by Lucy Score
Donovan rolled his eyes. If ever he’d wished for a more normal legal system in Blue Moon, this was the moment.
He ducked behind the table and dropped a kiss on Eva’s head. “I owe you so big,” he murmured against her hair.
She beamed up at him. “As in ‘let me take you on a first date’ big?”
“As in, I’m taking you on vacation somewhere tropical where bathing suits are optional.”
Her eyes widened.
“Excuse me. I’ve been waiting at least an hour to be processed,” Slim whined. “I want to get my chocolate milk while they still have some.” He looked desperately toward the hospitality table.
“Slim, you got here five seconds ago,” Donovan reminded him.
“If my blood sugar gets too low, I start to act up.”
Donovan pointed at his own head. “You start to act up by putting gum in an officer of the law’s hair?”
Eva gasped when he took off his hat.
“Hey, boss. You know you got gum in your hair?” Minnie Murkle bustled in with an overnight bag and a stack of takeout containers.
“Gum?” Willa called from her table. “I can take care of that for you. I’m great at cutting gum out of hair.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Donovan told her.
“I’ll take over processing if Eva can manage the hospitality table,” Millie offered.
“Sold,” Eva said. She rose and put her hands on Donovan’s chest. “You’re sexy even with gum in your hair,” she told him.
“I can’t wait until tonight is over,” he whispered. “I’m going to sleep for a week, make love to you for twenty-four hours straight, and then put us on a plane to anywhere but here.”
Eva grinned. “The faster you lock everyone up, the sooner we can get on that plane.”
“Willa, can you cut fast?”
--------
The woman gave him a mohawk. With shears she found in the sheep shearing lab.
And by that point, Donovan didn’t even care. As far as he was concerned he’d have his balls waxed if it meant the night would be over. With his deputies and mother working territories around town, they’d managed to round up fifty-seven delinquent weirdos caught red-handed doing mischief.
There were no serious crimes. That wasn’t Blue Moon’s style. No, rather than a homicide or an assault, Mooners were satisfied breaking into the juice shop, whipping up their own concoctions, and leaving money on the counter for their drinks. Or the spontaneous naked sit-in protesting mainly clothing but also taxes and the town ordinance stipulating the appropriate grass height for lawns.
Nothing, after tonight, would ever surprise him again. Wearily, Donovan opened the gymnasium door for his latest perp, Old Man Carson. The elderly farmer had decided to liberate his neighbor’s herd of goats. They hadn’t gone far. They’d followed Carson home and into his house where they ate the better part of his couch and the hammock swing on his back porch.
Carson had called the police himself and confessed.
Donovan led the nonagenarian to the processing table.
“Really, Sheriff? Old Man Carson?” Minnie asked in exasperation. “I feel like you’re just picking people up out of their beds.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Minnie. Picking on the innocent citizens of Blue Moon.” Donovan shook his head. Eva was staring at him from her spot in the guard section of the bleachers. He raised his hand in an exhausted wave.
She skimmed her hand over her own head and gave him the thumbs up, mouthing the word “hot.” He winked in return. At least his girlfriend wasn’t horrified by the chop job Willa had given him.
Beckett was across the aisle from Eva, talking to another client. After Kathy Wu had demanded representation, so had most of the rest of the yahoos he’d dragged in. It was pointless. None of them were going to actual jail, and he doubted that most of them would face any real charges. He just needed to get them off the streets until the sun came up.
Layla, yawning, marched two teenagers covered from head to toe in flour in through the side door toward the processing table.
They just needed to hang in for a few more hours. Then this whole shit-tastic mess would be over.
“No touching!” Eva yelled into the bullhorn at meditation boxes thirteen and fourteen. The two temporary residents stopped their slap fight.
Gia was there, too. She, Phoebe, and Franklin were doling out pillows and blankets to the detainees. Donovan’s father was manning the hospitality table and accepting the community donations that were still arriving in the middle of the night.
Michael was deep in conversation with Wallace Wu who had arrived with a toiletry kit, pillow, and lotion-infused socks for his incarcerated wife.
The conversations amongst the detainees and the volunteers were more hushed now at three in the morning than they had been a few hours ago. As the moon sunk lower in the night sky, Donovan began to feel a spark of hope that this could all soon be behind them. He vowed he’d be retired before the next planetary crossing.
His mother ambled up behind him and thumped him on the shoulder. “Streets are quieting down. I think we’re on the downslide.”
Donovan put an arm around her shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. “You ever miss this?” he asked, yawning.
Hazel grinned up at him. “Every damn day. It’s nice to spend your days making a difference.”
“I feel like today was just chasing my own tail.”
“You made a difference,” Hazel insisted. “Sure, it looks like a hot mess in here. But nobody’s property accidentally burnt down or cars rolled into the pond.”
“Did that happen last time?” he asked, guiding her over to the hospitality table for coffee.
“Yep. Lost three cabins over at the campground because some dumb hippie decided to bake pot brownies over an open flame.”
“Linus Fitzsimmons?” Donovan guessed.
“The one and the same.”
“Explains a lot about Fitz,” Donovan mused.
“That kid turned out a lot more normal than he had any right to,” Hazel agreed.
“You hear about his side job stripping?”
Hazel let out a tired laugh. “Nothing would surprise me about that boy.”
“Thanks for being here, Mom.”
She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. “She’s a keeper.”
Donovan looked up to where Eva was keeping an eagle eye on her detained neighbors. She looked exhausted, and he felt bad that she was wasting writing time helping him babysit an entire town, but he appreciated it more than he could say.
“I plan to keep her,” he told his mother.
“She’s going to give you trouble,” Hazel predicted.
“Oh, I can guarantee that. But if she’s willing to stick through this?” Donovan said, waving his hand at the gymnasium of temporarily impulsive idiots. “She’s worth the trouble.”
Hazel grinned. “You always did have good sense.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “I learned it from you. But I got my sweet dance moves from Dad.”
“Hey, boss?” Colby trod over prone Mooners to get to them.
“What you got for me, deputy?”
“I got Agnes Merill in Cleary. Police chief called a few minutes ago. They picked her up when she tried to skip out on her hotel bill.”
Donovan swore quietly, his gaze returning to Eva.
“Did they find the stolen property?”
Colby nodded. “All but the booze. Seems she got rid of that evidence.”
Donovan sighed and glanced at his watch. “She asked for a lawyer yet?”
“Not as of when the call came in, but I’m sure it’s a matter of time. You going?”
“Yeah, I’m going. You two keep a lid on it, okay? I want to talk to her before I tell Eva.”
“Sure, boss.”
“Why don’t you go on and get it over with?” Hazel suggested. “We’ll hold down the fort
here.”
“Keep one actual deputy here at all times. Hopefully the streets are quiet by now, and we won’t need the patrols.”
“Will do,” Colby nodded.
“And keep an eye on Eva for me.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The drive to Cleary was blissfully quiet compared to the chaos of the rest of the night. On the way over, he talked to the arresting officer and laid out his plan. Agnes wouldn’t walk away from this one, and Donovan was prepared to do whatever it took to make sure that happened.
The Cleary police station was four times the size of Blue Moon’s. A new, modern facility with bulletproof glass and an actual waiting area. The desk sergeant saw him coming and buzzed him through the front door.
“Morning,” she said. She was young, academy fresh, and wide awake for four a.m. “Coffee?”
“The strongest you’ve got,” Donovan said, taking off his hat.
“Woah. Nice hair,” she said, cracking an actual smile. “Have a seat. Officer Lewis will be with you shortly.”
She returned with a large mug of steaming coffee which Donovan gratefully accepted.
“Sheriff Cardona?”
The man who approached had dark skin and linebacker shoulders. His wrist was bandaged, and there was a jagged scratch on his jaw.
“Officer Lewis?”
“Call me Jamal,” he insisted. “Come on back. We’ll talk before I bring her in.”
Jamal led the way to an actual interrogation room. In Blue Moon, they mainly just talked to suspects in the conference room or around the water cooler. “I hear you’ve been having quite the night over there in Blue Moon.”
Donovan took a seat in the metal chair and unfolded his legs. “The grapevine runs pretty far,” he said.
“My captain is tight with your mother. She gave him a head’s up in case you all needed a hand out there. But it sounds like you had it covered.”
Donovan rubbed a hand over his brow. “Barely. I’ve never seen so many people lose their damn minds at the same time.”
Jamal chuckled. “That’s some kinda town you’ve got there. Me and the wife stayed in that B&B last year for our anniversary. Got a kick out of the quirkiness.”
Donovan gave a one-sided smile. “Quirkiness. That’s a good word for it.” He took another sip of coffee. “That scratch looks pretty fresh.”
Jamal touched his jaw. “You wouldn’t expect it out of the bony-ass woman, but that Merill is stronger than she looks.” He held up his wrist. “Nails are pretty sharp, so we’ll be keeping her cuffed for your talk.”
“I appreciate you letting me have a chat with her.”
Jamal shrugged. “She’s not the kind of person we need roaming the streets. And not just because she spit on my partner and kicked the hotel desk clerk in the chest. So, let’s deliver the DA a nice, airtight case and let the legal system do its job.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I’m gonna let you run the interview, but I’ll be in the corner just in case she goes for your neck with those killer claws.”
“Appreciate it,” Donovan said wryly.
Jamal returned moments later with the spitting-mad Agnes Merill. The jumpsuit bagged on her skinny frame. Her hair was wild, hanging in clumps around her sallow face.
“Record on. Interview of Agnes Merill. Officer Jamal Lewis and Sheriff Donovan Cardona present. Ms. Merill, you’ve been advised of your rights.” Jamal recited by rote.
“Fuck. You.” Agnes spat out.
Donovan smiled at Eva’s mother. “Ms. Merill. You were found to be in possession of stolen property,” he said, flipping through the photos Jamal and his partner had taken of Agnes’ car.
“That’s my stuff. I didn’t steal nothing.”
He tossed down another picture in front of her. “So, are you saying this isn’t you breaking into your daughter’s house and leaving with the items found in your car tonight?”
Agnes picked up the print and sneered. “So I visited my daughter. Who cares? She wanted me to have that stuff. Gave it to me.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I want a cigarette.”
Donovan glanced at Jamal. “Sorry, ma’am. No smoking indoors.”
“Then what the fuck is this for?” she shoved the empty ashtray off the table with her bound hands.
Jamal grinned. “It’s for decoration.”
“Whatever. I’ll be walking out of here before morning.”
“Not until you explain what you were doing in Evangelina Merill’s house and how you came to be in possession of items that belonged to her that were stolen in a break-in,” Donovan said.
“She’s my daughter. What’s hers is mine.”
“Is that why you’ve blackmailed her out of twenty-six thousand dollars in the past eight years? You feel that you have a right to your daughter’s money.”
“She could have said no,” Agnes pointed out.
“She could have. But you made that a less attractive option didn’t you? Threatening her, the rest of the family.”
“Threats? That’s what she told you? You must be gullible when you got your dick out.” She gave him a sharp grin. “Oh, I know you and Eva are fucking. I read all about it in your stupid town’s newspaper.”
“I’m dating your daughter with plans to marry her,” Donovan corrected her evenly.
“Well, she owes me. And if you marry her, you’ll owe me too.”
“Exactly what does Eva owe you?” Donovan asked.
“She ruined my life. Everything was fine until she was born. Then I got the post-partum and lost everything. Couldn’t hold down a job. Frank kicked me out.”
“You turned to drugs? Criminal activity?”
“Had to. I had no choice.”
Donovan had to tamp down the urge to shove his palm into Agnes’ face and shove her backwards out of her chair.
“So, you’re saying that twenty-six years ago, you suffered from post-partum depression, and that’s why you blackmailed your daughter out of money, broke into her house, and stole personal items?” he clarified.
“I didn’t say I stole nothing. She let me take that stuff. And if she says different, she’s a liar.” Agnes tried to fold her arms over her chest, but her wrists were bound. “And a daughter giving her mother a little loan every once in a while ain’t blackmail.”
“Loans. So, you were paying her back?” Donovan asked.
Again a shrug from those bony shoulders. “If I ever get back on my feet. But the depression and all makes it hard. I got an addiction or two. And no one’s ever given me a chance to get help.”
The perpetual victim.
“Eva owes me. She’s got her fancy career with them books, and what do I have? I brought her into this world, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. She owes me. They all owe me.”
“Why?” Donovan asked. “Your ex-husband, your daughters, they all worked for what they have. What have you done to earn anything?”
“I gave them life.” She spat the words out. “They owe me everything.”
“You say no one’s ever given you a chance to get help?” Donovan said, shifting gears.
“That’s right,” Agnes nodded. “Maybe I’d still be married to Frank if he’d given a damn about me.”
“And he never tried to get you any help?”
“Never once. Always too busy with his restaurant and the kids.” She slouched in the chair like a petulant teenager.
“It sounds like, once again, one of you is lying.” Donovan pulled out a neat stack of papers. “This is an affidavit signed by Franklin Merill, your ex-husband, detailing the number of times he tried to get you into therapy. It says here early in your relationship you had issues with recreational drugs. Which leads me to believe that all your issues didn’t start with the birth of your daughter.”
“Papers don’t mean nothing. He’s lying. It’s all lies.”
“Last week, did Eva refuse to give you ten thousand
dollars and instead offer you a way into a rehab program for addicts?”
Agnes was looking everywhere but him.
“Agnes, I’ve got more papers here. An affidavit from Eva detailing every time you shook her down for money. She’s a writer. She kept notes, voice mails, texts. It doesn’t look good. Especially since she offered you help right before you broke into her house.”
“I needed money, okay? She always gave before. Now she goes and gets some kind of backbone and gets all righteous on me?”
“You needed money, she refused to give it to you, so you took what you could from her house,” Donovan spelled it out nice and neat for the record.
“She owes me,” Agnes repeated. “It was my right. I needed money. I didn’t take everything. I could have.”
Donovan turned one of the photos around. “Did you know your grandson took this photo? Got video of you lugging stolen property out of your daughter’s house. You ever met him?”
Agnes shrugged and kicked at the table leg with her tennis shoe.
“He’s a smart kid. Thanks to him and his recording, we’ve got you cold on breaking and entering, grand theft, and Officer Lewis just added possession of stolen property.”
“What are you smirking at, standing there in the corner judging me?” she asked Jamal. “A big man with a gun. Fuck you both.”
“Such anger,” Donovan said mildly.
“When I get out of here, I’ll come back, and she’ll give me what I want this time. She always does.”
“There’s a difference this time, Agnes. Two actually,” Donovan said calmly. “Eva’s gotten quite good at saying no. You’ll never see a dime out of her again. And if you come within town limits of her, I’ll make it my life’s work to put you behind bars for the rest of your life.”
“You don’t scare me. Some sheriff in some pissant town?” she snorted.
“See, here’s the thing Agnes. The DA’s gonna offer you a deal. They’re gonna say they’ll forget all about those blackmail and extortion charges if you plead guilty to breaking and entering, possession of stolen property, and theft. You’ll do somewhere around two years, maybe a little less for good behavior.”
“I’m not doing time!” She crashed her fisted hand onto the tabletop.