Bubba and the Missing Woman

by Bevill, C. L.

  “Ya’ll won’t get away with it!” Bubba shouted. He danced to the left, trying to avoid the sheriff’s grasping hands.

  Sheriff John said a few eloquent and nasty words. Wilma Rabsitt gasped loudly. One of the reporters grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  Bubba spun toward Sheriff John and ignored the fact of Big Joe and his officers pounding toward him. Four large men converged on Bubba, and all that could be seen were boots, fists, and a cloud of dust as they jumped on him and made a right proper mess on the ground, rolling about.

  The only reason Bubba didn’t get kicked in the head again was because Sheriff John put his large hand protectively over Bubba’s head. When one of the local officers aimed a steel- toed boot at Bubba’s head, it got the sheriff’s hand instead and Sheriff John cursed roundly.

  Miz Demetrice waded in with her silver clutch, crying, “You should be glad I don’t have my purse with the brick in it, you communist poo-poo heads!” She smacked the backs of the officers’ heads until The PSS hauled her back from the throng. Precious slipped her lead and tried to molest Haynes’ leg in a most unsavory manner. The PSS got Miz Demetrice back and then retrieved Precious’s lead before Haynes aimed his steel-toed boot at her, too.

  A minute later Bubba made kissy-face with the cement of the sidewalk while he was handcuffed. He managed to get his nose out, away from the hard surface and turned his head so he could look through the men around him and on top of him. The crowd parted just enough to see Robert Daughtry smiling at the hubbub.

  •

  “Hey, Bubba,” Tee Gearheart said. Tee was Pegram County’s County Jailor and a friendly fellow. He was fair to his prisoners, and Bubba never had cause to complain about him. In fact, Tee had been instrumental in clearing up the case of Lurlene Grady/Donna Hyatt by allowing Bubba out of jail to do last minute investigating.

  “Hey,” Bubba said.

  Tee paused to write down the date and time on a scrap piece of paper. “Well hey, look at that,” he said.

  Sheriff John tugged Bubba a little closer to look at the sheet of paper. “Damn. I had the week of the fifteenth,” he muttered. “Who won the pool for when Bubba went to jail next?”

  “You have a pool on when I’m going back to jail?” Bubba asked.

  “Yeah, well,” Tee said, “going to Dallas County Jail didn’t count. The pool’s only for Pegram County Jail but next time we should just include all jails, huh? Just take those cuffs off, Sheriff, and I’ll check the calendar.”

  Sheriff John cast a glance at the two city police officers who followed them. “You fellas can go on now. Thanks for the help.” He held up the hand that had been kicked. It was red and throbbing. “But I swear to God, this better not be broken.”

  Smithson shrugged and Haynes scuttled away before Sheriff John could say anything else.

  “Haynes was aiming for your head, Bubba,” Simms said matter-of-factly. “He’s still ticked about that kid biting him. Said Doc Goodjoint used a needle the size of a pitch fork’s prong on his ass.” Simms absently patted his buttock in commiseration.

  “Good,” Bubba said.

  Sheriff John unlocked the cuffs, and Bubba brought his hands around to rub his wrists. “Did you have to make them so dang tight?”

  “Did you have to clock me?” Simms asked belligerently. He rubbed the swollen part of his jaw. “I saw stars. Seriously. I saw stars and not the good kind with boobies.”

  “Well, Morgan bought it, dint he? And I cain’t very well hit Sheriff John, can I?” Bubba asked.

  “Why the heckfire not?”

  “He’s still wounded.” Bubba pointed at Sheriff John’s throat. “And he’s older than you. Cain’t hit your elders.”

  “You hit Big Joe, and he’s older than you,” Simms protested.

  “That was different,” Bubba said.

  Tee shuffled papers, peering at them carefully. “The person in the pool who had January 6th was- dang.”

  Bubba glanced at Tee and then back at Sheriff John. “When are you making the phone call?”

  “Let Daughtry settle down for a bit. Get all relaxed like. Get hisself a cup of coffee. I’ll say hey to him and thank him for coming in on short notice when he ain’t feeling good. I’ll go to my office, and he’ll think he’s safe,” Sheriff John said. He looked sharply at Tee. “And Tee, you got to keep your mouth shut for the next couple of hours. Everything is bizness as usual. Bubba’s in jail for suspected murder and ain’t nothing else going on.”

  “Empty your pockets, Bubba,” Tee said, noticeably confused.

  Bubba sighed. He took everything out of his pockets and put it on the counter. Tee put the meager possessions in a small box and had Bubba sign a form.

  “What are ya’ll talking about?” Tee asked.

  “It’s a secret,” Simms said. “Who won the pool? I had next week, and I don’t reckon this should count seeing how it’s not real and all.”

  “It’s real,” Sheriff John insisted. “Bubba’s going to jail, ain’t he?”

  “Who’s gonna make that call?” Bubba asked.

  “My wife,” Sheriff John said. “She took drama in college. And she’s right fond of Gray. She’ll drive over to Nardle in about an hour and pretend that she found some girl dressed in a po-liceman’s uniform on the side of the road.”

  Tee perked up. “Ya’ll are up to something serious.”

  “Ifin Morgan put Forrest Roquemore in with Willodean, it had to be only a couple of hours ago,” Bubba said. “He ought to know whether she was able to get out or not.”

  The icy feeling of dread accompanying what was suggested nearly overwhelmed him.

  “It can’t be far from Nardle,” Sheriff John said. “I looked, and Morgan Newbrough don’t got property around here. Neither does Nancy. But Forrest does. He’s got several pieces around Nardle. Ifin we can’t follow Morgan, then I’ve got someone petitioning Judge Posey for a warrant for the property right now. Not that we need it on account that the old man is likely a victim of a crime and his property is a crime scene. Like to dot my i’s and cross my t’s just to be sure.”

  “Jumping to conclusions again,” Bubba said. “That’s a whole lot of if, and, and but with emphasis on the if.”

  “You said it before,” Sheriff John said. “It’s all we got. Patsy said she called Robert at home, on his home phone. So whatever he did, wherever he went, it wasn’t far from Nardle. Think about it. It’s a gamble, but it’s worth the risk.”

  “Ifin Willodean is already dead,” Bubba swallowed convulsively, and his eyes shut for a moment, “then Morgan will know it’s a fake call. He’ll run instead.”

  “Morgan’s nervous, like the loony- ah, I mean, David Beathard said,” Sheriff John stated. “We cain’t lose on this roll. We shake him up and follow him. He’ll check on Gray and Roquemore.”

  “It should be a call about Forrest Roquemore then,” Bubba said. “There’s a better chance that the old man is alive than Willodean.” The hole in Bubba’s chest seemed to grow exponentially. “That old man’s gonna outlive us all. Probably come back from the dead to haunt us, too. The call should be about a bleeding elderly man on the side of the road. Unconscious, so Morgan won’t run instead of going to check on them.”

  Sheriff John thought about it. “Yeah, that’s better. But even better the call should say he’s dead already and then Morgan won’t feel like he’s got to run right away.”

  “And you need to look at a map. There’s two roads that go to Nardle. Make sure the call comes from the road Morgan wouldn’t normally take. Ifin he’s just a regular fella, he goes straight there. That’s U.S. Highway 67. That call’s got to say County Highway 6. Double check that on a map.”

  Tee looked from one man to the other. “You think you know where Deputy Gray is?”

  “Not yet,” Bubba said coldly. “But we’re gonna know.”

  “Maybe you can tell her she won the pool,” Tee said tentatively.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bubba and Sheri
ff John Do a Thang

  Friday, January 6th

  “Five minutes until Robert Daughtry goes off shift,” Bubba said, glancing at the clock on the wall in-between the cells. He didn’t know why it was there because it was guaranteed to drive some inmates crazy with waiting for the hands to move.

  Newt Durley, parked in a cell two doors down, said, “I said, I’m fine now. Can I please go home?”

  Tee said, “You hit a fire hydrant, Newt. No one on that block could flush their toilets for three hours on account of it.”

  “I’ll clean their toilets,” Newt whined, “with a toothbrush even. I don’t like it here. A cockroach is looking at me all friendly like and it ain’t in a good way. I think it winked at me.”

  “Judge Posey is thinking about sending you to rehab,” Tee called.

  “What? Again? I was driving a golf cart. Ain’t nobody said I cain’t be driving a golf cart! And that fire hydrant jumped right out in front of me! It tried to molest the golf cart!”

  “A motorized vehicle is a motorized vehicle,” Tee advised.

  “Bubba, do you need a driver’s license to drive a golf cart?” Newt yelled.

  “Don’t rightly care,” Bubba said.

  A loud screech came from the end of the hall. Bubba stuck his head out of the cell while Tee meandered in the direction of the noise. Tee hadn’t thought it was right for Bubba to be locked up officially because he wasn’t really under arrest, so he’d left Bubba’s cell door open. Through the entrance to the cellblock, Bubba could see Mary Lou Treadwell being hauled along by Sheriff John on one side and Patsy on the other.

  “Ain’t got no right to put me in jail!” Mary Lou wailed.

  Tee got to the door and said, “We ain’t got women facilities. The last time was on account that the city jail was full. That Miz Cambliss was shore a pleasant lady about it.”

  “Put that curtain up again,” Sheriff John ordered furiously. “Mary Lou came back because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She wanted to see what we were all up to.”

  “You really expect me to go home when all this excitement is happening?” Mary Lou exclaimed. “Oh holy guacamole, no. This place smells like a baby’s butt and that’s without the baby powder.”

  Tee made a face. “I use Febreze,” he protested. “Hawaiian Aloha™ and Moroccan Bazaar™. Makes it smell like a luau on the Med.”

  “What in the name of bejesus is going on?” Mary Lou demanded.

  “That call about to come in?” Bubba asked Sheriff John.

  “Yeah, Darla called me a few minutes ago,” Sheriff John said as he tugged Mary Lou down the row of cells. “We got two cars waiting on us. My cousin’s Mercury and Simms will be driving his sister’s Ford F-150. Both are a little beat up but run proper. I got the police band radios in ‘em, so we can hear what’s going on. But Patsy and Simms and I will keep contact by cell phone. Patsy’s going up to relieve Robert in about ten minutes.”

  “Why couldn’t ya’ll just tell me you had something special going on?” Mary Lou asked in an irate tone.

  “Because you have a big mouth,” Patsy said and unceremoniously shoved the other woman into the cell. Obviously, Sheriff John had filled Patsy in on the details of the scam they were about to implement on Robert Daughtry/Morgan Newbrough.

  Tee locked the door to Mary Lou’s cell with economical ease.

  “Who me?” Mary Lou asked. “I don’t have a big mouth.” She pressed her head against the bars and paused while Tee locked the cell. “I’m just silence challenged.”

  “Call that other gal to take over dispatch just as soon as she can,” Sheriff John said to Patsy. “What’s her name?”

  “Arlette Formica,” Bubba answered.

  Sheriff John looked at Bubba oddly. “Yeah, her. Come on, Bubba, we’re going out the back.”

  Bubba stared at Sheriff John. “I thought you’d try to make me stay here.”

  Sheriff John shrugged. “I figured you’d go through Tee, and Tee’s got a family to support so he cain’t be losing his job.”

  “Don’t bring up the thing about the mascot no more, Bubba,” Tee said with an utterly serious expression.

  “Wonder what ever happened to that goat?” Bubba asked innocently.

  Sheriff John looked around. “Mary Lou’s all shut up. Check. Cars ready. Check. Got my cell phone and it’s charged. Check. Patsy’s got both numbers of the cell phones. Check.” He stopped to pat his shirt pockets. “Got my gun and it’s loaded. Check. Patsy be ready to call an ambulance ifin we need it.”

  Patsy crossed her fingers on both hands and held them in the air as she looked at Bubba. “Okay, I guess that’s my cue to be in the front area when the call comes in,” she said. “I’m gonna be praying.”

  “Me, too,” Bubba muttered.

  •

  Bubba and Sheriff John sat in a Mercury Grand Marquis. Both men slumped down in the seats with only their eyes peering over the dashboard. Morgan Newbrough’s Suzuki Samurai sat three cars down from them. A half block down, Simms sat in a blue and white Ford F-150 truck.

  Sheriff John called Simms and told him, “Going now. I’ll take the first lead. As soon as he gets on the highway, you’ll take over.”

  Bubba couldn’t hear what Simms said, but Sheriff John disconnected the phone without delay.

  Next, Sheriff John called his wife, Darla. He said, “Hun, we’re all ready for you. Remember we changed the script. Your name is Jane Stamper. The real Jane lives out there and agreed to let us use her name. Be sure to use the disposable cell phone. You just found a fella off County Highway 6 and Routen Road. He’s dead because you can’t feel a heartbeat and it looks like he’s been beaten. You think it might be that old man who went missing from Nardle on account that it ain’t too far away. Can they send the po-lice and quickly.”

  Darla said loudly enough that Bubba could hear it, “I got the text you sent, you durn fool!”

  “Sorry, hun,” Sheriff John said. “This is key. Ain’t gonna get another chance like this.”

  “I know. I can pull it off,” Darla said. “Let me talk to Bubba.”

  Sheriff John frowned at the cell phone and handed it to Bubba.

  “Ma’am,” Bubba said.

  “We all want the best out of this sad situation, Bubba,” Darla said. “Cain’t thank you enough for saving John from that awful woman, Nancy Musgrave.”

  “It ain’t necessary, ma’am,” Bubba said.

  Sheriff John tapped his watch.

  “Have hope, Bubba,” she said. “Tell that old stick in the mud I’m making the call right now.”

  The call ended.

  “She’s doing it now,” Bubba said and handed the phone to Sheriff John.

  Bubba wanted to cross his fingers, knock on wood, throw salt over his shoulder, and anything else he could think of for luck. If a black cat had appeared, he would have gleefully chased it out of his path.

  Sheriff John turned on the police band radio. A minute later, Robert Daughtry’s voice came over the line, directing several units to a location in Pegram County for a code indicating a deceased individual. The voice stuttered several times and Bubba groaned.

  “Shush,” Sheriff John said with his hand on the microphone. He keyed it and responded, “Unit 1 en route to County Highway 6 and Routen Road. ETA ten minutes.”

  Two other officers responded. Darla would meet them and explain the situation. They would be instructed to call Sheriff John on secure lines to confirm. Furthermore, she had Lloyd Goshorn covered with ketchup lying in the ditch on the side of the road as the dead “victim.”

  A minute passed. One of the deputies stumbled out of the building and trotted for his cruiser. He took off in the right direction with his siren blaring and the lights revolving brightly.

  “What about your county car?” Bubba asked.

  “I parked it two blocks over so that fella wouldn’t see it and get suspicious. Simms did the same.”

  “Come on,” Bubba said with impatience as he stared a
t the front door of Pegram County Sheriff’s Department. “Take the bait, fella. Come on.”

  The cell phone rang and both men jumped.

  “Yeah,” Sheriff John answered.

  Bubba could hear Patsy reply. “Well, Robert took the call, threw up in the trashcan and ran into the bathroom. I expect he ain’t really feeling well. Sure he’s the one?”

  “Don’t say anything else, Patsy,” Sheriff John instructed.

  “Okay, but he ain’t rushing- ” Patsy’s voice trailed off. Both men heard her say, “You don’t look so well, Robert.”

  Both Sheriff John and Bubba leaned toward the cell phone. They couldn’t hear what Robert said to Patsy.

  She said, “Yeah, you should go on now. I’ll hold it until Arlette Formica gets here. Maybe you should get some Pepto-Bismol or something.”

  Bubba said, “Look.”

  Robert Daughtry walked out the front door. His color was as gray as a battleship’s butt. He stumbled once and wiped his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve.

  “Sheriff,” Patsy said, “he just left. On account of he’s sick. And he is sick. Well, he was sick. I ain’t cleaning that trashcan.”

  “Call me ifin Robert comes back,” Sheriff John said. “And as far as anyone else is concerned, that last call was as real as rain until I say otherwise.”

  “Okay, Sheriff, tell Bubba my fingers are still crossed,” Patsy said and disconnected.

  “She said- ” Sheriff John started and Bubba interrupted, “I heard.”

  Robert got into the Suzuki and started it. He backed out of the space and drove down the street. Sheriff John started the Mercury and followed him, allowing the other car enough space so as not to alarm the man.

  “Not stopping at the convenience store,” Bubba said.

  “And his apartment’s on the other side of town,” Sheriff John said.

  “And he just passed the clinic,” Bubba added.

  They got to the edge of Pegramville, and the Suzuki turned on U.S. Highway 67.

  The Ford truck Simms drove passed them on the left and took up after the Suzuki.