Pernicious

by Henderson, James

  Now, sitting in a Dawson County cruiser, she couldn’t stop crying, her face buried in Sheriff Bledsoe’s chest, tears staining his beige uniform.

  “Let it out,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, rubbing her shoulder. “It does no good holding it in. Just let it all out.”

  Tasha, eyes red and puffy, sat up straight. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying on your shoulder.”

  “That’s all right. You’re human. You want me to take you home?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m still on duty.”

  “You sure?”

  She looked around. They were parked behind a large gray building. “Where are we?”

  “Backside of Wal-Mart.”

  “She’s going to kill him,” Tasha said, “just like the others, just to get back at me.”

  “Others? You mean there’s more than one?”

  “Three. Three husbands. She married them and then she killed them. Made each death look like an accident.”

  “That’s how she got her money?”

  Tasha lighted a cigarette. “That’s right. Neal is going to be number four.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe waved cigarette smoke from his face. “The guy back there, he’s your ex?”

  “Yes. We have a son. Derrick. Eight years old. Looks exactly like Neal.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “He loves Neal. Sometimes I think…more than me.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe shook his head. “I don’t know, it’s hard to believe she’ll try to hurt a law officer’s spouse--excuse me, ex.”

  “She will. Neal is her ideal victim. He’s broke, wants to be rich overnight and he’s gullible. He turns up dead, who cares? Nobody…but…” She almost started crying again. “But my son…and me.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe opened his mouth, closed it.

  “Do you think you can make a case against her on the assault charge?” Tasha asked.

  He grimaced. “Honestly, that was a long shot from the get-go. The victims are ginheads, they’re unpredictable. Give em a half pint and they’ll lie on their mama.”

  “Maybe,” looking him in the eye, “you should give them what they want.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe looked away.

  “Your case,” Tasha continued, “is all we got to stop her before she kills Neal.”

  “You’re not asking me to bribe a witness, are you?”

  “No. I’m asking you to file charges and arrest her.”

  He sighed. “Can’t do it without someone positively identifying her. Without a photo I can’t see it happening.”

  “You could bring the witnesses up here.”

  “I guess I could. I’ll have to catch them sober.”

  “How about her high school yearbook? She’s bound to be in there.”

  “Never thought about that.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” Tasha said. “My family is at stake here.”

  Sheriff Bledsoe nodded and started the car.

  * * * * *

  Tasha pushed the up button and waited for the elevator. She planned to tell Bob that she wasn’t feeling well, which was true, and then go home. There she planned to take a couple of aspirins, a hot bath, and fix herself a stiff drink. Then, she hoped, her head would stop throbbing.

  The elevator door opened, revealing a lone passenger. Tasha first noticed the leather sandals…the pants…the double-breasted jacket…and then Perry’s face. Smiling at her.

  “So we meet again,” Perry said, stepping out.

  “What do you want from me?”

  The elevator door closed. “Weren’t you going up, de-tect-ive?”

  “Forget that!” Tasha snapped. “What do you want from me?”

  “My heavens, I do believe we’re upset.”

  “If something happens to Neal, you’ll be sorry. I guarantee you that!”

  “Neal who?”

  “You know who!”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, I forgot. You see, we call each other pet names. He calls me sugar pudding and I call him,” holding up a bent pinkie, “micro dick!”

  The elevator opened again and two uniforms stepped out.

  “You’re sick!” Tasha whispered through clenched teeth. “Sick!”

  “Come again?” Perry said. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

  Tasha turned on her heels and started down the hallway.

  “Derrick!” Perry shouted.

  Tasha stopped cold. Reflexively her hands balled into fists and her eyes narrowed to a squint. She turned and walked back to Perry. “What did you say?”

  “You asked me what I want, remember? Derrick. He’s sorta big-headed, but I can--”

  The first punch struck Perry solid, just below her left eye, sending her sprawling backward. The second found nothing but air.

  “If you come near my son, I’ll kill you!” Tasha pounced on her, swinging, kicking…Perry, on her back, kicked back, her long legs bicycling…Tasha grabbed Perry’s ankles and started kicking her in the back …the butt...

  “Help!” Perry screamed, her hair mopping the floor. “Help me!”

  Tasha, unsatisfied, aimed for her face, intent on kicking Perry’s nose in…Perry turned and twisted, dodging each strike…

  “Help somebody! Help me! She’s gone crazy!”

  Tasha threw Perry’s legs down, raised her foot high, aimed at Perry’s mouth and brought it down with all the strength she could muster…Air. Nothing but air. No sound of teeth and bones crushing under her heel…Strong arms grabbed her by the waist, and she was carried away from her target.

  “Let me go!” Tasha demanded. “Let me go!”

  “Put her in here,” said an uniform, opening the door to an interrogation room.

  “Calm down, Detective,” said an unfamiliar voice attached to the strong arms. “I’m going to put you down.”

  Before she could protest she was lowered to the floor and the door was closed, locking her in.

  * * * * *

  Perry, her legs, arms, and hair splayed out, remained on the floor. Several uniforms and plainclothes stared down at her.

  “Am I dead?” she asked.

  “No,” one of the plainclothes said. “You’re not dead.”

  “She tried to kill me! Y’all saw it! She tried to kill me!”

  “Can you stand up?”

  “I’m not sure--she kicked me in my back!” Grimacing, Perry lifted her head a bit. “Ohhhh!” she screamed. “Oh my God, my neck is broke!”

  “Call EMT.”

  * * * * *

  Neal was ready to go. How long, he wondered, did it take to file a complaint?

  He’d been waiting over an hour, had gotten tired of sitting inside the Mercedes and was now sitting on the hood.

  An ambulance drove up, sirens full blast. Neal watched two paramedics jump out and run inside the station. Moments later one of the paramedics came out and retrieved a stretcher.

  Somebody must’ve got hurt.

  A few minutes later, Perry was wheeled out.

  “Perry!” Neal said, running to her. “What happened?”

  “What do you think happened?” Her neck and head secured by a cervical collar. “I was in there getting stomped while you were out here playing with yourself.”

  “Who did this to you?”

  “Your bumpy-faced--” She stopped, eyeballing one of the paramedics. “Detective Tasha Montgomery. She tried to kill me, Neal. She really tried to kill me!”

  * * * * *

  I’ll kill her! Tasha thought. Put a bullet right through the middle of her forehead. If she touches my son, she’s dead. No ifs, ands or buts, she’s dead.

  The door opened. Bob entered, his expression somber. “Tash,” sighing. “Tash, Tash, Tash.”

  “You heard, huh?”

  “Heard! Hell, the whole station is buzzing with it. The commissioner is on his way. He was attending his daughter’s softball game, you know he’s pissed. Captain Franklin, I just left his office, he’s scared shitless this’ll leak to the press.”

  “Would you get me a cigarette,
Bob?”

  He reached inside his front pocket and handed her two Newports. “Got em out your desk.”

  She lighted one and inhaled hungrily. “Thanks.”

  “Why, Tash? Tell me that. Why?”

  She exhaled and watched the smoke float to the ceiling. “She told me she wanted my son, and I lost it.” She paused and blew a smoke ring. “She’s lucky they pulled me off her.”

  “Damn, Tash, did you know she’d just filed a complaint against you?”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, she did. Don’t be surprised if she files an assault charge against you.”

  Tasha stubbed the cigarette out on the table. “There’s nothing that woman can do that’ll surprise me. She married Neal.”

  “What? Your Neal?”

  “Yes. Why you think she did that?”

  “You gotta be kidding!”

  “I wish I were. Boy, do I wish. She married Neal to get back at me. I expect soon someone will call and tell me he’s dead. An accident.”

  “You better tell the commissioner everything.”

  “That’s the funny part, Bob. When you try to explain it, or even rationalize it, it doesn’t make sense. ‘Commissioner, this woman is a psychotic murderer, though we haven’t a shred of evidence to prove it, and she married my ex because I pissed her off. She talked about my son and I tried to put a foot up her ass.’”

  “I see what you mean,” Bob said.

  “If she goes near my son, I’ll kill her.”

  Bob swallowed. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, not here.”

  “It’s…” Her voice trailed off. “It’s the only thing that’s keeping me from going insane.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “What is it?” Bob snapped.

  Captain Franklin stepped in. “Detective Montgomery, the commissioner would like to see you in his office.”

  Bob and Tasha stood as one.

  “Not you, Kelvis.”

  Tasha followed Captain Franklin, humming as he walked, to the commissioner’s office.

  Commissioner Pruitt stood before a tall window, staring down at Markham Street. He was a short, corpulent man with a full head of red hair that Tasha suspected was a rug. He was wearing civilian clothes. Khakis shorts, tennis shoes and a gray sweatshirt emblazoned LRPD SOFTBALL. “Have a seat,” he offered cordially, not turning.

  Tasha sat down in one of the folding chairs facing his desk.

  “Captain Franklin,” he said, “you may be excused.” When he left, Commissioner Pruitt turned to her. His expression seemingly pleasant: “What is your fucking problem?”

  Tasha held his gaze, his blue eyes intense.

  “Young woman, do you realize the enormity of your actions? What potential legal problems you’ve exposed us to? A minority woman files a complaint and minutes later the subject of that complaint viciously attacks her. Can you imagine how that would play in the press?”

  “No, sir, I cannot imagine.”

  He gave her a long, hard stare. “You can’t justify foolish, immature behavior. As an officer of the law you’re expected to maintain restraint. The basics they taught you in cadet training, do you remember any of that?”

  Tasha did not answer.

  He went back to the window. “I see in your file you worked your way to the top. A commendable record…shot to shit!”

  “Sir, you care to hear my side of the story?”

  “No, I most certainly do not. Your future as a law officer rests solely in the hands of Perry Montgomery. Is she related to you?”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  “If she files a charge against you, and I do believe she will, you won’t be able to work as a school crossing guard. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “May I be excused?” Tasha asked.

  “As of now you’re on administrative leave, indefinitely, without pay. There will be an internal investigation and you’ll get the opportunity to present your case. Yes, you are excused. Turn your badge and weapon in to Captain Franklin before you leave.”

  “Sir, my weapon is at my apartment.”

  He turned again, shaking his head. “On duty, no weapon! Out-fucking-standing!”

  Tasha stood quickly, head held high, shoulders squared, and marched out. In the hallway her knees buckled and she half-stumbled and half-ran to the women’s restroom. She did not quite make it inside the stall, vomiting on the recently mopped bathroom floor.

  Chapter 20

  Neal’s first time riding in an ambulance. He didn’t like ambulances. Twenty years ago, Roy Wilkins and he were on the same teeny league baseball team and Roy opted to catch a pop fly with his face instead of a glove; an ambulance was dispatched.

  Neal watched in horror as two paramedics loaded Roy onto a stretcher, rolled him into the monster with loud, rotating lights on its head and drove away.

  Now Neal was inside the monster, feeling as if he, not his wife of three days who lay prone on a gurney, was in trouble.

  Perry, however, seemed more concerned with the mouse-sized knot that had swelled below her left eye. She kept patting it gingerly with two fingers.

  “Don’t irritate it,” Neal told her.

  “Honey,” Perry said in a tone Neal thought was more for the paramedics’ ears than his, “do I look ugly?”

  Neal clasped her hand in his and rubbed it. “You look wonderful.” Perry patted the knot again. “It’ll go down in a few days,” Neal assured her. Her eyes welled up, and he thought she would cry.

  “I was just thinking,” she said, blinking back tears. “What if something happened to me? You would be all alone…Kiss me, Neal.” He kissed her forehead. “Honey, I can’t stomach the thought of you not having enough to live on if something…” A single tear escaped her eye and rolled down her face.

  Perry closed her eyes and grimaced. “If I survive this I’m going to ensure you’ll always be financially secure.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I promise you. It’s the least I can do.”

  Maybe, Neal thought, I read her wrong. Here she is lying on her back in an ambulance and all she’s worried about is me going broke. Yes, she’s a little eccentric…dingy, really. But her heart is in the right place. Money makes everybody a little goofy.

  “I love you,” Perry said. “With my heart and soul, Neal, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Neal, sugar, now I think about it, an insurance company will probably insist we sign a joint policy, considering we’re married. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “They’ll probably require a blood and urine test. That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  At the hospital, Neal declined to go inside. “I’ll just wait out here,” he told Perry. He disliked hospitals more than ambulances.

  Forty minutes later, Perry came out, on her own two feet, wearing a plastic neck brace.

  “Let’s go, Neal.”

  “You all right?”

  “Not really. The doctor prescribed painkillers. He said I came within inches of being stomped to death. Inches!”

  Neal doubted this but said nothing.

  Perry waved at a parked taxi. “I hope this erases any doubts you had about your ex’s sanity?”

  Neal didn’t want to engage in that conversation again.

  Perry said, “Tasha Montgomery is tripolar. Three types of nutty.” She squeezed Neal’s arm. “Your son would be much better off with us.”

  Neal jerked away. “Derrick?”

  “Yes, Neal. Think about it. With us he’ll have a stable home. Look at his current situation. He lives with his mother, who’s crazy as a road lizard, and she leaves him at home alone. Can you enjoy life knowing your son is a few miles away, alone, subsisting on syrup sandwiches, while you and I are living like queens and kings?”

  They got into the taxi.

  “Police station on Markham,” Perry
told the driver. To Neal: “Just think about it. Okay? In the meantime I’ll call my lawyer and get the process rolling.”

  Neal moaned and massaged his temples. “Tasha will kill me!”

  “Would she really? If she were truly concerned about Derrick, she’d put him in summer camp or something, instead of locking him in an apartment all day. I think she’ll be glad you took him. She’ll be free to do as she pleases.”

  The cab stopped and Perry handed the driver a twenty. “Neal, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Get my change.”

  “Why are you going back in there?” Neal asked, though he already knew.

  “I’m going to press charges.”

  Neal waited by the Mercedes, his head aching full throttle.

  Fifteen minutes later Perry came out, looking satisfied. “You ready?”

  “I’m ready. Let’s go home. I have one helluva headache working.”

  “One more stop, then we’ll go home.”

  “Where?”

  “The insurance company.”

  Perry parked in front of the Premier Palace Insurance Agency, in a strip mall on Mabelvale Pike, next door to an archery shop.

  She unsnapped the neck brace and threw it in the backseat. “Damn thing itches.”

  Neal was no longer there, his thoughts had drifted to his high school days, when he was the star forward on the Parkview Patriots basketball team, before he busted his knee, when his most pressing concern was which cheerleader he’d choose to accompany him to the motel after the game.

  His mind was in that motel when Perry introduced him to the obese insurance agent with a long nose and yellow teeth.

  When Perry handed the agent a stack of papers and told him that she and her husband desired a joint life insurance policy, Neal’s mind was on Rebecca Kirpatrick, the redheaded co-captain of the cheerleader team.

  Just when Rebecca started to slap him silly with her implant-enlarged forty-two’s, Perry nudged him and said, “Sign it, Neal.”

  “What?”

  “The papers.”

  He took the pen and, without reading the fine print, signed his name not once but six times, each time Perry flipped the page and pointed to the X.