Authors: James Henderson
Sheriff Bledsoe parked the cruiser and killed the engine. “Yes, Eric, I hear you.”
“You know what I’m saying is true, don’t you?”
He got out, opened Eric’s door and helped him out. “What is true, Eric?”
“I’m being framed. Big time! You know I’m not a killer. I’m a lover. I might steal a woman’s heart--I’m no killer!”
He led Eric inside the jail and directed him to a chair. “Why would someone want to frame you?”
Eric shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. A lotta people don’t like me, especially Shirley’s people.”
“Why don’t they like you?”
“’Cause I mind my own business and I don’t stick my nose where it don’t belong.”
Sheriff Bledsoe considered telling him adultery was a capital case of sticking a nose where it didn’t belong.
Instead: “Okay, Eric, let’s say you were framed. Somebody says, ‘Hey, why not frame Eric Barnes with Larry Harris’ murder? Gee, great idea. How? Easy. Put poiso
n and neck bones on the Hawkins’
patio. When Eric sneaks over to rendezvous with Ruth Ann, Sheriff Bledsoe will catch him red-handed with the goods.’”
“Naw, Sheriff. I don’t think it happened quite like that. But I now know who’s trying to frame me.”
“Who?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Yes, I do. Enlighten me further of the conspiracy to frame Eric Barnes.”
Ignoring the sarcasm: “Lester. He did it, or he had one of his friends do it for him.”
“Why? Why would Lester frame you?”
“He’s jealous.”
“I was under the impression Lester didn’t know about you and Ruth Ann.”
“I was, too. He wanted us to think he didn’t know. You see, then he could do his dirt and nobody would suspect him.”
Sheriff Bledsoe sighed. “Lester framed you by throwing gopher bait and neck bones on his patio?”
“He sure did. You know he’s crazy, Sheriff. You know what he did to himself when his first wife left him? He drank poison or something and scorched his mouth. Only a crazy person would try to kill hisself, you know what I’m saying?”
“That was a long time ago, and I don’t see how his burning himself years ago is related to current events.”
“Related! Hell, the two are fucking. Don’t you see the connection?”
“No, I don’t. And watch your mouth.” Why was he even entertaining Eric’s cockamamie suppositions?
“It’s simple, Sheriff. Lester has firsthand experience with poison, or first-mouth experience, if you wanna be specific. After he burned hisself--you know the man ain’t stupid--he read up on the subject so he wouldn’t burn up something else. Then he concocted his grand scheme to frame me and kill Shirley’s daddy.”
“You think he poisoned Larry Harris?”
“Hell yeah! I know damn well he did.”
“A gaping hole in your theory, Eric. Lester was not present at the barbecue. You were. And, according to Ruth Ann, you were bending over backward catering to Larry.”
“Aw hell. I admit greasing the old man’s ego. I was just sucking up. You know I don’t know poison and chemical stuff. If I were going to kill somebody, I’d do it face-to-face, man-to-man. I ain’t no punk!”
Headlights beamed through the venetian blinds. “Should be Lester and Ruth Ann,” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
“Watch him, Sheriff,” Eric warned. “Don’t let the burn mark fool you. How he tricks people--the sympathy play, you know?”
“Thanks for the advice, Eric.”
A few minutes ticked away.
“Your truck is still in the impound lot,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “When are you going to get it?”
“Aw, Sheriff! I didn’t know you impound it. Otis charges fifteen dollars a day, not to mention the tow charge. I can’t afford all that.”
Sheriff Bledsoe didn’t respond, and a few more minutes ticked away.
Eric said, “They sure taking a long time to come in. You don’t think they’re polishing up their alibi, do you?”
Sheriff Bledsoe went to check.
Ruth Ann and Shirley were talking inside the SUV. He assumed Lester was in the backseat, obscured by the tinted back windows.
He tapped on the window and Ruth Ann jumped. “I didn’t mean to give you a start. Y’all can join us anytime.” He went back inside.
“What are they doing out there?” Eric asked. “Getting their lies together, I bet you.”
“Ruth Ann and Shirley are talking. They’ll be in soon.”
“Who?”
“Ruth Ann, Shirley and Lester.”
“My Shirley?”
“Yes.”
Eric jumped to his feet and turned his back to Sheriff Bledsoe. “Take these cuffs off, Sheriff! Take em off!”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“If Shirley catch me with these cuffs on I’m sawdust. C’mon now, take em off so I can
at
least have a running chance.”
“There’s not going to be any theatrics here. This’ll be conducted in a civil manner.”
“You don’t know her, Sheriff. When she gets mad she turns into a Transylvania devil.”
“You mean Tasmanian devil, don’t you?”
“Whatever, Sheriff, just take these damn cuffs off. Please! Take em off!”
Sheriff Bledsoe took the key from his pocket. Eric’s wrists were wet with sweat.
When the cuffs clicked free, Eric said, “Maybe you should lock me up, too. You know, just to be on the safe side.”
Just then Shirley barged in, pushing the door open wider than necessary to accommodate her large frame. “What the hell is going on now?”
“Oh-oh!” Eric said, and moved behind Sheriff Bledsoe.
“Calm down, Miss Harris,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “Don’t forget you’re at a police station.”
“I know where I am, Sheriff. Eric, what the hell have you done now?”
“I-I-I…”
“I-I-I--my ass! What have you done?”
The door opened again and Ruth Ann poked her head in and back out and in again, then, slowly, one limb at a time, she entered.
Sheriff Bledsoe couldn’t decide who looked the most terrified, Eric or Ruth Ann.
“Where’s Lester?” he asked Ruth Ann.
“He,” a squeaky whisper, “couldn’t make it.”
Sheriff Bledsoe pointed to the phone on his desk. “Call him and tell him to get over here.”
Ruth Ann shook her head. “He’s gone.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. He left, said something about missionary work in Zimbabwe.”
Shirley laughed. “Ruth Ann, what are you talking about? You know Lester ain’t in Zimbabwe.”
“We have a time-share in Zimbabwe. I never talk about it because I don’t want people to think we think we’re all that.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shirley said. “Why don’t you sit for a spell? I’ll drive you home. You might have a concussion.”
Ruth Ann, a few feet away from the door, rubbing her hands together, didn’t look as if she could sit if she wanted to.
“Mrs. Hawkins,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, “I want you to call your husband and tell him to get down here. If you don’t, I will.”
Ruth Ann grimaced. “I can’t. I just can’t, Sheriff.”
“Goodness, Ruth Ann,” Shirley said. “No need to get all upset. Sheriff Bledsoe, why you need Lester? What’s going on?”
“You might want to lock me up now, Sheriff,” Eric said. “Please!”
“Everybody just relax, okay!” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “Why don’t we all sit down and sort this thing out.” He pulled up two chairs. “I’m sure we can figure this out without a buncha hysterics. Come on, everybody take a seat.”
Ruth Ann took a step backward.
“Fine with me,” Eric said. “I prefer to sit in a locked cell. You know what I mean, Sheriff?”
Shirley said, “You keep asking to be locked up. Why? The hell wrong with you?”
“Temporary confinement calms my nerves.”
Shirley took a seat. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on here?”
“Miss Harris,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, “Eric and…” Should he tell her? Eric was staring at him, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t be the one telling you…If your sister and your boyfriend won’t, I will.” He looked over at Ruth Ann; she’d moved closer to the door. “Don’t leave!”
Eric went into the cell and tried to pull the bars closed. “How do you lock this thing, Sheriff?”
“Miss Harris,” Sheriff Bledsoe said, “today, two hours ago, I observed your boyfriend, Eric Barnes, at--”
“Ohhhhhhhh!” Ruth Ann cried, clutching her chest. “Ohhhh!” She swooned side to side. “My heart! Ohhhh!” She swayed forward, almost falling to the floor. “Ohhhhh!” and stumbled across the room holding her chest and fell backward onto a desk.
No such luck in the world, Sheriff Bledsoe thought.
“Oh my God!” Shirley shouted, running over to Ruth Ann. “Ruth Ann’s having a heart attack!”
“No, she is not,” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
Shirley leaned over and put an ear to Ruth Ann’s chest, listened for a second, rose up and--Whop!--both hands clutched together, down on Ruth Ann’s sternum. She listened again, got up and--Whop! Another quick listen…another Whop!
Shirley found her rhythm: Whop! Whop! Whop! Whop! Whop!
“Hey!” Sheriff Bledsoe shouted. “Don’t do that!”
Again Shirley hammered Ruth Ann. Whop! This time Ruth Ann grunted, “Uhhhh!”
Whop! “Uhhhh!” Whop! “Uhhhh!” Whop! “Uhhhh!” Whop! “Uhhhh!”
Shirley stopped and laid her head on Ruth Ann’s chest. “I hear it,” she declared. “It’s pumping too fast now. Gotta slow it down.” Whop! Whop! Whop!
“Sheriff!…Sheriff!” Eric grunted, his body suspended perpendicular against the bars, each limb pushing or pulling. “Would you please lock this damn cell! Please!”
“Call an ambulance,” Shirley said, and whopped Ruth Ann again.
“Stop before you seriously hurt her,” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “She’s not having a heart attack.”
“Call a goddamn ambulance!” Shirley shouted with such intensity and authority that Sheriff Bledsoe quickly reached for the phone.
Chapter 19
“Shane didn’t want to come back with me,” Leonard told his mother. “He said he wanted to stay up there a little while longer.”
“How did he look?”