Lethal Literature

by Kym Roberts

  “Can you slow it down to see if we can see the driver as he’s going west through town?” Mateo asked.

  “Sure.” Scarlet rewound the video and played the part where the driver did his second pass.

  “Stop!” Mateo ordered.

  Scarlet did as directed, and we all stared at the image of the driver. It was a little blurry, but the truck and the scraggly hair of the driver had me convinced. “That’s Jimmy Shoemaker!”

  Mateo nodded, his expression tight and ticked.

  “When did he post bond?” I asked.

  “About an hour after I brought him in. His mom bonded him out.”

  I snorted. “Of course she would.”

  Mateo looked at me, waiting for me to explain my response.

  “She came into the store yesterday morning so mad she was nearly spitting fire. She wasn’t very nice.”

  “What was she mad about?” Mateo asked.

  “About my treatment of Isla. At least that’s what she said.”

  “Let it play in real time from the point the truck heads west. I want to see if we missed him near the truck.”

  Scarlet did as Mateo asked, and we all leaned in to get a better view. About ten minutes after Jimmy’s truck had last been seen on the screen, I saw it. “There!”

  We watched as a white male with scraggly hair dressed in black got under the truck on the passenger side. He spent about five minutes under my daddy’s truck before his head popped out from underneath, followed by his body, and he was on his feet heading toward the Tool Shed Tavern like he hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “That man deserves to fry.” Scarlet’s voice was laced with venom.

  Mateo and I looked at her, both of us surprised by the tone that was completely out of character for her.

  “What?” she said. “He tried to turn my best friend into toast. He should be toast. A visit to Old Sparky in Huntsville is too good for him.”

  The corner of Mateo’s mouth quirked. Old Sparky was the electric chair in the Prison Museum in Huntsville that was responsible for 361 inmate deaths. If Scarlet knew how bad that thing really was, I didn’t think she’d wish it on anyone . . . even if Jimmy deserved it.

  “I’m going to need a copy of that video.”

  “I can save it and give you access to the last twenty-four hours.”

  “That would be great. Thank you, Scarlet. I’m going to send in Detective Youngblood. If you could pause it and show him the clip, I’d appreciate it. The quicker we get Jimmy in for questioning, the more comfortable all of us will be.”

  We stood up and Mateo gripped my arms. “I’m glad you’re okay. I wish I could—”

  “But you have work to do. I understand. Go get Jimmy and put him behind bars.”

  “We will. Right now, I’m going to take your mayor to the hospital for some staples.” Mateo leaned over and kissed me in front of Scarlet. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it was tender, which said even more.

  Scarlet could hardly contain herself when he left. “O.M.W. he’s got it bad,” she said as she fanned her face.

  I rolled my eyes. “He didn’t even react when he saw Cade and me walk out of the Barn.”

  “Why should he? The man is comfortable in his own skin.”

  “He could also be seeing ten other women.”

  “Wow, that would be exhausting for an unemployed man, let alone a man who works all hours of the day and night, to keep us safe—you safe.”

  I had to give her that, but I didn’t have to acknowledge it verbally.

  Mateo left with Cade looking like he was a member of the Marine Corp Reserve Detachment at the Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth. The wad of gauze he held to the cut on the back of his head and the loopy grin on his face, however, detracted from the warrior haircut. Maybe distracted was the better descriptor if the “ahhs” slipping from the lips of all the women in Hazel Rock were any indication as Mateo and Cade walked out of the beauty shop. Even nose-to-the-grindstone Liza Twaine appeared to be a bit tongue-tied. Word had spread quickly that Cade was a hero.

  Detective Youngblood came into the shop and recorded my statement, and then a crime scene tech took pictures of my dirty clothing and bloodied knees before I was allowed to clean up. She also wanted my shirt and shorts in case there were any trace amounts of the explosive material that had been used to blow my truck to smithereens. My word, not hers. She said smithereens didn’t quite qualify because there was a shell left of the vehicle—including the tailgate that barely had a scratch on it.

  Looking at my daddy’s truck across the street made me want to cry, so I kept my gaze on other parts of the town, like the Tool Shed Tavern, or the Hazel Rock Diner, where crowds had gathered.

  It wasn’t too long before the action outside began to die down—only Detective Youngblood, a bomb and arson detective from the county who I’d never met, a woman in a suit everyone suspected was some type of federal agent, and one uniform police officer remained to watch over and prowl through the debris the fire department had left behind.

  Daddy closed the Barn for the day and came back to the beauty shop. “I’d like to go see Isla—together. As her son and her granddaughter.”

  I looked down at my T-shirt and shorts. The pink lettering that read All Day, Eyre Day at the Book Barn Princess was a little tight, as were my jean shorts. I’d cleaned up my knees, but my appearance left much to be desired.

  “I’ll go clean up and then we can go,” I said.

  I turned to thank Scarlet for all her help when Joellen began yelling at the picture window. “That no-good son of a pistol is back!”

  We all looked out the window and saw a white truck at the end of the street with Jimmy Shoemaker sitting behind the wheel trying to look like he belonged in my stompin’ ground—he didn’t.

  A collective growl echoed through Beaus and Beauties and my daddy, smart man that he was, saw what was coming and raised his hands to stop the women from acting. “Ladies, let the law handle Jimmy Shoemaker.”

  His words were drowned out by a war cry that could have been heard from across the county. Ten women ran for the door, and he had no choice but to get out of the way or get trampled where he stood. If I’d been thinking, I would have been standing with him. Instead I was leading the fray with Scarlet keeping up with my every step in her five-inch heels.

  We stopped in front of Jimmy’s truck, and for a moment he sat there dumbstruck, not sure what to think of ten snarling women blocking his path. It was only when Sally Ferguson ran toward his truck from the opposite side of the crime scene, her police uniform a clear sign that he’d been caught, that Jimmy recognized how much trouble he was in.

  His eyes widened and he reached down and shoved the truck into reverse as he turned around in his seat to look out the back window. His view was blocked by more women in town who’d witnessed the ruckus and weren’t about to be left out. Liza Twaine was right in the middle, her phone up and recording the entire event.

  “Get out of the way!” Jimmy yelled and revved his engine, but not a soul moved. It was a standoff Jimmy was about to lose. Because when the second line of women locked arms behind him, Jimmy turned back around to drive forward. His actions were too late.

  Scarlet and I were at his driver’s window. Joellen was at the passenger side along with Mary, and, bless her old heart, Daisy Mahan was there with them. I grabbed Jimmy by his shirt and yanked as hard as I could. He swiped at my arm and the truck began inching forward. Jimmy’s feet, however, weren’t on the pedals. They’d been lifted off the floorboard as Scarlet pulled on his left arm and someone else yanked on his hair. Jimmy Shoemaker was coming out of the window of his truck whether he wanted to or not.

  His body slammed to the ground and a pile of women jumped on him, unleashing the biggest hissy fit pitched this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. In the midst of the fray, a littl
e pink shell appeared and I knew Princess was among the women ready to put my attacker in his place.

  Jimmy Shoemaker never knew what hit him.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “Get your paws off me, you stinkin’ lawdawg!” The spittle from Jimmy’s demand barely missed Sally Ferguson’s uniform.

  “Careful, Jimmy, or I’ll unleash the beauties of Hazel Rock on you,” Sally said as she pulled Jimmy to his feet.

  But he wasn’t as smart as he looked, and Jimmy Shoemaker didn’t look none too bright to begin with. “That rat needs to be put down!” he yelled as he nodded in my direction.

  It wasn’t me he was referring to. It was the little pink armadillo I held in my arms.

  “An armadillo isn’t a rodent,” I yelled back as I pulled Princess close to my chest.

  “It bit me!”

  “She did not!” I argued. Armadillos don’t bite, but they do have claws that are meant for digging. In this case, Princess had left her mark.

  Jimmy started to argue back, but Deputy Sally shut him down. “One more word and I’ll make these women cancel your birth certificate. And just so you know, Princess is considered one of Hazel Rock’s beauties—she’ll be with them.”

  Jimmy glared at me and the rest the of beauties of Hazel Rock and clamped his mouth closed. It was either that or he’d end up with a matching scratch on his right cheek and a bald spot on the right side of his head to balance off the one on his left. I wasn’t sure who ended up with a handful of his stringy hair, but I was glad it wasn’t me. Just the thought of touching it made me itch.

  I’d say none of the women of Hazel Rock had laid a claw on him to cause the deep gauges on his cheek, but that would be a lie. Somehow in the middle of the melee, Princess escaped through her pet door at the back of the Barn, made her way around the building, and did something I’d never seen her do—she’d attacked with her razor-sharp claws. She caught Jimmy across each cheek before I knew what hit him. How she got into the mix was beyond anyone’s comprehension, but Jimmy’s squeals of pain were probably what saved him from more female vigilante justice. Unfortunately for Jimmy, there was no magic coming from the experts at Beaus and Beauties like it had for Cade. Nor was there anyone willing to give him a towel to wipe the blood from his face.

  Now Jimmy was being escorted down Main Street looking like the thug that he was with the exact opposite of a hero’s welcome, and a center-framed video of him in all his glory for the six o’clock news to boot. It was a piece of irony we all relished. Princess was in my arms with a look of superiority plastered across her face. I could have sworn I heard her giggle.

  Detective Youngblood had been the one to jump in the truck and stop it before it rammed into Cade’s truck. Then he ordered a second tow for it so it could be processed for evidence. Daddy had been one of the men to run after the women ready to tar and feather Jimmy Shoemaker, but I think he got a secret kick out of the way we’d yanked Jimmy out through his window. As it was, the only thing that kept Daisy Mahan from drawing her gun from her pocketbook was the lack of a clear shot. There were too many of us in the crossfire, and I was thankful she had the presence of mind to leave it concealed.

  “Go get cleaned up. I’m worried about Isla,” Daddy whispered over my shoulder.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Daddy nodded toward Jimmy being driven down Main Street in the back of Sally Ferguson’s cruiser.

  “You think—”

  Daddy shushed me. “I don’t have any proof. Just a gut feeling that something bad is going to happen.”

  I believed in gut feelings. There wasn’t any evidence of collusion between Jimmy’s actions and his mother, Joan, but I wouldn’t put it past the woman who’d walked into the Barn that morning. Especially after she found out that I helped her grandkids get into a shelter. I’m sure Jimmy worded the incident more along the lines of “that woman took my kids, and the cops wouldn’t do anything about it.”

  “Let’s go. I don’t need a shower.”

  Daddy disagreed. “If it’s nothing, I don’t want to scare Isla.”

  “Fine, give me five minutes.” I passed off Princess to Daddy before running for my apartment.

  I took a two-minute shower and was down in front of the bookstore with one minute to spare. Daddy was parked on the street in his truck with Princess sitting on the front seat.

  “Are we taking Princess with us?” I asked.

  “Isla loves Princess, and I think it will do them both some good.”

  “Are you sure Princess won’t claw anyone?”

  “She’s never done it before.”

  “But she did it today.”

  Daddy laughed. “I believe she wanted to make sure she wasn’t the only female in Hazel Rock who didn’t get her claws on Jimmy.”

  I smiled at that. “I’m just happy none of us got charged with a crime.”

  “What would they have charged you with?” Daddy asked. “No one hit him or kicked him. And as far as scratching goes, I don’t think they can charge Princess with assault.”

  “Jimmy could demand she be quarantined.”

  “I think Jimmy has his hands too full to worry about a few scratches.”

  “Just for the record, they were gouges.”

  Daddy patted Princess on the head. “And they were mighty fine gouges at that.”

  It was my turn to laugh. My daddy was the least violent person I knew, but he was sure proud of Princess jumping in and giving Jimmy the what-for.

  My phone rang and I pulled it out of the back pocket of my shorts. Mateo’s number came up on the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  Mateo didn’t even greet me. “What old guy could have it in for Isla at Oak Grove Manor?” he asked.

  “No one that I know of, why?”

  “There’s no one that you had a problem with out there?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Before Jimmy lawyered up, he said the old guy at the nursing home caught him cutting your tires last night. The old guy told him if he was going to do it, to do it right. Then he told Jimmy what website would teach him how to create the bomb. He went on to tell him exactly where to place the bomb to have the most impact . . . on the driver.”

  Holy crap. There wasn’t one person who wanted me dead, there were two. And one of them lived with my grandmother.

  “Daddy, you need to get to the nursing home now!”

  “Are you with Bobby Ray?”

  “What’s going on?” Daddy asked.

  “Yes. We’re almost at Oak Grove Manor now.”

  “Wait for me, Charli. I don’t want you surprising someone who wants you dead.”

  Daddy had had enough. “Put him on speaker, Princess.”

  I did as my daddy asked, and Mateo immediately took charge. “Bobby Ray, listen to me. Whoever was behind the bombing lives at the nursing home. All I know is that it’s an old guy. I need you to wait until I get there.”

  “Are you telling us the man responsible for Ava’s death, cutting me, and the bomb in my daughter’s truck lives at the nursing home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?” I asked.

  Daddy agreed. “Sorry, Mateo. We can’t wait. My mama’s in there with a man who has three gallons of crazy in a gallon size bucket. We’re not waiting.”

  I hung up before Mateo could argue, although I was pretty sure I heard him say a four-letter word or two before I hit End. Daddy’s pedal was to the metal and we were flying down FM 303 and hill jumpin’ as we went.

  “You would have had my hide if I’d driven like that as a teenager,” I told him.

  “Not if you were trying to save your mama.”

  I believed him, yet try as I might, nothing I could have done would have saved my mom. I hope
d the same couldn’t be said about my grandmother.

  Daddy pulled into the lot and stopped in front of the portico. Neither one of us gave a rat’s behind about the rules of parking a vehicle at the Oak Grove Manor. Nor did we stop to greet the old man in the wheelchair out front who shook his head at our rule violation.

  Joan was sitting behind the desk talking on the phone—she was the last person I expected to see at that desk. She was supposed to be on leave, and something about that bothered me. But, from the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t a threat. She was all tore up. She looked as if her world had crashed around her and nothing was going to change it. When we caught her eye, her face turned deathly pale. There was no doubt in my mind that she had just learned what her son had done—the crimes he had committed. Words could never express her shame and her sorrow, and the only comfort I could give her was that I was here and not dead. I had survived despite her son’s best efforts to kill me. It was little comfort for her, for she had just lost the son she loved, but it was great comfort to me.

  I looked at the three amigos sitting along the wall.

  Frank shrugged as if he didn’t know why she was there either. “Mr. Andrews said she could come back to work.”

  I nodded and ordered, “Take care of her,” to the three older men as Daddy and I ran for Isla’s room, Princess in my arms.

  What we found once we entered, however, was the last thing I’d expected. There was a gun, and the Judge, and Isla.

  And Mason Andrews was ready to kill my grandparents before I even really knew them.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Mason rolled his eyes. “I should’ve known he couldn’t do it. That numbskull.”

  “You’re the old man who told Jimmy how to blow up my truck?” I asked.

  Mason laughed. It was sort of diabolical. Not the type of laugh you ever want to hear while you’re staring down the barrel of a gun.

  Mason pointed his gun in the Judge’s direction. “Move over next to the Judge.”