Texas Hold'em
Page 35
“Whoa there, pardner,” she said, putting on a Texas accent. “Where yew going?”
“I don’t have to stay here.” Earl put his hand on the grip of his holstered gun. “None of this has anything to do with me.”
“You know, Earl, I had the most interesting chat with a friend of yours,” Creighton said. “Name of Keyz. And you seem awfully fond of that gun.” He took a sip of his martini, then refilled it from the cocktail shaker. Michelle wondered how the hell he had an entire martini-making setup in his room. Much less one out this early in the morning.
“Two of the Mob and Kimmie were shot at after midnight on Thursday. The police managed to locate the bullets that were fired and are running ballistics on them even now. I’m guessing you don’t have an alibi.…”
Earl was sweating. His white western shirt had perspiration stains under his arms, and his forehead looked oily. “I do have an alibi, don’t I, Priscilla?”
A chorus of “What?” sounded and everyone turned toward the liaison for the Mob.
“You idiot,” Priscilla said. Her eyes narrowed. There was a feral look to her. “I told you to keep your mouth shut.”
“But they have mah bullets!”
“My God,” she continued. “They didn’t know those were your bullets. Until just now. They had nothing but supposition until you opened your mouth.”
Creighton grinned. He looked like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. “You’ve done yourself no favors either, Miss Beecher.”
“I’m leaving,” Priscilla said.
“I’m going with you,” Earl said. He dropped his hand from the butt of his gun and reached out to Priscilla. She swatted it away. Michelle almost felt sorry for him when she saw the hangdog expression on his face, but then she remembered the gunshots and hoped he would go to prison for a long time.
“She told me to do it,” Earl said, pointing at Priscilla. The sad expression faded from his face, replaced with hurt and indignation. “She said to scare them, but not to hit them. It was tricky to do without being seen.”
“Shut up,” Priscilla hissed. “Shut up, you, you liar.”
“She loosened the lights,” he said, pointing at Priscilla. “You know she’s been doing this competition for years, and she knows everything about the auditorium. If it hadn’t been for that stink bomb, who knows what would have happened.”
“I set the stink bomb,” Darryl blurted. “I thought it would be funny. I knew we didn’t have a chance after I went on YouTube and heard all the other bands play. We’re good, but we’re not in the same league as the Originals or the Mob. I thought if we couldn’t win, then we could at least have some fun. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, I didn’t expect that,” Creighton said with genuine surprise. “Then who did the fire alarm and the snakes?”
Earl pointed at Priscilla. “She told me to.”
“I’m leaving,” Priscilla said. “All you have is the word of this lunatic.”
“Goodness,” Michelle said with complete insincerity. She turned and placed her hand over the lock and let a tiny bubble go, crushing the lock into place. “Something has happened to the lock on this door.”
“You did that! You did that just now!” Priscilla exclaimed. “We all saw you!”
Michelle looked at her indignantly. “I most certainly did not,” she said haughtily. “I use my abilities only for good.”
“Did anyone see anything?” Creighton asked. No one answered. “I’m sorry, Miss Beecher, you seem to be mistaken.”
“None of this will hold up in court,” she said. Her voice was cold, all hints of the pleasant and helpful Miss Beecher gone. “You’re keeping me here against my will. I’m certain the police will like to hear about that, Ms. Pond.”
“Oh, we already have,” Officer Reyes said as he sauntered in from the bedroom. “You were right, Mr. Charles. This was well worth my time. And it may just get me off bike duty.”
“Officer! Surely you can see what’s happening here. The broken lock. The harassment. The false imprisonment. I demand that you arrest this Pond person. And them too.” Priscilla pointed at Creighton and then at Earl. Creighton drained his martini, then ate the olive.
“I’m prepared to overlook the stink bomb incident,” said Officer Reyes to Darryl. “It appears you’ve been through an interesting time given your current appearance. And since setting it did avoid a terrible accident with those lights, I’m going to let it skate. As for you, Miss Beecher, I’d say you and Earl have a lot to answer for.”
Priscilla glowered. “I’m not saying anything else.”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Earl said in his West Texas drawl. “Long as I don’t take the rap for what she had me do.”
“Go on,” Creighton said. He went and started making another martini. “I’m sure we’re all fascinated.”
“She wanted them instruments stolen and them snakes put in the cases. Said that Bubbles’ kid’s bass and that Segway kid’s instruments should go. The Segway kid ’cause she thought he was disgusting,” he said. His eyes were turned down and there was almost a pout on his face. “You know you wanted that done, Priscilla. And to think I loved you like Johnny loved June.”
Priscilla rolled her eyes.
“My friend, Keyz,” Earl continued. “He’s got a friend who’s good with the snakes. Did some snake handling back in the day. Hooked us up with them rattlesnakes. But we had to do it on the sly seeing as how you can’t just grab one of those anytime. Did you know there’s a black market for rattlers?
“Anyhow, Keyz got us in. I grabbed the bass and the trumpet, Keyz’s friend dropped them snakes, and we skedaddled while the excitement with the fire alarm was going on.” A pleased smile crossed his face as if he’d just eaten a MoonPie.
“And you contacted your friends at Miss Beecher’s request?” Officer Reyes asked.
“Oh hell, yeah. She had a burr up her butt about them jokers. Said she’d have the Plano band again this year if it weren’t for them freaks. And you gotta admit, they can be pretty revoltin’. But we didn’t expect them to be so stubborn. Well, she just got angrier every time somethin’ didn’t work.” Michelle glanced over at Priscilla, who looked mad enough to spit nails.
“And you know, I felt pretty bad about them snakes,” he continued, warming to his topic. “But the heart wants what the heart wants. Yew know? But I’m beginning to think she was just using me. And that hurts.”
“What happened to the instruments?” Creighton asked. He sounded remarkably untipsy.
“Oh, they’re in the back of my Escalade. I was planning on hocking them over in Austin. They got a lot of bands there.”
There was a long silence. Then Bacho piped up, “Can you get the instruments back? I know we’d hate to lose ours. It’s weird just playing any old instrument. Your instrument is a part of you.”
“Don’t see why not,” Earl said. “I got the keys right here. I mean, if it’d help. I can pop right down and bring them back.”
“I doubt Officer Reyes would allow you out of his sight now.” Creighton poured himself yet another martini.
“Oh hell, I don’t have no need to run,” Earl said amiably. “Now Priscilla, I’d keep an eye on her.”
“Those instruments are evidence now,” Officer Reyes said. “I can’t let anyone have them.”
“Why are you holding me when it’s obvious Earl did all the crimes?” Priscilla asked. “I did nothing.”
“Well, Earl isn’t very bright, Miss Beecher,” Officer Reyes said. “That much is obvious. But you, now, it’s clear you did all sorts of things to encourage a simple guy like him to do awful stuff for you.”
“But, but, but,” she sputtered.
“Don’t get me wrong, Earl’s going to do some time,” Officer Reyes said. He and Creighton gave each other delighted smiles.
“Hey!” Earl said. “I thought I wasn’t gonna get in any trouble seein’ as how I gave you the skinny on her.”
“Now, no one p
romised you anything, Earl,” Creighton said. He’d started stirring up a new batch of drinks. He was in the process of making short work of his current martini. “I merely said to go on.”
“I hope you know y’all aren’t very nice.”
“What are you going to do now?” Michelle asked. She bubbled the broken lock again, smashing it to bits. It left a neat hole and that pleased her. It took more concentration to be tidy about things like that.
“I’m going to arrest Miss Beecher and that helpful guy, Earl,” Officer Reyes said. “Give a call to a couple of detectives I know who won’t hog all the glory. Have them come pick them up.” He gestured to the three boys on the couch. “You three jokers get on out of here.”
“Are you sure there’s no chance to get the bass and trumpet?” Michelle asked. “My daughter and her friend will be heartbroken if they don’t get them back.”
“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Bubbles,” he replied with real sadness in his voice. “We’ll likely need them for the case. And who knows how long that’ll be.”
Michelle didn’t know how to break it to her daughter and Peter that their instruments would be in police custody for an indeterminate amount of time. She didn’t know about Peter, but Adesina practically doted on her bass. Replacing it wouldn’t be easy and wouldn’t happen fast.
“Gross, Mom,” Adesina said as Wally knocked Michelle down the hallway. “Why don’t you just jump out the window like you usually do?”
Michelle had insisted on Wally walloping her so she would have fat to bubble with, just in case. A little fat went a long way in civilian situations.
Michelle shrugged. “I wanted to go downstairs with all of you. You know, like a normal mom.”
Wally, Ghost, and Adesina exchanged looks.
“Fine,” Michelle said. She was a little embarrassed. “I want to pretend we’re normal, ’kay? Let me have my little fantasy.”
A few minutes later, they were crammed into one of the small Gunter elevators. A Muzak version of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” was playing. Wally took up a healthy chunk of real estate, as did Michelle in her somewhat zaftig state.
Adesina’s wings kept trying to open, hitting Ghost in the face.
“Stop it!” Ghost said, slapping them away, then going noncorporeal. “You and those wings.”
The elevator stopped at the lobby and when the doors opened, Ghost floated out, leaving Wally to grab her sax cases. Adesina was still struggling with her wings, but eventually got out. Michelle followed them.
The lobby was as jammed with people as it had been on Tuesday before everything went to pieces.
Kids holding instrument cases were talking animatedly, but there were concerned expressions on the chaperones’ faces. And a couple of them looked at Michelle with narrowed eyes and ugly frowns.
Sharon pushed her way through the crowd until she stood before Michelle. “What’s going on?” Michelle asked. Sharon’s hair and clothes were messy, as if she’d thrown them on and was too rushed to bother with her hair.
“I thought everyone was supposed to go to the Tobin Center for the concert.”
“Shit,” said Michelle with frustration. “We’ll just have to go out the other entrance.”
Michelle looked at the opposite set of doors. The automatic doors were open, unable to shut because of the crush of people. Two police officers stood just outside the doors making sure no one else came in or went out. An overwhelmed security guard was trying to look cool and in charge and was failing miserably at both.
“I’m going out there,” Michelle said. The rest of the Mob, who had gathered together by now, raised a babble of protest, as did Wally and Robin. Even Sharon was signing frantically that Michelle should stay out of it.
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but, hello, impervious to harm. Well, pretty much. You can break mah heart.” The last she said with a heavy southern accent.
No one laughed. “Seriously?! That was funny.” She mock pouted. “Look, just stay here. I’ll see what’s up and try and figure out a way to get us to the Tobin Center.”
Outside, by standing on her tiptoes, Michelle saw God’s Weenies, a host of jokers, police, and a camera crew from KSAT.
The intersection of North St. Mary’s and East Houston was blocked off by police cars and barriers. Several dozen God’s Weenies held the west. A slightly smaller group of jokers and a few nats the east. Looky-loos had filled in the north and south sides.
Michelle shoved her way through the looky-loos. It helped that she had some fat on and she used her girth to push people out of the way. She popped out of the crowd, where she ran smack dab into the police barricade. Eight officers were spread out—two on each side of the intersection.
“Officer Reyes,” she said, taking a step back so she wasn’t pressed up against the orange barricade webbing. She was genuinely happy to see him. “I’m surprised to see you here after this morning’s events.”
Reyes shrugged and gave her a wan smile as he walked over. “Well, it seems the wheels of justice grind slow and so do the detectives I turned everything over to. And then there’s this big protest mess going on and I got roped in because, well, I was downtown already.”
“You know how to have fun,” she replied. “Me, I’m just trying to keep things cool.”
“You’re ready for a fight,” he said dryly.
He had her there. Ever since she’d gotten off the bus on Tuesday and run into God’s Weenies, she’d wanted to—in all honesty—kind of blow them the hell up. She felt proud that she’d only bubbled them in ways that were non-blow-uppy. But it had done little to assuage her anger. They were fucking with the Mob and that wasn’t going to stand.
“Are you suggesting I might do something violent?”
She was drowned out by the jokers and God’s Weenies trading catcalls. Most of the crowd had their phones out and were recording. Michelle wondered if all of them were on Livestream.
“You’re kidding, right?” Reyes said as he gave the crowd a quick look. “You do have a reputation for making stuff go boom.”
“I only make stuff go boom when it’s absolutely necessary,” she replied huffily. “I want you to notice how little boom there’s been this week.”
A puff of wind blew her platinum hair into her face. She usually wore it in a single, long braid, but today she’d decided to leave it unbound. She also wore her sensible bubbling clothes. Stretchy everything and comfy Vibram Furoshiki shoes. They were ugly as hell, but forgiving when she changed sizes.
“Hey, Mom.”
Michelle looked up, and hovering over her was Adesina. Her wings were fully unfurled and they flapped slowly, keeping her aloft a few feet above Michelle’s head.
“Are you kidding me?” Michelle said hotly. I want my little girl back! I want the little girl who wouldn’t do dumb shit like this. “Adesina, what are you doing out here? You should be inside with everyone else.”
“But I can’t see from there. This has a much better view.”
A barrage of catcalls was suddenly aimed their way, led by Betty Virginia.
“There’s one of those joker freaks!” “Hey, butterfly girl, look over here!” “Bubbles! Bubbles! Can you give me an autograph?” “You’re a heifer, Bubbles. No wonder you can only screw other women.”
“Adesina! Seriously!” Michelle exclaimed. Then she glared at the hecklers. If you’re going to try and insult me, at least make it something new. And lay off my daughter. “You come down this instant.”
“Mom!”
A cry went up from God’s Weenies’ side of the street and they strained against the stretchy orange barricade we
bbing.
One of the officers held up a bullhorn and said, “Step away from the barricade!”
God’s Weenies started chanting: “God hates jokers! God hates jokers! Keep us pure!”
The joker protesters began a chant of their own: “God loves everyone! Down with hate! Down with hate!”
The barricade webbing on all four corners was stretching now. Michelle was shoved against it. The cop with the bullhorn said, “Settle down! Y’all just settle down. Right. Now.”
“Adesina, dammit, go back inside!” Michelle tried jumping up to grab her ankle, but Adesina just fluttered up a little higher. “The police have this handled. Stop making me repeat myself.”
“Mom, we can get to the Tobin Center if we can just get those people to move.” She pointed at the looky-loos to the north.
The barrels keeping the barricade webbing in place on the joker side of the street gave a loud thunk as they tipped over. For a moment, the jokers looked surprised, as if they weren’t expecting to be sprung. Then a couple of jokers—one whose misshapen crimson body was covered in black eyes; the other who had a praying mantis body topped by a tiny woman’s head—glanced at each other and, with a yell, dashed across the intersection toward God’s Weenies. Another joker—whose head looked like a 1950s Jell-O mold with his features and brain floating inside—followed them.
God’s Weenies shrieked. In fear or anger, Michelle couldn’t tell.
Dammit, Michelle thought. I’m going to have to do something. And I’m going to catch hell for it no matter how things turn out. So, fun.
A giant bubble flew across the street and stopped abruptly in front of the jokers. The Jell-O joker stopped, his eyes widened, and then his gelatinous face collapsed onto his navy-blue suit, sliding down his chest and belly as if his head were melting. His brain ended up on his shoulders, and his eyes, ears, and mouth were now residing on his torso. Apparently, this was some kind of survival reflex.
Ew, Michelle thought.
She let the bubble break into twenty smaller bubbles. The wall of them shimmered iridescent in the sunlight. Then she turned them rubbery and dropped them. They began to bounce around and off Jell-O joker and the rest of the joker protesters.