And now this!
Maybe, if he were lucky, he thought as he holstered his .357 Magnum, Ruth Ann would confess and then he could return to the business of serving the good people of Dawson, all five thousand of them, by taking long, uninterrupted naps, which saved the city a tremendous amount of revenue.
Murder was a rare bird to land in Dawson. He couldn’t remember a single one occurring here. Now he was mired in a murder investigation straight out of a made-for-television mystery. Arsenic, money and enough suspects to organize a softball team.
If this case went unsolved, he would not win the next election. Any yahoo with a loud mouth could run against him and win by reminding the good people of Dawson of the one murder in decades that, thanks to Sheriff Bledsoe, did not get solved.
He got into his cruiser… and then jogged back inside and retrieved the Pepto Bismol. Just in case.
Upon turning down Whisperwood Drive, Sheriff Bledsoe spotted a man walking down the sidewalk. The blue shirt, khaki shorts and sandals the man wore made him conspicuous in this modest neighborhood. Like a large bag of pork rinds in a Black Muslim Mosque.
At the end of the block the man hesitated before turning the corner. Sheriff Bledsoe drove past the Hawkins’ residence, where Lester Hawkins was sitting on a porch swing. Lester waved.
Sheriff Bledsoe kept going, not noticing. He was in pursuit. Not a whiz solving murder cases, but he could do burglars and peeping Toms. Easily. He turned the corner… and, as he expected, the man was nowhere in sight. He parked and got out, trusty Magnum held to his side.
He moved stealthily, his two-hundred-fifty-pound frame low to the ground, eyes scanning the area like a surveillance camera. What’s that smell? The perp? Was he getting so good he could track perps by smell?… Yes!… God, he loved his job. He spotted the man standing on the Hawkins’ patio deck, and crept up on his quarry.
“Freeze!” The man jumped and jerked both hands up, a box in one hand. “Eric?”
Staring at the gun, buck-eyed: “Hey, Sheriff.”
Sheriff Bledsoe holstered the Magnum. “What you doing back here?”
“I was… I came to see Ruth Ann.”
“Why didn’t you go to the front door? I saw you walk right past the house. What you got there?”
Eric stared at the box as if noticing it for the first time. “This? This is nothing.”
Sheriff Bledsoe took it from him and glanced at the back of the box. “What you doing with this?”
“It was here when I got here, Sheriff. Honest. You didn’t see me carrying nothing, did ya?”
“You could’ve hidden it under your shirt. What’s that I’m smelling?”
“Neck bones.”
“You know what I think, Eric? I think you’re up to no good back here.” He turned the box and read the front label. “Either you were peeking—” He stopped, eyes blinking, going from Eric to the box, to the neck bones, then back to Eric.
“What’s the matter, Sheriff? Why you looking at me like that? What I do?”
“Turn around,” Sheriff Bledsoe commanded. “Do it!”
“What’s the matter, Sheriff?”
Sheriff Bledsoe held him by the collar with one hand, frisked him with the other, and then snapped handcuffs onto his wrists.
“Sheriff, what’s up with the cuffs?”
Sheriff Bledsoe didn’t answer. He led Eric by the arm down the steps, around the side of the house to the front door. Lester was no longer sitting on the porch.
He started to ring the doorbell when Eric said, “Hold up for a minute, Sheriff. Let me explain, okay? Ruth Ann and I, we’re messing around. I wasn’t peeking on nobody. I was just trying to get her attention. Honest.”
“What’s this?” shaking the box.
“Sheriff, I told you it was already there. I just picked it up.”
“Uh-huh. You know how Larry Harris was killed, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Somebody poisoned—now hold on, Sheriff! You got this thang asshole backward. I swear ’fore living God the stuff was already there when I got there.”
Sheriff Bledsoe rang the doorbell. “We’ll see.”
“Awww, Sheriff! Ruth Ann’s not admitting the truth with Lester standing by. Why can’t you take my word on it?”
Lester opened the door. “Hey, Sheriff,” he greeted cheerfully. He eyeballed Eric and frowned. “Hey, Eric.”
“Is your wife in?” Sheriff Bledsoe asked.
“She sure is. Eric isn’t under arrest, is he?”
No, he just has his hands behind his back. “Lester, could I speak to her?”
“Yes, sure. Come in.”
“I-I’ll rather stay outside,” Eric said.
“We’ll wait here,” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
When Lester disappeared, Eric said, “Shit, Sheriff! You’re not going to tell him, are you? I got these cuffs on, too! What if he goes nuts?”
“I’ll tell him if I have to. We’re going to get to the bottom of what’s going on here.”
“I already told you, Sheriff! You gonna get me killed.”
Ruth Ann appeared at the door, smiling. When she saw Eric, her mouth formed a perfect circle.
“Sheriff Bledsoe,” and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “What brings you two gentleman by this late in the evening?”
“Mrs. Hawkins, I caught Eric here behind your house.” He held up the box. “With this.” Ruth Ann didn’t even look at it. “Eric says he was paying you a visit. He says the box was already on your back porch when he arrived, along with a half pound of neck bones.”
Ruth Ann nervously fingered the collar to her black satin robe. “I see.”
“Does this belong to you?” Sheriff Bledsoe said.
Ruth Ann gave Eric an icy look. “What are you talking about, Sheriff?”
“Don’t lie!” Eric said.
“Shut up!” Sheriff Bledsoe said. “Mrs. Hawkins, does this box of Juggernaut Gopher Bait belong to you?”
Ruth Ann looked over her shoulder at the front door. “No. No, it doesn’t.”
“You’re full of shit, Ruth Ann!” Eric said.
“Shut up! I’m not going to tell you again. Mrs. Hawkins, is it possible your husband—”
“No! I purchase all household supplies. We don’t have gophers.” She rolled her eyes at Eric. “Or rats!”
“What about affairs?” Eric said. “Do you have those?”
Sheriff Bledsoe jerked his arm. “Didn’t I tell you to shut your trap!” To Ruth Ann: “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you and Eric having an affair?”
“Let’s talk away from the house,” Ruth Ann said, and walked away. She stopped short of the street. “Where’s your patrol car, Sheriff?” she asked, looking back at the house.
Sheriff Bledsoe looked back too and saw Lester peering out the front window. “Maybe we should all go down to the station and sort this thing out.”
“No!” Ruth Ann said. “Okay, Sheriff, we had a brief fling, but it’s over. I told Eric it was over—he can’t get it through his thick head.”
“Brief!” Eric said. “A buncha years ain’t brief.”
“Son, do I need to handcuff your mouth?”
“Sheriff, ask her how long it’s been over.”
“Son, you open your mouth one more time I’m going to shut it permanently. I’m doing all the questioning here, not you. Do you understand?” Eric nodded. “Mrs. Hawkins, how long has this affair been over?”
“A couple days ago,” she whispered.
“Excuse me, I didn’t—”
“Two days ago!”
“Thank God,” Eric said. “You can take these cuffs off now, Sheriff.”
“Not so fast, son. So it were you two acting up at Blinky the other night?”