You've Got Tail (25 page)

A sense of relief washed over me. In that second, I could have kissed the mayor. “Really? Oh, good. I'm so glad.”

Sheila fidgeted with her belt buckle. “Well, I guess I'll let you go.” She swiveled her eyes towards Neville.

The corner of his mouth tugged up into a half-smile. Oh, man! She was sleeping with him, too.

“Did you get those papers filed, Ms. Murphy?” Neville asked. “The ones for the Community Preservation Project?”

“Not yet, Mayor. I'll have it done this afternoon,” she answered.

Ms. Murphy and Mayor.
As if.
Who did they think they were fooling?

“See you around, Sunny,” Sheila said as parting words.

Not if I see you first.
“Bye.”

“Well, back to the old grind.” Neville smiled, his eyes sad. “Take care of yourself, Sunny.”

I watched him stroll down the sidewalk, nodding and smiling at people as he went along. I wondered how many people knew he was doing the bump and grind with his secretary. In this small town, probably everyone.

Ick.
I didn't even want to think about it.

When I got to Doe Run, Ruth came out of the garage in full coveralls, wiping grease from her hands. “Girl,” she said, giving me a light hug. “I was going to stop and check on you today. You didn't have to come all the way down here.”

“It's not like you live that far,” I said. “Took me five minutes.” Not including the awkward run-in with Sheila.

“Do you want to come in for some coffee?”

“Tempting offer, but no.”
Please say yes.
“I was hoping I could borrow your car to run out to Billy Bob's.”

Her forehead wrinkled.

So I added, “I want to see how Jo Jo is doing.”

“Let me get cleaned up,” Ruth said. “I'll go with you.”

Now
my
forehead wrinkled.

So she added, “I want to pick up some marshmallow root for my youngest. He's starting to get a cough.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Was there even such a thing as marshmallow root? I shook my head. It was too strange not to be real.

I told Connelly where we were going and he followed us out to the shaman's house. Billy Bob's place was a sprawling one-level ranch house. Huge, let me tell you. I wondered why a single guy would need a home so large, until I got inside. The whole left side of the place was a clinic. He literally worked from home.

“Very cool,” I said with a bit of awe as Billy Bob led us down the corridor to Jo Jo's room.

Brady Corman sat in the chair next to his sleeping son's bed. “What are you doing here? Haven't you caused enough trouble?”

Before I could say anything, Ruth stepped in front of me. “You just watch your mouth, Brady Tyler Corman.” She snapped her fingers. “I won't put up with your sass. Especially not with all Sunny's been through lately. She gives a damn about your boy, which is more than I can say for you.”

Jo Jo's father winced as if he'd been slapped across the face. Which, in a sense, he had. Ruth had made her words a fist and verbally punched him in the nose. He glared at Ruth and she glared back. They had a good old fashioned stare-off that lasted several tense seconds. Brady looked away first.

Go, Ruth!

“Well, I don't want to wake Jo Jo,” I said, ready to leave now that the situation had become even more strained. “I'm sure he needs his rest more than company.”

“I'm awake,” Jo Jo said, his eyes still closed. He flickered them open and looked at his dad. “I'd like to talk to Sunny alone for a minute.”

Brady rubbed his face, but stood up. I smelled the alcohol when he passed by me, his shoulder brushing against mine. I wanted to tell him that Rose Ann hadn't been a cheater. She hadn't voluntarily left him and their son. But since I couldn't prove it, there wasn't any point. Not yet.

Billy Bob massaged my shoulders for a moment and the tension eased a little. Finally, he gave me a gentle pat and said, “I'll leave you to it.”

Ruth left with him, I assumed to get her marshmallow root, and I was left alone with Jo Jo. I let him take my hand. “Are you doing all right?”

“Yes, thanks to you. The shaman told me if you hadn't been thinking quick, it could have been a lot worse for me.”

I'd noticed Jo Jo addressed him as shaman and not doctor. “He's giving me a lot of credit for nothing. I just made a phone call.”

“You did more than that, but never mind. Just…thanks. Thank you. That's what I want to say.”

I'd put Rose Ann's necklace in my purse, thinking to give it back to Jo Jo, but I didn't know how to explain where and how I found it. I thought, especially at a time like this, he could use something of his mother. Firming my resolve, I took it out.

“I think you should have this.” I placed the gold chain with the small heart charm in his hand. “It was your mom's.”

Wetness formed in the brim of his eyes. “You keep it.”

“I don't know everything,” I told him fiercely. “But I do know this. Your mom never wanted to leave you. Believe me when I say, she wouldn't have left you if it had been her choice.”

He gripped my hand tightly, fighting back the tears. “What do you know, Sunny? What did you see about my mom?”

“Nothing I can prove.” I pressed the necklace into his palm. “Not yet, anyways.”

His eyes searched my face for more answers, but I couldn't give him what he wanted. Jo Jo was still a teenager. Once he learned the truth, any idealism he had left would disappear in the horror.

Finally, he nodded. He held the necklace in a tight fist and brought it to his chest. “Okay, Sunny. But when the time comes, I want to know everything. You may think of me as a kid, but I've had to grow up fast. I can handle the truth.”

Some truths were hard even for adults. I was one, and I was barely handling it. I wanted to hug the grown-up right out of him. At seventeen, the only problems Jo Jo should've had were what acne wash to use and what girls to date. “You should rest. I'll check on you again soon.”

I passed Brady on the way out. He glowered at me and I wanted to shake him until his brain rattled. I resisted the urge. I'd learned a long time ago, you can't change someone who doesn't want to change.

Ruth and Billy Bob were out on the porch waiting for me. He was disproportionally tall compared to her; hell, even when standing next to me, and I'm tall for a woman. It would have looked strange on Babel, who was perfectly proportioned for his height, but lanky really worked for the doc.

Ruth had a brown bag in hand, which I assumed was the medicinal herb she wanted. “You ready?”

“I'm ready if you are.”

Billy Bob's eyes sparkled like crystals when he stepped out into the sunlight. His dreadlocks, loose around his face, swept past his shoulders. He walked us out to Ruth's car and kissed my cheek. “The swelling's down,” he said.

“A little.” I smiled, but the sadness in my heart made it feel insincere.

Suddenly, Ruth said, “Oh, and I almost forgot. I'm having a potluck tomorrow night to welcome Sunny to town. I fully expect you to bring your sweet potato casserole, Doctor Smith.”

A potluck. This was news to me, but it did sound like a good opportunity to read a few people, possibly get more information on Chavvah.

“I wouldn't miss one of your shindigs.” Billy Bob smiled. “I'll be there with bells on.”

Ruth squealed with delight then ran back to the patrol car and invited Connelly to the “shindig.” I knew if I was going, the deputy would have little choice but to attend.

On the way back to town, I asked Ruth, “How long have you been planning this dinner thingy?”

She grinned. “About ten minutes.”

Wow. “I really like you, Ruth.”

“I really like you, too, Sunny.”

Back at Ruth's, she invited me in for a minute. I was tired and ready to go back to my place, but she insisted. I quickly found out why when Ruth produced a handgun. “I want you to take this for protection.”

I already had Deputy Squirrel; did I really need a gun? “I wouldn't even know how to use one of those things.”

“It's easy, honey.” She held up the weapon with an experienced touch. She popped a magazine with bullets out by pushing a button on the bottom of the grip. While explaining the fundamentals, Ruth went through the motions as well. “This here is a Ruger .22 pistol. It has a ten-round magazine. You just load your bullets here.” She pointed to the butt. “Stick the mag back in. Pull the slide back to chamber a round. Flick the safety off. Aim. Breathe. Pull the trigger to shoot.”

Okay, so she didn't pull the trigger, but everything else. She put the safety back on and thrust the gun into my hands. It felt heavy and good to touch. I hated it. “I don't know if this is a good idea.”

“Go ahead. You try it.”

I managed to get through all the steps, the second time without prompting. It was so much easier to be armed and dangerous than I'd ever expected. I felt like Dirty Harriet.

“Do you feel lucky, punk? Well, do ya?” I said in my best Clint Eastwood impersonation (which really wasn't good on a good day).

“By George, I think you've got it,” she said, grinning. I guess if I could channel Clint, she could channel Henry Higgins.

“Loverly,” I replied, hoping we'd both stop before we broke out into song.

Ruth laughed. “I think you're smarvelous.”

“And you…” I'd never been a fan of guns, but I wasn't a fan of getting my ass kicked all the time either. I put the Ruger 22. pistol, with the safety on, in my purse. “…are swonderfully nuts.”

“You like the classic musicals?”

“Yes, very much.”

“We'll have to have a marathon one night. I have all the old musicals on DVD.” As an afterthought, she said, “Oh, and it's semi-automatic. So, if some bastard tries to attack you again, don't be afraid to shoot him with all ten rounds.

Impulsively, I hugged Ruth tight. She was quickly becoming a really good friend when I needed one.

I just hoped the bastard who I was hypothetically emptying the magazine into didn't turn out to be her oldest son.

E
xhausted, I let Connelly drive me the few blocks back home. His front seat was littered with peanut shells, which struck me as funny. Squirrels do eat nuts. Also, he had a mullet. Again funny. Sort of like a bushy tail.

I thanked him for the lift and headed inside. Ruth made me feel really good about being here, which meant my version of normal was definitely changing. I decided to look over the papers Neville had dropped off. The envelope was upstairs on my small kitchen counter where I'd left it. When I emptied it out on the table, the contents left me gawking.

The pages were blank. Like someone had just shoved a stack of typing paper in there.

Sheila.
Of course it had to be that bi-otch. She was Neville's assistant, after all. Well, no way in hell was I letting her get away with this. I stuffed the blank pages back into the envelope.

I'd march down to the courthouse and give her a piece of my mind. She didn't scare me. Much. My shadow, Connelly, followed me. He waited out in the patrol car when I went inside. Although, as I approached the mayor's office, apprehension plagued me, and I wished I'd brought the deputy inside.

Who was I kidding here with my bravado? Sheila could totally whoop me. I took a couple of deep breaths and steeled myself for the confrontation. Knocking on the door, I felt the twinge of panic rising again. I heard Neville say, “Come in.”

I held my head up high, threw my shoulders back, faked a confidence I didn't feel and walked into the lion's den.

Huh. No Sheila, but Neville sat behind a big maple desk. The smaller desk in the room was vacant.

“Sunny, hi.” He did not sound happy to see me.

“Hi, Neville.”

He looked up, but didn't get up. “Can I help you with something?”

I sighed heavily. “Well, I'd actually come down to talk to Sheila.”
The bane of my existence.
“Those papers you dropped over the other day were blank, and I think she messed with them to mess with
me
.”

“I'm really sorry, Sunny.” His wide smile was back, and he looked relieved for some reason. “That Sheila can be a pisser. But she's usually very good at her job.”

“I'm sure,” I said, not hiding the sour note in my tone. I was sure she was good at a lot of things, but I'm not sure the job was one of them. “When will she be back?”

“I'm not sure.” He tapped one thumbnail against the other, and chewed the inside of his lower lip. “She took the afternoon off for
personal
reasons, if you catch my drift.”

I not only caught his drift, I was skiing it like an Olympian. All that was missing from his innuendo had been the
nod, nod, hint, hint, wink, wink
. I wanted to stick a spike in my ear to un-hear the intimation. He was implying she was off playing hanky-panky hooky with someone, possibly Babel.
My
Babel. I wasn't usually inclined to hurt people, but I was glad I left Ruth's gun back at the apartment or I might have been tempted to shoot someone.

“I guess I'll stop by tomorrow. Will she be in then?”

“She's off tomorrow, but I'll let her know you were looking for her.”

I saw a picture on the wall behind his desk. A beautiful woman, pale-green eyes, and gorgeous auburn hair. The style of her hair dated the picture to the late eighties.

“Is that your wife?”

“Yes, she was.”

The “was” reminding me that she'd died. “I'm sorry, Neville. I shouldn't have asked.”

He raised a hand to stop me. “Think nothing of it, darlin'. Life and death. It touches us all in some way or another.” The sadness in his voice caught me by surprise. Gone was the charming slick man, and in his place was the grieving widow. I wondered if the real Neville Lutjen would ever stand up.