Pernicious (37 page)

         
“She will. Neal is her ideal victim. He’s broke, wants to be rich overnight and he’s gullible. He turns up dead, who cares? Nobody…but…” She almost started crying again. “But my son…and me.”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe opened his mouth, closed it.

         
“Do you think you can make a case against her on the assault charge?” Tasha asked.

         
He grimaced. “Honestly, that was a long shot from the get-go. The victims are ginheads, they’re unpredictable. Give em a half pint and they’ll lie on their mama.”

         
“Maybe,” looking him in the eye, “you should give them what they want.”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe looked away.

         
“Your case,” Tasha continued, “is all we got to stop her before she kills Neal.”

         
“You’re not asking me to bribe a witness, are you?”

         
“No. I’m asking you to file charges and arrest her.”

         
He sighed. “Can’t do it without someone positively identifying her. Without a photo I can’t see it happening.”

         
“You could bring the witnesses up here.”

         
“I guess I could. I’ll have to catch them sober.”

         
“How about her high school yearbook? She’s bound to be in there.”

         
“Never thought about that.”

         
“I’d appreciate it,” Tasha said. “My family is at stake here.”

         
Sheriff Bledsoe nodded and started the car.

                                     
* * * * *

         
Tasha pushed the up button and waited for the elevator. She planned to tell Bob that she wasn’t feeling well, which was true, and then go home. There she planned to take a couple of aspirins, a hot bath, and fix herself a stiff drink.
        
Then, she hoped, her head would stop throbbing.

         
The elevator door opened, revealing a lone passenger.
Tasha first noticed the leather sandals…the pants…the double-breasted jacket…and then Perry’s face. Smiling at her.

         
“So we meet again,” Perry said, stepping out.

         
“What do you want from me?”

         
The elevator door closed. “Weren’t you going up, de-tect-ive?”

         
“Forget that!” Tasha snapped. “What do you want from me?”

         
“My heavens, I do believe we’re upset.”

         
“If something happens to Neal, you’ll be sorry. I guarantee you that!”

         
“Neal who?”

         
“You know who!”

         
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, I forgot. You see, we call each other pet names. He calls me sugar pudding and I call him,” holding up a bent pinkie, “micro dick!”

         
The elevator opened again and two uniforms stepped out.

         
“You’re sick!” Tasha whispered through clenched teeth. “Sick!”

         
“Come again?” Perry said. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

         
Tasha turned on her heels and started down the hallway.

         
“Derrick!” Perry shouted.

         
Tasha stopped cold. Reflexively her hands balled into fists and her eyes narrowed to a squint. She turned and walked back to Perry. “What did you say?”

         
“You asked me what I want, remember? Derrick. He’s sorta big-headed, but I can--”

         
The first punch struck Perry solid, just below her left eye, sending her sprawling backward. The second found nothing but air.

         
“If you come near my son, I’ll kill you!” Tasha pounced on her, swinging, kicking…Perry, on her back, kicked back, her long legs bicycling…Tasha grabbed Perry’s ankles and started kicking her in the back …the butt...

         
“Help!” Perry screamed, her hair mopping the floor. “Help me!”

         
Tasha, unsatisfied, aimed for her face, intent on kicking Perry’s nose in…Perry turned and twisted, dodging each strike…

         
“Help somebody! Help me! She’s gone crazy!”

         
Tasha threw Perry’s legs down, raised her foot high, aimed at Perry’s mouth and brought it down with all the strength she could muster…Air
.
Nothing but air. No sound of teeth and bones crushing under her heel…Strong arms grabbed her by the waist, and she was carried away from her target.

         
“Let me go!” Tasha demanded. “Let me go!”

         
“Put her in here,” said an uniform, opening the door to an interrogation room.

         
“Calm down, Detective,” said an unfamiliar voice attached to the strong arms. “I’m going to put you down.”

         
Before she could protest she was lowered to the floor and the door was closed, locking her in.

                                     
* * * * *

         
Perry, her legs, arms, and hair splayed out, remained on the floor. Several uniforms and plainclothes stared down at her.

         
“Am I dead?” she asked.

         
“No,” one of the plainclothes said. “You’re not dead.”

         
“She tried to kill me! Y’all saw it! She tried to kill me!”

         
“Can you stand up?”

         
“I’m not sure--she kicked me in my back!” Grimacing, Perry lifted her head a bit. “Ohhhh!” she screamed. “Oh my God, my neck is broke!”

         
“Call EMT.”

                                     
* * * * *

         
Neal was ready to go. How long, he wondered, did it take to file a complaint?

         
He’d been waiting over an hour, had gotten tired of sitting inside the Mercedes and was now sitting on the hood.

         
An ambulance drove up, sirens full blast. Neal watched two paramedics jump out and run inside the station. Moments later one of the paramedics came out and retrieved a stretcher.

         
Somebody must’ve got hurt.

         
A few minutes later, Perry was wheeled out.

         
“Perry!” Neal said, running to her. “What happened?”

         
“What do you think happened?” Her neck and head secured by a cervical collar. “I was in there getting stomped while you were out here playing with yourself.”

         
“Who did this to you?”

         
“Your bumpy-faced--” She stopped, eyeballing one of the paramedics. “Detective Tasha Montgomery. She tried to kill me, Neal. She really tried to kill me!”

                                     
* * * * *

         
I’ll kill her!
Tasha thought
. Put a bullet right through the middle of her forehead. If she touches my son, she’s dead. No ifs, ands or buts, she’s dead.

         
The door opened. Bob entered, his expression somber. “Tash,” sighing. “Tash, Tash, Tash.”

         
“You heard, huh?”

         
“Heard! Hell, the whole station is buzzing with it. The commissioner is on his way. He was attending his daughter’s softball game, you know he’s pissed. Captain Franklin, I just left his office, he’s scared shitless this’ll leak to the press.”

         
“Would you get me a cigarette, Bob?”

         
He reached inside his front pocket and handed her two Newports. “Got em out your desk.”

         
She lighted one and inhaled hungrily. “Thanks.”

         
“Why, Tash? Tell me that. Why?”

         
She exhaled and watched the smoke float to the ceiling. “She told me she wanted my son, and I lost it.” She paused and blew a smoke ring. “She’s lucky they pulled me off her.”

         
“Damn, Tash, did you know she’d just filed a complaint against you?”

         
“I didn’t know that.”

         
“Well, she did. Don’t be surprised if she files an assault charge against you.”

         
Tasha stubbed the cigarette out on the table. “There’s nothing that woman can do that’ll surprise me. She married Neal.”

         
“What? Your Neal?”

         
“Yes. Why you think she did that?”

         
“You gotta be kidding!”

         
“I wish I were. Boy, do I wish. She married Neal to get back at me. I expect soon someone will call and tell me he’s dead. An accident.”

         
“You better tell the commissioner everything.”

         
“That’s the funny part, Bob. When you try to explain it, or even rationalize it, it doesn’t make sense. ‘Commissioner, this woman is a psychotic murderer, though we haven’t a shred of evidence to prove it, and she married my ex because I pissed her off. She talked about my son and I tried to put a foot up her ass.’”

         
“I see what you mean,” Bob said.

         
“If she goes near my son, I’ll kill her.”

         
Bob swallowed. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, not here.”

         
“It’s…” Her voice trailed off. “It’s the only thing that’s keeping me from going insane.”

         
There was a knock at the door.

         
“What is it?” Bob snapped.

         
Captain Franklin stepped in. “Detective Montgomery, the commissioner would like to see you in his office.”