Out of a Texas Night

by Phyliss Miranda

  The sheriff stood and so did Brody, coming eye to eye. Deuce continued, “I don’t care what you hear or how mad you get, just don’t come in through that door or I’ll put you in the cell right next to Tommy. Do I make myself clear? You want a ‘pray for the devil to intervene’ talk and that’s what I plan to give him before I turn him over to you to take home.”

  As much furor as Brody felt throughout his body, he knew Deuce was right, but he couldn’t acknowledge it. Sometimes not saying anything was all an officer needed to know that he had the green light to make his point.

  Brody watched Deuce enter the interview room. It really didn’t make any difference which room Tommy occupied; it was nothing but a tactic. Both rooms were identical. Very sparse, with a table and a chair on each side and nothing else but a one-way, break-resistant window where observers could see in but nobody could see out. Cameras were positioned in all corners to catch several views of every person in the room, while microphones were mounted in the corner of the conference table near the investigator.

  Since it was standard procedure, Brody had no doubt that Tommy had been given his Miranda rights plus been advised that everything he said was being recorded.

  Brody settled into his chair, cleared his mind, and reminded himself that he was there not as Tommy’s family member but as a cop. It didn’t take long for the kid to begin running off at the mouth.

  Deuce took the chair directly across from Tommy. He just kept an eye on Tommy, watching and listening to his obnoxious, hostile behavior.

  “So they called in the big pig...oink, oink.” Tommy slumped in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Do they think you’ll get more out of me than junior pig did?” Tommy tapped his toes on the floor and pulled his hoodie down, shading his face.

  Deuce slid further into the table, putting his legs between Tommy’s knees as a way of invading his personal space mentally.

  “Want some Coke?” Deuce asked, as he sat the two unopened cans of soda on the table.

  Tommy leaned further back in a relaxed position and dropped his arms to his sides. After trying to move his legs but failing, Tommy let fear cross his face, which only added to his glazed-over eyes. “Not from a pig, I don’t.” He slumped further in the chair.

  “Not what I’ve heard. It’s my understanding that you’ll take coke, meth, ecstasy, angel dust, even a little dust blunt—whatever is available from anybody offering it. Well, I’m gonna drink mine.” Deuce snapped one of the cans open, took a long drink, and slammed it on the table.

  Tommy Mitchell jumped at the sound.

  “Gonna tell me your name or try to be a hard-ass like you thought you were to my deputies?”

  “I don’t have to give you a mother fu—”

  “Don’t go there with me, dude.” He sat up straight, and although he didn’t have a gun in his holster, he touched his jacket as if he did, as a reminder that the sheriff still had the upper hand on the kid.

  “Talk about losers. You oughta know. A washed-up football player that couldn’t even hack it as a coach, so he had to take on being a cop. I guess you know more about roids than any other drugs,” Tommy snarled.

  Deuce stood so quickly that he knocked his chair over. Putting both hands on the table, he spoke within four or five inches of Tommy’s face. “Let me tell you something, you little punk face, if you continue to screw up you’re going to be in the big house in no time. The scum inside don’t much like second-timers because they have enough sense to know that you’re getting another chance and they only wish they had one. You’ll be somebody’s bitch or in the hospital halfway beaten to death before the sun comes up on day two.” He set his chair on its legs with purpose but never took his eyes off Tommy.

  Tommy continued mouthing off at the sheriff, while Brody looked on, wanting to toss the biggest thing he could get his hands on through the window, knowing it would do no good but make a big dangerous mess and piss off the chief. Brody swayed between being so angry at the total disrespect Tommy showed and wondering how in the heck the sheriff kept his cool. He knew the answer. The difference between being professional and making it personal.

  “We’ve been at this for nearly two hours. I know who you are and you know who I am. That’s about all we’ve got accomplished. The county doesn’t pay me by the hour, so I can sit here until doomsday. One question, do you prefer charges of trespassing and going to the big house for probation violation? It’s all your choice, Tommy Mitchell.”

  “I want my lawyer.” Belligerency filled the room. ”You didn’t even give me my rights.” Tommy tightened his arms across his chest.

  “Oh, but I did. So I guess that means you want a charge filed against you. Nothing was said about that but it can be arranged. I simply asked you a question. Since I’m finished with my drink, guess I’ll go outside and give you time to think.” Deuce stood and took a step toward the door. “And when I come back, you better not have that hoodie covering your face.”

  “So, if I’m not being charged with anything, I can go home?” Tommy slowly removed the hood from his head and let it hang down his back.

  “I don’t think so. You asked for your lawyer, so apparently you have something you don’t want me to know.” Deuce knocked on the door. “I’ll tell you when a lawyer gets here, but remember I can hold you for forty-eight hours without filing charges.”

  “I don’t need time to think.” Tommy put his hands on the table and stood. “I don’t need a lawyer. Just let me go and I’ll stay out of your hair.”

  Deuce turned back to him. “How about a please!”

  Reluctantly, Tommy replied, “Please.”

  “I’m giving you one and only one warning. If anyone in the sheriff’s department catches you with as much as an eighth of a leaf of marijuana or a grain of any drug that you’re not supposed to have in your possession while you’re on probation or you are thirty seconds late for a meeting with your probation officer, I can promise that I’ll personally see to it that you’re back in the slammer for violating probation. I’ll have every eye in the department squarely on you and if you ever call me or one of my deputies a pig again, it might be met with a fist. You got it, dude?”

  “I’ve got it, all right.” Tommy glared at Deuce. If looks could kill Deuce would be on his way to the morgue. “And if damn isn’t a word that sends me to jail,” he sneered, “I damn sure don’t want the cop who is Winnie’s brother to come get me. I’ll walk before I’ll let that jackass take me home.”

  The sheriff slammed a file about five inches thick on the table and planted his hands on either side of it. “You’re pressing your luck. If you want your worst nightmare to come true, just keep it up.”

  The two deputies had returned, and Jessup stood with his elbow on Brody’s shoulder. Time crawled by, but when Jessup saw the chief’s signal the deputy went to the interrogation room, opened the door, and stepped inside.

  Deuce addressed Jessup. “Release this asshole before I find a charge to keep him for a while.” He picked up the fake file and stomped out.

  As Sheriff Cowan exited, he turned to Tommy. “I think I’ll go out to see Mesa and Mrs. Johnson and make sure they don’t want trespassing charges filed. I bet I can get them to reconsider.” He slammed the door behind him.

  Both Jessup and Scott remained in the jail area.

  After returning to the outside observation area, Deuce threw both cans in the trash. That pretty much told Brody everything he needed to know.

  “I’m sorry, Deuce,” Brody said, feeling responsible for Tommy, yet knowing he wasn’t.

  “Hey, it’s not your fault. But watch the little bastard. He’s up to no good. I don’t know what, but I’m gonna take a look between the Jacks Bluff’s barn and where he was picked up. He was on foot when Scott found him, so he could have taken about anything and stashed it.”

  Brody rubbed his forehead. “It’d have
to be a small item, and Jessup reported Scott didn’t find anything on Tommy. The ranch foreman said he didn’t see anything gone.”

  “That’s why I’m taking a drive back to the scene. His car was found about a mile from where he was arrested and it’s still out there. Scott couldn’t find anything on cursory check. Since Mrs. Johnson doesn’t want charges filed, and because we didn’t find anything on him, we don’t have any reason to keep his car. I’ll just sleep better if I get a little fresh air. A walk would do me some good.”

  Brody picked up the pirate skullcap he’d thrown across the room earlier and put it on. “I’m going with you then.”

  “No, you’re not. If I do find something I don’t want the investigation compromised. I probably shouldn’t have let you even watch the interview, but since no charges were going to come about, I didn’t see any harm. If I do find something, that’s altogether another deal. If I take anyone, it’ll be Deputy Scott.”

  “Okay.” Brody looked at the clock on the wall. “The Buckin’ Bull has been closed for a couple of hours, so I guess I’ll drive out to my ranch.” He sighed. “I’ve been thinking. If I work out of Kasota Springs, I might just close up the family home in Amarillo permanently. Maybe even put it up for sale, if Winnie agrees, and move out to my ranch. It’s closer to Kasota Springs and all I need is the cupboard stocked with food and some Lone Star beer in the fridge for my days off.”

  “And your gym.”

  “Of course. But I think tonight, you’re the one who needs to work off your frustration.” Brody had known Deuce for years and had rarely seen the sheriff out of control like he was in the last couple of hours.

  “That’s why the walk is gonna help. Also, if you haven’t heard, I’ve got approval to hire someone new for the task force.”

  “Hadn’t heard. How’d you manage this in such short order?” Brody rolled his eyes when Deuce didn’t answer. “I know, chatting with the city commissioners while you were roaming around, huh?”

  Deuce shrugged his shoulders.

  “So, I guess you knew my answer about coming back on regular duty before I did. Who is my replacement?”

  “Remember Rocky Robertson? And, before you say anything else he is not your replacement unless you’ve changed your mind about staying on the task force full time.”

  “Gotcha. So, we’re talking about Marion Frances Robertson?” Brody laughed. “Sure. I know a lot about him. From the California Central Coast area. Expert on human trafficking and a DRE, as I recall.” Brody pushed some of his long hair away from his face. “He’s the one who helped you out with Rainey’s ordeal last year, wasn’t he?”

  “Yep, he did, and yes, he’s one of only a few thousand drug recognition experts in the US. He wants to get away from the human trafficking and focus on narcs, so I’ve hired him.”

  “Auh, that was the purpose of your trip last month out to California for a...” Brody used air quotes, then continued, “A training session.”

  “Yep, sure was. He won’t be here for a while, but I’m positive he’ll be an asset. I’m thinkin’ you and he can alternate working with the Joint Task Force plus help us out on day-to-day ops. Kasota Springs is growing by leaps and bounds, and it’d be dereliction of duties not to hire someone like Robertson when we have the chance.”

  “I totally support your decision. Old M.F. will bring a lot of skill and talent with him.” Brody couldn’t help but believe the timing was perfect. “Are you bringing him in as a detective?”

  “First, you can’t get into the habit of calling him by his initials, thus the nickname of Rocky.”

  “Which fits him to a tee, as I recall. He’s tall and fills out every inch of a big lawman’s uniform. Also, works with a trained K-9,” Brody said.

  “You’ve got his number. He loves his dog, Bruiser, who is a dual-purpose narcotics and tracking K-9. He’s trying to buy him now. Of course, likely they won’t sell him to his handler. But, in answer to your question, right now, I’m thinkin’ Rocky will be more useful keeping his scrubby looks and working as a regular deputy. That leaves a lot of opportunities open.”

  “Smart thinkin’,” Brody stated. “If he and Bruiser need a place to throw out a cot, he’s always welcome out at my place or the house in Amarillo. Of course, I’m presuming his dang dog takes to me.”

  From somewhere in the back of the sheriff’s office, Tommy Mitchell bellowed, “I ain’t going with him. A pig is a pig. You got the wrong dude, but you all have blinders on when it comes to an ex-con...whether they are guilty or not.”

  Chapter 5

  Dannie watched Mesa turn off Arrington Street in the historical district of Kasota Springs, headed for the Jacks Bluff. She set her purse on the wooden porch beside the swing. Time flew by like lighting bugs, as she took in a breath of the clean, fresh air she so vividly remembered. As tired as she was, sleep avoided her. She watched as the sheriff’s unit passed and presumed he was finally on his way home. Dannie continued to sit in the swing on the porch and reflected on not only the great day at the festival and looked back over the ten days she’d been in town. But for some reason the handsome pirate kept creeping into her mind, which particularly lingered on the two kisses like she imagined the hero did in her first romance novel.

  In the distance, the chime from the belfry at the original Kasota Springs Methodist Church a couple of blocks away caught her attention. She smiled, thinking about the story of how her great-great-grandparents had met on a snowy Christmas at the turn of the century. As the town’s blacksmith, he had built the belfry for the new town’s bell that her ancestors brought to the community. Being related to two founding families made her feel responsible for the town.

  Guesstimating at the amount of time she’d spent on the porch, she figured it was probably three in the morning. She took out her phone and checked. She wasn’t off much. Although she should be tired enough to sleep, she knew it was senseless to try. In her line of work, it wasn’t uncommon for her to stay up forty-eight hours straight, particularly, if she was in the middle of a case.

  Her conversation with Mesa about why her parents had to leave town suddenly weighed heavily on her mind. It wasn’t what she said but what she didn’t say that bothered Dannie. That, mixed with the stunning pirate, might keep her awake for weeks.

  She found her door key and took a cursory look at the Texas Historical Commission medallion securely installed to the right of the front door. As usual, the entrance was illuminated. Next to the table lamp, Dannie noticed an envelope addressed to her. Chills ran down her spine as she stared at her mother’s handwriting. The thoughts of what her mother might have written tore at her insides.

  Tucking the embossed linen envelope in her purse, she climbed the stairs to her old bedroom, which reminded her of where Sleeping Beauty might have lived. She dropped her purse on the embroidered white bedspread with yards and yards of material making up the skirt, smiled at the black silhouette pictures and sat at the antique secretary desk. Carefully she opened the letter. Tears filled her eyes.

  My dearest darling Dannie,

  I’m so sorry that I’m not there, but I was called out of town on personal business. Your father accompanied me.

  Darling, Dannie, I haven’t intruded since your return because I know you must have space and my excessive mothering isn’t needed right now. I pray you know as long as the good Lord allows me to walk on this Earth I will always be here for you no matter the circumstances. I realize there are things that have happened in your career that only personal closure will take care of, but I know you’ll come to me when the time is right.

  I can’t say that I know how you feel because I don’t and never will. Losing a partner in the line of duty must be a very difficult situation. When we talk on the phone, or even in your emails, I can feel the hurt you are experiencing.

  We will be home on Tuesday morning, and hope you’ve had enough rest where you fe
el like seeing us. Your daddy and I love you and have been hurting also.

  Love you to the moon and back, Mama

  P.S. Wednesday night, we’re having your favorite vegetarian dinner, if you come by. I’ll get Winnie or Pumpkin to make a tofu dessert. I know I’m being too motherly at the moment!

  Swallowing the sobs that rose in her throat, Dannie whispered, “And I love you more.” She put the note back in the envelope and placed it in the Bible her mother still kept in the secretary.

  Dannie walked around the room and stopped to stare out into the crystal-clear night. Confusion made her desire to sleep float away like delicate bubbles on a windy day. Similar to Mesa’s comment about Dannie’s parents being out of town, her mother’s letter left even more questions. There was something going on that they thought she was too fragile to handle...and maybe they were right.

  She sat on the bed and picked up a small music box with a white rose on an embossed pink circle and twisted the tiny tuner. Tears came to her eyes as she listened to the Blue Danube. But they were tears of wonderful memories and joy. She opened the matching pink oval trinket box, and sure enough it had a single Hershey’s Kiss in it, just like when she was a little girl. Some things never changed, and her parents’ love certainly fell under that category.

  Glad to get out of her Southern belle dress and hat, she changed into a pair of Levi’s and a shirt, along with boots. She zipped the outfit in the plastic bag it came in.

  Fresh air was what she needed. She ran down the stairs and stepped out on the front porch. The toll of the church bells called out in the near distance. She began walking toward the sound, thinking back over the letter, and found herself sitting on a park bench across from Town Hall. For some odd reason, being close to the sheriff’s department made her feel comfortable, but then the whole town was like a warm winter coat wrapped around the town’s people.