“You think Perry did it?”
“Yes, I do. All three ginheads described her and her car to a tee. Unfortunately, none of the three made the plates and I do not have a photograph of Miss Perry.”
“Why in the world would she do that?”
“I don’t know. I plan to talk with her about it. That’s why I’m here. Figured to check with you first. And I tend to get confused on four-lane highways.”
“Are you going to arrest her?”
“I will if she ‘fesses up. If not I’ll ride back home with a photograph, have one of the ginheads ID her, and then I’ll come back and arrest her.”
Tasha rubbed her hands together. “I’m sorry, we don’t have a useable photo of her. Her driver’s license was mishandled and she’s never been arrested.”
“No problem. We can take a snapshot.”
Tasha arched an eyebrow. “We?”
“Why sure. You wanna join me, don’t you?”
“I’ll have to get it okayed.”
“At least give me good directions.”
“I’ll be happy to tag along. First let me run it by my captain.” She stopped at the door. “We’re talking felonious assault, right?”
“With a weapon. Punishable up to thirty years.”
Offering no details, Tasha asked Captain Dennis Franklin for permission to accompany a Dawson County sheriff on a suspicious person contact. He agreed.
“Green light,” Tasha told Sheriff Bledsoe.
He stood up, hoisted his utility belt and applied his Smokey. “Let’s turn some corners. After I get another shot of this coffee.”
“You got a camera, don’t you?”
“In the car,” pouring himself another cup.
* * * * *
Riding through downtown, Sheriff Bledsoe leaned his head out the window and stared up at Metropolitan Bank, Little Rock’s tallest building.
“Man, imagine falling from there!”
Tasha patted his knee, to direct his attention to traffic. “You don’t get out the country much, do you, Sheriff?”
“I’ve been here before,” resuming normal driving position. “A long time ago. I don’t remember Little Rock being this big.”
“It’s growing.”
Sheriff Bledsoe stopped at a red light. Tasha pointed at the River Market building, a recently refurbished warehouse now home to an art museum, a bookstore and several restaurants.
“Two years ago it was a seedy building you couldn’t get winos to go into.”
Sheriff Bledsoe stared in amazement. “I see why Perry left Dawson. You can be a big fish here.”
“Yes, you can. With enough money, you certainly can. To be honest with you, Sheriff, I’d very much like to see Perry go down. I’m convinced she’s criminally psychotic. All the signs are there. Troubled childhood, violent overreactions, obsessed with money, abject lack of empathy. She’s like no criminal I’ve ever dealt with, male or female.”
“Sounds to me you’ve skirmished with Miss Perry.”
“Yes, I have.”
“She won round one?”
“Yes, she did. I let her get under my skin.”
Sheriff Bledsoe nodded. “She most definitely has a way of doing that.”
Tasha directed him to Perry’s house.
“Golly, Miss Molly,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “I heard she had money…I couldn’t have imagined all this.”
“Ask how she got it. Come on, let’s see if we can huff and puff and blow it down. Don’t forget the camera.”
Tasha rang the doorbell several times.
“She might not be home,” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
“She’s here,” Tasha said, and rang the doorbell again.
The door opened and Perry appeared in an oriental robe, face covered in a thick, lime-green paste.
“Why if it ain’t the friendly Sheriff,” she said. “And, don’t tell me. Detective…Detective Montgomery, right?” Tasha didn’t reply. “Y’all come on in,” waving them inside.
Something’s not right, Tasha thought. Cocky.
“Have a seat,” Perry offered. “You too, de-tect-ive.” She said detective as if it were something nasty on her tongue.
Sheriff Bledsoe sat down on a black leather couch; Tasha preferred to stand.
“You must have known we were coming?” Tasha said.
Perry looked puzzled. “De-tect-ive, how would I know your comings and goings. You’re constantly granting me attributes I simply do not possess. Unlike you, I don’t guesstimate other people’s business.”
“Why the mud?” Sheriff Bledsoe asked.
Perry touched her face. “This? My facial? It works.” Staring at Tasha: “It does wonders for blackheads. Would y’all like something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “What we’re really interested in, your activities Monday, down in Dawson, prior to my stopping you.”
Perry smiled, the paste breaking into several cracks around her mouth. “Sheriff, I told you I was just visiting.”
“Yes, you did. You didn’t say who or where. Where did you go?”
“Haven’t we been through this?”
“You were at Jake’s place, weren’t you?”
“Sheriff, why would I go there?”
“You tell me. Roy Dickerson, Eddie Mills and Glen Jones say you pulled a gun, fired it in the air.”
Perry placed a hand on her chest. “Me?”
“Glen thought you’d shot him. Thirteen stitches in his head.”
“Me?”
“You weren’t at Jake’s place?”
Perry batted her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Sheriff, can you imagine me at such a place. A juke joint! Really, now!”
“You tell me,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, “why three men say you were there? Why each claim you pulled a gun?”
“I don’t know why. Who knows why people lie. I sure don’t.”
“I don’t think they’re lying on you,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “I think you pulled a pistol on those three men, and I think you popped Glen Jones over the head. I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure you did it.”
Perry stared at him. “If you’re that sure of what happened, why are we having this conversation?”
Sheriff Bledsoe started to speak…said nothing.
Perry said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to put on something more appropriate.”
When she left, Sheriff Bledsoe whispered to Tasha, “It’s not going well, is it?”
“Not exactly. You got the camera?”
He patted his back pocket. “Got it.”
“If she comes back without the mud, snap a few shots and let’s get out of here. She’s acting cocky, and that’s a very bad sign.”
Just then a man descended the stairs; he too was wearing an oriental robe.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
Tasha heard the voice before she saw the face; her heart skipped a beat. “Neal!” she gasped, hands covering her ears. “Neal!”
“Hey, Tasha,” Neal said casually, though his expression betrayed him. He looked petrified.
“What the hell are you doing here, Neal?” Tasha shouted.
Neal didn’t answer, just stood there looking as if he’d been caught stealing from a blind man.
“Neal, what are you doing here?”
“Arrgh arrk!” Neal grunted.
“Go get your clothes, Neal,” Tasha ordered. “Now, Neal! Go get your clothes!”
Neal squeezed his Adam’s apple. “Tasha…I live here.”
“No, you don’t! No, you don’t! Go get in the car, Neal!”
Neal scratched his head. “Uh…I’ve remarried, Tasha.”
“Go get in the car, Neal!” Fists clenched. “Go get in the car, Neal!”
“Is there a problem?” Perry said, entering the room, the lime-green paste still on her face.
Tasha ignored her. “Go get in the car, Neal! The last time I’m telling you! Go…get…in…the car!”
“Ain’t,” flinchi
ng.
“Sheriff Bledsoe,” Tasha said, “may I please use your mace?”
“What?” Sheriff Bledsoe and Neal exclaimed in unison.
“I-I can’t do that, Detective,” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
Undaunted, Tasha snatched up a lamp, its base a ceramic statue of two African Americans lovers coupling, and advanced toward Neal.
“Go!…get!…in!…the damn car!”
“Sheriff Anus,” Perry said, “can you do something about this?”
Tasha lifted the lamp overhead and Sheriff Bledsoe hopped up and bear-hugged her…The lamp fell and shattered. “Sheriff Bledsoe!” Tasha demanded. “Release me! Now!”
Perry crossed to the front door and opened it.
Tasha squirming in his arms, Sheriff Bledsoe started out, stopped in the doorway and turned to Perry.
“The last damn time I’m telling you! My name is Sheriff Ennis Bledsoe! E-N-N-I-S Bledsoe!”
Chapter 18
Perry slammed the door and locked it. Glowering at Neal: “You’re scared of that woman, ain’t you?”
Sweating profusely, Neal said, “Naw. Hell naw! Why would you think that?”
“She all but bitch-slapped you in your own home.”
“She’s a cop!”
Perry showed him the palm of her hand. “Spare me!” Under her breath: “Nutless wimp.”
“What was that?”
“Get dressed, Neal,” ascending the stairs. “We’ve got things to do.”
Neal picked up lamp shards and dropped them in a wastebasket.
What did she want me to do? Sock Tasha? Then it really would have been on.
He regretted not calling Tasha and telling her he’d gotten remarried.
What was she doing here anyway? ‘Get in the car, Neal!’
He figured she’d take it hard, though not that hard.
“Neal,” Perry shouted from upstairs, “are you getting dressed?”
“Yeah!” Neal shouted back.
What had he gotten himself into here? Hadn’t been married three days and she’s already barking orders like a drill instructor.
She couldn’t wait to get married, but their honeymoon night she copped a headache.
A damn headache! Two nights in a row?
Just married and he was using more Vaseline than when he was single.
Perry came downstairs dressed in a moss-colored double-breasted jacket with matching pants and leather sandals. “Why aren’t you ready?”
“I was thinking,” Neal said.
“Can’t you think and get dressed at the same time?”
“Perry, are you sure this is what you want? Since we’ve gotten married, it’s like you got this attitude against me.”
Perry gritted her teeth. “Neal, I’m very impatient with men who don’t stand up for themselves. I’ve already had the misfortune of marrying three such men. I thought you would be different.”
“Three?”
“Yes, Neal, three.”
“Three! Including me three or including me four?”
“You’re my fourth husband, Neal…and my last.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before…before we got married?”
“The same reason you didn’t tell me your ex was a cop.”
“That’s not the same. How can you compare…Three! Damn! Three is a helluva lot more than one.”
“Numbers, Neal. Just numbers.”
“What happened? Did they all end in divorce?”
Perry stared at the floor, then suddenly met Neal’s eyes. “All three succumbed an accident.”
“All three,” eyes blinking, “dead?”
Perry nodded. “One had a heart attack, one took a fall, and one drowned while fishing. Neal, go get dressed; we’ll discuss this later.”
He dressed in a daze, his mind stuck on the number three. Occasionally he mumbled millions, but his thoughts kept enumerating…one…two…three!
* * * * *
In the Mercedes, Neal tried to broach the subject yet again, and Perry said, “Later, Neal. Please!”
To Neal’s further astonishment, Perry drove into the Woodbridge Apartment complex and parked in front of Tasha’s apartment. A sign on the front door read No Soliciting.
“What we doing here?” he said. “How you know Tasha lives here?”
Perry ignored him, unlocked the glove compartment and retrieved a paper bag. “Here,” giving it to him. “We’re married now, we don’t need it.”
Neal looked into the bag. Tasha’s gun. “I forgot about this.”
“Take it back.”
Derrick opened the door before Neal could put the key in. “Daddy, we thought something happened to you. Where you been?”
Neal picked him up and hugged him. “Here and there,” lowering him to the ground. “I want you to meet someone.”
“Who, Daddy?”
“A friend.”
Perry smiled at Derrick. “Hello, handsome. How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Derrick said.
“You look just like your daddy. Did your Daddy tell you we were--”
Neal cleared his throat and shook his head.
“Neal,” Perry said, “why don’t you put your toy away.”
Neal put a finger to his lips and winked at Perry before heading to the apartment.
Derrick started to follow and Perry said, “Derrick, could you wait a minute? Please.”
“What?” Derrick said.
“Be nice, Derrick,” Neal said before going inside. He rushed to put the gun away, wanting to get back before Perry could say much.
If he only knew.
“Where’s your mother?” Perry asked Derrick. He didn‘t answer. “She left you all alone, didn’t she? That’s not nice.”
Derrick gave her a cool look, his mouth pinched.
“I have a big house, with a pool. Your daddy lives with me now. Wouldn’t you like to visit your daddy at my house?”
Derrick shook his head, emphatically.
“You don’t want to be bothered, do you?”
Derrick turned his back on her.
“Do you know what analingus mean?”
“No, I don’t.”
“It means leave me alone. Instead of saying get out my face, the proper thing to say is analingus. Can you remember that?”
Neal came out. “Derrick, I gotta go.” Derrick started crying. “What I tell you? Big boys don’t cry. You a big boy, aren’t you?” Derrick nodded but kept crying. “I’ll be back. Go inside and wait for your mother, okay?”
Derrick, rubbing his eyes, shuffled toward the apartment. In the doorway he glanced back at Perry, wailed loudly and stepped inside.
“I oughta take him with us,” Neal said, getting into the car.
“I think you should. He’s just a baby, all by himself.”
Neal got out and crossed to the door. Then thought: Tasha! She’s already hot. Now wasn’t the time to take Derrick.
He went and got back into the car. “Let’s go.”
“You’re not taking your son?”
“Uh-uh. The timing isn’t good.” Changing the subject: “Where are we going now?”
Perry started the car. “To the police station.”
“Yeah. What for?”
She cut a sideways glance at him.
“What for?”
“To file a complaint.”
“Against who?”
Perry smiled. “Your ex.”
“No, no, no, no! Hell no! This is not a good idea, Perry!” Beseechingly: “Honey, this’ll only aggravate the situation. It’s bad enough. We can’t file a complaint. She might lose her job. She has my son. We can’t do this, Perry!”
“Not we,” Perry said, “you!”
Neal banged his fist against the dash. “No, no, no, no! I’m not doing it!”
“Grow some coconuts, Neal!” Perry shouted. “That bumpy-faced ex-bitch of yours broke my furniture and embarrassed both of us! Don’t tell me you can’t do it! Give me a damn break! D
on’t tell me you can’t do it!”
Neal sat there, stunned, watching her erupt, staring at the veins working in her neck, spittle flying from her lips. Suddenly, just as fast as she exploded, she calmed down. “File the complaint, Neal. Do it for me. Your wife. Please!”
Neal shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t do it.”
“I told you if I’m willing to sacrifice everything I have, I expect the same in return. I wasn’t talking to exercise my damn jaw!”
“Sorry, I can’t do it.”
“Hmmph!” wrinkling her nose. “I hope you don’t think you’re screwing me anytime soon. If that’s on your mind, forget it!”
“Listen, Perry, all I’m saying, you’re overreacting. She didn’t intentionally break the lamp. Hell, I’ll replace it. What benefit is filing a complaint? It’ll just cause more confusion. Put yourself in her shoes.”
“I’m not a fat, bumpy-faced pig, there’s no way I could fit into her shoes!”
Neal resisted the urge to smack her good and solid upside her head. “You know what I mean. If you discovered your ex with someone new, you’d do the same, act irrational.”
“You’re still screwing her!”
“No, I’m not!”
“Why are you concerned with her feelings?”
“I have a son by the woman.”
Perry gritted her teeth. “I don’t give a damn if y’all hatched an egg together. You’re married to me now. And I expect you to act like my damn husband!”
They rode the rest of the way in silence.
At the station Perry parked, started to get out, stopped.
“Neal,” she said softly, “you can either sit here like a big, old smelly pussy, or you can act like a man and accompany your wife inside.”
Neal didn’t respond, staring at his shoes.
“Which is it, Neal?”
Blinking nervously, Neal turned and said, “Meow!”
Perry got out and slammed the door behind her.
Chapter 19
Her thirteen years as a police officer not once had Tasha shed a tear on the job. She’d been called every name in the book, including the N-word. She’d been kicked, spat on, sucker punched, and once, when she was working vice, a four-hundred-pound biker stepped on her hand, breaking two fingers. Not a tear shed.
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