she said, ‘Can I get you something?’
‘Let me go with you to help,’ Holly said and followed Jean into the small kitchen area.
‘You OK?’ Jean asked in a low voice.
‘She means well,’ Holly said, her voice also low.
Jean found some decaf coffee in a drawer and said to Mrs Pettigrew, ‘Found it! Should just take a minute.’
‘Maybe something cold. You got any sweet tea?’
Jean just looked at Holly, one eyebrow raised.
‘Let me,’ Holly said and went about the fixing of sweet tea while Jean watched, fascinated.
‘So,’ Jean finally said, ‘it’s just iced tea with sugar?’
‘But the sugar has to go in while the tea’s still hot or it won’t taste right,’ Holly answered.
‘Gotja,’ Jean said, although her voice told another story.
‘Where’s Milt?’ Holly asked as she took the iced tea to her mother-in-law.
&
nbsp; ‘I wish I knew. He was supposed to be here in time for dinner.’
Jean’s son John and Emmett’s and Jasmine’s daughter Petal took that moment to come running out of the bedroom, still in bathing suits and wet from the huge tub in the adjoining bathroom.
‘Hey, guys!’ Holly said with a big smile. ‘This suite has a swimming pool?’
‘No,’ Jean said, laughing. ‘Just a really big bathtub.’
‘You let those two in the bathtub together?’ Mrs Pettigrew said, her brows knitted.
‘Yes, in their bathing suits,’ Jean answered.
‘Well, in my day we never!’ Mrs Pettigrew said. She made a show of looking around the room. ‘And this suite, as you call it. It must cost a fortune in a hotel this fancy. Motel Six is fine with me.’ She looked at Holly. ‘We should find one of those. You and Dalton can’t afford this!’
‘The county’s paying for it,’ Jean said.
Mrs Pettigrew stood up. ‘So my taxes are gonna go up, right? This is just plain wrong!’
Jean walked up to the older woman and put one hand on her shoulder. ‘The county’s paying the equivalent of motel rooms for all of us. I’m paying extra to stay in a decent hotel with decent room service because I want to. And I want us all to be together so I got a suite big enough for all of us.’
Mrs Pettigrew harrumphed then sighed and sat back down. ‘I guess you got all that doctor money just lying around. Well, I don’t see why you should spend it on the likes of me. Motel Six is just fine by me.’
‘But we’re already here, Mama,’ Holly said. ‘And you need to rest.’ Turning to Jean, she asked, ‘Where’s our room?’
Jean led them to the connecting door to the double room. ‘Right through here,’ she said, wondering how long she’d be able to put up with ‘the likes’ of Mrs Pettigrew.
The gas station was closed when Emmett drove by. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was almost seven in the evening. Things mostly shut down in Longbranch around six or so. He called the shop and was lucky to find Anna Alvarez still there.
‘Anna, need an address on Lou Anne Evans,’ he said.
‘How’s Jasmine?’ she asked.
‘Still out like a light.’
‘Sounds like you’re in your truck,’ Anna said.
‘Yeah. So what?’ Emmett said, a little defensively.
‘Nothing. I just thought—’
‘That I needed to spend every waking moment at my comatose wife’s bedside? Well, there’s a killer out there and I need to find out who the hell it is!’
‘Fourteen fifteen Cavern Road,’ Anna said.
‘Thanks,’ Emmett said and hung up.
Was he being a bad husband? Or a good cop? He wasn’t sure. Maybe a little of both, or neither. Could go either way, but he figured he’d better apologize to Anna the next time he saw her.
Fourteen fifteen Cavern Road was a two-story colonial in a heavily wooded area with no other houses around. Emmett wondered if all the land around it belonged to the Evanses, but decided he didn’t really care. There were two cars in the driveway – a ten-year-old Lincoln Town Car and a new Toyota Camry. There was a double door at the front and columns holding up a porch – Tara style. The house was painted white brick with black shutters. He got out of his Land Cruiser, walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Tara’s theme could be heard inside. No coincidence, that, Emmett thought.
The door opened and Tyler Evans was standing there.
‘Hey, Deputy,’ he said, somewhat surprised.
‘Need to talk to your mama,’ Emmett said.
Tyler looked behind him furtively then back to Emmett. ‘Maybe not such a good idea. She’s in a mood,’ Tyler said.
‘I don’t really care,’ Emmett said, stepping over the threshold into the foyer. A big chandelier hung from the ceiling with an antique hall stand to the left and the opening to the living room on the right. Emmett could see lots of French provincial furniture in a room that didn’t look a bit lived in.
Lou Anne Evans came out from the back of the house, drying her hands on a dishtowel.
‘What the hell do you want?’ she said on seeing Emmett.
‘Need to talk to you, ma’am,’ he said.
‘Talk to my lawyer!’ she said.
‘Fine. Then I’ll need to take you back to the sheriff’s office and book you. Your lawyer can meet us there.’
‘The hell you will!’ she said. She sighed. ‘Whatever,’ she said, and turned and walked back the way she came.
Tyler motioned for Emmett to follow. They both found themselves in a large room – fireplace and family room on one side, breakfast area and kitchen on the other. Lots more lived-in than the front room.
Lou Anne sat down on a bright red sofa. Emmett took a matching armchair across from her while Tyler stayed standing, his arm on the fireplace mantel like somebody in an English drawing-room mystery.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded.
What Emmett really wanted was to swab her for DNA, but he hadn’t thought about going by the office to get a kit. He thought for a moment that he could just ask Mrs Evans for a Q-Tip, but then thought that might be asking too much. Maybe he could ask for the bathroom and steal her toothbrush.
‘Ma’am, I need to know where you were yesterday morning and the day before.’
‘Didn’t somebody already ask us this?’ Lou Anne Evans said, looking at her son.
‘Yeah, they sure did, Mama,’ Tyler said.
‘You getting forgetful, Deputy?’ the woman asked, staring daggers at Emmett.
‘The only alibi you got for yesterday is from your son, and sorry but kinfolk do tend to lie for each other,’ Emmett said.
‘Are you calling my son a liar?’ Lou Anne said, jumping up from the sofa.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Emmett said, still sitting.
There was a laugh from the area of the fireplace. ‘What are you laughing at?’ she yelled at her son.
‘Mama, he’s right. You were there and all, but even if you weren’t, I’da said you were. Same as you woulda said for me.’
She sat back down. ‘Well, I was there.’
‘I need to get a sample of your DNA,’ Emmett said.
Tyler Evans pushed away from the fireplace mantel. ‘Now’s the time we talk about a lawyer, Mama.’ To Emmett, he said, ‘Not without a warrant, and I’m gonna have to ask you to leave now, Deputy.’
Emmett stood up, thinking about how he pretty much blew this interview. But since his mind was still more than half on his comatose wife, he wasn’t all that surprised.
Anthony drove back to the shop, sick to his stomach. He thought maybe he really should go see a doctor. He hadn’t been to one since they moved back to Longbranch and that had been quite a while. The stomach pains started soon after the incident at the Connors’ house and had been getting steadily worse after what happened to Maryanne and the baby. And now, just being around the Connors again made him feel like …
He pulled over to the side of the road, opened his door and vomited on the pavement below. He saw that there was blood in the vomit. Yeah, he thought, maybe he really should see a doctor. After this was all over. He closed the car door, leaned back in his seat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A doctor might give him something for the pain in his stomach, he thought, but nobody could give him anything for the pain in his soul.
Dalton sat at his desk in the bullpen. He wasn’t doing much. Charlie Smith had sent over one of his officers, Mike Reynolds, a guy Dalton had gotten to know at the stand-off at the Longbranch Inn. Mike’s girl, now his wife, had been one of the hostages, too, even though she hadn’t been one of the guests at that party for Holly. No, she’d actually been a member of the family that had taken everybody hostage, but she hadn’t been a real part of it. If it hadn’t been for her, they might all still be there, Dalton thought. Her having a baby almost at the scene and all kind of put a damper on her family’s shenanigans. So Mike and Dalton had sort of become friends, in as much
as they said hi to each other whenever they saw one another, and once even sat together at the Longbranch Inn when they both went in at the same time for lunch. But Mike was out now, cruising the county, giving Dalton and Anthony and Anna the space they needed to take care of the real business of the sheriff’s department.
Dalton didn’t have a lot of friends outside the sheriff’s department. In fact, except for his mama, the sheriff’s department was his family. His wife, Holly, of course, and Milt, who he felt was like a father to him. And he saw Jasmine as the sister he never had, which made Emmett his sort of brother-in-law. And Anthony? He was like a little brother. And the thing about Anthony was he never talked down to Dalton like everybody else did. Milt not so much, but Emmett and Jasmine for sure. But not Anthony. Anthony acted like he thought Dalton was just as smart as him. He hated that Anthony’s wife and baby had been hurt, hated that as much as he hated that his mama had been hurt. But he didn’t know what to do about any of it. Hell, even Milt and Emmett didn’t know what to do. Milt was in Oklahoma City now, doing whatever, and Emmett was at his wife’s bedside hoping she’d wake up. Anthony was out on a domestic call, but here Dalton was doing nothing.
He looked over at the newbie – Anna Alvarez. Even she was busy, doing what his Holly usually did – working the computer. He studied her for a minute, thinking she was just about as good at that thing as Holly. Just about. Nobody was as good at anything as Holly was. He smiled at the thought and picked up the phone when it rang.
Emmett Hopkins was sick to death of the hospital cafeteria food and had asked Dalton to pick him up some fried chicken and fixings from the Chicken Shack. He was on his third piece of chicken when he heard a small voice.
‘Where’s Petal?’
Emmett dropped the Styrofoam box from the Chicken Shack on the floor, he was that startled. ‘Jasmine? Honey?’ he said, pulling his chair closer to the hospital bed. ‘Baby?’
‘Where’s Petal?’ Jasmine asked again.
‘She’s with Jean. Jean took her and Johnny Mac to Oklahoma City to keep them out of harm’s way. They’re OK. I talked to her less than an hour ago. She’s fine, honey.’
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