Hot Enough to Kill (24 page)
Growing up, I'd always wished for a brother of my very own, and my idealistic notion of what that meant pushed me to have more than one child so they wouldn't be alone. When the two little cherubs I thought would be so thrilled to have each other for playmates wound up fighting like crazed panthers, I had to reassess my notions. Now that they're older they really seem to like one another, and I'm glad for that. They'll always have each other to fall back on--something I never have had. Other than my mother and a few aunts, my kids were my only family now--a very short list. I didn't know what story Susan and Dewayne shared, but her family list had certainly gotten shorter too. It made me sad--and a little angry.
"As it turned out, Leroy, Susan was right. And now her brother's dead because the people who are supposed to help, meaning you and your merry band, wouldn't. If I were her, I'd be thinking of what number I wanted to put before the word million in the lawsuit my attorneys were working on fast and furiously."
Leroy snorted. "That dyke won't be suing nobody, not if she knows what's good for her."
The wail of sirens kept me from asking him for an explanation, not that he would have given me one--or said anything worth hearing anyway. The siren got louder, and I knew the ambulance would arrive in seconds, which meant it was time for me to make a discreet and rapid exit. I did not need to witness what was about to transpire.
I nodded to Leroy. "If you had any sense whatsoever, you'd get these people out of here before the paramedics come in, which by the way seems like a bad plan anyway since this is a crime scene not an urgent medical emergency situation."
He scowled, eyes blinking, indicating the possibility of some kind of thought processes going on behind the scenes.
"Furthermore, Mr. Acting Sheriff, keeping anyone else from disturbing the crime scene before the forensics people get here--assuming you've called them--would seem prudent. Dewayne was involved in an ongoing murder investigation, not to mention the pesky detail that he's an illegal arms dealer. You might also want to consider sharing this little development with the other eighty departments who have an interest here."
Leroy looked a little taken aback, and I was sure if he had a deputy's handbook he'd have been rabidly flipping through it to see if I was right. But since he didn't, he was forced to wing it and pretend he knew what he was doing. "This here ain't a murder, Jolene, and you don't know what you're talking about. Larry said it was plain as day that DeWayne hung himself and that's that. Besides, Ethel Fossy said the same thing. No need in dragging out the Redwater boys for something cut and dried like this and I sure ain't calling nobody at the ATF about nothing. I don't go around making up trouble where there ain't none."
I just nodded, thinking of how Jerry was going to hit the roof when he heard about this little breach of protocol--or maybe, he'd just hit Leroy. "I'm going back to my mother's now, and you're going to cease and desist with badgering me about any of this, got it?" He didn't look like he was getting much of anything except maybe heat stroke, so I added, "Are you going to call Jerry and tell him what you've done or shall I?"
I didn't wait for Leroy to answer, just marched myself to the Tahoe and headed toward Mother's house. I was in the driveway before the air conditioner had even started cooling the baked interior, but the few short, sweltering minutes in the car had given me plenty of time to come to a variety of conclusions. The main one being that I'd had enough of this place and wanted out--now. I left the car running--and the blessed air conditioner on high--and ran into the house. I gave Mother a brief synopsis of Dewayne's supposed suicide and Leroy's crime scene contamination, causing her to shake her head and cluck her tongue. But when I told her to grab her purse, she didn't leap to her feet and race through the house. In fact, she just sat there, staring at me.
"Well, Jolene, what you said about Dee-Wayne is just awful, but why does that mean we have to run off right now? It'll be getting dark before long."
I had about a thousand reasons, but at least half of them concerned being fed up with the present locale and its residents, so I decided to skip those. I relayed my concerns, sticking to the basic fact that people were dropping like flies for one reason or another, and bullets were buzzing faster than that, and well, I'd just had enough of all of it.
She didn't look ready to chime in and agree with me so I tried another tack. "Right now, we don't have a guard in the yard. Let's get out of here while we can."
She reached for her purse, opened it and dug through, checking to see that she had whatever it was she deemed essential. "I certainly wouldn't mind another break. It was certainly refreshing to go to the mall. How long do you think we'll be gone?"
"A month at the most."
Mother's perfectly drawn eyebrows shot up. "Now, Jolene..."
The more I talked, the better it sounded, and the more eager I got to hit the road. I could almost smell the pine trees, not to mention the freedom. "After I stop by to see Jerry, I'm packing up and heading back to Colorado and you're going with me."
Lucille turned toward me and narrowed her eyes. "I most certainly am not. This is my home and nobody's going to run me off from it. Besides, I don't take that mountain altitude well at all, and you know it."
"Well, it's a hell of a lot easier to take than obtuse rednecks on power trips and homicidal maniacs with guns. People are dropping like flies, Mother."
"I don't know why this thing with Dee-Wayne has gotten you so stirred up. It's not like somebody shot him. You said he killed himself."
"So said Ethel Fossy. Do you believe anything she says? She's the one who found him. How do you know she didn't make Dewayne shoot the mayor, shoot at us, and then make him hang himself for his sinfulness? Or maybe she hung him herself. Or maybe he was dead before she strung him up. Shit, I don't know!" I knew I'd gone a little overboard, but if you'd been in my shoes, you'd have been diving pretty deep, too. The fact of the matter was that this was getting to me. I just couldn't help it. And the thought of fleeing the place made me just a tad hyper, if I were to be objective about the situation, which I saw no need to be.
Lucille stood, grabbed her purse, clutched her bandaged arm and started walking toward the door. "Well, Jolene, I think you had one good idea mixed in there somewhere. Let's drive on in to town to the hospital." She clicked her sandals haughtily across the linoleum toward the back door. "I'm sure they've got some kind of medication that'll settle you down."
"Is that so?" I clopped along right behind her. "Well, then, Mother, since we're going that way anyway, maybe we should stop by and check out that nice new nursing home out on the highway, hmmm?
"Just get in the car, Jolene."
"Just get in the car, Jolene," I mimicked childishly, snagging a Dr Pepper from the fridge as I hurried by.
We drove in silence toward Redwater Falls, both stewing for different reasons. I do not enjoy fighting with my mother, but I'm also not real fond of having to muddle my way through this alternate universe that she calls home.
We arrived at the hospital without saying a single word to one another, but we did arrive safely. I made several passes through the parking lot until I spied one slot that had a sliver of shade from a gangly tree in the median. I squeezed the Tahoe between two compacts, shifted into park, but left the car running. "Look, Mother, I'm sorry about being cranky. This hasn't been the most pleasant of situations to deal with, and you know how I get sometimes."
"I know exactly," she said rather tartly. "I've lived with you for forty-three years."
I was compelled to mention that I'd lived with her for an equal amount of time, but gritted a little enamel off my teeth instead. "So, are you going in with me to see Jerry?"
She shook her head and patted her hair with her good hand. "No, I'll just sit here for a few minutes. If you're not back shortly I'll turn off the car and sit in the lobby where it's cool."
I nodded and opened the door. "There are some CDs in the console if you want to listen to any."
"Zoloft."
I leaned back inside. "Who?"
"Zoloft. It's not a who, it's a what. Little tiny blue things. I think it takes a while to build up in your system, so the sooner you get started on it the better."
It dawned on me what she was talking about and I was not amused. "Sure, Mom, and while I'm inside getting all anti-depressed, you can skim through my latest copy of Kevorkian Quarterly. It's in the backseat there."
"That's not the least bit funny, Jolene," she said, tipping up her chin.
"I'm not laughing," I said, closing the driver's side door. I marched around the back of the Tahoe, opened the cargo doors, and fished out a bottle. I held it up over the seat and rattled it. "St. John's wort, Mother, will that do?" She didn't answer. I unscrewed the bottled and poured myself some. "I'm taking three of them. Are you happy now?"
Lucille did not turn around. "I will be if they work. You're just entirely too wound up."
Wound up? Okay, maybe a little. And truth be told, I kind of hoped they'd work, too, but I didn't tell her that. Maybe things would appear rosier through wort-colored eyeballs and my deteriorating attitude would improve as well. Maybe I'd even start thinking dodging bullets and guessing who was going to wind up dead next was great fun. Or maybe I wouldn't just rip the throat out of the next person who looked at me crossways.
I said an overly sweet bye-bye to mommy dearest and hustled myself into the hospital. After a quick stop by the water fountain in the lobby, I was herbed-up and ready to go. If I was lucky, I might have calm and peaceful thoughts in less than half an hour.
I headed up the elevator to the fourth floor and made my way to Jerry's room. The door was propped open, so I peaked inside before barging in. It took me a couple of blinks to realize that not only was the bed empty, the room was empty as well. No flowers, plants, balloons or IV rack. Panic grabbed me by the throat. He wasn't well enough to leave the hospital. He'd just gotten out of intensive care. What was going on? I checked the room number again, twice. There was no mistake. Jerry Don Parker was gone.
Trying to stay reasonably calm and sane, I forced myself to walk, or at least not to sprint, down to the nurses' station and discreetly inquired of the two women on duty as to the status of Mr. Jerry Don Parker. The look on their faces did not allay any of my fears, nor did the fact that they both started scrambling to find out what had happened to their patient. The was no doctor's release and no one had any personal knowledge of any of it. Great.
The issue was still being hotly debated when I stomped off. It was either a big-time staff snafu, a planned escape or an abduction. In any case, I knew the identity of his accomplice because, to quote several eyewitnesses, Jerry had been taken away--very sweetly I might add--by a charming and exceptionally pretty blonde woman. Golly gee, do you think it could have been Amy?
And that was the real rub. If he needed somebody to spring him, why hadn't he asked me?
I sat in the hospital parking lot with the car running and my face smashed against the air conditioner vent by the door. I felt like pounding something or crying. Both, actually. I knew I had no right, but I was just flat furious. To my credit, I just kept my face in the cold air and gritted my teeth, not making even one snide remark. I didn't want my mother to know how mad--and hurt--I was.
She knew anyway.
"You may as well rant and rave, Jolene. Bad for your blood pressure to keep it all in. You did take your pills, didn't you?"
I growled in response. Yes, I had, but I darn sure wasn't taking another one of the stinking things. I wanted to be mad, thank you very much.
"Whenever you're up to it," Lucille said evenly, maybe even compassionately, although I wasn't up to recognizing it. "We can just drive on out to Amy's place and see what's going on. Jerry Don built a nice big house out on the Bowman City highway, about two miles out of town. He's done real well for himself, you know, although she did get the house in the divorce."
I didn't say a word, just pried myself away from the vent and put the car in gear. Fine, I'd go see Amy's nice big house, yes, indeed I would. What I did after the look-see, well, I couldn't say, we'd all just have to be surprised. I might have punched the gas pedal a tad too hard because Lucille yelped and her head kind of bounced back against the headrest. I muttered a sincere "sorry" as I sped out toward the Bowman City highway.
When mother pointed out the house, I hit the brakes and swung into a long driveway that curved up in front of the house. Amy lived in a fancy, Texas-style brick model with a huge, crown-like roof that seemed almost as big as the structure beneath it. The house was upscale for the area, or even the county, and I had to wonder just how Jerry's salary had funded the project. Then again, he hadn't always been a small-town county sheriff. Still, any way you looked at it, Amy Parker had done right fine in the divorce settlement, and I was not at all happy for her.
I left the car running with Mother inside and walked, okay maybe trudged is a better word, up to the front door, the two-sided door with custom leaded glass. I say custom because you generally don't buy double doors with an etched scene of whitetail deer spread across both sides and surrounded by beveled glass pieces of various shapes and colors off the rack at Home Depot.
No, I was neither bitter nor jealous. I'm not the type.
After ringing the doorbell, knocking and playing peeping tom at every custom-covered window I could reach, I finally accepted the fact that no one was home. If Amy had picked Jerry up at the hospital, and really, who else could it have been, she surely hadn't brought him home with her. It would have been the most logical option, so naturally it hadn't occurred.
