Pernicious (17 page)

         
A long moment Tasha stared at him. Finally: “Did I mistake you as a professional law officer?”

         
“I’m sorry,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “Okay? What else you want to know?”

         
“You made me forget. It was on the tip of my tongue.”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe smiled, grinned and then started laughing. Tasha, unable to stop herself, joined in.

         
“You should have seen the look on your face when I asked you!” Sheriff Bledsoe said.

         
“You should have seen the look on your face when I turned you down!”

         
They both laughed.

         
Tasha returned to business: “Perry’s daughter, Keshana, how long has she lived with Doreen?”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe coughed into his fist. “Now that I’m not too sure about.”

         
“Keshana’s last name is Green. You know who is her father?”

         
“Robert Stubbs. Perry fingered Otis Green as the father. He’s gay since kindergarten. Robert is the father.”

         
“A seventy-year-old man? You know that for a fact?”

         
“She looks like him. Long nose. Wide forehead. Blue eyes.”

         
“That doesn’t necessarily determine paternity.”

         
“Robert told me the child was his.”

         
“He just came out and told you I’m the child’s father?”

         
“No.” He got up and poured another cup of coffee. “Now that’s another long story. You care to hear it?”

         
Tasha looked over her shoulders. Outside the sun was setting. “If you keep it short.”

         
“The entire time Perry lived with Robert I caught more hell than a preacher with a blabbermouth boyfriend. Half the town was in here raising a million dollars worth of Cain. If Robert had been the average old white man with pee stains coloring his trousers, not much would have been said. I tell you, we had white people here who couldn’t sleep because they just knew for a fact that Perry was scheming Robert out of his money.

         
“Perry didn’t help the situation running around buying everything in sight. Somewhere during her travels she came across a large Saint Bernard and she bought it. Each time she bought something new, within minutes my office was packed with people, all of em screaming and hollering at me to do something.

         
“When Perry showed up in town driving a brand-smacking-new Lincoln Continental, I took two days off. The first time in my career I considered quitting. Problems with my wife and Perry Robinson was driving me crazy. She knew I couldn’t do anything, I’d allowed it to go too far. I drove out to Burt’s place to tell him to tell Perry to chill a bit, you know, tell her to show a wee bit discretion.

 
       
“I got over there the first thing I noticed Burt’s driving a brand-new John Deere tractor. In the window I see they’d bought a big-screen television. I knew then it was no use talking to them.”

         
Tasha stole a glance at her watch. Seven o’clock.

         
“To make a long story short,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, “Robert used to have an appointment every Wednesday at Doctor Gilmore’s. His office is directly in front of the station. Every Wednesday Robert and Perry would drive up--usually I found somewhere to go before they came. Perry’s driving, the dog riding shotgun and old man Stubbs in the backseat.

         
“She’d sit in the car a few minutes, applying makeup, combing her hair, then get out and open the door for the Saint Bernard. She and the mutt would trot off down Main Street while old man Stubbs was struggling to get his door open. It took him thirty minutes to turtle across the street to Doctor Gilmore’s office. A pathetic sight. Snooped over, dirty clothes, pissy, attached to life-saving machines on wheels. He couldn’t get no more than two feet without having to stop, gag and wheeze.

         
“Well, this particular Wednesday, as usual, Perry and the dog were long gone and Robert was out there in the middle of the street coughing up a lung. This kid from Little Rock come flying into town, sixty or more. Robert looks up, sees the car coming, can’t even think fast enough to get out of the way.

         
“Thank heavens, the kid steers off at the last second and barely misses Robert, but wipes out all his equipment. Bam! The oxygen tank and heart monitor went one way, Robert the other. The kid slams into the post office, jumps out, sees Robert lying flat on his back and hightails down the road. I caught him, still running, in Monticello, twenty miles from here. I went to see Robert in the hospital, see if he wanted to press charges.”

         
Tasha again glanced at her watch.

         
“He told me then he was the baby’s daddy. He knew he was dying and didn’t think he’d live long enough to see the baby born.”

         
“Did he say anything about insurance?”

         
“No. A man who doesn’t trust banks, probably doesn’t trust insurance companies, either.”

         
Tasha stood up. “Well, I guess that should wrap it up, unless you have anything else to add.”

         
“I’ve just got started. I could sit here all day and talk to you.”

         
“Thanks a lot. You’ve been a great help.”

         
“Don’t mention it,” following Tasha out the door. “Hey,” as she was getting into the car. “Don’t forget what I told you. She’s a dangerous woman.”

         
Tasha nodded.

         
“One more thing, who did she kill?”

         
“It’s still an on-going investigation, Sheriff.”

         
“I know. Who did she kill?”

         
Tasha smiled at him, put the car in reverse, backed up and drove off.

                                     
Chapter 7

         
Bob was already at the office when Tasha arrived the next morning. Obviously he too had endured a long weekend: feet propped on his desk, head resting awkwardly on the back of the chair; snoring, drool dripping onto his corduroy vest.

         
Feeling naughty, Tasha picked up a telephone book, held it high and let it drop flat onto his desk.
   

         
Blam!

         
Bob jumped to his feet. “Oh shit!” reaching inside his coat.

         
Tasha thought he was checking his heart, and suddenly realized he was going for his weapon, a nickel-plated 357 Magnum he carried in a shoulder holster.

         
“Bob!” Tasha shouted. “Bob, it’s me!”
         
Bob stared at her, his hand still inside his coat. “You scared the hell out of me!”

         
Sighing in relief, Tasha said, “Yeah, I know.”

         
The two detectives sat down, hearts racing, minds wondering what if.

         
“That was close,” Bob said. “Dangerously close.”

         
“Yeah,” Tasha agreed. She took out a cigarette and lighted it, shaking so badly she had to hold the Bic with both hands.

         
“You spooked me and got spooked yourself, didn’t you?” Bob asked.

         
“Spooked? I wasn’t spooked,” Tasha said.

         
“Why are you vibrating?”

         
“It’s cold.”

         
Bob started laughing. “Whew!” tears rolling down his face. “Tash, you kill me!”

         
You almost shot me, Tasha thought, laughing.

         
Captain Franklin passed by the entrance, quickly came back. “Are you two all right?”

         
They continued laughing.

                                     
 
* * * * *

         
An hour later they cruised down the highway in the Taurus.

         
“The Game and Fish people,” Bob said, “were more cooperative than I expected. They’re sending out the game warden who arrived at the scene when Willie Davis drowned. The captain said he’s one of their best men.”

         
“Fantastic,” Tasha said.

         
“They said bring our own lifejackets.”

         
Tasha perked up. “What we need those for?”

         
“Well, to my understanding, we’ll be in a boat.”

         
“We can’t view the area by land?”

         
“I guess not.”

         
Tasha turned and looked in the backseat. “Where’s the lifejackets? In the trunk?”

         
“Uh-uh,” Bob grunted.

         
“Under the hood?”

         
Bob shook his head.

         
“Where they at?”

         
“Couldn’t requisition any. Hell, we’re two bold homicide detectives, we don’t need no stinkin’ lifejackets.”

         
“
We
can’t swim.”

         
“We’re not going swimming,” Bob said, grinning, “we’re going to view a possible crime scene.”

         
“Yes, in a boat with two white men. I know he’s white because ninety-nine percent of the game wardens are white. I’m not racist, but I have a major problem riding in a boat with two white men.”

         
Laughing, Bob said, “Two professional white men. Don’t worry, Tash. If you go in the drink,
I
go in the drink.”

         
“You really mean that?”