by A W Hartoin
I gagged and threw up about three cups of water, writhing on the slick grass. Janet was beside me, being restrained by a couple of people in black. I threw up again and started back for the water. But Grandad and Big Mike were there before me, hauling Cheryl out of the stream and quickly rolling her on her side. Water flowed out of her mouth in a big rush. Then Grandad rolled her on her back and did two quick rescue breaths. He checked for a pulse and began doing CPR. Through the rain, I could hear him singing, “Another one bites the dust,” which couldn’t have been more appropriate and gave a perfect rhythm.
Grandad got through three rounds before Cheryl spasmed and began coughing, flailing her arms and hitting him. He backed away and raised his arms. I gasped. He’d split all his stitches and blood ran down his back in a great sheet of red. I lunged for Cheryl. I think I would’ve hurt her, seriously hurt her, but someone grabbed me by the waist and pressed my head back into their chest by cupping my forehead.
“It’s alright now,” said Wade. “Ace can take it.”
I screamed with rage, but I think only Wade knew because of my shaking. The rain was more than enough to hide my tears. An ambulance came driving onto the grass, slid, and drove into the stream. The EMTs jumped out and looked back and forth between all of us. We all pointed at Cheryl, who was trying to crawl away.
Yeah, right, woman. You’re going to escape. That’s totally going to happen.
Big Mike stopped Cheryl, grabbing her by the wrist and holding her easily as she twisted and fought to get away. And was she bloody. I couldn’t tell if it was from Janet or the hail, probably both. She kept fighting until the DBD security guys and The Buffalo Chip security came and took over. One EMT saw Grandad’s back and quickly put a big bandage on it. From the shake of his head, I think he said he didn’t need it. She ignored him and insisted.
The rain turned into a drizzle and Cheryl calmed down enough to see us across the stream. She pointed and screamed, “Arrest her! She tried to kill me!”
Janet leapt to her feet and it was Mickey Stix who restrained her. He had her around the waist and she flailed her arms and legs. “I will kill you, you murdering psycho!”
Raptor stepped in front of her, just out of foot range and said, “That won’t help. You got her. She’ll go to jail.”
Janet’s wild eyes cleared and she stopped fighting Mickey. “I’m alright now.”
Mickey glanced at me and I shook my head so he didn’t let go.
“Is my Barney okay?” she asked me.
“I don’t know. The EMTs brought him back,” I said.
Janet began to cry and Raptor hugged her. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. We’ll find out where they took him.”
“Did she say jail?” screamed Cheryl. “I’m not going to jail. She’s going to jail.”
Janet yelled back but didn’t go for her.
Raptor came over next to me. She was wearing a white leather stage outfit with stilettos and a bustier. Her eye makeup had run, giving her big raccoon eyes, and her long, curly hair hung in soppy wet coils around her face, but Lacy had covered her bruises completely. “You win.”
“Huh?” I asked as Wade pulled me to my feet.
“Your life isn’t glamorous.”
“Are you kidding?” asked Mickey. “This is going to make every news source in the known world. You can’t buy this kind of publicity.”
“Is that why you rolled around in the mud instead of having your two-ton security guards do it?” I asked.
Mickey put an arm around me and smiled at the growing crowd. “Now you’re getting it. Girl, you are one hot disaster and we are going to ride that train right back to numero uno.”
Wade flipped back his wet locks and posed. “Too bad slippery when wet is taken.”
The bandmates got together and started spitballing double entendres.
“They’re not what I expected,” said Raptor.
“Nothing’s what I expect.”
“How could anyone expect any of this?”
“My dad would. He’s freaky that way.”
Grandad stayed on the other side of the stream watching Cheryl scream. I couldn’t see his face and it wasn’t really anything in his posture, but I could sense the sadness.
Raptor and I trudged across the stream and stood with Grandad as Cheryl glared at Janet, who wisely stayed where she was.
The EMTs had her strapped to a gurney, not so much because she needed it, but because she was clearly nuts.
“She saw.” Cheryl pointed at me. “Where are the cops? I want them to arrest that woman. That slutty model will testify for me.”
Oh, hell no.
“I think the law will give Janet a pass. You just tried to murder her husband,” I said. “And I’m not slutty. I just look like this.”
“I didn’t try to kill anyone. You’re crazy, too.”
Two of the bar dancers came through the crowd. One had Wallace and the other carried a couple of Ziplocs with liquid sloshing around inside.
“Wallace!” I couldn’t move. What if I got the Wonder Pug killed? Pete would never forgive me. I mean, he was never going to forgive me anyway, but this was so much worse.
“I think she’s okay,” said the dancer with Wallace. She kicked off her boots and waded over to me, followed by the other dancer. “She woke up, but she cries when I move her too much.” She held the pug out to me and I cradled her in my arms. Wallace gave my arm a little lick and then peed. The pug would be just fine.
The other dancer held up the Ziplocs. “What should I do with these? You said to save them.”
“Just hang on. They’re evidence that she”—I inclined my head toward Cheryl—“tried to poison someone.”
Cheryl stared at the bags, her face paling under her plastered-down hair.
“Where’d the ambulance take her victim?” I asked.
“Just to Sturgis hospital,” said the one holding the bags. “They said they thought he’d be okay, but he’s going to get his stomach pumped.”
We all made a face. Poor Barney.
“Why, Cheryl?” asked Grandad, his face etched into agonized lines. “What did Barney do to deserve that?”
Bennett and Trevino sloshed up next to us and Trevino said, “I’d like to hear the answer to that question.”
“I didn’t do anything,” said Cheryl. “Take me to the hospital. I’m injured. That woman tried to kill me. Arrest her.”
Trevino ignored that. “Is she in immediate danger?” he asked the EMT taking her pressure.
“No, sir,” he said in a way that suggested that he wished she was.
“Alright. Somebody tell me what happened here.”
The dancer who had Wallace stepped up and introduced herself as Denise. She gave a quick rundown, hitting every element, including that one of the bartenders saw Cheryl dump some powder into Barney’s beer and mix it in with her finger. Denise had a bird’s-eye view from the top of the bar. She saw Cheryl kick Wallace, Barney go down, and Janet chasing Cheryl out into the storm. When the crowd that was encroaching on the scene heard that Cheryl kicked a dog, they started calling for blood. You don’t kick a dog. Poisoning a human is bad. Kicking a dog was deemed evil. Part of me agreed. Something about her kicking Wallace, a tiny pug, made me insane like seeing Grandad’s blood. If I’d a chance to beat her with a rock, I might’ve done it.
“I didn’t do anything,” insisted Cheryl.
“You killed four people and tried to kill three more,” I said, starting to seethe.
“I would never try to kill Ace,” she said. “Why would I?”
Bennett unhooked his cuffs. “But you would kill Hal Reiner, Steve Dudgeon, and the Millfords?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Cheryl. “Hal and Steve were my husband’s men in Vietnam.”
“That’s why,” I said.
“Ridiculous. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I patted Wallace to keep from striking her defiant face. “Dr. Watts told me the truth about Lt. Morris
’s death.”
Cheryl’s defiance turned to glee. “Then you know they did it. Those bastards killed my Walter.”
“So you admit it,” said Trevino, plainly astonished.
“I admit that they killed my Walter,” she said.
“And that’s your motive,” I said.
“I didn’t kill anyone. They’re the murderers.”
Someone came up and put a blanket around my shivering shoulders. “You got that flipped. You’re the murderer and they were innocent.”
“What are we talking about?” asked Bennett. “Something in Vietnam?”
I gave him the abridged edition of what Dr. Watts told me. Cheryl began screaming and crying that her Walter would never kill himself. Big Mike joined Grandad, their faces equally sad.
“Mercy was right all along,” said Big Mike. “I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Is that an accurate account of what happened?” asked Trevino.
“No!” cried Cheryl.
Grandad nodded his head sadly. “It is, Cheryl. They tried to shield you from the truth. Walter was a good man, but his pain caused him to despair.”
“I don’t understand why you killed Wayne Millford or his son,” said Big Mike. “They weren’t a part of it.”
“I didn’t kill them!” she yelled. “Johnson Dales did. He had the gun.”
“And how would you know that?” asked Trevino.
Cheryl clamped her mouth shut, a good idea but way too late.
“What did Dr. Watts tell you about them?” asked Bennett.
“Nothing. They may have something to do with personal items being stolen off of soldiers’ bodies when they were being shipped back to the States.”
Big Mike frowned. “That was Cornelius Beulah.”
“Who the heck is that?” I asked.
“The Mortuary Affairs corporal that stole everything,” said Grandad.
“There’s nothing about anyone being caught in the records.”
“How do you know what’s in the records?” asked Trevino.
“I know stuff,” I said. “Are you sure about Beulah?”
Big Mike and Grandad nodded.
“How come the army didn’t do anything to him?”
Grandad gave me a wicked smile. “Oh, he was punished. Don’t worry about that. The men put a stop to it.”
That was a little chilling. “How?” I asked reluctantly.
“Beulah was invited to a blanket party,” said Big Mike.
“You beat him?” asked Bennett.
“Not me personally, but he spent a couple days in the bed next to me before I was shipped back to the States.”
Everyone stared at Grandad and he shrugged. “It was handled. The way I heard it, Beulah confessed.”
“While he was being pummeled, no doubt,” I said.
Grandad grinned. “Could be. But before you break out the tissues, his footlocker was full of evidence. He got off light. He could’ve gone to Leavenworth.”
Cheryl lay on the gurney, her fists balling up and then relaxing.
“Her pressure’s dropping,” said the EMT. “We’ve got to take her in.”
Trevino nodded, but Grandad held up his hand. “Did you kill Millford because you thought he stole Walter’s effects? Why would you think that?”
She bit her lip and said nothing.
“I’m guessing Steve told her,” I said. “She was in contact with both of them.”
Bennett threw up his hands. “How do you know that?”
I smiled and pulled my blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Women’s intuition.”
“That’s not a thing.”
Grandad and Big Mike laughed.
“Then you don’t know very many women,” said Big Mike.
“Seriously,” said Trevino. “How do you know that?”
I shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“Nothing about you is lucky.”
“Check it out if you don’t believe me.”
Bennett scowled and cuffed Cheryl to her gurney. He read her her rights as they pushed her to the back of the ambulance.
“I don’t know what thefts fifty years ago have to do with it,” he said.
“You said you found weapons in the Millfords’ tent,” I said. “Maybe they sold Cheryl the weapon she used. There was a large amount of cash as well.”
Denise raised her hand. “So she killed them because they could link her to the weapon.”
Trevino nodded. “Could be.”
“Maybe,” said Grandad. “But I doubt it. This was about revenge.”
“What are you thinking?” asked Big Mike.
“You knew Steve as well as I did. If he was capable of telling Cheryl that someone in your platoon killed Morris, he was completely capable of telling her that Wayne had Walter’s sidearm and collecting a finder’s fee.”
Big Mike nodded and looked at the ground.
“She used her husband’s weapon to kill them.” Trevino nodded. “That is apropos.”
Grandad walked to the back of the ambulance. “Except that it wasn’t Walter’s weapon. His sidearm was returned to the armory. He didn’t own it. Steve sold you a bill of goods and then you killed him.”
Cheryl was racked with sobs, but she yelled, “I didn’t kill him!”
I could still hear her yelling as we pushed the ambulance out of the stream.
“Poor Bennett,” I said.
“I rode with the last nutjob,” said Trevino. “It’s his turn.”
“So that woman killed all those people over a mistake,” said Denise.
Mickey put an arm around her. “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a lie. Several lies from the sound of it. How about a drink?”
She blushed and they headed toward the enormous DBD bus in the VIP parking lot. Wade gave me an appraising look. “You are good for business. I’ll have some interviews setup.”
“No interviews,” I said.
“You have to interview.” He waved his hand over his head. “DBD cover girl solves quadruple homicide. It’s all in a hot day’s work.”
“Ew. Gross,” said Raptor.
“Gross and wrong,” said Trevino.
“She’s hot,” said Wade.
“She’s alright.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Trevino laughed. “I meant, she didn’t solve a quadruple homicide.”
“Four people are dead, aren’t they?” asked Wade.
“Yes, but Cheryl only killed three. She has an airtight alibi for Steve,” said Trevino.
“Only one person wanted Steve dead,” I said.
“Jeanette,” everyone said in chorus.
“I sent a car out to the Ornery Elk an hour ago and I’ve got some bad news,” said Trevino.
“She’s dead?” asked Raptor, a little too cheerfully.
“She’s gone and she stole Mr. Watts’ vintage BMW.”
Grandad slapped his thigh and winced. “Son of a sea biscuit.”
“Don’t worry. I put an APB out on her. That bike’s a dead giveaway.”
Wallace whimpered and I gave her a gentle scratch. “What made you send someone for her?”
“No alibi and she was late for that appointment with Boris,” said Trevino.
Grandad gave him the stink eye. “That’s not it.”
“Well, that and the fact that we found 62,000 dollars worth of pot, meth, and painkillers in her room.”
“That’ll do it.”
“It sure will.” Trevino looked past me. “The ambulance is coming back.”
The ambulance stopped a short distance away and the EMT got out.
“Is she dead?” asked Raptor.
“No, still yelling,” he said. “We forgot a patient. Come on, Mr. Watts. That back needs some serious attention.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Mercy’ll take care of it,” said Grandad.
I kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve got a pug to deal with. Please go to the hospital.”
He agreed, only because Wallace was w
himpering. The EMT helped him over to the passenger seat so he wouldn’t have to listen to Cheryl wailing. Grandad yelled over the hood, “You better call your mother!”
I pulled Aaron’s phone out of my sopping wet jeans and held it up. “Can’t!”
“Don’t look so pleased! You can use mine!” Grandad looked at his phone, equally soaked. “Jeez Louise! Go to the phone store!”
“I’ll think about it.”
Grandad scowled at me and got in. The ambulance drove off and Raptor said, “You’re not thinking about it, are you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Will she yell?”
“Probably.”
Lacy came jogging out of the DBD bus. She leapt over puddles and skidded to a halt in a pair of platform boots that looked like they once belonged to Elton John. “Mickey says to hurry up. You’re on in twenty.”
“On? I’m not going on. Wallace needs a vet pronto,” I said with a kiss on the pug’s head. “Trevino, do you know a good emergency vet?”
“Dr. Valerie’s the one you want. I’ll give you a ride.”
He started to take me by the arm, but Wade hooked me by the waist. “I don’t think so. The show must go on.”
“The dog must go to the vet,” I said.
“I can get you a vet,” said Wade and he jogged off toward the main stage.
Five minutes later, Wade was announcing that Wallace the Wonder Pug needed a vet. Was there a vet in the house?
There was a vet in the house. Three, in fact, and a tech. One of them was Trevino’s vet, Dr. Valerie. At first, I thought she might be useless. She was so tongue-tied at being on the DBD bus and having Wade flirt shamelessly with her.
Wallace lay on a suede sofa being fed bits of foie gras by Lacy while Dr. Valerie stammered at Wade’s rendition of Cheryl’s capture.
“Can you stop that?” I asked. “She’s got a job to do.”
“Yes, she does,” he purred.
“I’m going to kick you. You’re old enough to be her father.”
“Not in rock years.”
