Bubba and the Missing Woman

by Bevill, C. L.

  Bubba looked confused because Janie added in explanation, “Dallas Area Rapid Transit.”

  “Why are you here? How did you know where I was?” Bubba asked. “Where’s my cell phone because I got to call your ma before your granny comes and shoots me in the head.”

  “Oh, tosh,” Janie said. She glanced around. “You know they do drug deals in this hotel? Auntie Wills wouldn’t want you to stay here.”

  “I could have stayed at Aunt Caressa’s,” Bubba said as he searched his pockets for the little disposable phone, “but it’s way out of town, and since she snores like a cat throwing up hairballs, it ain’t a great place to spend the night. I reckon I could have stayed there on my earlier visit, but I just didn’t think of it.”

  “Have you seen any super villains, little girl?” The PSS interjected, evidently feeling left out.

  Janie cast a grimace at The PSS, then went back to Bubba. “Grandma knows where you’re at. You’ve got a little GPS unit in your phone. That investigator gave her the number, and the rest is pretty much conclusive.” Her face was superior. One eyebrow arched smugly. “You shouldn’t underestimate the police force.”

  Bubba had finally retrieved the phone and was gazing at it in dismay. He didn’t have a clue as to what Janie was talking about. “There’s a GPS in my phone?” There was a wave of bitter anger. “Stupid, cheap phone can find me, but Willodean’s can’t find her.”

  Janie’s shoulders drooped at the grave statement. Precious nudged her hand again and the eight-year-old bent to pet the dog. “Aren’t that many cell phone towers down in Pegram County,” she said shortly.

  “Why are you here?” Bubba asked numbly. He didn’t want to talk about the lack of cell phone towers in Pegram County. He certainly didn’t want to discuss that he had found Le Beau and that Willodean’s former stalker had an ironclad alibi for the time of her disappearance. He most certainly didn’t want to converse about the fact that he didn’t know what to do next.

  “They’re coming up with dead ends in Pegramville,” Janie said flatly. “I heard Grandma talking about you. She didn’t know if you could find out something, but there’s always a shot even with you bumbling about like a big unwanted turd. I wanted to help.”

  “Do turds really bumble about?” The PSS asked conversationally.

  Bubba stared at Janie. Great. I’ve got The Purple Singapore Sling and eight-year-old detective-in-training, Janie, helping me. I don’t even know the kid’s last name and her ma’s going to have me arrested for kidnapping her.

  “I’m going to call your ma,” he said slowly. “You want to give me the number so she don’t worry?”

  “They won’t know I’m missing for hours,” Janie said confidently. “Get me up to speed on the investigation. We’ve got perps to shake down.”

  “You know, it’s cold outside,” The PSS said. “Cold zaps my superpowers. Makes other things shrivel up, too. Things best not discussed in front of little ears.”

  “He’s right,” Janie said. “Let’s get coffee. Chink. Chink.”

  Bubba looked confused again so Janie added, “It’s the sound cups make when you’re pouring coffee.”

  Janie’s unexpected appearance was the first noteworthy thing that happened. The second noteworthy thing took a little while longer to unfurl.

  Bubba glanced around and saw a diner across the street. The diner’s shopworn appearance was worse than the hotel’s, and one could probably slap a saddle on a cockroach roaming there and ride it away. But on the positive side, the shop was in the open, and he thought Celestine would appreciate if he waited there with Janie instead of inside the hotel room.

  Maybe Willodean’s ma will only shoot one of my kneecaps instead of killing me outright.

  “You can have milk,” Bubba growled.

  Janie rolled her eyes.

  Bam Bam Jones stepped around the corner of the hotel and called, “Bubba, my brotha. Glad to see you on the out and out. We gots to get you to that psychic. She says she knows all.” His hands whizzed and snapped and moved as he walked down the sidewalk. He was wearing a Saints jacket today with plain blue jeans. But his boots were knee high and made of scarlet red leather.

  Abruptly, Bam Bam froze when he saw Janie. “Oh strawberry shortcake and molasses,” he muttered dejectedly. “Do you know who that be?” He pointed at Janie.

  “A pain in my- ” Bubba started to say before Janie protested with, “Hey, watch your mouth, civilian. I know policemen, and they will take my word before yours any day of the week.”

  “I gotta go,” Bam Bam said rapidly. He turned in his tracks and went back the way he’d come. He paused at the corner and called to Bubba, “Folks be looking for you, Bubba. I think maybe the po-donkey-donks came by earlier. That little gel right there been waiting awhile. Watch out for her. She bites and when you ain’t done nothing to her, neither.”

  “You called my mother a ho,” Janie snarled.

  “I dint mean nothing by it,” Bam Bam said sincerely. “Bad habit to use them words. I’ll try not to do it no more.”

  Precious barked once and looked longingly at the doors. Apparently she was cold, too.

  Bubba stared at Bam Bam’s retreating figure. “What’s a po-donkey-donk?”

  Janie shrugged. “Another way of saying police. Probably Investigator Park looking for you. They said you’ve been sticking your nose in their business again.” She thought about it. “Like you weren’t supposed to do, but hey, if it helps find Auntie Wills, then I’m cool with it. I’ll speak to the judge on your behalf. Judges love me.”

  “Me, too. But really, it’s cold,” The PSS whined.

  “The diner,” Bubba said. He hadn’t called Charles Park either. He needed to call Park, then Anora Gray, and then his mother, not necessarily in that order.

  “And there was some other peeps, too,” Bam Bam’s voice echoed down the street. “Best you be easing down the road, Bubba.”

  Bubba looked around and realized that the street had just become empty. It was downtown, and downtown was almost never empty. Furthermore, it was Thursday night, and there had been a dozen people coming and going just a few minutes previously. The entire area suddenly cleared out as if someone rang a dinner bell and a Great White shark cruised past.

  The PSS looked around him and said, “I sense something bad is about to happen.”

  Janie blew air out through her mouth. “Let’s get that coffee. I need to know what- ”

  A very large black Suburban screeched to a halt beside them. The doors opened, and two mean looking men pointed guns at them, while a third one simultaneously held the steering wheel and looked out for impertinent witnesses.

  “Sideways,” Janie scoffed. “They don’t fire better if you put them sideways. Gangstas,” she added derisively.

  “Get in the car,” one man said.

  No one moved.

  The man sighed. “Get in the car, or I’ll shoot you in the foot and drag you in the car.”

  “Don’t worry,” The PSS said loudly and put his hands on his waist while pumping out his chest. “Bullets will bounce off my flesh.”

  “Ya’ll mean me?” Bubba asked.

  The man who’d spoken glanced at the other man. The driver said, “Hurry up. Big Mama’s gonna be pissed the eff off if we don’t get back before NCIS starts.”

  “Yeah,” the first man said. “You. And oh, the hell with it. All ya’ll get in.”

  “Cain’t leave my dog.”

  “Oh hell no we’re not taking the dog.”

  “Demetrius, just get them in the ‘Burban. Now!”

  Precious barked three times. Doors slammed. Wheels squealed. Then the street was empty again.

  Getting snatched off the street was the second noteworthy thing that occurred.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bubba and the Crime Lord

  Thursday, January 5th

  It wasn’t long before they pulled into a large warehouse in an industrial section of downtown Dallas. Bubba scanned f
or someone who might see their predicament, but anyone who appeared as if they could help them had vanished into nothingness.

  Kind of like Willodean, he thought despondently.

  He was still looking when the Suburban drove right inside the warehouse, and a set of oversized garage doors automatically rattled closed behind them. There was enough light left from the setting sun to see that the entire bottom floor of the warehouse was devoid of pretty much everything except the odd box and barrel. However, there were lights coming from the opposite side. One corner of the warehouse had a mezzanine and lights coming from what looked like lampposts surrounding it.

  The Suburban parked near where they’d entered the warehouse. A silver Toyota Prius already parked there, looked fairly innocuous next to the larger, more sinister-appearing Suburban.

  The three men exited the vehicle and motioned to Bubba, Janie, and The PSS to do the same. Precious remained in the Suburban barking her indignation at deliberately being left behind.

  Guns had vanished into pockets, and the unseen threat was enough to persuade Bubba to cooperate. Besides which it was his experience that armed strangers who kidnapped other folks in the middle of a busy downtown area, weren’t going to be impressed with a six-foot-four-inch man who menacingly flexed his muscles at them. Of course, he didn’t think he had ever been kidnapped before.

  Might have happened when I was drunk after I found Melissa in bed with the captain, but nothing stands out.

  “You’re going to be in big trouble for this,” Janie said defiantly to the three men. Her tone was both disparaging and interested, as if she was obliged to act insolent but found being kidnapped intriguing. The tallest one who had been the driver snorted in response.

  “Yeah,” The PSS agreed. He leaned toward Bubba and whispered, “I can take them as soon as I get warmer. I warned you about the cold obliterating my super strength.”

  “Let’s just see what’s going on,” Bubba said.

  They walked over to where the lights were, and Bubba saw an area that had been converted into a living area with an adjoining kitchen in the corner of the warehouse. The couches were leather and adorned with fake-fur throws. A large-screened LCD television near the couches played a CBS commercial. The kitchen had granite countertops, blonde oak cabinets, and stainless steel appliances.

  There was a solitary individual there. The woman who was chopping vegetables on the black-and-brown-speckled granite countertop didn’t exactly fit. She was short and round. Her brown eyes twinkled as she efficiently wielded a ten-inch, Santoku knife. Her short, black hair curled in a neat cap around her head. Her burnished flesh glowed with vitality. She wore a flowing purple caftan shot with streams of gold that glittered when she moved.

  The PSS said, “Great, it’s warm here.” He rubbed his hands together and adjusted his Tinker Bell coat.

  The lights that looked like lampposts weren’t really. They were outdoor patio heaters that were set up to provide warmth for the open area. Several of the heaters ringed the living/kitchen space in the corner of the warehouse. The entire area was a cloud of balmy heat.

  The three men gestured at Bubba, Janie, and The PSS to move a little closer to the woman who was still actively chopping vegetables.

  The woman stopped for a moment to stare at the very odd trio. She put the knife down and moved to the side to stir something in a cherry red Dutch oven cooking on the gas stove. She stirred steadily and then put the wooden spoon on a spoon rest and returned to the vegetables.

  “You were supposed to return with just Bubba Snoddy,” she said finally. Even though her words were prickly, her voice was flowing honey.

  One of the three men who’d kidnapped them flinched. “They was arguing. Couldn’t shoot ‘em or nothing anyway.”

  The large woman pointed the Santoku at Janie. “That does not look like Bubba.”

  “Um, Big Mama,” the second man said fretfully.

  The large woman pointed the Santoku at The PSS. “That does not look like Bubba. I’m not sure what that looks like. It’s a grown man wearing a purple scarf over his eyes and a Tinker Bell coat. I didn’t know coats like that came in that size.”

  “We got it at Walmart,” The PSS said proudly, puffing out his chest.

  “And I reckon I hear a dog howling from your ‘Burban,” Big Mama went on as if The PSS hadn’t spoken. “A dog ain’t Bubba Snoddy neither.”

  “Sorry,” the third man said. The driver had called him Demetrius. He hung his head a little. “They wouldn’t leave the dog. And that dog looked like it was ready to cry.”

  Finally, Big Mama looked at Bubba. “And you are Bubba Snoddy. Big collard green-eating fella like you just has to be a bubba.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Bubba nodded all the same. “I am. Can we get all this kidnapping bizness over? I got to get back to Pegramville on account of a missing gal.”

  Bubba was almost proud of himself. He supposed he should be nervous because the three of them had been kidnapped, but all he could manage was bothered irritability. He wanted to get back to Pegram County so he might be able to do something else for Willodean.

  Something. Anything. Sooner rather than later.

  “The sheriff’s deputy is the missing girl,” Big Mama said firmly and went to work on a batch of celery with the large knife. “All over the news.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bubba said.

  The PSS smacked his lips. “Are you making…gumbo?”

  Big Mama’s eyes shot up and examined The PSS. “Chicken and sausage gumbo,” she said amicably. “You hungry, boy?”

  “I’m a superhero,” The PSS announced. “Food is energy and energy is power and wait- knowledge is power. Somehow energy becomes knowledge and it’s all good. Yes, yes, I am hungry.”

  Big Mama sighed. “Set yourself down at the table there.” She pointed at the dining room table. “The cornbread’s about to come out of the oven.”

  Big Mama’s crew gestured at the dining table and the three sat down.

  “Can I have coffee?” Janie asked. “I really like coffee.”

  “Demetrius,” Big Mama said, “get that chile some milk. Your mama’s going to be mad as hell at you.”

  “My ma?” Janie asked.

  “No, dear, I meant Bubba’s mother, Miz Demetrice,” Big Mama said, “although I should have said she’s already furious with him. Worried, too.”

  Bubba glowered. “I meant to call her.”

  “And what you doing with this little girl and this- ” Big Mama paused to look at The PSS again “ -I don’t know what he is. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a grown man looking like that. And I know plenty of weird al hootenanny folks.”

  “I’m a superhero,” The PSS said again. He planted his hands on his waist and intrepidly puffed out his chest even though he was sitting in a high-backed, dining room chair.

  “He’s very special,” Big Mama concluded. She finished with the celery and went back to the Dutch oven. She stirred vigorously. “This here is the roux. The secret to a good roux is a slow even heating. You got to get it to that copper penny color. Stir. Stir. Stir.”

  “I guess you know Ma,” Bubba ventured.

  “I do,” Big Mama said. “Play poker with her about every couple months, too. She’s up ten thousand dollars on me. Girl be lucky at cards. Bluffs like a mutha.”

  “But jeez,” Demetrius protested, “you get mad at me for playing a $5 quick pick at Lotto.”

  “Different odds, boy.”

  Bubba relaxed. “Ma called you today?”

  “Miz Demetrice did,” Big Mama affirmed. “Said you’re skating on the wrong side of the ice.” She waved her spoon around as if pointing at all of Texas. “And there ain’t much ice in Texas.”

  “This woman knows Miz Demetrice,” The PSS said, finally climbing on board the train of impending clarity.

  Janie said, “Duh. Everyone knows Miz Demetrice. Big Mama, too.”

  Demetrius put a glass of milk in front of Janie. She glared at i
t.

  “So why not just ask me to come down and talk to you?” Bubba asked.

  Big Mama started on the onions with her big knife. “I gotta reputation, boy. Big Mama doesn’t ask nothing.”

  •

  The gist of it was that Miz Demetrice couldn’t get in touch with Bubba through his cell phone. He hadn’t figured out how to access the voice messages on it, so he wasn’t aware of the twenty-odd ones waiting for him. Investigator Charles Park called Miz Demetrice and Sheriff John about him. The secretary at the construction company, Edith Hanson, called Park about Bubba. The social worker at the church, Neely Smith, called the DPD about Bubba and The PSS, but especially about The PSS. Nial Sutton, owner of a yellow Chevy Camaro, called the DPD about a man dressed entirely in purple who was riding in an old, green truck on Interstate 30 and who had vomited all over his brand-new car.

  Obviously, Janie’s mother hadn’t yet gotten the word that her daughter was mysteriously absent.

  No one had called about The PSS’s absence which made Bubba a little sad.

  But Miz Demetrice had called her old friend, Big Mama of Dallas. Evidently, Big Mama had certain connections and quickly located Bubba. Rather her minions had located Bubba.

  Big Mama explained as she constructed the gumbo. She also explained about gumbo. “I favor fresh okra. You know the slimy stuff on the inside is a thickener.”

  The PSS was gobbling cornbread, and Janie was daintily sipping milk. Precious had been let out of the Suburban and was busy cadging bites from The PSS. Precious especially enjoyed cornbread.

  “And you know how your mama gets,” Big Mama concluded.

  “I know,” Bubba admitted tiredly. “I’m going back to Pegramville anyway. The Le Beau guy was a dead end.”

  Big Mama made a noise as she stirred the gumbo. “This just needs to simmer for a spell.”

  “Thank God,” Demetrius said. “I’m starving.”

  “That’s my son, Demetrius,” Big Mama pointed at the young man. “Can you guess who he’s named after?”