Authors: James Henderson
He got into his cruiser…and then jogged back inside and retrieved the Pepto Bismol.
Just in case.
Upon turning down Whisperwood Drive, Sheriff Bledsoe spotted a man walking down the sidewalk. The blue shirt, khaki shorts and sandals the man wore made him conspicuous in this modest neighborhood.
Like a large bag of pork rinds in a Black Muslim Mosque.
At the end of the block the man hesitated before turning the corner. Sheriff
Bledsoe drove past the Hawkins’
residence, where Lester Hawkins was sitting on a porch swing. Lester waved.
Sheriff Bledsoe kept going, not noticing. He was in pursuit. Not a whiz solving murder cases, but he could do burglars and peeping Toms. Easily. He turned the corner…and, as he expected, the man was nowhere in sight. He parked and got out, trusty Magnum held to his side.
He moved stealthily, his two-hundred-fifty-pound frame low to the ground, eyes scanning the area like a surveillance camera.
What’s that smell? The perp?
Was he getting so good he could track perps by smell?…
Yes!
…God, he loved his job. He spotted
the man standing on the Hawkins’
patio deck, and crept up on his quarry.
“Freeze!” The man jumped and jerked both hands up, a box in one hand. “Eric?”
Staring at the gun, buck-eyed: “Hey, Sheriff.”
Sheriff Bledsoe holstered the Magnum. “What you doing back here?”
“I was…I came to see Ruth Ann.”
“Why didn’t you go to the front door? I saw you walk right past the house. What you got there?”
Eric stared at the box as if noticing it for the first time. “This? This is nothing.”
Sheriff Bledsoe took it from him and glanced at the back of the box. “What you doing with this?”
“It was here when I got here, Sheriff. Honest. You didn’t see me carrying nothing, did ya?”
“You could’ve hidden it under your shirt. What’s that I’m smelling?”
“Neck bones.”
“You know what I think, Eric? I think you’re up to no good back here.” He turned the box and read the front label. “Either you were peeking--” He stopped, eyes blinking, going from Eric to the box, to the neck bones, then back to Eric.
“What’s the matter, Sheriff? Why you looking at me like that? What I do?”
“Turn around,” Sheriff Bledsoe commanded. “Do it!”
“What’s the matter, Sheriff?”
Sheriff Bledsoe held him by the collar with one hand, frisked him with the other, and then snapped handcuffs onto his wrists.
“Sheriff, what’s up with the cuffs?”
Sheriff Bledsoe didn’t answer. He led Eric by the arm down the steps, around the side of the house to the front door. Lester was no longer sitting on the porch.
He started to ring the doorbell when Eric said, “Hold up for a minute, Sheriff. Let me explain, okay? Ruth Ann and I, we’re messing around. I wasn’t peeking on nobody. I was just trying to get her attention. Honest.”
“What’s this?” shaking the box.
“Sheriff, I told you it was already there. I just picked it up.”
“Uh-huh. You know how Larry Harris was killed, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Somebody poisoned--now hold on, Sheriff! You got this thang asshole backward. I swear ’fore living God the stuff was already there when I got there.”
Sheriff Bledsoe rang the doorbell. “We’ll see.”
“Awww, Sheriff! Ruth Ann’s not admitting the truth with Lester standing by. Why can’t you take my word on it?”
Lester opened the door. “Hey, Sheriff,” he greeted cheerfully. He eyeballed Eric and frowned. “Hey, Eric.”
“Is your wife in?” Sheriff Bledsoe asked.
“She sure is. Eric isn’t under arrest, is he?”
No, he just has his hands behind his back
. “Lester, could I speak to her?”
“Yes, sure. Come in.”
“I-I’ll rather stay outside,” Eric said.
“We’ll wait here,” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
When Lester disappeared, Eric said, “Shit, Sheriff! You’re not going to tell him, are you? I got these cuffs on, too! What if he goes nuts?”
“I’ll tell him if I have to. We’re going to get to the bottom of what’s going on here.”
“I already told you, Sheriff! You gonna get me killed.”
Ruth Ann appeared at the door, smiling. When she saw Eric, her mouth formed a perfect circle.
“Sheriff Bledsoe,” and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “What brings you two gentleman by this late in the evening?”
“Mrs. Hawkins, I caught Eric here behind your house.” He held up the box. “With this.” Ruth Ann didn’t even look at it. “Eric says he was paying you a visit. He says the box was already on your back porch when he arrived, along with a half pound of neck bones.”
Ruth Ann nervously fingered the collar to her black satin robe. “I see.”
“Does this belong to you?” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
Ruth Ann gave Eric an icy look. “What are you talking about, Sheriff?”
“Don’t lie!” Eric said.
“Shut up!” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “Mrs. Hawkins, does this box of Juggernaut Gopher Bait belong to you?”
Ruth Ann looked over her shoulder at the front door. “No. No, it doesn’t.”
“You’re full of shit, Ruth Ann!” Eric said.
“Shut up! I’m not going to tell you again. Mrs. Hawkins, is it possible your husband--”
“No! I purchase all household supplies. We don’t have gophers.” She rolled her eyes at Eric. “Or rats!”
“What about affairs?” Eric said. “Do you have those?”
Sheriff Bledsoe jerked his arm. “Didn’t I tell you to shut your trap!” To Ruth Ann: “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you and Eric having an affair?”
“Let’s talk away from the house,” Ruth Ann said, and walked away. She stopped short of the street. “Where’s your patrol car, Sheriff?” she asked, looking back at the house.
Sheriff Bledsoe looked back too and saw Lester peering out the front window. “Maybe we should all go down to the station and sort this thing out.”
“No!” Ruth Ann said. “Okay, Sheriff, we had a brief fling, but it’s over. I told Eric it was over--he can’t get it through his thick head.”
“Brief!” Eric said. “A buncha years ain’t brief.”
“Son, do I need to handcuff your mouth?”
“Sheriff, ask her how long it’s been over.”
“Son, you open your mouth one more time I’m going to shut it permanently. I’m doing all the questioning here, not you. Do you understand?” Eric nodded. “Mrs. Hawkins, how long has this affair been over?”
“A couple days ago,” she whispered.
“Excuse me, I didn’t--”
“Two days ago!”
“Thank God,” Eric said. “You can take these cuffs off now, Sheriff.”
“Not so fast, son. So it were you two acting up at Blinky the other night?”
Ruth Ann stared back at the house. Lester was still watching. “Yes.”
“Mrs. Hawkins, do you want to press charges?”
“No. I want to go back inside my house. My husband probably curious what’s this all about.”
“I wonder why,” Eric said.
Sheriff Bledsoe said, “How ’bout I go tell Lester about you. Then mosey round the corner and get the car, take my time getting back while he keeps an eye on you.”
“No, Sheriff,” Ruth Ann said. “Please don’t!”
“Sheriff, I’ll shut up. One question. Why am I still handcuffed?”
“May I go now?” Ruth Ann asked. “All my neighbors are watching.”
Several of the neighbors were outside, some blatantly gawking; most feigning work in their yards, discreetly gawking.
“Yes, you can go. I need you and Lester at the station within the hour.”
Ruth Ann stared at him. “Lester?” Lips trembling: “What on earth do you need Lester for? He doesn’t know anything about this. You don’t need him. I can answer all your questions.”
Sheriff Bledsoe rattled the box. “This may be linked to a murder, and there’s neck bones on your back porch, Mrs. Hawkins. Chatterbox claims he didn’t put them there and you say you didn’t, either. Somebody did, and I aim to find out who. Tell Lester what you need to tell him and y’all meet me at the station.”
“You sorry bastard!” Ruth Ann hissed at Eric. “Sheriff, you see what he’s trying to pull, don’t you? I dumped his sorry ass and he’s trying to break up my home. That’s all this is, Sheriff.”
“Ha!” Eric said. “Your home was tore up long before I came along. Ask anybody, Sheriff. She’s serviced more men than an army recruiter.”
“Hold on, son. There’s no need for talk like that.”
“It’s true!”
“It’s true you murdered my father!” Ruth Ann said.
“Hell naw! You know damn well I didn’t!”
“You showed up at my house with poison and neck bones.”
“Woman, please! I didn’t bring no damn neck bones to your house!”
“Yes, you did!”
“No, I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did!”
Sheriff Bledsoe knew he should step in and squash this silly bickering, yet was curious what would happen next.
Ruth Ann got within inches of Eric’s face and shouted, “Yes, you damn sure did! And now I think about it, you were the one who insisted on serving Daddy. Remember?” Baritone voice: “Let me fix your plate, Mr. Harris. You need more napkins, Mr. Harris? May I wipe your ass, Mr. Harris?”
“You a lying hoe!”
“Sheriff Bledsoe, is there a problem?”
They all turned to see Lester standing on the front porch.
“Lester,” Ruth Ann said, tone cordial. “Lester, everything is fine. We were…we were just having a friendly conversation. Go back in the house, Lester. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Is that right, Sheriff?” Lester asked. “Looks to me y’all arguing out here.”
Sheriff Bledsoe looked from Eric to Ruth Ann. Eventually Lester would have to be told, though he wasn’t sure he should do the telling.
And why hadn’t he come out a long time ago?
“It’s all right, Lester,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. He grabbed Eric by the arm. “Let’s go.” To Ruth Ann in a low voice: “An hour, you and Lester at the station.”
Then he started down the sidewalk with Eric in tow, tipping his Smokey to all the good people on Whisperwood Drive.