Bad Penny (21 page)

She grabbed a shovel from a floor display with one hand as she shoved Dorothy to the floor with the other. She knew she was in the man’s peripheral vision, but was counting on him being too focused on his ex to see her until it was too late.

She swung the shovel as she ran, hitting him in the back of the head with the spade about a half second before the gun went off.

Mandi took a dive behind the counter as the bullet went into a wall near the ceiling. When she began to hear people clapping, she peered out from behind the counter. When she saw her ex on the floor, she jumped up.

“What happened?” she cried.

“That woman knocked him out with a shovel,” someone said, and then laughed.

“Oh lord, oh lord!” Mandi cried, as she ran to Cat. “You saved my life.” “I called 911,” someone said.

When they heard the man stirring, Mandi jumped back and screamed again. “He’s coming to.”

“No he’s not,” Cat said, and swung the shovel again, aiming for the crown of his head like a golfer putting against a strong wind. The blade hit Clyde’s head with a solid clang. Blood began to ooze from a cut on his head, but he was no longer moving.

Dorothy was still on the floor on her belly, staring up at Cat as if she’d never seen her before.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispered, then slowly got to her feet.

Cat frowned. “Sorry, but I couldn’t just stand there and let him pull the trigger, now could I?”

Dorothy eyed the grip Cat had on the shovel handle and the fire in her eyes, and shook her head quickly.

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“Are you all right?” Cat asked. “I didn’t mean to push you so hard, but I was afraid he’d start shooting up the place, and I didn’t want you to get hit.”

“Right,” Dorothy mumbled, and then put her fingers to her lips, wondering if they were as numb as they felt.

“Look, the police are here,” Mandi said.

A half dozen police cruisers had pulled up to the front of the building. Cat counted at least eight uniformed officers coming through the door with guns drawn.

“Here we go,” she murmured, as they began to shout. “Hands up! Everyone on the floor!”

Dorothy shook her head in disgust. “Oh, for the good lord’s sake. The only one who had a gun is already on the floor.”

She pointed at the gunman and the gun Cat had kicked loose from his fingers.

One of officers grabbed the gun, while another turned the guy over.

“There are no bullet wounds,” he said, as he handed the gun off to his partner, then rolled the unconscious man back over on his belly, yanked his hands behind his back and cuffed him.

Clyde, still unconscious, was as limp as a rag doll.

Dorothy put her arm protectively around Cat’s shoulders. “That’s because my girl downed him with a shovel.”

“She’s a hero,” Mandi said, as she pointed to the man on the floor. “That’s my ex-husband, Clyde Bridges. I have an order of protection against him, but a fat lot of good it would have done if it hadn’t been for her. He came into the store with that gun in his hand and was ready to shoot me dead. She stopped him. She hit him with that shovel just as he pulled the trigger. I hit the floor, and the bullet hit the wall up by the ceiling.”

Cat’s chin jutted in a defensive gesture. “Well, I couldn’t just—”

Then one of the bystanders suddenly spoke up. “Hey, I know who you are! You’re the woman they found out in that pasture after the tornado, aren’t you? You’re that bounty hunter, Cat Dupree.”

The policemen stepped back, eyeing Cat with more than a little curiosity. “Is this true, ma’am? Are you Cat Dupree?” one of them asked.

Cat shrugged. “My name is Cat McKay now, and there’s nothing I can tell you about this man other than that he came in the door with a gun, threatening to kill her. I hit him with this.”

She handed the officer the shovel. “If you need to talk to us again, call my cell.” She rattled off the number. “I just want to go home.” She looked at Dorothy for support. “I think we’ve had enough of shopping for one day.”

“Amen to that, honey,” Dorothy said, and took her by the hand. They walked away from their full shopping cart without a backward glance.

“Thank you again,” Mandi said, as Cat walked past her.

Cat nodded and kept on walking. They got to the car, but when Cat hit the remote to unlock the doors, she realized her hands were shaking. She shuddered, then took a slow breath and handed the keys to Dorothy.

“I think you’d better drive.”

“Are you all right?” Dorothy asked, eyeing her nervously. “I will be,” Cat said.

Dorothy slid behind the wheel, and they were soon on their way home. “That was weird,” Cat said.

Dorothy glanced at the strained expression on her daughter-in-law’s face, then started to giggle.

“Honey, that’s the understatement of the day.” Her giggle broke the ice.

Cat started to relax. Then she remembered Wilson. “I don’t even want to think about what Wilson is going to say,” she muttered, then looked at

Dorothy. “Maybe we just won’t tell him?”

Dorothy rolled her eyes. “All I’m saying is, it will be better coming from you than him hearing about it on the evening news.”

“The news? Oh, no. Do you think they’ll mention it?”

“Are you serious? I saw half a dozen people with their cell phones out, getting the whole thing on video. You put down a would-be killer in Hardware Heaven with a shovel. You’ll be on one of those crazy Web sites by tomorrow, you mark my words.”

Cat sighed. “Wilson is going to blow a fuse. Not that it matters, because I don’t intend to explain myself every time I leave the house.”

Dorothy shook her head in quiet amazement. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m just beginning to understand what you two faced just trying to do your jobs. It’s not as simple as I first believed, is it? I mean…you don’t exactly knock on doors and pick up people who don’t show up for court, do you?”

Cat stifled a laugh. Obviously Wilson had been feeding his mother quite a line.

“It’s not always that simple, no.”

“It’s dangerous, isn’t it? I remember how beat up you were when you first came to us. Did one of your bail jumpers do that to you?”

Solomon Tutuola’s burned and tattooed face slithered through her mind, then out again.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said.

“Lord, lord, and all these years Wilson assured me it was no big deal.” “Well, we’re out of the business now, so don’t worry, okay?”

Dorothy’s frown deepened. “When I think of all those years I slept in peaceful bliss, thinking my children were just fine in their chosen professions with this Jimmy Franks mess and now this, Wilson just flatout lied to me. I may have to wring his neck on general principle. In fact… you just leave him to me. If he gives you trouble about all this, he’s mine.”

Cat laughed out loud. “It’s a deal.”

A delivery truck from Blaine’s Lumber Yard had just delivered a load of two-by-fours to the old home place and was on the way back to the highway when Wilson’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, then frowned. Channel Four was calling, which begged the question: Why?

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I speak to Wilson McKay?” “I’m Wilson McKay. How can I help you?”

“Mr. McKay, I’m Joanie Eckert from Channel Four. Is your wife the

former Cat Dupree, from Dallas?” Wilson’s stomach knotted. “Yes. Why?” “Is she home yet?”

“No, and why, may I ask, do you even know she’s gone? What’s going on?”

“We’d like to send out a film crew to get some footage to run with the sound bite we’ll be running on the evening news.”

Wilson was immediately defensive. Just thinking of seeing Cat back on the news was like sending up flares, letting Jimmy Franks know exactly where to look to finish the job.

“What the hell for?”

“For the shooting at Hardware Heaven of course.” “There was a shooting at Hardware Heaven?”

Ms. Eckert should have been alerted by the odd tone of Wilson’s voice. “Yes, only a short while ago. If—”

Wilson disconnected the call, then immediately dialed Cat’s number. She answered on the second ring.

“Hi, honey,” she said.

“Don’t ‘hi, honey’ me,” Wilson muttered, then he heard Cat say, “He already knows.”

“No thanks to you. I had to hear about it from some damn reporter from Channel Four. The first thing I want to know is, are you and Mom all right?”

He thought he was still talking to Cat when he heard his mother’s voice answer instead.

“It’s only thanks to Catherine that we’re fine, so you take that tone right out of your voice, mister. She not only saved our lives, but she saved the life of a woman at Hardware Heaven, as well.”

“God, Mom…what happened?”

“I will let you talk to Catherine, but you do not raise your voice to her. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dorothy obviously handed the phone back to Cat, because the next voice he heard belonged to his wife.

“It’s me.”

“Cat…honey? What happened?”

“So it’s honey now?”

He sighed. “Yes. Talk to me…Please.”

“Your mom and I were ready to check out when this crazy man comes running in waving a gun. He was screaming at a woman, who turned out to be his ex. She had an order of protection against him, but you know what they’re worth.”

“Yeah, less than the paper they’re printed on.”

“Right. So, anyway, we were all bunched up together, and I figured once he shot her, he was probably going to empty his gun into the crowd. I grabbed a shovel from a floor display and whacked him with it. Dropped him like a sack of potatoes.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Wilson? Are you still there?” He just managed to say, “Uh-huh.”

“We’re almost home. We’ll tell you all about it when we get there, and your mom says don’t scare Carter when you tell him.”

“Fine. I won’t scare Dad any more than that journalist just scared me.” “I’m sorry,” Cat said. “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. For

God’s sake, how was I to know those vultures would already be after their bit of fresh meat for the six o’clock news?”

“Okay, I get it,” Wilson said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to tell you over the phone, either.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry. I love you.” Cat sighed. “Love you, too. See you soon.”

Jimmy Franks was sitting in the back of the dining hall at the downtown Salvation Army shelter, waiting for the free meal of the day to be served. He’d undergone a transformation so drastic that neither Houston nor his mother would have recognized him. He’d shaved his face smooth, pushed his hair back with a pink plastic headband, and was wearing eye makeup and lipstick of a shade that would have staggered a whore. Instead of his usual clothes, he’d gotten a pair of women’s slacks and a loose silky blouse from a secondhand store, and was decked out like a trannie. The cops would never spot him in drag. Now, if he could just find a patsy to use for a body double before some homophobe decided to beat the hell out of him on general principles, he would be good to go.

Several men walked past him, eyeing him nervously, as if what he had might be catching. A pair of teenage boys pointed at him and laughed. But when another man sidled up to him and actually started to flirt, Jimmy pitched a fit.

“Get away, you fuckin’ pervert,” he snarled.

Confused by the mixed messages, the man ducked and quickly slunk away. Someone rang the bell that meant dinner was served.

Jimmy stood up. He waited until the chaplain blessed the food and then took his place in line, all the while scanning the crowd for another small, skinny man with sharp features and dishwater-blond hair.

He got through the line, carried his plate to a nearby table and quickly began to eat, while continuing to watch the people coming and going.

Thinking this was going to be a bust, he dumped his empty plate and cup into the trash and walked out. He was standing on the curb, waiting for the light to change, when he sensed someone behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and his heart skipped a beat.

Holy crap! Talk about an “Ask, and ye shall receive” moment…Jimmy looked more like the guy behind him than he did his real brother, and even better, the guy was a stoner. He could tell by the way he was acting that he was in bad need of a fix.

“Hey,” Jimmy whispered. “I’ve got something you want.” The guy blinked twice before he managed to focus on Jimmy’s face.

“Naw, I don’t swing that way,” he mumbled, and started across the street as the light changed.

Jimmy jumped off the curb and hurried after him.

“No, no. I wasn’t talking about sex. I’ve got prime smack. Let’s talk price and then we can party.”

By the time they reached the other side of the street, the stoner was all but holding Jimmy’s hand to get what was in his pocket.

“So what’s your name?” Jimmy asked.

“James Martin.”

Jimmy laughed out loud.