Pernicious (42 page)

         
“Momma,” Derrick said with a mouthful of spaghetti, “may I call my daddy?” Tasha gave him a look. “If you don’t mind?”

         
“Honey, don’t you like spending time with me?”

         
“Yes, I do. It’s just, you know…boring.”

         
Derrick was right, staying cooped up in the house the last five days was boring. He’d spent the time watching television and playing video games, while Tasha had resided in her bedroom, staring at the ceiling, rehashing events.

         
Neal, as she expected, did not respond to her proposition.

         
She’d tried to call him again and discovered the number changed. In three days she was to appear in Maumelle Circuit Court, where she was certain the judge would grant custody of Derrick to Neal and Perry.

         
If that happens, the drama begins.

         
“Let’s do something, Momma,” Derrick said.

         
“What do you want to do?”

         
“Anything besides sitting around here all day.”

         
Tasha gave his idea some thought, then picked him up and hugged him. “Derrick, how about a trip to the country?”

         
“The country?” looking perplexed.

         
“Yes, the country. Let’s do something!”

                                     
* * * * *

         
Derrick fell asleep ten miles before the Dawson city limits. Tasha was explaining what those large grass-eating animals were when she noticed he’d dozed off. Maybe, she hoped, he would remain asleep long enough for her to settle her business. If not, she would rent a room.

         
Derrick thought that this was a diversionary trip to relieve ennui. Tasha had one objective in mind: do whatever necessary to bring felony charges against Perry.

         
She drove through downtown Dawson, straight to the Dawson County police station. Sheriff Bledsoe stepped outside just as she pulled up.

         
“What a pleasant surprise,” he said. “Come on in. I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

         
“Thanks, but no thanks. I have my son with me. He’s asleep.”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe peered inside the car. “He’s a handsome young fellow.”

         
“How’s it going with the assault case?”

         
“You didn’t drive this far for that, did you?”

         
“I’m afraid so.”

         
“Aren’t you on administrative leave?”

         
“Yes, I am. Who told you?”

         
“I read about it in the paper
.”

         
“That doesn’t change anything between us, does it?”

         
“No. I can’t imagine anything coming between our wonderful relationship. What you have on your mind, Detective?”

         
“Felonious assault charges--Perry’s, not mine.”

         
“You mind if I sit on your car?”

         
Tasha nodded. He rested his butt on the hood, the frame squeaking, and the front tire flattened. She wondered if she would need a new set of shocks.

         
“Well,” he said, “I ran into problems with the high school photo. Perry finished school in the tenth grade and didn’t take a picture. I found a ninth-grade photo of her. Its grainy.”

         
“Craps!”

         
“Tell me about it. I showed the photo to Glen, the guy she popped. Not a thing. He couldn’t even remember the incident taking place. Rumor has it he hasn’t been right since Perry whacked him. Hard to tell, he didn’t have much sense to begin with.”

         
Tasha stomped her foot. “Craps! Double craps!”

         
“I’m sorry.”

         
“What about the other two?”

         
“They’ve been on a binge lately. I’ve been waiting for one of em to sober up. They’re both running neck and neck, drunk all day, every day.”

         
“A day or two in the drunk tank can be a sobering experience.”

         
“Forced sobriety rarely induces a willingness to cooperate.”

         
“You mind if I talk to them?”

         
“Under whose authority?”

         
Tasha smiled at him.

         
“Oh, no! We’ll both be out of a job. Look at me. Who you think gonna hire my big butt?”

         
“Sheriff, you’re my last chance. If we don’t stop her, no one will. Please!”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe rubbed his neck. “If I allow you to do this--I’m not saying I will--you’ll have to promise me you won’t pull any Dirty Harry stuff.”

         
Tasha licked her finger and made an imaginary cross on her chest. “Promise.”

         
“No rough stuff whatsoever?”

         
“Promise.”

         
“No threats?”

         
“Sheriff, please! I’m five-three, one-hundred-forty pounds. Just how much damage you think I can do?”

         
“A lot.”

         
“Let’s do it!”

         
“Slow your roll. Today is Saturday. The only thing we’ll find out this evening is how atrocious cheap liquor makes one’s breath. We’ll head out in the morning.”

         
“Is there a hotel or a motel nearby?”

         
“Yes, there is. Just two miles south on Highway Sixty-three. You can’t miss it. A meth-head owns it. It’s nasty, a little smelly. You don’t mind sleeping with cockroaches, do you?”

         
“You’re a great salesman. Any other options?”

         
“You and your son can stay with me.” Before she could object: “And my mother. She’ll watch him when we leave in the morning.”

                                     
* * * * *

         
Sheriff Bledsoe and his mother lived in a two-story, red brick house on the outskirts of Dawson. His mother, Joy Bledsoe, a frail-looking woman with droopy eyes and an infectious smile, met them at the door.

         
“Mother,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, “meet Detective Tasha Montgomery and her son Derrick.”

         
Tasha shook her hand while Derrick, still sleepy, stumbled inside the house and promptly reclined on a couch.
        
“No, Derrick, no,” Tasha said.

         
“He’s all right,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “Let the boy sleep. He’s tired.”

         
“Thank you.”

         
“Are you and Ennis planning to get married?” Mrs. Bledsoe asked.

         
Tasha smiled. “No, ma’am.”

         
“Shacking, huh?”

         
“Mother!” looking embarrassed. “Go to bed or talk about something else.”

         
She picked up a rag and a can of Pledge and started wiping a trophy case. “Never mind me. I just think people oughta get married. All this cohabitating and stuff…In my day it was against the law.”

         
“Mother, she’s a detective from Little Rock, here on police business.”

         
“Just don’t set right with me…and it don’t set right in God’s eyes.” Mumbling: “Oughta marry the girl…ain’t getting no younger…or smaller.”

         
“Detective,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, “would you like to sit on the porch?” Tasha nodded and followed him out. “I apologize for my mother.”

         
“Don’t mention it. She has your best interest at heart.”

         
“Care for some coffee?”

         
“Yes, why not. If you don’t mind, would you turn on a light.”

         
“I’m sorry.” He went back inside.

         
The porch light came on, illuminating the wooden porch swing, three white plastic chairs and the green Astroturf that covered the porch and rolled down the steps to the sidewalk.

         
In seconds several bugs, one making a loud flapping noise, hovered around the light bulb.

         
Sheriff Bledsoe returned with two coffee cups on a metal tray.

         
A mosquito bit Tasha’s wrist and, as she was scratching, another bit her neck. “Is it me or do they just like city folk?”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe laughed and sat next to her on the porch swing. “They like everybody.”
         
“Why you not scratching?”

         
“They know better. You can call it a night if you want to.”

         
“In a minute,” waving a mosquito buzzing near her ear. “I wonder why Perry drove down here. If her mother and daughter are gone, what’s her motivation for coming here?”

         
“She has a few cousins here and a slew of stepbrothers and stepsisters.”

         
“Oh, yeah. I doubt she’d visit Uncle Billy Bob or anyone else if there isn’t a payoff in it for her.”

         
“You got that right.”

         
“Then what was the purpose of her visit?”

         
“I don’t know. Whatever the reason, I bet she was up to no good.”

         
Tasha scratched the palm of her hand, the worst place for a mosquito bite. “Exactly what I’m thinking. Everything she does is preplanned, carefully thought out to serve her sick needs. Around the time she met Neal she’s down here pistol-whipping a wino. I think the two events are connected somehow.”

         
“You think she planned what happened at her house?”

         
“No way she could have known we were coming. I’m sure she would’ve ambushed me with their marriage one way or the other. Now she’s scheming to kill Neal and somehow pin it on me. On top of that, she’s after my son.”