“Oh, that,” the young man said. He thrust his hands in his back pockets and nodded toward the shop. “Irene’s inside. Come on in.” He peered at the police car. “Your friend there’s welcome to come in, too. Grandpop and Grandmamá are in the house, if you want to say hello.”
“I may see them this afternoon. My mother may want to come down, too.”
“That’d be cool. She don’t have to drive all this way, though. There’s the main reception at the VFW in Posadas.” He turned toward the shop, but the sound of her cell phone stopped Estelle in her tracks.
“Let me catch this, Danny. I’ll be along in just a second,” she said, and turned back toward the car as she opened the phone. “Guzman.”
“Sorry to bother you,” Brent Sutherland said. “You clear?”
“For a minute,” Estelle said. “I’m with Danny Rivera at his grandparents’ place.” A long pause followed, and Estelle could picture Brent leaning forward, staring at the huge county map on the wall in Dispatch. She heard a familiar voice in the background, and Sutherland said, “Are you clear for a call?”
“Sure.”
“Hang on a second.” In a moment County Manager Leona Spears’ voice warbled over the air.
“Forgive the interruption,” Leona said, “but I wanted to tell you that I had a long conversation with, oh, what’s his name. Something Parker.”
“Elliot Parker?” Estelle asked. It was part of Leona’s fetching tact that she had taken the time to check with the Sheriff’s Department dispatch before contacting Estelle, even though the undersheriff’s personal cell phone number was one of the first on the county manager’s speed-dial list.
“That’s the one. He with the beer bottle-pitching son. He called me at home, for mercy’s sakes. On a Sunday morning. That’s dedication to being a real nuisance.”
“Well, ‘nuisance’ is a kind term, Leona,” Estelle observed.
“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Leona chirped. “He wanted to make sure that we were going to fire Deputy Collins. Can you imagine that? We’re not going to do that, are we?” Her question raised all kinds of interesting turf questions, Estelle reflected, since the sheriff did his own hiring and firing-his was an elected office, not subject to approval or supervision by the county manager. Still, they had all come to value Leona’s input.
“No, we’re not.”
“Wonderful. Because that’s what I told Mr. Parker. That was my understanding after talking with Bobby late last night. Mr. Parker, bless his arrogant little soul, didn’t like hearing that. And for some reason, he didn’t want to talk to Master Robert. I can’t imagine why.” A little chuckle followed that. “The more Mr. Parker can deflect things away from his little boy, the better, apparently.”
“I don’t think Judge Hobart is deflectable,” Estelle said. “It’s in his hands, not ours. Anyway, as far as Dennis is concerned, the sheriff has a new training program in the works. I think it’s the right thing to do. Much more stringent qualifications for all of us.”
“I heard about that. It’s going to cost us some money, but I think it’s worth it, and a wonderful, proactive notion. I tried to explain that to Mr. Parker, but it went in one ear and out the other. Anyway, to make a long story short, he’s threatening to sue us, for what, I don’t know. He made it an ultimatum, and that’s when I lost my patience, I’m afraid. He’ll probably call you, too, and I wanted you to hear it from the horse’s mouth…what I told him, I mean.”
“And what’s that, Leona?”
“I told him in no uncertain terms that it was going to be wonderfully entertaining watching this whole mess unfold in public court. I said we’ve needed to bring this underage drinking thing out in the open for a long time, and then I told him that I hoped he had a really good lawyer, because we do. A drunken young man throwing a full bottle of beer at an officer and damaging government property, and the officer injured by flying glass? My goodness.”
The glass chip did draw a speck of blood, Estelle thought, but she didn’t interrupt Leona’s roll.
“And selling liquor to minors, and on and on,” Leona continued. “Probably more than that. I was really wound up. I told him that it was going to be fun.” She sniffed. “I think at the moment I’m feeling a little ashamed of myself for losing my temper.”
“Some people bring out the best in all of us, Leona. What did Parker say to all this?”
“Well, now he’s angry with me, which is probably a good thing,” Leona laughed. “He hung up on me when I said, ‘Well, why don’t you sue me, then. Let’s just sue everyone, while we’re at it, if that’s the only way you can figure out how to make a living.’ I probably shouldn’t have been so melodramatic, but there it is.”
“He’ll get over it,” Estelle said. “His son will get a slap on the wrist, maybe a little bit of probation, and that’ll be it, unless Hobart’s in a really foul mood.”
“Except for the repair of the vehicle,” Leona said. “I plan to pursue that if Judge Hobart doesn’t order restitution. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m his latest target, so not to worry.”
“Thanks, Leona. I wasn’t worried, but I’m glad that things will work out. For Dennis’ sake.”
“He’ll be the better police officer for it,” Leona said. Her voice took on a more serious tone. “He wasn’t even scheduled to work, was he? I mean, when the incident happened?”
“No. He was finishing up some paperwork at the end of a long day. He took the call as a matter of convenience. He was headed home that way, and no one else was close. He volunteered, and I okayed it. So chalk it up to my mistake. I was tired, but I knew that he was, too. I let him go anyway. But at that moment, with the situation as it was, it seemed the expedient solution.”
“Oh my. We are sooooo shorthanded, aren’t we,” Leona said. “Well, that’s one of my priorities. We’re going to do something about that. But you’re busy, and I’m rambling. Are we making progress with that horrible truck crash situation?”
“‘Progress’ may be too optimistic a word, Leona.” She glanced at the shop, but Danny Rivera had disappeared inside.
“Well, that’s my nature, dear. If there’s anything I can do to facilitate, let me know.”
“I will, Leona. Thanks for all you do.”
“Is that wonderful magazine reporter with you yet?”
“She is.”
“I look forward to having the chance to visit with her, if she wants.”
“I’m sure she will, Leona. I’ll tell her you called.”
“Thanks so much. Well, I’m out of your hair now. Ta, dear.” The phone went dead, and Estelle laughed.
“Our county manager,” she said to Madelyn. “She’s one of a kind. She wants to talk with you sometime.”
“She’s on my list,” Madelyn said. “I’ve heard so many different stories, I don’t know what to expect.”
“Expect a charming interview,” Estelle said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
The sun was already baking the gravel in front of the shop as Estelle walked away from the car. As she neared the shop, she could smell the tang of hot steel. By afternoon, the uninsulated building would be toasty warm, as the February sun baked the expanse of roof and wall. She paused in the doorway. Off to the left, a huge red four-wheel-drive pickup rested on blocks, parts from its brakes and wheel hubs laid neatly on clean rags. A quick glance around the shop revealed another older truck with all of its guts removed, various collections of parts here and there, and, incongruously, a slick fiberglass bass boat on a new, white trailer. The cowling had been removed from the massive outboard motor on the boat’s transom.
“We can get that oil changed while you’re here,” Danny said cheerfully. “County ain’t too good at keepin’ up with maintenance. I know that for a fact.”