Angry Betty

by Jamie Lee Scott

  “Darby, I don’t need any lip from you. I was at the gym.” He pulled on gloves. “Tell you what, since you were here first, you’ll partner with me on this.”

  Kate shoved her hands in her pockets to keep herself from flipping him the bird. She wanted a CID position, so she needed to be civil. Mouthing off to a detective wasn’t going to help her cause.

  “Take it easy, Peebles, she’s my officer, not yours,” Sergeant Gwilly said.

  Kate turned to see Zane Gwilly walking up behind her. He never failed to make her heart smile when she saw him, even when she was mad at him. Gwilly stood six foot something, had the build of an athlete, and kept his head shaved bald. She loved the look, and how it fit his facial features: large eyes, bushy brows, a wide nose, and thick lips.

  “She’s the one who caught this case, Sergeant, it’s hers. I have a big case I’m working on, so she’ll have to follow through, along with CID.” Peebles pulled a wallet from the back pocket of the victim’s jeans.

  “I’ve got this, Zane,” Kate said.

  “Have you ever investigated a murder, Kate?” Zane asked.

  “You’re my sergeant; I think you know the answer.” Between Peebles and Gwilly, Kate’s anger came close to reaching a boiling point.

  Peebles handed Kate the wallet. “He’s all yours.”

  Kate opened the wallet. “Marco Lopez, age thirty-six.” She went on to read the address on the license.

  Johnson said, “It was his car.” He held up the registration he pulled from the glove compartment. “Wow, so the driver shot and killed the owner of the car, stuffed him in the trunk, stole the car, then gets pulled over by a cop. What made you pull him over, Darby?”

  “He rolled through a stop sign.”

  Johnson shook his head. “Moron.”

  Kate smirked at the irony. It only took a little over an hour, a dead man, and a runner to finally get the registration. If only she hadn’t lost sight of the car in the first place, they’d have the case wrapped up, and the driver in custody.

  “We’ll finish our investigation of the interior of the car back at the yard. I’ll have it dusted for prints and see what else we can find.” Peebles frowned. “Have you done the field inventory in the hour it took me to get here?” He looked pointedly at Kate.

  “Nothing to inventory. The car is spotless,” Johnson said.

  “Your shift is over. Let Detective Peebles do his job,” Zane said to Kate.

  Peebles raised his hands. “This is hers, Gwilly, I’ll be available for questions, but Kate’s got this.”

  Zane looked like that Marine you didn’t want to mess with. Kate knew first hand that he could be either a teddy bear or just a plain old bear, since he was also her ex-husband.

  “I can stay. Sleep is overrated,” Kate protested.

  “Yesterday, you said you had an appointment with an attorney. I doubt that was cancelled between last night when you told me and now.”

  Kate groaned. “I don’t even have time to go home to take a shower or change clothes.”

  “Glove up,” Peebles said.

  Kate showed her hands.

  Peebles handed her plastic number cards. “Get on it then.”

  In a small town, there wasn’t a specific crime scene unit. If a cop caught the call, it was his crime, his job to get the details on paper, in photos, and catalog the evidence. Of course, there was always at least one other officer, usually a superior, who assisted at the scene.

  Cards placed, photos taken, evidence gathered into evidence bags and logged, they all stood back for a breather. Kate felt a small thrill at the thought of solving her first homicide.

  Zane stepped up next to Kate. “Go. We’ll get everything under control here and you can come in early for your shift tonight.”

  “Aren’t you going home?” she asked.

  “I’ll see you tonight. Good luck today,” he said as he walked back to his car. He turned back to her. “You’ll have a lot of paperwork, so be prepared.”

  Chapter 2

  Driving to her appointment across town, she concentrated on the details to put in her report. She normally wouldn’t leave her shift without writing a report, but Zane knew she’d get it done. Besides, she had the radio call and her chest camera to fill in any details she might have forgotten, though she wasn’t looking forward to seeing the dead man again on the video.

  Between the runner, the homicide, and her meeting, she would’ve been hot without the sun bearing down. And thinking about having had a family close by, who she never knew, made her curious. How can a family go more than thirty years without a peep, when they lived in the same town? The idea of it made her grip the steering wheel tighter.

  Pulling into the parking lot of the law office, Kate parked and took a minute to breathe and calm herself. No need to get her panties in a ruffle for something she had no control over.

  The adrenaline of the morning’s events had worn off, and she could really use a cup of coffee. Iced coffee. The temps never got below eighty in the overnight hours, and now with the sun out, the air felt like an aquarium. She’d grown up with this weather and never minded it as a kid. As a grown up, she had to wear a t-shirt, Kevlar vest, and a uniform, along with a twenty-five-pound duty belt and long pants. Kids didn’t care because they wore shorts and sleeveless shirts and ran through the sprinklers. What she wouldn’t give to run through a sprinkler right now.

  Reaching back to pull the hair tie from the bun at the nape of her neck, she reached up with her other hand to pull the visor down and look at herself. She shook her head to let her long brown hair fall in waves down her back, then touched the bags under her eyes. “Whatever.” She flipped the visor back up, grabbed her purse from the back seat and got out of the car.

  She hoped she didn’t smell like she’d just worked a fourteen-hour shift, but she wasn’t about to check on her way into the office. Having to wear her uniform to the meeting was bad enough.

  The attorney’s office, located on Griffith Street, had its own square block. It was a Gothic revival home positioned in the middle of the huge lot, surrounded on all sides by immaculately clipped lawns and severely trimmed boxwoods. She moved up the red brick walkway at a good clip. Now that she was here, she didn’t want to be late.

  Opening the white wooden door, she stepped into the cool interior with its marble floors and dark wood walls that looked to be original to the house. A long mahogany desk graced the entrance about twenty feet from the door. A massive fan whirred overhead.

  She walked up to the woman standing behind the desk. Dressed in a tight black pencil skirt and pale pink silk blouse, the woman made Kate self-conscious of her uniform. At least she’d had the wherewithal to leave her duty belt in her car.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Norris,” Kate said.

  The woman smiled a trained smile. “Ms. Kate Darby?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s on a call at the moment. Please have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She held out her hand to indicate the seating area behind Kate.

  Kate took a few steps in that direction, but decided to stand. She didn’t want to be here long, and if she sat down, she’d pull out her phone and send Zane a text to check on the progress of the homicide case.

  “Can I get you a cappuccino or water? We have a delicious white chocolate latte.”

  Kate’s mouth almost watered at the thought. “The latte sounds delicious, thank you.”

  The woman picked up a headset from the desk and adjusted it over her head, then moved the mouthpiece. She pressed buttons on her console, then spoke quietly into the phone.

  Kate looked around the room at the framed images of plantations, cotton for miles, and the workers who busted their asses in the hot sun to make sure the cotton business was profitable. Historically, cotton was primarily grown in East Texas, though now it had migrated south and west. Cotton had given way to hay fields and pecan groves. Or was it pecan orchards? She could never remember. This law office must hav
e been in business for more than a century, or they just liked it to look as if it had history.

  “Miss Darby, Mr. Norris will see you now.”

  Kate noticed the fabric of the receptionist’s skirt as she escorted her to what Kate assumed would be Mr. Norris’ office. She smiled when she realized her skirt was made of some sort of stretch fabric. She looked slick, but still comfortable. Smart woman. And she had a cushy job in an air-conditioned office. Smarter yet.

  Opening the door to Mr. Norris’ office, the woman stood in the hall as Kate walked past her and into the room.

  “Thank you, Miss Eva,” Mr. Norris said.

  Eva shut the door.

  A tall, fit looking man of about forty stepped out from behind the desk to greet her. He had a full head of gray hair, trimmed short on the sides, and a little too long on top. His tanned skin told her he liked outdoor sports. Tennis? Golf? Who cared? She just enjoyed looking at him and his blue eyes framed with well-established wrinkles.

  “I’m Victor Norris. Sorry for the last-minute call regarding this matter.” He shook her hand quickly and didn’t give her another glance. She glanced at his backside as he turned around to walk back to his seat. “Please have a seat.”

  The office had the same décor as the entry, only the floors were a natural dark wood, and the walls were floor to ceiling bookcases. Kate sat in the leather chair and stared across the long desk with ornate carvings around the edges and down the legs.

  “Sorry I didn’t have a chance to change my clothes before coming. My shift ran overtime. Dead body and all.” What the hell was she saying?

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry; he sounded like he wanted to get on with it.

  “But I’m here,” Kate said, feeling like a kid in the principal’s office.

  Victor straightened the papers on this desk into three piles, then picked up a folder off the top of the middle pile. “Before I read the will, I should let you know, you’ll be the only one here today. Other than distant relatives, you’re the only living relative, and the only one mentioned in the will.”

  Kate leaned forward. “How is that possible? I didn’t even know I had a grandfather until yesterday, or last night, when your assistant called.”

  “Everyone has a grandfather, whether we meet them or not,” Victor said. “And I’m sorry you never met Edwin Barrow. You’d have liked him. I know I did.”

  Kate wondered if he said it because the old man was his client, not really meaning it. For some reason, she wanted Edwin to be an asshole. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have. He had more than thirty years to reach out to me, and I only hear about him after his death.”

  “There are some things he asked me to explain before I read the will to you.” Victor opened the file and flipped over the first piece of paper.

  Kate stifled a yawn.

  She heard a light knock on the door. Eva walked in and handed her a latte. Kate offered an awkward smile as she accepted the coffee. Not sure what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t to be served her coffee in a to-go cup with a lid. From the décor of the interior of the building, she’d expected fine china, or at least a ceramic mug.

  “Thank you, Miss Eva,” she said.

  Eva nodded, glanced quickly at Victor, then left the room.

  Victor looked at Eva, then back at Kate. “Edwin spent a lot of time and money trying to find you. He didn’t even know Amy had a daughter until after she died.”

  Kate didn’t know why, but her heart hurt when she heard her mom was dead. She’d stopped checking up on her when she was in high school. Tried to pretend she was dead. The Darbys were her family, and when she let go of the hate and abandonment she gripped so tightly to, she realized the Darbys were not giving up on her.

  “After she died?” That didn’t even make sense.

  “A nurse mentioned something about Amy talking to her baby during her delirium. Neither the nurse nor Edwin knew if she was delusional, or if she really had a child. Edwin needed to know.”

  “When did Amy die?” For some reason, it bothered her that she didn’t know.

  “Ten years ago. Drug overdose,” he said matter-of-factly with no empathy.

  “Good to know,” Kate said, not knowing what else to say. “Weird that it took Edwin ten years to find me.”

  “He had nothing to go on.”

  The sadness she felt made her angry, and she gripped the arms of the leather chair, feeling her fingers dig into the soft fabric. “I guess they weren’t close.”

  “Edwin didn’t have much contact with her in her adult years. They lost touch when she ran away from home as a teenager. He told me he’d enabled her enough, paying for motel rooms only to find out she use the room for prostitution. Giving her money for food only to realize what a fool he was. He said the last straw was when his assistant brought her several bags of groceries, and when he turned to walk away, Amy tossed the bags back out the door at him.”

  Kate chuckled. That was Amy all right. “She had her issues, didn’t she?” The question was rhetorical.

  “And Edwin washed his hands of her. Amy’s mom left when she was only fifteen, and Edwin didn’t have time to date back then. He had his pecan business, lived outside of town, and tried the best he could to give Amy the love and attention she needed.”

  “She needed a lot of attention. And the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I was a terror as a child,” Kate admitted.

  “Edwin blames it on her getting her driver’s license.” Victor shook his head as he spoke. “Gave her a freedom he couldn’t control. The first time he knew there was trouble, she didn’t come home. The next morning, the local cops drove Amy’s car to the ranch. Or as Edwin called it, the plantation. Amy was nowhere to be found.”

  Kate’s heart hurt for a man she never even knew. She couldn’t imagine how terrified he had to have been.

  “There’s a lot of history. The only reason Edwin knew Amy was dead was because she wore a locket. Just a cheap piece of base metal, and inside she kept his contact information. The nurses called him. Amy died before he got to the hospital. She was his only child, and it killed him that he couldn’t save her.”

  She wanted to tell Victor about her mom. The life Edwin missed.

  The apartment on Clark Street needed cleaning, but Kate didn’t know any better. She sat cross-legged on the grimy kitchen floor, wearing worn pajamas, howling like a child who didn’t get her way. Next to her, Amy Barrow, wearing cutoff denim shorts and a strappy tank top, lay on her back, her body rocking and convulsing, saliva foaming from her mouth, green vomit pouring down her right cheek had puddled on the floor, gradually making its way toward Kate’s bare legs.

  The clock read 7:14 (she’d be told the details many years later) when Kate heard the banging at the door. She looked at her mom, then looked at the door. She mustered the energy to stand and trudged to the door. “Help,” she whispered, as she tried to reach the chain lock. After a few tries, she gave up, then twisted the door handle. “I can’t get the door open.”

  The nice lady in the bathrobe and house slippers asked, “Is everything okay?”

  Kate hiccupped with fear, unable to speak, tears rolling down her already soaked face. She shook her head.

  The lady pushed her face against the restrained door to see inside. Kate looked back at the kitchen floor where her mother lay in a puddle of vomit and spit.

  “Oh, shit,” the lady said, then disappeared.

  Any other time, Kate would have laughed and pointed. “She said shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Her mother would have said, “Damn it, Kate, you can’t say those words. You want me to wash your mouth out with soap?” She barely registered the word that morning.

  Kate stood in the same spot near the door, shaking, watching the fabric on her pajamas move. The lady left her. She couldn’t go back into the kitchen. Mommy scared her.

  Kate heard sirens. She stood frozen in place, no longer shaking. Police were bad, her mom had said. She held her breath as the sirens g
ot closer, she couldn’t move from the spot by the door. Bad police were coming, and this was bad. The snot ran down her upper lip, into her mouth and she continued to cry.

  The nice woman wasn’t so nice. She called the police. Bad lady, Kate thought.

  When the sirens stopped, she heard running. Someone coming up the stairs to the second floor. She was in trouble. Her mommy was in trouble. Bad police. She’d heard it so many times, and it was all she could think about.

  She forced herself to go back into the kitchen. Grabbing her limp mom by the arm, Kate tried to drag her out of sight. Maybe to the corner near the stove. But her mom was too heavy. She plopped down onto the floor, breathing hard. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

  Moments later, the door flew open with a bang as men, who were not the police, plowed into the apartment. Kate started crying again. Relief. It wasn’t the police. Mommy would be okay.

  The day the EMTs took her mom away was the last time she saw her. The selfish, drug addicted bitch never even tried to regain custody. And Kate knew she was alive, living in Sulpher Springs, because in her teens she got curious and looked her up. No death certificate, but an arrest record a mile long.

  It had taken years for Kate to understand her mom wasn’t coming back. Every night, she prayed to a God she didn’t believe in, because just in case there was a God, her mommy might come back. She never saw anyone she knew back then again. Except the case worker; she saw her a lot.

  Being a ward of the state sucked. Age had taught her that if there was a God, he answered her prayers, but in His way. Never seeing Amy again was a blessing that took her decades to understand.

  “She didn’t want to be saved,” Kate said.

  Victor pressed on, as if he needed to be somewhere. “Anyway, Edwin learned what he could from the nurse. He did his best to try and find you.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “That was ten years ago. I wasn’t hiding.”

  Victor picked up and turned another piece of paper. “Our private investigators found you within a year. But Edwin didn’t want to disrupt your life. He saw how successful you are, and he said you looked happy.”