“Did you hear about that Tom-Cruise-crazy shit that happened on the news show this morning?” one of the detainees asked. “Never would have believed that, if I hadn’t seen it.”
“That news guy drooled down the side of his cheek,” someone else said.
“And the kid laughed his ass off,” another one side. Everyone giggled except Bubba.
Bubba was thinking, Who do I know that will tell me about stalkers and crazy people?
“And that other news girl is all like, ‘Don’t tase me, bro,’ ” Bam Bam chortled.
Bubba glanced around him coming back to the moment. Several men laughed about some topic Bubba had missed. He didn’t really care about that. He needed to get out of the jail, and he was going to have to wait for a judge to see him. Then he was going to have to hope that his mother was on her way to Dallas to bail him out.
Speaking of crazy, I should have called Ma before I got thrown in jail. I plumb forgot. She’s gonna be mad about that. She’s gonna act like someone peed in her Cheerios.
Bam Bam said to the other detainees, “There was this one dumb cracker who thought he could dress up like Judy Garland and trip-trip-trap through the barrio wearing ruby slippers. I dint think they made ruby slippers in a size 13. Biggest damn shoes I ever did see. Then he be like, ‘Click my heels together and say there’s no place like home.’ ”
I need someone really special to tell me what I need to know about a stalker, Bubba decided. I need someone who’s an expert in being off the wall.
“And there was this one girl who went to Walmart dressed in a G-string. Only a G-string,” Bam Bam kept talking jauntily.
“What’s wrong with that?” one of the others asked.
“Girl be five hundred pounds heavy,” Bam Bam said. “I like a big girl, but that be a really big girl. They make G-strings for girls that big? Same place as the size 13 ruby slippers, am I right, brothas?”
A light bulb popped above Bubba’s head.
All of the detainees in the holding cell looked up at the electrical bulb which had suddenly detonated.
I need…a crazy person.
•
Lawyer Petrie and Miz Demetrice stood in the small courtroom while Bubba was still handcuffed to a long bar next to long rows of seats on the side.
Bubba’s mother glared at him volcanically. She dressed in a lemon yellow dress holding a matching purse. Even her pumps were lemony. Somehow she’d managed to get the remainder of the Sharpie marker-drawn stars off her face and looked like the pristine Texas matron that she presented to the world at large. The only problem was her sulfuric gaze directed at Bubba, and it didn’t bode well for his immediate future.
Lawyer Petrie stood next to her. The man dressed in his typical three-piece, black suit, replete with a gold fob draped from one button hole. He held a black derby in one hand in deference to the presence of the judge. The expression on his face revealed that he was mentally spending his revenue obtained from not only representing Bubba in court but having to travel from Pegram County to do so.
Bubba was tired and hungry. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep. The men in the holding cell snored, and one clearly had a digestive tract issue of massive proportion. He wondered if Guillermo Sanchez had fed his dog. He wondered if Willodean had anything to eat. He wondered if she was thinking about who was looking for her.
I am. I swear. Just as soon as I stop being stupid.
The judge finished with her paperwork and looked up. A correctional officer nudged Bubba’s elbow. “That’s you, Snoddy. Stand up.”
Bubba stood, and the judge asked something about being responsible until the court date. Bubba strove to look solemn. “I will,” he said. Then he hastily added, “Ma’am.”
The judge twitched and looked back down at what was probably Bubba’s arrest record. It was a large pile of papers. “I see you’ve been around the block, Mr. Snoddy,” the judge said.
Bubba hadn’t caught the judge’s name. Does she know Hizzoner Stenson Posey? “I’ve been in a few jails,” he allowed.
“Most of the charges were dropped,” the judge said as she flicked a few pages.
“I seem to be a mite unlucky with getting arrested,” Bubba added. There were a few chuckles from the courtroom’s observers.
Miz Demetrice cleared her throat, and Bubba didn’t need to be psychic to figure out what she thought. Ain’t helping yourself, boy.
“Unlucky,” the judge repeated.
From where Bam Bam was handcuffed on Bubba’s left, he leaned in and whispered, “Good tactic. I be trying that later. Unlucky. Folks like me always be unlucky.”
“I remember this case from a few months ago,” the judge went on as one fingernail lifted a few pages. “They caught the two perpetrators red-handed confessing to the murders and the attempt to pin it on you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bubba said. That would be Lurlene Grady and Noey Wheatfall.
“And last week, there was the woman who wanted to kill everyone on a decades old Christmas society board? Something about her father going to jail?”
“That’s what she said,” Bubba stated. That’s Nancy Musgrave.
“And now there’s a sheriff’s deputy missing,” the judge went on. “You charged up here to Dallas looking for her?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bubba ascertained. I charged up here to Dallas to find the man who might have done it. He wasn’t sure what else there was to say. He could have said, “Please, ma’am, I need to get out of here so I can find Willodean soonest,” but he didn’t think the judge with her cynical eyes would understand. As a matter of fact, those eyes looked both suspicious and ready to condemn him without recourse.
“It isn’t done to interfere with a peace officer,” the judge said as she slid the paperwork away from her. Her eyes settled on Bubba like a missile sighting an errant enemy tank.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bubba said obediently. “It was a mistake.” And in that particular moment, he felt repentant. It reflected in his words. He couldn’t say anything else that was more sincere.
The judge sat back in her high-backed chair and looked at Bubba in a considering fashion. She looked as if she was…judging him. “All right then. Can you bond out, Mr. Snoddy?”
“Alfred Petrie for the defendant,” Lawyer Petrie said loudly, coming to his feet.
Alfred? That’s Lawyer Petrie’s first name? Now that don’t sound right.
“$10,000 bond,” the judge pronounced and thumped her gavel. She appeared so happy about it that she thumped the gavel again.
Miz Demetrice grunted loudly in a most unladylike way.
Lawyer Petrie coughed into his hand. “We can take care of that, Your Honor.”
Bubba almost smiled, but the judge was looking at him, so he went for the grateful expression. Based on Her Honor’s face, he didn’t quite pull it off.
Chapter Thirteen
In the Land of Blind People,
Bubba is the Least Crazy
Tuesday, January 3rd
In order of most importance, Bubba had to pick up his dog, his truck, and his limited amount of luggage from the third-rate hotel. Miz Demetrice badgered him as he proceeded about his business, but he simply ignored her which had the effect of aggravating her further. Lawyer Petrie took the silent high ground and drove Bubba to Guillermo Sanchez’s house where he retrieved Precious from Mrs. Sanchez. Precious appeared content and well-fed. Mrs. Sanchez was only mildly irritated.
“That dog loves bean burritos,” she said in a warning manner as Precious attempted to lick Bubba to death. The fact of an animal consuming highly combustible food stuffs didn’t signify well for the three-hour trip to come.
Bubba thought he could detect remnants of bean breath emitting from Precious’s mouth. Mostly, Precious smelled like dog.
Then Mrs. Sanchez handed Bubba his set of keys for the Chevy truck. “Your truck is still at the DPO,” she said helpfully. “Gui said you were looking for that missing girl. Stupid police don’t have much sen
se putting you in lockup.”
Miz Demetrice and Lawyer Petrie watched from Lawyer Petrie’s black sedan. His mother still stared at Bubba as if she could turn him into stone with her belligerent death glare.
“Yeah,” Bubba said in a subdued fashion. He knelt and scratched Precious as she continued her tonguey assault on all of his exposed flesh. “I shouldn’t have been messing with the investigator’s business.”
Mrs. Sanchez stared down at Bubba’s face and he looked away. Truth be told, Bubba wasn’t happy with himself, and he sincerely doubted that he would be happy with anything for some time to come.
“You like this missing girl,” she said to the top of his head.
“Yes,” he said simply. Like her a lot.
“People will understand that,” Mrs. Sanchez. “Gui said you didn’t hurt the investigator when he arrested you and that you could have.”
Bubba remembered Charles Park’s extensive array of lightning-swift moves and doubted that. One moment Bubba had been saying, “Duh,” and the next he had been lying on the ground with Park snapping shut the handcuffs. Park hadn’t been in the least inconvenienced by Bubba’s mass.
“Keep looking,” Mrs. Sanchez advised. “I’ll light a candle for you and the deputy at the church today. You’ll need all the help you can get.”
Coming to his feet, Bubba felt a wave of shame threaten to swamp him. He’d been thinking only of himself. “Thank you, Mrs. Sanchez,” he said. “And would you thank your husband for watching out for my dog. He dint have to do that after I fooled him.”
“Oh, Gui thought it was funny,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “Well, he did after a few hours anyway. Under the circumstances, it’s understandable.” She shook a warning finger at him. “Almost.”
Bubba got Precious into the Caddy and slid into the back seat with the dog, who wasn’t done with her animalistic attentions to her master.
Giving a set of directions to Lawyer Petrie, Bubba settled in for the ride. After a few minutes he said, “Search didn’t find nothing, Ma?”
“Ifin you had called me,” Miz Demetrice said icily, “then you would already know that.” She had discovered that her verbal tirade wasn’t getting her anywhere so she chose arctic silence as her weapon of choice.
Bubba sighed.
“Ma,” he said. “I love you, but I make mistakes the same as most.”
“I’d rather you made less,” she pronounced.
Lawyer Petrie chuckled under his breath.
“Ifin I can find this man who stalked Willodean,” Bubba continued, “then perhaps I can convince him to tell me where she is.” He paused for effect. “Just like I told you before.”
Bubba could see clearly from the back seat as Miz Demetrice’s shoulders straightened and set into an iron-like configuration. Either she was about to crack, or she wouldn’t speak to him for the next five days.
“I’m going back to Pegramville today,” he announced.
Lawyer Petrie said, “Good. Good. I think the judge will like that just fine.”
“The searches find anything at all?” Bubba asked again.
“It was discovered that Farmer Scoresby has a two-headed cat that he calls Twoface,” Miz Demetrice said sourly. “There was also a cat named Mr. Freeze and one named The Riddler. Apparently Farmer Scoresby has a keenness for Batman villains.”
“Did Sheriff John check Willodean’s cell phone?” Bubba asked.
“Her phone is dead. Sheriff John thought of that on the second day,” Miz Demetrice said, her tone a minute amount more moderate. “The last registered location was just south of Pegramville where it pinged a tower there. Sheriff thinks it was when she was on her way to the Snoddy Mansion on the day she…disappeared.”
Bubba moved uncomfortably in the back seat. His hand came down on Precious’s head. She rested her snout across his knee as if her master might get away if she did not weigh him down. His other hand came down on a stack of papers. He saw they were missing posters. The photograph on them was Willodean Gray. He picked one up and read the details, although he was well familiar with them.
Miz Demetrice said, “We’re dropping them off with a local organization here.” Bubba’s gaze came up and saw that his mother turned her head and regarded him with expressive sadness.
“There’s a fraternal police group that will start picketing the city with them. They’re going after major intersections that are closer to Pegram County first. They’re hoping that they manage to find someone who’s seen something or someone.”
Bubba stared at the photograph of Willodean. It was a different one than on the bulletin that Sheriff John had sent out. She smiled into the camera. Arms were draped over her shoulders. The photo had been enlarged from some family shot.
Bubba studied Willodean’s likeness. Her black hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled. She appeared happy. She had seemed happy the evening she’d kissed him.
His lips flattened into a white line of eternal grimness. He checked his pocket and found the phone the jail had given back to him. The screen wouldn’t even turn on; seemingly the brief charge hadn’t been enough for the cheap unit.
“Can I borrow your phone, Ma?”
Miz Demetrice handed it back to him with only a slight reflection of outward irritation. It was a strong suggestion of how annoyed with him she was, since she didn’t squabble about his time spent in the jail.
Bubba took about five minutes finding Charles Park at his desk.
Park answered with a curt, “Investigator Park.”
“This is Bubba Snoddy,” Bubba said.
Somehow Bubba had managed to turn on the speakerphone function of his mother’s phone and he wasn’t certain how to turn it off without disconnecting the call. When Park snorted everyone in the car fell silent and listened.
“That was fast,” Park said. “Judge Perez doesn’t usually let people out who interfere with a peace officer. She has a special place under the jail.”
“I think she might have felt sorry for me,” Bubba said. Not really. But the judge hadn’t been completely indifferent to the story.
“Huh,” Park said. “Perez must be getting soft.”
“Guillermo Sanchez implied that Howell Le Beau wasn’t the one who assaulted Willodean,” Bubba said.
Miz Demetrice made a hoarse noise from the front of the car. Lawyer Petrie remained stalwartly silent. Precious grunted and got more comfortable.
Park didn’t say anything.
“Is it true?”
“What difference does it make?” Park asked. “Le Beau was stalking Deputy Gray. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. He copped to it.”
“Sometimes I drive by the sheriff’s department to see if I can catch a glimpse of Willodean,” Bubba said inflexibly. “Does that mean I’m stalking her?”
“It’s an issue of harassment,” Park said. “I’m thinking the deputy doesn’t mind if you drive by and try to catch a look-see.”
“Did Le Beau assault Willodean? Did he put her into the hospital for a week?”
Miz Demetrice made another gruff sound.
“No,” Park said after a lengthy hesitation. “Le Beau followed her. She made a routine stop, and the guy got the drop on her. It turns out that Le Beau probably saved her life. But Deputy Gray was unconscious for two days, and the mounted dash camera didn’t show what happened. We caught that guy who assaulted her two weeks later on another routine stop. He ran a light in front of a highway patrolman halfway to El Paso. He’s doing twenty to life in Huntsville.”
“The news initially reported it incorrectly,” Bubba said contemplatively. Kiki of the dreadlocks had probably pulled up the news articles about Willodean in chronological order.
“We didn’t know until the Deputy woke up,” Park said. “Doesn’t make much difference. Le Beau vanishes the same day that Deputy Gray vanishes. It doesn’t take much to do the math. It’s my experience that coincidences are unlikely, sometimes improbable.”
“And you spoke wit
h Le Beau’s employer?”
“Bubba, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have to tell you jack diddly poo,” Park said with unmistakable impatience. “This kind of behavior is going to get you thrown right back in county lockup.”
“I’m just trying to get a feel for this guy, Le Beau,” Bubba said. “Guillermo sounds like he kind of likes the fella, like most of the fellas he deals with are scumbags, but occasionally one tries to get back on board with the rest of civilization. Like Le Beau. He was trying to get his life right.”
“So Le Beau went back to writing letters to Deputy Gray after he agreed not to have any contact with her because he was trying to do the right thing?” Park laughed.
“That letter I found sounded sorta like…an apology. I don’t rightly reckon,” Bubba admitted. “But I aim to find out.”
“Do I have to warn you again about-”
Bubba cut him off. “Talk to you soon, Park.”
As Bubba brought the phone down, Park yelled, “Dammit! Don’t hang up! I’m talking-”
A large finger jabbed at the end button.
Miz Demetrice had her arm resting on the back of the bench seat and her chin thoughtfully propped on the closed fist as she stared at him. She said gently, “Willodean moved down to Pegramville after someone assaulted her.”
Bubba nodded.
“My God,” she muttered. “Some men are truly vile beasts. There’s a very special place in hell where men like that have their testicles ripped out on a daily basis and fed to them with a roasting fork.”
“Amen,” Bubba agreed. That’s the Ma I know and I love.
“If you haven’t found this other man, this Le Beau, then why are you going back to Pegramville?” she asked tentatively.
“There’s someone there I need to speak with.”
•
Bubba had to stop once to add water to the radiator of his truck. He had to stop to add air to one of the tires and then to blow trash out of his carburetor. But he made it to Pegramville before the sun went down and the sixty-odd-year-old engine had blown itself into smithereens no matter what his mechanical skills.
Bubba and the Missing Woman Page 14