“We’re looking into Le Beau,” Park said. “The law works the way that the law is supposed to work.”
“The law fucking SUCKS!” Bubba bellowed, finally losing the tenuous grasp on his temper.
Park nodded calmly. “Okay, enough of this,” he said. He took a step toward Bubba and one of his hands landed on Bubba’s wrist.
Bubba said, “What?”
Bubba was aware that Park effortlessly twisted his arm and Bubba was forced into a turn. Never mind that Park probably weighed eighty pounds less than Bubba. An abrupt pressure against one of Bubba’s legs resulted and Park twisted again. His lean limbs compelled Bubba’s exactly where he wanted the other man to go.
A long moment of weightlessness occurred as Bubba looked over at Guillermo Sanchez. Guillermo’s mouth opened and gaped like a teenager at his first porn movie. The word that came from the parole officer’s mouth was, “Duhhhh-aaaaa-mmmmm-nnnnn.”
Time slowed to a series of incremental movements.
Bubba became air borne and not in a military fashion. An incredibly concentrated expression shaped Park’s face. His hands deftly moved the much larger man into the position that he required. Bubba turned in the air and tried to put his hands out to catch himself, but his hands were restrained by one of Park’s hands. Park’s other hand planted itself in the center of Bubba’s back and punched him into the grass of the ground next to the sidewalk they’d been standing upon. Bubba came down hard, and the earth shuddered. One of his shoulders took the brunt of the collision. His face went sideways, and one cheek took the rest of the impact. The remainder of his large body followed and then bounced once.
As Bubba’s face ground halfway in the dirt and grass, he couldn’t see exactly what Park was doing. But Bubba knew from the sudden debilitating weight Park had straightaway come down on top of him. The investigator’s knee dug into Bubba’s lower back and almost immediately the click-click-snap of handcuffs could be heard as his wrists were secured behind him.
All Bubba could do was gasp for breath and wonder how the smaller man had gotten him subdued so damned quick.
Time caught up, and he heard Guillermo say, “Pendejo got suhh-lammed.”
Park let up a little, and Bubba got some air. “Told you what was going to happen,” the investigator said. “Bet you thought the little guy couldn’t do it to you.” He wasn’t even breathing hard.
“I was wrong,” Bubba wheezed.
Park chuckled and recited Bubba’s Miranda Rights. Then he searched him and relieved him of several items to include the folded-up copy of the letter. He spent a moment reading the letter before placing it on the ground in a neat little pile with all the other items that he’d taken from Bubba.
A moment later Park helped Bubba to his feet and escorted him to his Crown Victoria. “Wait,” Bubba gasped. “What about my dog?”
“No dogs in lockup,” Park snarled. Then he sneezed violently. “Ah, there I go just thinking about your damn dog.”
“Cain’t just leave my dog out here,” Bubba said. “And what about Willodean? Are you going to look for her? You cain’t lock me up, dammit. I didn’t do anything- well, I didn’t do much wrong.”
“Interference with public duties concerning a peace officer is the charge. And you can tell it to the judge,” Park said.
“Hey, Guillermo,” Bubba yelled over his shoulder as Park opened the door to the back of the unmarked police car. “Bet your kids like dogs, right?”
Guillermo followed them reluctantly. “Yeah?”
“Go take care of my dog,” Bubba said. “Park, would ya’ll give him my keys? They’re on the ground with the rest of the other stuff.” Park grudgingly plucked the keys off the ground and tossed them to Guillermo, who looked at them as if he held a spider.
“I’ll lock up your truck, too,” Guillermo said hesitantly.
Park shut the Crown Vic’s door before Bubba could answer. As the investigator returned to retrieve the pile of items that he’d plucked from Bubba’s pockets, he watched Guillermo go over to the old, green Chevy and pet Precious’s head. The Basset hound wasn’t happy, but she knew when someone appreciated a good animal.
Bubba attempted to talk when Park got into the vehicle, but the investigator wasn’t saying anything.
“I’m not sorry,” Bubba said. “This woman is important. If it was your daughter or your wife, you would understand.”
“You’ve tried that tack before,” Park said. “I get that Deputy Gray is important. But you’re trampling all over other people’s rights. We’ll question Le Beau. We’ll find out what he knows. But we do it in the right manner. The legal manner. That’s all there is.”
Bubba settled down for a moment. “If she’s dead and it turns out that we could have prevented it, then you’ll be partially responsible.” His voice was an icy breeze.
Park rattled his fingers over the steering wheel. “I warned you, Bubba,” he said after a long minute. “I warned you that the law is in effect because that’s the way this country is run. There’s no evidence that Le Beau had anything to do with Deputy Gray’s disappearance. As a matter of fact, you’ve got less than an assumption. This letter isn’t signed, and I imagine you put your fingerprints all over the original. Which, by the way, is where?”
“I gave it to Sheriff John,” Bubba said. Well, I left it with the receptionist with instructions to give it to Sheriff John. Close enough for government work.
“Uh-huh,” Park muttered. “But you made a copy.”
“I wanted to see if I could connect the postmark with Le Beau,” Bubba explained.
“And you didn’t feel like you should mention it to me,” Park went on.
Bubba didn’t say anything else because he knew he was wrong. He’d also known that law enforcement wouldn’t have allowed him to help if he’d mentioned the letter.
Park pulled up into the Dallas County Jail’s unloading zone.
“County,” Bubba mused. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”
“What?” Park barked.
“Oh, just contemplating,” Bubba said dismally. He’d been hoisted with his own petard, and now he was going to have to deal with it. But it isn’t about just me, is it? asked a nasty little interior voice.
“Can we just get this over?”
Chapter Twelve
Bubba Gets Incarcerated for the First Time in This Novel
and Boy Howdy it Ain’t But Half Over
Monday, January 2nd – Tuesday, January 3rd
There wasn’t a friendly jailor named Tee Gearheart in the Dallas County Jail who wanted to discuss the size of his child’s genitalia. There wasn’t a fine selection of cells to choose from so as to get the best view. There wasn’t anyone to trade wry commentary with and therefore pass the day in a rapid manner. There were, however, several very large and capable men who directed Bubba through the process of booking while keeping their hands close to their batons and mace.
Charles Park appeared twice during the procedure and complained about paperwork.
The second time Park arrived, Bubba was handcuffed to a fixed set of seats while the remainder of the detainees watched the early news on a television attached to the ceiling.
“They’re going to keep you overnight, and you’ll see someone in the morning,” Park told Bubba. “I have to fill out five forms in triplicate for this, and I’m not happy.”
“You’re still looking for Le Beau,” Bubba said taciturnly, not impressed with the amount of paperwork Park was going to fill out.
“Yes, I’m still looking for him,” Park said shortly. “I got a BOLO on him, and Sanchez is working on the violation of his parole terms. He’ll probably go back to Huntsville within a few weeks.”
A mental door slammed inside Bubba’s head. “But you’ll make a deal with him about Willodean?”
Park sighed. “Bubba, you might want to prepare yourself for the worst.”
“It’s been four days, no, five if you count today,” Bubba said. Even he
didn’t recognize the granite-like finality of his tone. “Five isn’t too long. She could still be alive. She’s strong. She’s a fighter.”
Park’s face was grim. The investigator didn’t believe in the remote possibility. He thought Willodean’s remains might be found one day, a pile of bones strewn over some remote landscape by a hunter looking for a five-point buck. It would take weeks to get dental work comparisons and the identity confirmed.
“Get some rest tonight,” Park advised. “It quiets down after ten p.m. Most of the detainees don’t cause a lot of trouble, and besides, you’re big enough they won’t mess with you.”
After being booked, which included fingerprints and pictures, Bubba was allowed a phone call, which meant leaving a message on his mother’s cell phone. He was placed in a holding cell with several other men. Most of them wanted to keep to themselves, but one grinned happily at Bubba in recognition.
Bubba nodded at the jailor when he removed the handcuffs and locked the doors. Then he turned to the grinner. “Bam Bam,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“My brotha,” Bam Bam said. He rose up and bumped fists with Bubba. His hands started convoluted movements as he spoke. “I be here on account there was a plain-clothes individual who did not appreciate my entrepreneurial status.” He bumped his chest three times with a closed fist and then pointed in the direction of the jailors.
Bubba nodded. “Yeah, I ticked one of those off, too.”
Bam Bam shooed a man off a bench and motioned to Bubba. “Sit, my man. It be a whole long time before a judge can see you. One of the C.O.’s will let you know when it’s getting close.”
“C.O.?”
“Correctional officer,” Bam Bam explained. “Whole ‘nother language in here. And hey, didn’t I tole you that you couldn’t trust the 5-0?”
“I think you said they wouldn’t help me,” Bubba corrected as he sat down. He was tired. He’d skipped dinner, and he didn’t think the jailors would be bringing chow anytime soon. He needed to think about what he was going to do to get out of jail. The daunting truth was he wasn’t going to be able to help Willodean while being locked up, and he should have been thinking about that before he’d lost his temper.
“Still missing yo homegirl?” Bam Bam asked conversationally.
“Yeah, she’s still missing,” Bubba said.
“Where you looked?”
“Everywhere I could,” Bubba answered on a sad note.
“You check her cell phone?”
“Cell phone?”
“Sure. Most cells got GPS on ‘em,” Bam Bam said as he examined his fingernails. He wore a Lakers jersey with red leather pants and a lime green pair of Nike Zoom Hyperdunk shoes. (Bubba only knew what they were because Brownie pointed them out in a magazine and mentioned that they cost much more than his mother would fork out in a given month. Brownie had allowed as to how he was enamored of those particular shoes and was in the market for ideas on how to raise his allowance. Bubba allowed as to how Brownie was not permitted to mug little old ladies and/or rob banks, and the two went on to other topics of discussion.)
“That’s a good idea,” Bubba said. If Willodean had her cell phone on her, then they would know where she was located. But a thought came to him. Cell phones died without being charged. There wasn’t a lot of coverage near Sturgis Woods, as he had warned Kiki of the dreadlocks. Still it was a good thought. Bubba hoped that Sheriff John had already thought of it because the Dallas County Jail wasn’t going to give him a second call.
“I watches the Discovery Channel,” Bam Bam shared. “They gots lots of shows about criminal investigations. Never know when a fella needs a little in-for-maaa-cee-on.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” one of the other detainees said bitterly. “I got nailed for jaywalking.”
“Jaywalking?” another detainee asked with apparent skepticism.
“Well, there was something about assaulting the police officer, too,” the first detainee admitted with a red-faced sneer. “He was being a jackass. So I kicked him in the knee. I had my steel tipped boots on, so a bone got broke. Obviously, I was entrapped.”
“Rookies,” Bam Bam said. He leaned over to Bubba. “Don’t never confess what you done in here. These little rooks will come back in three to six months at your trial as witnesses for the prosecution and say you copped to everything. They’ll say you robbed a nun at gunpoint in front of a group of Catholic school girls. You even be D.B. Cooper, too.”
The first detainee heard that and hastily amended his story. “I’m not saying I kicked the cop. But he was kicked by someone. Someone with steel tipped boots. Yeah, that’s it. Who’s D.B. Cooper?”
“So what happened to your girl?” Bam Bam asked.
“There was a car wreck and she vanished,” Bubba said shortly.
Bam Bam took that in. “Sheeee-it,” he said. “Vanished. Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Try her cell phone,” Bam Bam counseled. “Maybe it he’ps. Maybe it don’t. Worth a shot.”
Bubba shrugged. He was going to give it a shot when he got out of the jail. He might shoot some other things, too.
“They search for this girl?” Bam Bam asked.
“Searched all over,” Bubba said.
“This about that girl down south of the Big D?” Bam Bam asked as his eyebrows furrowed. Comprehension cleared his frown away. “Got all kinds of peoples looking for that girl on account of who she be.”
“Probably the same one.”
“She be a…” Bam Bam paused and warily looked at the other detainees. “Well, she be something I don’t wants to say in here, am I right?”
“You’re right.” Bubba thought Bam Bam was trying to say that he knew that Willodean was a sheriff’s deputy but that he didn’t want the others to know. Why, Bubba wasn’t sure, but he went with it.
Bam Bam sat back, and his eyes ran over Bubba’s large form. “But you ain’t.”
“I ain’t,” Bubba agreed.
I ain’t what? A sheriff’s deputy? No, I’m not. I’m a big, dumb sonuvabitch, right now. Sorry, Ma.
“You is one crazy-ass cracker,” Bam Bam said, and to Bubba it sounded like a compliment. The man leaned in closer to Bubba. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I gots a cousin who’s a patrolman for the state of Alabama. He pays his taxes on time, and he don’t he’p a brotha out when he gots a speeding ticket in Mobile. Ain’t that some freaky shit?”
“Freaky,” Bubba replied.
“So what you doing up here?” Bam Bam looked around as if he could see the entirety of the city of Dallas. “That girl didn’t disappear up here. You think she’s here somewheres?”
“I think a man who might have taken her is here,” Bubba said, and his voice was all icy fury again.
“Man like that,” Bam Bam said reasonably, “ain’t gots no reason to be on the street.”
“They called him a stalker,” Bubba remarked. He didn’t have an idea why he was sharing with a man named Bam Bam except that it seemed like it made sense to talk it out. Bubba’s mind was on Howell Le Beau. If Bubba had to be locked up, he wasn’t going to stop thinking about the circumstances. Possibly he could come up with a better plan to find the man who might very well have taken Willodean.
“A stalker,” Bam Bam said with evident fury. “I knows lots of homegirls who has men who don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’. A woman’s got a right to say no. Man just has to understand not every girl wants to be with him. You remember that girl I tole you about? Gummi Worm? She had a fella like that. Be all, ‘You with me now, babe,’ and she was all like, ‘I don’t think so.’ ”
Bam Bam’s hands began to fluctuate wildly again, emphasizing parts of his dialogue that he felt strongly about.
“Girl had to take him down with pepper spray and dude was all, ‘What for you do that, girl?’ The 5-0 had to take his sorry ass to the hospital to check out his eyeballs.” He finished with a chuckle. “Pepper spray made him cry big gre
en boogers down his chin.”
“What makes a fella do that?” Bubba asked. Understand the man? Understand what he did with Willodean. Maybe. What else have I got right now?
“Dunno,” Bam Bam said. “Wicked bad crazy fucks, them is. Word, my brotha.” He snapped his wrist in time with what he was saying.
“They’re obsessed,” one of the other detainees said. It was the man who’d been nicked for jaywalking and possibly some other stuff he didn’t think was worth mentioning. “Stalkers are sometimes psychotic or nonpsychotic, depending on pre-existing diagnoses.”
The holding cell quieted, and everyone stared at the man. He shrugged painfully.
“It was on E! last night,” he said defensively. “They had a two-hour special on Hollywood actors and actresses who were stalked. Talked to family members and shrinks and the whole nine yards. Should have stayed home and watched all of it,” he added in a furious undertone.
“Stalker dude got a shrink?” Bam Bam asked Bubba.
“You mean the man I’m looking for?” Bubba said.
Bam Bam nodded.
“Yeah, the parole officer said something about one.” Bubba cogitated. “But a therapist ain’t gonna speak to me. I’ll be lucky if the po-lice don’t drive me to the county line and drop me off while waving a shotgun at my butt.”
“Where’s your dog?” Bam Bam asked suddenly, looking around as if the Basset hound would appear out of nothingness.
“Parole officer’s got her,” Bubba said.
“That’s some freaky shit, too,” Bam Bam said earnestly.
Don’t therapists have to warn folks if their patients threaten someone? Bubba considered what he knew about psychology. He’d taken the one class as an elective. What did Bubba remember?
Babies like pooping. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Kids develop cognitive thinking about the age of thirteen. What else?
Bubba and the Missing Woman Page 13