Pernicious
Page 26
“Don’t shoot me, Perry! Please!”
“I’m not going to shoot you. I promise. I don’t want you chasing me when I leave.”
“Perry, I can double guarantee you I won’t be chasing you!”
“Don’t do it, Perry!” Tasha said, and pulled herself up on the edge of the bed. She struggled to get to her feet. “You hurt him, I’ll--”
“You’ll do what?” Perry said, and stepped up and backhanded Tasha across the face with the Glock.
Tasha fell back on the bed holding her eye, groaning.
“Now we’re even!” Perry said, crossing to the doorway. “Turn around, Neal. I wouldn’t shoot a man in the back. Promise.”
Neal turned and faced the wall. “I really need to use the bathroom. I can’t hold it much longer.”
Perry wrapped the towel around the gun…clicked the light off. The light in the hallway spilled halfway in the room, casting Neal in shadow.
“Bye, Neal,” she whispered…and pulled the trigger. KAPOW!
Tasha screamed. Neal crumbled. Perry stepped forward and aimed at the lump on the floor.
KAPOW! KAPOW! KAPOW! KAPOW! KAPOW!
Perry tossed the gun in the direction of the bed and walked out, closing the door behind her, the smell of cordite in her nostrils. Passing through the hallway, she threw the towel on the bathroom floor. She went into the living room and peeked through the curtains.
She heard movement in the bedroom. Bumpy face fell off the bed. The gun was too loud for someone not to hear…too fucking loud! No one was in the parking lot.
She removed the gloves, stuffed them inside the bag, tucked her hair under a baseball cap, held her breath, opened the door and stepped out into the night.
* * * * *
“Neal?” Tasha said. “Neal?” She crawled to him and ran her hand down his shirt. “Neal?” Under his back. “Neal?” Touching his face, she felt a sticky liquid. “Oh God! Neal?” She laid her head on his chest, listened for a second, and then shook him. “Neal!” He moaned. “You’re going to be all right, Neal. Stay right here!”
She crawled to the door, grabbed the doorknob and flung it open. Perry could still be inside the apartment, waiting for her. A chance she would have to take.
Entering the living room, she heard the front door shut. She tried to get to her feet, stumbled and fell forward, then crawled to the phone.
Bob answered on the third ring.
“Bob! Bob, go get my son! He’s at Perry’s house--go get him! Now, Bob! Oh God, please! Now, Bob!”
* * * * *
Though she didn’t dare look, Perry could feel curious eyes upon her. She briskly walked the length of the building, turned the corner and picked up her pace.
In her periphery she glimpsed a man coming out of his apartment, walking toward her. Problem? She kept her head down. If he comes too close…The man walked past her. She started south of Tasha’s complex, doubled back, strolled along the sidewalk near the pool and headed straight for the entrance. She resisted the urge to look behind her, somewhat confident no one followed.
Almost to her car when she heard sirens. The police to the rescue. A little too late. She walked past the Mercedes. At the end of the block she circled back, and just as she was getting behind the wheel three cruisers came flying down the street, bells and lights blaring. She removed the cap, straightened her hair in the rearview mirror and drove off.
Eleven-thirteen when she finally made it home. She could have made it sooner if she hadn’t driven around thirty minutes looking for the ideal lake to deposit the keys, Glock and cell phone.
Neal’s refusal to hit Tasha bothered her. He really loved her, acne and all, and he was willing to die for her.
Which he did!
Perry couldn’t understand it.
She clicked on the television. The local news might run a piece about the incident. After the sports anchorman concluded, she didn’t think they would.
Then the stiff-looking news anchorman said, “This just in. There’s been a shooting at the Woodbridge Apartments in Southwest Little Rock. Police are on the scene. No further details available. We’ll update you in our Morning Sunrise with Pat and Diane.”
“Shit!” Perry shouted. “What kind of half-assed news reporting is that?”
Shooting? Neal was dead. Wasn’t he? Hell yes! No way could he have survived six bullets, not with a nine…A twenty-two or a thirty-eight maybe, not a nine.
“I should have checked.”
What if…fuck what if! He’s dead!
She stepped out onto the front porch. A few of her neighbor’s lights were on, a dog barked somewhere in the distance, nothing unusual. She went back inside.
Can a man survive six bullets?
She remembered a news story about a girl who got shot in the head, was tossed from a bridge and survived to tell about it.
A crackhead, had to have been a crackhead. They don’t die easily. Neal was a pothead. Big difference. If somehow he did survive, he’ll be a vegetable. Who in their right mind would believe a cucumber’s word over mine? He’d have to spend the rest of his life waiting for someone to wipe his ass. Hell, he might enjoy that.
If Neal went into a nursing home, the state might insist she compensate for his care.
I’m not paying for a damn thing! Shit! And I’ll be stuck with his brat!
Derrick was upstairs sleeping off a good dose of roofies. Tomorrow when he woke up and everything was official, she’d explain what happened.
‘Derrick, sugar, I’m afraid I have bad news. Your crazy-ass mammy shot your sorry-ass daddy six times last night. Don’t worry, you can stay with me. I’ve always wanted a big-headed, spoiled-ass brat, and you’ll do just fine.’
Smiling, she went upstairs. After stripping off her clothes and preparing to enter the tub, she suddenly felt an urge to go check on the boy.
Perry opened the bedroom door, switched on the light and covered her mouth, muffling a gasp.
The boy was gone.
She dropped to the floor and peered under the bed. “Derrick?” She hurried to the closet, her daughter’s favorite hiding place. “Derrick!” Where the fuck is he?
She checked every room upstairs and then ran downstairs.
“Derrick! Derrick, you better not be playing games with me!” Frantic, she flipped chairs and couches, threw keepsakes out of closets, scooted heavy furniture across the floor. He wasn’t in the basement, the pantry, or the garage. How did he leave? He was drugged with enough dope to knock out a...
“That bitch! That funky, bumpy-faced bitch!”
She had someone break into my house and steal him. She knew I would be out…A low-down bitch is what she is…just low-down and dirty!
No matter how hard she tried to convince herself all was well, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
Perry couldn’t sleep, gave up trying to do so. Figured she might as well stay up and wait for the morning news. She sat there, on a black ottoman, naked, watching infomercials.
After what seemed an eternity to her, the morning news came on. The anchorman exhausted the first ten minutes drinking coffee, talking about everything except the news, and giggling with his co-host, a doe-eyed brunette who laughed shamelessly at everything the man said.
Perry watched anxiously during the entire thirty-minute program, wondering: When are these silly sapsuckers going to mention the shooting?
They didn’t.
When the anchorman closed with “Have a great day,” Perry threw an ashtray at the television set.
Something’s wrong! Bad wrong! Call somebody! Who? The police? The morgue? The hospital?
She snatched up a phone…and lost her nerve.
There was a loud knock at the front door.
Immediately she righted furniture, and then went upstairs and grabbed a bathrobe. The knocking turned insistent, louder, interspersed with the doorbell ringing. She tiptoed to the door and looked in the peephole. The fat white boy.
“Good morning, Mrs. Montgomery.”
“Good morning, Detective. It’s rather early, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Mrs. Montgomery, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news. May I come inside?”
“Yes. Please do. What’s wrong? What happened?”
Bob removed his Stetson and stepped in. “Mrs. Montgomery, maybe you should sit down.”
Perry’s lip trembled. “You’re scaring me. Is somebody hurt? My mother?”
“No,” shaking his head, “not your mother. It appears your husband was involved in a shooting.”
Perry screamed. “Neal! Neal! Ohhhhhhh! Not Neal!” She stumbled to a chair and collapsed into it. “Is…is…is he dead?”
Bob cleared his throat.
“Is my husband dead?” Perry shouted.
“Well, to be honest…” He stopped, scratched his nose. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Perry screamed again, louder, and rolled off the chair onto the floor. As she did, her robe opened, giving Bob another view of her private parts. He looked away.
“Mrs. Montgomery, we have a situation here…a very complex situation. If you would accompany me back to the station, maybe we can determine who shot your husband.”
“Tasha Montgomery did it!”
“Ma’am, go get dressed, please. We’ll discuss it at the station.”
Perry got to her feet. “She killed him. I told Neal she was dangerous, he wouldn’t listen. I told him and told him. Lord help us!” She started to leave, stopped. “The boy, Derrick, he’s not here. He was staying overnight, now he’s gone.”
“We’ll discuss it at the station.”
“I was asleep, Neal wasn’t here. I think she got someone to break into my house and take him.”
“Go get dressed, Mrs. Montgomery.”
She picked out a black silk blouse with gold epaulets, black silk pants, a silver belt, and a pair of black pumps. Might as well dress the part. When I get back, I’ll open a bottle of champagne and relax in the Jacuzzi.
Bob allowed her to ride in the front passenger seat, saying nothing as he drove east on Interstate 430.
Perry broke the silence. “Tasha was your partner for a long time, wasn’t she?”
“Not that long. Two years.”
“I’m not sure how to put this. Doesn’t what she did disturb you?”
Bob shrugged. “One thing I’ve learned on this job, looks can be extremely deceiving.”
“You got that right. The shy, silent types, they’re the ones you gotta keep an eye on. They’re insecure, spiteful, jealous, and hate to see someone else with something they don’t have, something they could never get.”
Bob stared at her sideways.
At the station, he escorted her upstairs to the same interrogation room as before, though this time he left the door open.
“Mrs. Montgomery, I need to read you your Miranda rights.”
“Why? I didn’t shoot anybody.”
“I didn’t say you did.” He read Miranda and handed her a sheet of paper. Perry gave it a cursory glance and signed it. “Thanks,” Bob said. “Would you like something to drink before we get started?”
“No thanks.”
He picked up a tape recorder from the floor and placed it in the middle of the table. “We’re going to record this interview.”
“That’s fine with me. I need to get out of here as soon as possible. I’ve a lot of arrangements waiting on me.”
Bob pressed a button and for the record stated the date, time and his name. He asked Perry her full name and place of residence.
Then: “Mrs. Montgomery, could you give an account to your whereabouts on July thirtieth, last night, specifically between the hours of seven p.m. to eleven p.m.?”
Perry reached across the table and turned off the tape recorder. “Why are you talking to me like I’m a suspect?”
Bob leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “As I told you back at your house, this is a very complicated situation. I’ll tell you what we know. A shooting took place at Tasha’s apartment and we believe it was Neal Montgomery, your husband, who got shot.”
Perry’s eyes widen. “What the hell you mean we believe? At the house you told me he was dead! What the hell you talking about?”
“I didn’t say he was dead. I said I was sorry.”
“What? Is Neal in the hospital?”
“I don’t know where he is…and that’s part of the problem. Last night officers responded promptly to a shooting at Tasha’s apartment. A gun was found, plus six shell casings, blood on the carpet, the apartment in disarray…No one was there.”
“Huh?”
“We know a shooting took place and we know someone was shot. Other than that, we’re flying in the dark.”
“Jesus Christ!” staring at the open door. “Why didn’t you tell me all this shit at the house? Hell, you people don’t even know if it was Neal who got shot.”
“You’re right. We’re not certain it was Neal.” Bob cleared his throat. “Tasha called and told me that she has irrefutable evidence that you, Mrs. Montgomery, shot Neal inside her apartment.” Perry flinched. “Before I can issue a warrant for her arrest, I must first eliminate you as a suspect.” He turned the tape recorder back on.
“You’re telling me Neal’s not dead?”
“No, I didn’t say that. If you consider the probabilities. Six shell casings mean six slugs, not one of which found inside the apartment. Very few people survive six shots to the body. The ones who do roll into an emergency room shortly after. Neal is not in a hospital.”
Perry shook her head. “This shit ain’t making no sense at all!”
“Once again, where were you last night between--”
“I was at home! Did I tell you Tasha came to my house yesterday and said she was checking herself into a mental hospital? She told me to my face she was losing her mind.”
“Were you home the entire time between seven and eleven?”
“Yes, I was. This could only mean she’s completely flipped her lid and she’s riding around with a dead man.”
“What were you doing during that time?”
“What was I doing? Nothing really. Watching television. Nothing major.”
“Were you alone during that time?”
“Yes--no! Derrick was at the house. Don’t this shit seem rather strange to you?”
“Your husband, Neal Montgomery, what time did he leave the house?”
Perry crossed her legs, uncrossed them. “Uh…he left before Wheel of Fortune came on. It had to be before five o’ clock.”
“Did he tell you where he was going?”
“Yes, he did. He told me he was going to wash his car and then go talk to Tasha. He said she kept threatening him, and he wanted to talk some sense into her. I told him it wasn’t a good idea, considering her propensity for violence. He went despite my warning.”
“He said Tasha was threatening him?”
“Yes, he sure did. He told me that several times. His exact words to me: ‘Tasha said she would kill me if I don’t dump you and come back to her.’”
“You didn’t marry Neal to get back at Tasha, did you?”
“Hell no! I fell in love with him. She couldn’t handle the fact we were in love. That’s why she killed him. As you already know, she attacked Neal in our home. She attacked me in this very building. We were in fear of our lives, had to put a restraining order on her. Now you already know all that!”
“Why would Neal go to Tasha’s apartment if he was fearing his life?”
“I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he thought he could actually talk some sense into her.”
“You’re saying Neal went to Tasha’s apartment to tell her he wasn’t coming back to her, though she threatened to kill him if he didn’t.”
“I really can’t say why he went over there. I just know what he told me before he went there. ‘Tasha said she would kill me!’”
Perry opened her purse, took out a cell phone and slapped it on the desk. “That’s a BlackBerry Torch. Tasha, if I remember correctly, carried a damn Cricket. She lives in an apartment, I own my home! What need would I have for her shit?”
Bob stroked his moustache. “Have you ever been inside Tasha’s apartment?”
“Yes. Every room. Neal took me there once.”
“Closets? Bathroom?”
“Every room!”
“What need would you have in her closets?”
“Inquisitive!”
“Tasha says she has duct tape with your prints on it.”
“How can you believe anything she says? Shit! She kicked Neal’s ass in his house, she stomped the shit out of me right here in this police station, she shot the man with her gun in her apartment! Jesus Christ, what more do you people need?”
“How do you know it was her gun?”
Perry’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“How do you know it was her gun?”
She studied him a moment. “Common sense. She was a police officer. Police officers carry guns. Quite naturally she had to have shot him with her own gun. Not rocket science, Detective.”
“You didn’t call Tasha yesterday and ask her to meet you at Laskers restaurant at seven o’ clock?”
“I sure as hell didn’t. Neal might have called her, not me.”
“Any calls from your house to Tasha’s apartment were all made by Neal?”
“Yes.”
“Then there shouldn’t be any calls from your house to Tasha’s apartment after five o’ clock last night, right?”
Perry smoothed back her hair. “If there are, I didn’t make them. Derrick was staying with us, his first day there. It’s quite possible he called his mother.”
“Mrs. Montgomery, did you shoot your husband, Neal Montgomery?”
Perry glared at him. “That’s a stupid question! You know damn well I didn’t!” She stood up. “I know she’s your ex-partner and you’d rather not believe she’s a nutcase capable of killing somebody, but you’re wasting your time trying to help her frame me because I didn’t do it. I had no reason to shoot my husband, no reason whatsoever. You should be out there trying to find her instead of fucking with me!”