Turkey Ranch Road Rage by Paula Boyd

Author:Paula Boyd
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, mayhem, Paula Boyd, horny toad, Jolene, Lucille, Texas
Publisher: Diomo Books
Published: 2010-05-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Fifteen

Lucille pulled up to the Redwater Falls Police Station in less than five minutes. We even arrived without anyone tailing us or a fatal high speed car crash. Mother parked near the door in a “no parking” area and we hurried inside.

There were a couple of things that convinced the officer at the front desk that we needed help. One was, of course, the very obvious use of duct tape on my face. That in itself, he noted, wasn’t particularly unusual, or even indicative of a crime, but it did get his attention and was a good backup for the story we told.

What got us the instant royal treatment, however, was the simple stating of our names. In fact, his rather dour face erupted in glee, or perhaps appreciation. The good sergeant, it seemed, had been the lucky winner of the station’s one-would-think-illegal betting pool on when Mother and I would be involved in another crime or something to that effect. While this certainly was not a pleasant discovery, the thousand dollars in prize money had definitely bought us some good will with Sergeant Jackpot.

He promptly made us comfortable in an interrogation room with an assortment of drinks while he went about tending our car as well as locating Jerry and a Redwater detective to deal with us. He was very nice in a “come see my prize-winning catch” sort of way. To his credit, he didn’t laugh in front of us.

Mother had explained to the sergeant about the awful stress she’d been through and insisted on an immediate trip to the ladies room to freshen up. While Lucille was gone primping, I guzzled two bottles of water to try to re-hydrate myself and flush out the toxins in my system. When she got back I was definitely ready for my turn at “freshening up.”

Unfortunately, the second I walked in the restroom door, I saw myself in a mirror. I screamed, horrified then smacked my hand over my mouth to stop myself, which was a really dumb thing to do since my lips looked like two slices of over-ripe plums and felt like they’d been peeled. And that was the least of my problems.

Now, I’m not one of those women who is obsessed with her looks. I do make an effort with my hair and I wear a basic amount of makeup, mostly mascara and a concealer for my perpetual dark circles. I am generally neat, clean, presentable, and sometimes even cute. The person in the mirror was none of those things. Not one. And on top of it all, she looked like somebody had smacked her in the face with a baseball bat. Twice. Of course it had to be a bat with tweezers because I was missing about half of each eyebrow. There was not much epi left in the dermis of my forehead or mouth area either, and my hair was both matted down and sticking up. I truly wanted to cry.

Instead, I slunk into the stall and tended to business, then slunk back out and reassessed my options.

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