Countdown (2 page)

Jean had made reservations at the Longbranch Inn for one of their suites. Since the Longbranch Inn made most of its money off its restaurant, and the rooms upstairs were usually empty, she got a good deal and their biggest suite. Jasmine was in charge of finding a stripper and collecting the booze. Since Prophesy County had recently been voted dry, that meant she had to go halfway to Tulsa to find a liquor store. Where she was going to find a stripper was a mystery to Jean.

Jean had already bought items to decorate the suite – streamers, balloons and flowers, and had had a banner made that said ‘Holly and Dalton Forever’ that she planned to string up. By noon, with still no word from Milt, Jean took John to the Longbranch Inn, where they had lunch, then went upstairs to check out their suite. John blew up balloons while Jean paid a busboy from the restaurant to hang up the banner over the top of the wet bar. She and John strung the streamers around the room and Jean made two very nice flower arrangements out of the flowers she’d brought. When they were finished they left the suite, turning out the lights and locking the door behind them.

By this time it was close to half past one in the afternoon, and they would have to hurry to make it to the Tulsa airport by three. Jean and John jumped in her car and headed north. They pulled into the turn-around at the Tulsa airport at about five minutes after three p.m., and had to make the circle twice before Jean spotted her old friend standing outside the baggage claim area.

Jean exited her vehicle on her crutches, while her friend Paula pulled her luggage down the curb and they met by the back of Jean’s extra-large SUV.

They hugged, then Paula exclaimed: ‘Oh my God! You look gorgeous! Marriage becomes you!’ She held her friend at arm’s length and admired her.

‘And you don’t look a day older!’ Jean lied.

‘Ha!’ Paula said. ‘You must have bad vision, girl. My wrinkles have wrinkles!’

Jean opened the back hatch of the SUV and Paula put her luggage inside. ‘Come on,’ Jean said. ‘I want you to meet my son.’

‘Actual proof that the world’s oldest living virgin no longer exists, huh?’ Paula teased.

Jean elbowed her gently in the ribs. ‘Hush!’ she said as she led Paula to the door of the back seat of the SUV, where her son was strapped in. She opened the door and said, ‘John, I want you to meet my good friend, Doctor Carmichael. Paula, this is my son, John Kovak.’

Paula stuck her hand in and shook John’s proffered one. ‘Are you sick?’ she asked him.

John gave her a confused look, then said tentatively, ‘No.’

‘Good. Then you don’t have to call me “doctor” anything. The name’s Paula. If you’re not allowed to call me that, try Aunt Paula.’ She turned and grinned at Jean. ‘Unless you feel that’s inappropriate?’

Jean laughed. ‘Not in the least. Come on,’ she said, opening the passenger-side door for Paula. ‘I’m taking John by his “other” aunt’s house for a sleepover while we party hearty tonight—’

‘Can we go see Dad first?’ John asked from the back seat.

Jean looked at Paula, who shrugged. ‘You’re the boss,’ Paula said.

‘Sure, why not?’ Jean said. ‘I want you to meet Milt anyway. Better before the party than after. You’ll be more coherent.’

‘Hush!’ Paula said.

Color me surprised when I heard the side door to the station open and saw my wife and son come sauntering in, followed by a woman I could only assume was Jean’s old college roommate, who had flown down to spend some time with us on her way to a job interview in Houston. Jean had described her to me many times – a party girl with a serious IQ, who rarely studied but always aced her classes, had men falling all over her but never took any of them seriously. So I was surprised by the woman I saw. She had short-cut gray hair, a face devoid of make-up, and was heavily wrinkled for her age, which would have to be early fifties, like my wife. She was so skinny you could actually see her bones, and when she spoke she had a smoker’s raspy voice. Not at all the woman I’d imagined.

‘Well, hey there, y’all!’ I said. I stood up and held out my hand for the newcomer. ‘Milt Kovak,’ I said.

‘Hi,’ she said. She turned to Jean and said, ‘He is
too
good-looking! I don’t know
what
you were talking about!’

Jean laughed and, after a minute, so did I. OK, Jean hadn’t said I wasn’t good-looking. It was a joke, I guess.

Jean took her friend’s arm, looked at me and said, ‘As I’m sure you’ve figured out, honey, this is Paula.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ I said.

Paula shook her head. ‘So you’re the redneck sheriff Jean refused to leave this burg for, huh?’

I don’t like being called a redneck. Maybe because it’s too close to the truth, but really, it’s just rude.

Jean closed the door behind her. ‘Remember tonight’s the surprise bachelorette party for Holly.’

‘Damn, totally forgot about that. Been a busy morning,’ I said.

‘What was the emergency?’ she asked.

I looked at my son and the stranger – I guess I should say Paula – and said, ‘No biggie. I’ll tell you about it later.’ To Johnny Mac, I said, ‘So what are you up to today?’

‘I’m going to Aunt Jewel’s house,’ he said, ‘if you’re gonna be busy. If you’re coming home I’d rather stay with you.’

Johnny Mac’s been like that since my heart attack last spring. Since I had the attack in front of him, he’s sort of been like my shadow. I’m afraid he thinks I’m going to croak any minute. I keep trying to tell him that the quadruple bypass they gave me means I’m gonna keep going for at least another fifty years. I don’t think he believes me.

‘Well, I could be here for a while, kiddo,’ I said. ‘Got me a bad guy in the pokey. And a drunk teenager in the second cell. Kinda standing room only around here today.’

‘Two cells?’ Paula asked, then laughed. I bristled.

Johnny Mac nodded. He was well versed in the priorities of my profession. ‘OK, then. I guess I’ll go to Aunt Jewel’s,’ he said.

I grabbed his head and gave it a smooch. ‘Dad!’ he said in that way they have of drawing three little letters out to sound like a four-syllable word.

Holly Humphries sat at her station in the bullpen, doing some paperwork – a little overtime would come in handy for the honeymoon, she thought. The front door opened and Ronnie Jacobs came in, carrying a pizza box. Ronnie worked for Bubba’s Pizza and Pasta on the town square, close to the Longbranch Inn, and was short and skinny, with a pimply face and crooked teeth, wearing too-big jeans and showing off his Calvin Klein’s. He wore a baseball hat backwards.

‘Here’s your pizza,’ Ronnie said.

‘I didn’t order pizza,’ Holly said, although she thought it might not be a bad idea. ‘Any name on the order?’

‘Yeah. Darrell?’

Holly shook her head and laughed. It wasn’t the first time a prisoner had ordered a pizza from an unconfiscated cell phone in the jail. Milt had put Darrell in the cells before Holly had come in, and she’d assumed Milt had checked him for contraband. She walked around the bullpen, the ring of keys for the cells in her hand. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I just hope he has money, ’cause I don’t think the sheriff will approve this!’

She unlocked the steel door that led into the cells. That door was supposed to stay locked, but half the time the deputies forgot to do it. Milt, at least,
had
locked up after depositing Darrell Blanton in his cell.

There was a knock on the door and Holly Humphries stuck her head in. ‘Milt! Come quick, we got a problem!’ Seeing Jean and Johnny Mac – and the stranger – she said, ‘So sorry, Jean. It’s an emergency. Hi, Johnny Mac!’ She nodded to the stranger and then her head disappeared.

‘Go,’ Jean said. ‘We’re going to Jewel’s.’ She gave me a quick kiss and I was out the door, following Holly.

Holly was right, as usual. The drunk teenager was convulsing in his cell. ‘You call an ambulance?’ I asked her.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Help me.’

I glanced over at Darrell’s cell. ‘Pizza?’

Holly shrugged.

Ronnie, the pizza delivery guy, said, ‘You want I should leave now, or you need some help?’ He was peering curiously into the cell with the convulsing teenager.

‘Out!’ I said with some enthusiasm.

Holly and I went in the cell and she showed me how to hold his shoulders while she stuck a wooden, doctor-type stick in his mouth, holding his tongue down.

‘Jeez, what’s with him?’ Darrell Blanton asked from the next cell, chomping on a pepperoni and double cheese slice. ‘Boy sure can’t hold his liquor, huh?’

‘Just shut up, Darrell,’ I said, trying to hold the convulsing boy’s shoulders down.

‘Why you telling me to shut up? My mama says telling someone to “shut up” is rude! So you’re being rude to me! Why you being rude to me? I ain’t done nothing to you!’

The door to the cells burst open and two EMTs entered. I knew them both. Jasper Thorne, a fifty-something black guy with a big mustache and a bigger attitude, and Drew Gleeson, who had moved from Tulsa to Longbranch when he was offered the lead position at the fire station for the EMTs less than six months ago, which might have been one of the reasons ol’ Jasper had a big attitude.

‘What’s up, Sheriff?’ Drew asked as they maneuvered the gurney into the cell.

‘He came in last night drunk and disorderly. Now he seems to be having a seizure,’ I said.

Drew cocked his head at Darrell Blanton as he and Jasper checked the kid’s vitals.

‘Killed his wife,’ I said.

Drew looked shocked.

Jasper said, ‘Man, those Blantons. Ain’t nobody safe around them inbred crackers.’

‘Hey! I heard that!’ Darrell said from the next cell.

‘Let’s roll him,’ Drew said, and he and Jasper got the boy onto the gurney. ‘What’s his name?’ he asked me.

‘Larry. He’s seventeen. That’s all we got out of him,’ I told him.

‘Let’s go!’ Drew said, heading out the door.

Holly and I followed them out. Once in the foyer, Drew said, ‘Shit. I left the bag. I’ll be right back.’ He headed back to the cells while I helped Jasper take the gurney out to the ambulance. Before we even got there, Drew was back, emergency bag in his hand, and they got poor Larry in the back of the ambulance, Drew riding with him, while Jasper got in the cab, hit the sirens, and they were out of there.

It was after four o’clock in the afternoon when Jean dropped Johnny Mac off at his aunt Jewel’s house. Paula came in with her and Jean introduced her to Milt’s sister.

They shook hands and Paula looked around the opulent foyer, letting out a low whistle. ‘So this is Oklahoma chic, huh?’ she said.

Jewel laughed self-consciously and looked at Jean. Jean just shrugged her shoulders and proceeded to go over phone numbers and all the other stuff moms did when leaving their children in someone else’s care. Then, after giving her son a big kiss, she and Paula got back in the car and headed off, and Johnny Mac stood staring at his aunt Jewel.

‘Well,’ Aunt Jewel said, staring out the window at the retreating SUV. ‘She’s interesting.’

‘She wants me to call her Aunt Paula,’ Johnny Mac said.

‘Are you going to?’ Jewel asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ He shrugged again. ‘Maybe not. Can I go over to Matt’s?’ he finally asked, mentioning the boy his age who lived next door.

‘Why don’t we call him and see if he can come over here?’ Aunt Jewel responded.

Johnny Mac shrugged. He was always uncomfortable in Aunt Jewel’s house, and knew Matt was too. There were too many things that could break if you breathed hard on them. Aunt Jewel’s house was just too fancy, and what he’d heard his mom call ‘fussy’. That made sense to him. He thought of the mosaic tile floor in the foyer with a ginormous chandelier hanging down from the second-floor ceiling, and the fancy double staircase with the shiny wood railing you shouldn’t touch because it would leave a mark. But there was always outside, and it was nice out today, so he and Matt could play out there on the trampoline, maybe, or even in the pool. He wouldn’t get cold, no matter how much Aunt Jewel might fuss about it. All three of her kids were off now, one in college and the older two out in the world. Johnny Mac guessed maybe she just needed somebody to fuss over, and he was her only candidate.

Jean and Paula headed back to Jean’s house on Mountain Falls Road, and Jean had to endure her friend’s strident remarks all the way there. ‘So you got cows here, huh?’ she said upon seeing barbed-wire fences, beyond which were many heads of cattle. ‘Moo.’ And she laughed. Then, as they turned on to Mountain Falls Road, Paula snorted and said, ‘They call
this
a mountain?’

Jean, who loved her home at the top of Mountain Falls Road, couldn’t help herself. ‘Better than the
mountains
there are in Illinois.’

‘Ooo! She’s sensitive about her hillbilly home!’ Paula said and laughed.

‘That’s redneck. Not hillbilly. Try to keep your vernacular straight!’ Jean said.

‘Well, my goodness! Look who finally grew a backbone!’ Paula returned.

Jean was oh-so-grateful to finally pull into her long driveway. ‘This,’ she said, pointing to the house, ‘is my home.’

Paula was silent for a moment, then finally said, ‘Very nice.’

Reaching behind her for her crutches, Jean responded, ‘Yes, it is.’

Once inside with Paula’s luggage, Jean continued, ‘The guest room is upstairs. There are two bedrooms up there – one is John’s and the other, closest to the stairs, is the guest room. The guest bath is right across the hall. John was supposed to clean it for you. Let me know if it’s not satisfactory. There’s a large open area at the head of the stairs that’s mostly John’s play space. He was supposed to clean that up, too, but again, let me know if it’s a mess.’

‘I take it you don’t get up there often,’ Paula said, picking up her bags.

‘I can do it. I’d just rather not,’ Jean responded.

Paula smiled – a genuine smile this time. ‘I know you can do it. You could always do whatever you set your mind to.’

As Paula headed up the stairs, Jean removed herself to the first-floor master suite she shared with Milt. Jean was not a clothes horse – far from it. She liked to wear pants to cover the brace that she still wore on her left leg, and had a uniform of dark pants and lighter, button-down shirts that she wore to work – brown pants with a tan-striped button-down, black pants with a white button-down (and in the winter she had a nice black blazer she wore with it), and navy blue pants with a light blue button-down. She had ten long-sleeved button-downs for winter and twelve short-sleeved button-downs for summer. Around the house she usually just wore blue jeans and a T-shirt – often ones formerly worn by Milt.