She stopped at the doorway and turned toward me, sling swinging and free hand perched on her hip. "Well, Jolene, I believe there is entirely too much suing and countersuing going on in this world and I do not want to be a part of it. Besides, I can hardly sue somebody else for what my daughter said, now can I?"
With no good response to that one, I turned myself around and marched off to the bathroom to ready myself for yet another trip to Redwater Falls
Times
and General Hospital, two stops.
As I was drying off after my shower, I heard the doorbell ring. My first instinct was to turn the shower back on and hide as I usually did when Lucille's friends came calling. Then I realized that nothing about this was usual. For all I knew there was a lunatic at the door with a gun this very second, pointing it at my mother. I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around me, ran down the hall and peered into the living room.
There was a lunatic with a gun all right. Leroy Harper stood in the middle of the room nearly nose to nose with my mother.
"What do you want, Leroy?" I called, peeking out from behind the door.
"Why, Jolene, you look right fitting for a trip to the jailhouse."
While I was mentally reciting every profanity I could think of, Mother said, "You get out of my house, Leroy Harper, or I'll smack you in the head with my purse again."
Only then did I notice her weapon of choice clutched in her good hand. "Leave my mother alone, Leroy. I'm the one you really want to harass, so wait outside. I'll be out in a minute."
He made a childish face at Lucille then walked to the door. "Either you're out in five minutes, Jolene, or I'm coming back in and taking you out of here. If you want to be nekkid, that's fine with me."
Leroy left and I hurriedly got myself dressed. The last thing I wanted was to be even half naked, or nekkid as it's called here, around Leroy the Slug.
When I walked outside in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, the first thing I noticed was the paralyzing heat. The second was the wind. Blowing at about twenty-five miles per hour, it felt like being surrounded by a thousand blow dryers on hot and high. And with the humidity in the air and the instant sweat that drenched my just-showered body, I could just imagine how fast and high my hair was frizzing. I ran my fingers through the wayward bottle-brown mess, which had the effect of fluffing the curls higher and causing Leroy to lick his lips as he got out of the running--and air-conditioned--patrol car.
Gentleman that he is, he walked around to the passenger side and opened the rear door. "Get in," he grumbled, still licking his lips. He looked like he was trying real hard to pretend that he wasn't distracted by being within two feet of a real live female. He was failing miserably.
I was neither dressed provocatively nor acting it, although Leroy tends to get confused about these issues. The truth of the matter was that I was melting from the heat. My patience with Leroy, which is never high, was wilting right along with me. "I'm not getting in your little patrol car, Leroy, so get over it. You either produce a warrant for my arrest or you just tootle on back down the road and do whatever it is you do when you're not being a jerk to me."
He frowned and lifted his hat off his head then wiped his forearm across his pale forehead and thin hair. Setting his hat back in place, he said, "That write-up in the paper's got you in big trouble with the commissioners."
"Is that so?"
"You don't just go spoutin' your mouth off and not expect somebody to notice. 'Specially when you don't even know what you're talking about. You've done it for sure now."
I had no idea what he thought I'd done for sure, but I wasn't going to take the whole blame for the fiasco. "I expected that so-called reporter to have half a brain and do some investigating on a real story. That article was junk and you know it. My only mistake was in talking to a brain-dead Barbie doll instead of a real journalist."
Leroy's face flushed a bright red that had nothing to do with heat. "Don't you talk about Kimberlee like that. She just wrote what you told her. You're the one at fault here."
I stepped over into the limited shade of a mimosa tree and leaned against the smooth trunk. "So am I to deduce that you and Miss Kimberlee are, um, friends?"
He took a menacing step toward me. "She's a real nice girl. Real sweet and kind."
Unlike me was a given. "Well, she won't last long as a reporter if all she does is write down what anybody tells her."
"She'll do just fine, Miss Know-it-all," he said, closing the space between us.
I leaned away from the tree and took a few backward steps toward the house. I figured I'd slip inside and slam the door in his face before he realized what I'd done. I kept backing and wiping the sweat from my face. Not having eyes in the back of my head, I misjudged where the edge of the house was and the sharp corner of brick caught my arm, scraping off what felt like several yards of skin. I might have muttered a curse or two, but I didn't stop backing toward the house.
Unfortunately, Leroy noticed my slinking and followed, pacing me step for step, and very nearly nose to nose.
"Now, Leroy, if you have some legitimate questions to ask me, why don't you come back inside where it's cool and we'll have us a nice little chat," I said, lying through my teeth. "I even promise not to call you too many appropriately inappropriate names."
That was evidently the wrong type of enticement because he puffed up like a toad and leaned even closer toward me. "Why, you little--"
The screech of tires and a pop like a firecracker. A piece of brick shattered off the house between us, sending puffs of dust and rock into our eyes. We both dropped to the ground. The engine raced and tires squealed as the car sped away.
Leroy cursed and rubbed at his eyes. I rubbed at mine, too, although I tried not to be stupid about it. I was coherent enough to realize that pieces of brick could do some serious damage.
Although tears poured down my cheeks, I tried to force my eyes open to get a look at the retreating car. I blinked several times, but couldn't keep my lids open long enough to really see anything. There was a ball of white in my vision but I couldn't tell if it was a car, a house, or just a cloud of dust. A shiver went up my back.
Somebody must have taken quick offense to the newspaper article. I'd made a mental wisecrack about courting a bullet, but I hadn't really believed they'd come after me. But they had. And if Leroy hadn't been backing me up to the door, the bullet would have skewered me in the temple, dead center, so to speak. "Dammit," I said, stumbling up to my feet and trying to pretend that I wasn't totally and completely petrified. "Did you see anything, Leroy?"
A blurry glance at the acting sheriff told me he hadn't seen anything and wouldn't be for a while. Leroy was on his knees, his hat in the dirt beside him and his balding head gleaming as he rubbed his fists into his eyes with frenzied enthusiasm.
"Stop grinding rocks into your eyes, Leroy." I blinked away my own tears and tipped my head to the side to wash out the debris. "Stop rubbing or you're going to be in eye patches for a month."
"Shut up, Jolene," he said, bracing himself against the house as he stood. He held one hand to his face and staggered in the general direction of the patrol car. "Goddammit, I can't see shit. Jesus this hurts."
I followed along and opened the car door and handed him the radio so he could call in our latest little incident.
Lucille had heard the commotion, but was wisely standing inside the screen door. I waved to Mother that we were okay then said to Leroy, "Just tell them I'll drive us to the hospital in your car. It's the quickest way. I'm probably okay, but you're not."
"I'm fucking fine, Jolene," he said, tears and blood streaming down his face.
That's when I noticed the piece of brick about an inch long lodged in his forehead, just above his left eye. I turned to my mother and hollered. "Need some dishtowels. Grab your purse--and mine. Lock the house. We've got to get to the hospital."
Eyes wide, she bobbed her head and disappeared into the house.
I maneuvered Leroy into the back seat and sat down beside him. "Is that deputy still here?"
"No. I was gonna be here so I sent him on a call out by Mankins."
Well, swell, there'd be no help from any official types. Once again I had to play EMT, like it or not. And I did not.
The rule of thumb was to leave any foreign object securely in place until professionals could remove it. Unfortunately, I didn't think that was such a good plan in this case, and I surely didn't want Leroy fooling with it--or whining about it. The wound was also bleeding pretty good, and I wasn't going to mash down on a piece of brick to try and stop it. They were going to be digging rocks out of his head for the next two weeks regardless, so, right or wrong, that slice of brick was coming out.
"Leroy," I said, preparing to give him the bad news about the projectile lodged in his face. "I need to, um, well...." As I searched for just the right words to convey my news, it occurred to me that maybe he didn't need to know what I was going to do. He wouldn't handle it well either way, but having him not know until the deed was done would be easier for both of us, but mostly for me.
At that moment, Lucille reached the car with an armload of hand towels, the dishtowel supply having been depleted. "Thanks," I said, grabbing one and laying it across my lap for quick access.
Lucille glanced at Leroy and grimaced in sympathy.
I signaled her not to say anything then tried to coax Leroy's hands away from his eyes. "You're going to have to move your hands so I can see what's wrong."
He grumbled and growled, but his hands dropped away. I put my fingers on his cheek and worked my way around his eye to the chunk of brick. "Hmmm," I said cleverly. "Looks like..." Then I grasped the end of the brick piece and yanked it out.
"Owww!" he yelped, swinging his meaty fingers up to his face. I managed to slip the towel over the wound before he got his hand up. "What did you do to me!"
"You had a chunk of brick in your head, Leroy," I said, not so sweetly. "Well, now, that's no great revelation, let me rephrase. You had an exterior chunk of brick stuck in your face. I graciously pulled it out. You can figure on a few stitches at least. And patches on both eyes would be my guess. Should have listened to me about rubbing them so hard."
I scooted out of the back seat and mother scooted in. I situated myself behind the wheel, snapped my seat belt and turned on the whirling lights. I've always wanted to do that. The siren was tempting, but I didn't want to attract any undue attention. The lack of a warning siren did not prevent me from exceeding the speed limit to the hospital, however. I did drive carefully, though.
Leroy moaned and groaned and whined until Lucille threatened to whack him with her purse. Knowing she was as good as her word, he piped down a little.
When we arrived at the hospital, medical personnel swarmed the car and whisked Leroy into the emergency room. They tried to whisk me as well, but I declined their insistent offers. I was fine. More shaken than I was ready to admit, but physically fine. My eyes had quit watering and didn't sting so I knew there wasn't any real damage. I leaned myself against the front fender of the cruiser and refused to budge so a doctor peered into my eyes in the drive-up area and pronounced me both obstinate and "probably" okay.
I was still holding up the fender when an army of deputies spilled out of the emergency room doors. In this case, an army meant four, but that was quite a few, considering. With Jerry and now Leroy out of commission, the ranks were dwindling rapidly, and it appeared there was a little nervousness running rampant through the remaining soldiers.
One of the deputies, an attractive brunette about my size, stepped toward me. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. "I'm Deputy Marshall," she said, narrowing her eyes just a tad in warning in case I wanted to comment on her name. "Are you the one who drove Deputy Harper to the hospital?"
"Guess that depends on whether I'm going to get in trouble for it or not." She frowned at my half-attempt at humor. I started to tell her I could do better, but she didn't seem inclined to smile, much less laugh. "That was a joke," I said. "Stress does that to me. Some people freeze, some people cry, I crack jokes, or try to."
Deputy Marshall nodded to me and then to Lucille, who stood a few feet away. "Would you ladies follow me."
I fell into step beside Mother and muttered, "The woman has the sense of humor of motor oil."
Mother scowled me into a highly unfunny mood so I just kept my clever thoughts to myself and marched along.
We followed Deputy Marshall down a series of hospital halls until we came to the cafeteria. She motioned us to sit down at a table in the corner. "Coffee or soda?"
"I'd like a Dr Pepper and a visit to ICU."
She didn't even blink. "Sheriff Parker is not allowed visitors."
I blinked rapidly and my heart fluttered at a similar pace. "Is something wrong? Is he okay? What happened?"
"His condition is stable, but they're keeping him sedated. He's under guard until further notice."
Her detached spit-out-the-facts manner was getting annoying fast. Not that I wanted Leroy back, mind you, but he was easier to read. "Why is Jerry under guard?"
Deputy Marshall looked at me like I was a complete idiot. "For his protection. Someone is shooting our officers. We do not take that behavior lightly."
"So that means I can't see him?"
"Yes." She turned a steely eye my way. "No one other than immediate family and official personnel can see him right now."
I was sorely tempted to make a juvenile remark accompanied by a childish la-tee-da face. I really do want to be like the Dalai Lama, wishing everyone well in my thoughts and heart no matter how much they piss me off, or something like that. Unfortunately, I'm still working on the kindergarten lesson of not letting every thought that enters my brain come out my mouth. But I believe it counts that I think about being a better human being.