STATE OF ANGER: A Virgil Jones Mystery Series (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 1) (24 page)

“I’m squeaking by,” Virgil said.
His words were slurred and his tongue felt thick and unresponsive and he had to
look away from Cora when he spoke.

“We need to talk to you, Jonesy.
I’m sorry about this, I really am.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Oh for Christ sake, Cora, look at
him,” Pearson said. “It’s the right call. He’s in no condition. No condition at
all. He has tubes coming out of him and he sounds like he’s three sheets to the
wind. How about we get this over with and get back to work.”

“Hi, Bradley, always a pleasure,”
Virgil said. “I’m standing right here, you know. How about telling me what’s
going on?”

Pearson ran his hands across his
forehead then up through his thinning hair. He pulled back so hard on his scalp
that for a moment the outer corners of his eyes angled upward in a manner that
gave him an effeminate look. He started to speak, but Cora cut him off.

“Jonesy, about an hour ago, on
direct orders from the Governor, you’ve been replaced as lead detective of the
Major Crimes Unit.” She paused to let her words sink in and Virgil saw her eyes
slide away from his own. “Ron Miles has been appointed by the Governor as your
replacement.”

Virgil sat back down in his lawn
chair and looked out at the pond water. When he didn’t respond, Pearson filled
the silence. “Jesus Christ, Jones, what did you expect? Look at yourself.
You’re a goddamned mess. How many pills are you popping these days, anyway?”

“Why are you here, Bradley?”

“To make sure that there is no
misunderstanding regarding your situation.”

The drugs were still working on him
and when Virgil spoke he took no care with his words or their intent. “How much
of that is your doing, Pearson? Never mind, you don’t have to answer. We
already know the answer to that question, don’t we? So here’s the deal,
Pearson…I think I want you to leave. In fact, I’m sure of it. Would you like me
to show you to your car?”

“In your condition? I’d like to see
you try,” Pearson said. He stepped forward and when he did his foot came down
on top of my grandfather’s cane pole and snapped it in half. Pearson jumped a
little at the sound the cane made when it broke and when he did, Virgil knew he
had not stepped on it with purpose. Pearson bent over to pick up the ruined
pole, as if the act of lifting it in his hands could repair the damage. “Don’t
touch that,” Virgil said, his voice no more than a whisper. “I really would
like you to leave now.”

Cora looked at Pearson, then back
at Virgil. “Would you two please give it a rest?”

“This is my home, Cora.” Virgil
said. “I make the rules here. Not him and you know what? Not you, either.” When
she didn’t respond, Virgil said, “What?”

“There’s something else.”

“There always is, Cora. I just
can’t for the life of me imagine what it might be.”

“Your replacement isn’t temporary.
They’re not going to let you come back.”

Virgil stood and faced her. “Say
that again.”

Cora took an involuntary step back,
as if in fear. “The state. They’re forcing you out.”

“
What?
On what grounds?”

“The medical reports for one.
You’ll qualify for three-quarters disability. With your time on the job your
pension will kick in right away. I’ve done the math and the truth is you’ll be
making more by walking away than if you stayed.”

Virgil kept glancing over at the
willow tree, as if something his father had said would somehow help him. He
bent down to retrieve the broken cane pole and when he stood, the look on
Cora’s face seemed as sad and mixed as his own emotions.

“How bad is it?” she said.

“I don’t know, Cora. Some things
just can’t be fixed.”

She stepped close and placed her
hand on the flat of Virgil’s bare chest, her eyes inspecting the PICC line.
“I’m not talking about the fishing pole, Jonesy.”

“I know you’re not. Neither am I.”

Cora shook her head, then raised
her chin, her voice taking on an official tone. “I’m sorry, Detective, but I’m
going to have to ask you for your badge.”

Virgil dropped the cane pole back
in the grass at Pearson’s feet, then reached into his pocket, pulled out his
badge and skipped it across the surface of the pond. The badge made it about
half way across before it settled and then sank in the murky depths.

“You want my badge? Go and get it.”
He turned to walk up to his house, but Cora didn’t let it play.

“You break my heart sometimes,
Jonesy. Do you know that?”

—End
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