Hot Enough to Kill (27 page)

I didn't know what to say, but unintelligible groans and moans were coming from my mouth nevertheless. My mother owned a gun, with a laser sight, for godsakes, and carried it with her in her purse. The fact that she was a regular at the shooting range was kind of anticlimactic. There were a multitude of issues to be addressed, but I hit on the big one first. "Do the words 'concealed weapon' mean anything to you?"

"Why, yes, Jolene, they most certainly do. I believe those very words are on my permit that I carry with me in my purse."

Permit? If I hadn't already put my jaw muscles into spasms by clenching my teeth so hard, my chin would have dropped down to my knees. My mother had a permit to carry a concealed weapon? Apparently, yes, and I was not heartened by this news. I vaguely recalled reading somewhere that you had to have a class or something to get a permit, but I wasn't going to bet my life on it. "You put that thing away, right now."

"I most certainly will not! That Leroy Harper needs somebody to teach him some manners. I've had enough of his monkey business, and I'm not about to let him just drive up and kill us." Lucille contorted herself around until she could lean out the window. "Tire or radiator?"

"Shit, Mother, sit down. You can't shoot at the sheriff."

Bang.

"Stop that!"

"This laser sight doesn't work worth a darn when it's still light out."

Bang.

"Looks like he's backing right off," Lucille hollered, still hanging out the window. "I don't think I hit him though. I could try the clip of hollow points."

"For godsakes, Mother, would you put the goddamn gun away and get back in the car!"

She did and I checked the mirror again. We were indeed leaving Leroy behind. Probably because he'd called an entire army of deputies to cut us off at the next pass, wherever that might be. We were going to jail, for real this time, no question about it. No matter what Leroy
might
have done back at Jerry's, we hadn't given him the opportunity to actually do anything, such as kill us, so technically he hadn't done anything at all wrong. Not so for the Jackson gang.

As with most normal people, my entire education on how to be a criminal on the run came from television, movies or books--and not the true crime stuff either. Oh, no, it was fiction all the way for me, and any idiot knew what worked in a stupid made-up story never ever worked in real life--never. So I could just forget any ideas about Carl Hiaasen or Elmore Leonard helping me out of this mess. Mel Gibson wasn't going to come to my rescue either, so I had to just get myself together and figure out the best thing to do. And if I didn't hurry up about it, Dirty Harriet was looking like she'd do it for me.

Lucille had her eyes glued to the side mirror and the gun clutched in her good hand. I eased off the gas a little, and when the speedometer crept down to eighty, I felt like we were crawling. "We've got to get off this road. Where do we go? Hell, where are we?"

Lucille looked up from the mirror and surveyed the landscape in the fading light. Huge expanses of flat land peppered with clusters of scrub mesquite whizzed by but there were also getting to be more and more areas of real trees. The road was even beginning to have a little up and down to it. We hadn't met a single car yet, but I knew we would. I just had to hope when we did it wasn't somebody Leroy had called in to catch us.

"I believe we're not far from Olney," Lucille said, pointing out the window. "If I remember right, there should be a little road here before long that cuts west across to Megargel. Take it, then we'll head toward Seymour."

"Sure, fine, then what? You do realize we are official felons, which does not put us in prime shape to go skipping back into Kickapoo to get us a chicken basket at the Dairy Queen, you know."

"There's a Dairy Queen in Seymour," Lucille said reasonably.

"Look, Mother, we are in really big-time trouble here. We need a place to hide." I hadn't really thought about hiding until the words slipped out, but realistically that was all we could do.

"I suppose you're right." Lucille said, begrudgingly. "We'd better find us a hideout."

She didn't look flustered or even mildly perturbed, and I was getting just a little tired of shouldering the hysteria for both of us. I took a deep breath and tried to speak slowly and calmly. "You know, Mother, you don't look the least bit concerned about any of this. In fact, I'm getting the disturbing notion that you find this whole fiasco fun."

She sucked in a breath and straightened her shoulders, having the good sense to at least appear offended. "Why, I can't believe you could even suggest such a thing."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd kind of like you to be a little worried right along with me, or at least pretend to be, okay?"

Lucille huffed and puffed, but didn't say anything. She just went about the important business of cleaning her gun.

After a bit of strained silence, I heard a click and metallic sliding sound.

I snapped around to see exactly what she was up to, trying to prepare myself to see a red dot flickering about my nose when I did so. But no, Mother dear, had just popped the clip from her Glock in order to give it a good once over, or whatever you did to a clip in a gun that had just been fired at a sheriff. I said not a word, just gripped the steering wheel a little harder and stared straight ahead, looking for a sign that pointed the way to Megargel.

"You know," Lucille said, still doing something with her gun although I couldn't see what and didn't want to. "Jerry could be at his Mother's place. I was going to suggest we drive by there before Leroy interfered."

"I didn't know Jerry's mom was still living out at her place. Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

Piece by piece, she replaced the Glock and its accessories reverently back in the case and slipped it into her purse. "I didn't say Miz Parker was living there. She's not in good health, you know. Had to be put in one of those homes. She was real bad." Lucille shot me a wicked look to emphasize the extreme difference in conditions of Jerry's mother and the mother sitting across from me. "Out of her head, didn't know anybody, couldn't take care of herself. Real, real bad."

My mother does not truly harbor any fears about winding up at Shady Pines, or Semi-Shady Mesquites, or whatever the name of the most-feared nursing home is in these parts. We just like to keep one another on our toes, one of those weird family traditions, I suppose. I just nodded and murmured a clever "hmm."

"It was just another place to look," Lucille said. "Jerry Don must keep the place up because he takes her out there every now and again, not that she knows where she is, the poor old thing. But he's a good son." She let the statement hang there, and I figured that was a fine place to leave it.

It was getting dark fast now, but up ahead I saw a break in the mesquite trees. I caught a glimpse of a little tiny sign that blurred as we passed it, but I thought I saw a capital "M" and an "L" at the end. I hit the brakes. "Hang on." I took the turn on two wheels.

Lucille grabbed for the hand bar above the window with her good arm. After overcoming her initial shock, she let out a very unladylike whoop. "My that was fun!" she said, breathless and with more enthusiasm than I could ever recall her having. "I do believe I kind of like this riding shotgun business."

I sighed. "I can see that."

"You know, I just never imagined myself in a getaway car!" Lucille said gleefully.

Yes, indeed, the getaway car. I would have groaned and sighed and groaned again, but it would have only reinforced my rapidly darkening outlook on life. The idea of wearing handcuffs does not turn me on--for any reason. My mother did not appear encumbered by such worries as being arrested, and no, I did not want to know her opinion on handcuffs. One thing was perfectly clear, however--she was having fun, which to the best of my knowledge didn't happen very darned often. That it took guns, specifically hers, and high-speed car chases to make her smile was a little unsettling. I, obviously, did not share her enthusiasm for criminal mischief--or committing felonies--having been spared that particular genetic flaw. "It's real swell that you're having fun, Mother, but this is not some "Thelma and Louise" lark we've got going here. And even if it were, you know what happened to them in the end, right? It wasn't a good thing, remember?"

"Oooh, I hadn't thought about that," she said breathlessly. "That's such a good movie, one of my all-time favorites. I finally bought it for myself about a month ago, although it would have made a nice birthday or Mother's Day gift for me, if anybody actually ever thought about what I liked before they just sent any old thing that happened to be handy."

I did not acknowledge her not-so-subtle hint. I just kept driving as if I knew where I was going. "To hell" was probably the general consensus in and around Kickapoo, but that was not my most immediate concern.

Lucille continued, "Merline and Agnes watched it with me again one night last week. That real cute Pitt boy's in it, you know, although he played such a little stinker. Of course, I just love the part where that old rapist gets a what-for."

"Don't we all."

"That Susan Sarandon sure could drive, making a run for it here and there. No governor on that convertible, I'll tell you for sure."

"I'm not driving off a cliff, Mother, even if we did happen to find such a thing around here."

"Oh, for goodness sakes, Jolene, I was just making conversation. You get the silliest ideas. Off a cliff, indeed."

"Okay, then, you tell me our options because I don't see too many. If we get stopped, we're both going to be arrested. Handcuffs, fingerprints, the whole bit." I got the feeling I was beginning to sound like a broken record, but she didn't seem to grasp the seriousness of our situation. "Being arrested and thrown in jail is kind of guaranteed when you discharge a lethal weapon at a sheriff, particularly when you're running from him at the time."

"Haven't I taught you anything, Jolene?"

That caught me off guard and I had no clue to what she was referring, my lack of education being vast and sprawling.

When I didn't comment, she continued, "There's a time to keep your mouth shut and there's a time to fight. Now's the time to fight. We tried letting those goons handle things and look where it's gotten us. We've both been shot at, Jerry Don's been shot bad and now he's missing entirely. And that Leroy Harper is up to no good about something. I don't see how letting him get his paws on us is going to help a thing. Good Lord, he might have even killed us before we got hauled to jail. Now wouldn't that be something?"

My brain felt like a nest of bees, but for yet another time, I had to agree with my mother. Letting Leroy catch us wasn't going to help anything.

Lucille rustled around in her purse again, dug out her emergencies-only cell phone, along with pen and paper. After punching in some numbers and waiting for an answer, she said, "Agnes, this is Lucille. Is there some goofball deputy at your place? Well, that's good. Merline's got one breathing down her neck looking for me so don't go over to her house. Jolene and I are trying to get away from that oldest Harper boy. He shot at us. Can you imagine such a thing?"

My mother did not mention that she shot back.

"Well, Agnes, it seems we're in a bit of a bind. This whole murder and shooting business is just getting uglier and uglier. I tell you, I don't know how much more I can stand. I know it. Yes, I've got my medication with me. Oh, well, don't worry about the azaleas today, Agnes, what I really need is Calhoon Fletcher's phone number, if you don't mind. Yes, well, I'll have to explain later." Mother jotted down the number, thanked her other best friend, and started to make the next call.

"Uh, exactly why are you calling Fletch when we pretty much decided he's got to be the one in on this with Leroy?"

"That's exactly why I'm calling him." She kept dialing. "Hello, Fletch, this is Lucille Jackson. Well, not so very fine at the moment, Fletch. It seems your nephew has taken it upon himself to shoot at me and my daughter. No, I don't have any idea why he'd want to do that, but Jolene was thinking you might want to kill me because of that recall petition."

I sucked in my breath and flopped open my mouth like a shocked bass.

"And you know, Jolene was shot at, too. I tell you what, Fletch, I've had just about enough of this shooting business."

Lucille paused for a second and ventured a furtive glance in my direction. "The radiator, you say. Well, he ought not have shot at me first." Her face turned slightly crimson and her aristocratic nostrils flared widely. "I am not going to jail, Calhoon Fletcher. I don't care what you or your stupid nephew says." She punched the hang-up button and huffed. "That sorry old buzzard. I'm gonna get him thrown out of office, you mark my words."

"Unless he kills us first," I mumbled. I was only a little surprised that Leroy had immediately informed his uncle. My best guess was that Leroy was playing both sides of the fence, that is, alerting Fletcher for nefarious reasons while sending his deputies after us for legitimate ones. "So, you did hit Leroy's radiator after all. I guess that explains why he slowed down. This is good, really good."

She lifted her chin. "You should be proud of me for helping us escape."

"Oh, and I am, I am," I said, with no sincerity whatsoever.

"I've got it!" Lucille said as we sped past another road sign. Turn right at the next intersection. "I know just where we can go. It's perfect. Nobody will ever find us at the lake."

"Kickapoo?"

"Of course, Kickapoo. I certainly don't have a cabin at Possum Kingdom, although your father was always trying to buy one down there, but we wouldn't have gone down there hardly at all and I very well knew it. We didn't go back to Kickapoo much after you got grown."

"You still have the cabin? I thought you sold that thing twenty years ago."

Lucille nodded. "You're right, we did, but the people who bought it couldn't make the payments so we got it back.

We figured it was fate and kept the place. You and your dad always seemed so fond of it out there. I preferred a less primitive getaway myself, but you two were happy so I went along. Guess that's why I haven't sold it."